April 4, 2018. Dave Carew. “Happy Birthday, Tedd! Have a great time full of mischief.”
I type the name of my first boss into Facebook’s search bar. I left Sioux City, Iowa 14 years ago, but I often think about the man who gave me my start in broadcast news. His page pops up. Tedd O’Connell. Green Bay, Wisconsin. A black-and-white photo of a newsman in a trench coat.
That’s Tedd. But Tedd’s been dead for more than a decade.
April 4, 2017. Justin Roberts. “Happy Birthday Tedd!! Hope heaven is a party that never stops!”
This seems off. Tedd wasn’t the social media type, and Facebook was in relative infancy when he fell sick years ago. But this wouldn’t be Tedd’s first surprise.
April 4, 2016. Molly Fitch. “Happy Birthday, Tedd. Hope you’re snacking on donut holes and listening to Eminem upstairs today.”
Growing up near New York, attending college near Chicago, I was unprepared for the flat skyline of Sioux City. I was less prepared for my first boss to rock a full-coiffed mullet and a raspy voice born of a thousand cigarettes.
April 4, 2015. Derek Wittenburg. “Happy birthday…..Tedanator with us all.”
For 15 years, Tedd was the Ron Burgundy of Madison, Wisconsin. He flew to Cuba for a story and met Castro. He broke major stories and won major awards. Then he took over newsrooms. A decade removed from his final time on the anchor desk, he landed in Iowa to run a fledgling third-place news station. At some point I should have wondered if Tedd viewed this job as beneath his stature and legacy. Tedd never gave us that choice.
April 4, 2014. Shani Rajesh. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOSS!”
My Sioux City coworkers still swear by Tedd. I do too, to some degree. He gave me my start, gave a damn about his job, and gave a damn about us. The day of my first live shot, Tedd stopped me at the door and put his arm around me. “Matt,” he said in his Pacino-esque gravel, “when you go out there, you’re gonna be really excited. So when you do your live shot, do it with 20% less energy than you think you should.” He then added, in full Pacino, “Otherwise, you’re gonna sound CRAAAAAAZY!”
April 4, 2013. Bryan G. Hughes. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY. My co-anchor forgot to read the script to the Jay Leno story this morning. … Damn. Cheers!”
Life with Tedd was always bumpy. One time I saw him storm into his office and throw a pencil at the wall. His self-described “70’s personality” didn’t always mesh with the new millennium. After I left, we didn’t keep in touch much. Then he got sick.
April 4, 2012. Charley Groth. “Happy birthday you dead SOB.”
A co-worker called to say Tedd had lung cancer. He didn’t have long, maybe weeks. I took down Tedd’s number and gave him a call. I don’t remember much. But I remember how, even in a weakened state, his 69-year-old rasp sandpapered through the phone. I remember telling him about my new job – a sports gig in Buffalo – and the various events I had covered. I remember him being proud.
April 4, 2011. Vincenzo Vitale. “Happy b-day u ole dirty bastard!”
Eleven years and a mini-lifetime later, I stare at Tedd’s image on a Facebook profile. I scroll through birthday wishes written for a dead man. I want to tell him how much I’ve grown in the decade he’s been gone. I want to share links to my stories in Atlanta, show him the awards I’ve won and the book I wrote, and introduce him to my wife and daughter. I want to hear one more Pacino-esque roar.
Then I spot a post that interrupts my nostalgia and defies all.
May 4, 2010. Tedd O’Connell. “It’s a good day for an ass-kicking. Don’t you agree?”
Tedd? Giving status updates twenty months after his death? Was this his wife? A fan from his Madison days? Someone who decided the mighty Tedd needed a Facebook profile? I scroll and find more posts from “Tedd O’Connell” with no explanation. I learn no more. And that’s fine. I’m OK with the knowledge that, even in death, my first boss continues to surprise.
April 4, 2019. Happy birthday, Tedd. Thank you for your guidance, your confidence, and your ability to make memories that linger on, long past your final sign-off.
The Solo Video Journalist is available for purchase. You can find it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the publisher’s web site.
Matt Pearl is the author of the Telling the Story blog and podcast. Feel free to comment below or e-mail Matt at matt@tellingthestoryblog.com. You can also follow Matt on Facebook and Twitter.