Modest Talent, Big Heart

"Don't you hear them pounding in the stakes? The circus is in town." Former Robbery/Homicide Detective Pat Wilson (circa 2006).

It is said that law enforcement is a ringside seat to the greatest show on Earth. In the summer of 2008 the circus literally came to town, in the form of the Democratic National Convention.

Before I'm accused of bias, let me add this caveat - that label has nothing to do with politics, but everything to do generically with the political process. No doubt the Republican affair was equally panoramic for its characters, bombast and manufactured drama. That said, the DNC was the experience of a professional lifetime.

Our police department was asked by Denver to help with security at "The Venue." A ton of us volunteered, and I was assigned (probably with the help of a good friend who assisted with overall management of our group) as one of the ground floor supervisors. The first several days we spent getting acquainted with the building, the staff and members of the press setting up their expensive equipment.

There seemed to be a pecking order among the print, TV and radio personalities who mingled with us, some of whom were especially pro-cop. Meghan Kelly, for example, would gladly stop for a picture with any cop who wanted one. The big-time networks had booths on the convention floor, and also suites above. Even Al Jazeera had an optimal presence. Print media were tucked away in a big room. Bloggers - well, I think they went to the bars to write.

Then, there were the local radio "talent," tucked into a corner of the building, in a hallway near a fire exit. These were the folks who were live for their hometown audiences, bringing listeners up-to-date on the globally fawned-over events happening just yards from the radio personality's "own broadcast center." These folks dressed casually, worked in cramped, austere quarters and did their jobs with on-air panache. Off the air, they were just average folks.

The pre-convention credentials we were required to display were plastic-laminated, bright and robust. They told anyone in the know that I was permitted anywhere in the building - within reason, of course. However, when the convention itself began we were issued flimsy strips of paper, as though a third grade class had been awarded the project. They fell apart on the first day.

Not to worry, I had fallen in among thieves and brigands. Several of the guys working with me had a genius for scrounging. They knew everyone (in about the first ten minutes) and were able to score us coffee, gourmet food and plastic protectors for our IDs. Lots of them.

They were as good as cash. I have a box of trinkets and pins I traded for with these fifty-cent plastic sleeves. Everyone wanted them. My first mission was to make sure my cops had them, and that's when I met Ed Shultz.

Ed had a radio show that was broadcast out of Minnesota. He had something of a following, about 3 million according to Wiki. He'd started in radio in Fargo, North Dakota (WKRP fans are now saying "F-F-Fargo? Fargo?") doing sports play-by-play and had fashioned a successful career doing what radio announcers do - announce. He was stocky, with a certain WOLD tire around his gut, ruddy complexion, meaty face and slicked-back hair. His outfit - shorts and a polo shirt, were rumpled and unmatched. It didn't appear that he cared.

Ed's broadcast center were actually a desk, a mike and a couple of chairs. He was off in a corner, right next to one of our posts occupied by an especially gregarious academy classmate. I was distributing credential sleeves when I heard "Hey, where's mine?"

In point of fact I had a few spares. We bantered back and forth for a minute or two, the long-time police supervisor and the seasoned broadcaster. He was gracious, down-to-earth and funny. So I said "What do I get for it?" He agreed that every time he came back from break he would extoll the virtues of the Lakewood Police Department and the men and women guarding the building. He did, too, naming names depending on who was around. For the rest of our stay in the Pepsi Center.

Ed's pliable left of center tendencies and flight-of-fancy showmanship got him a gig at MSNBC. He stayed there a number of years, where (I hope) he accomplished his stated goal in show business - to make a lot of money. He was adept at poking fun at the right, which settled comfortably into the MSNBC corporate culture. Of course there happened a Great Kaboom, and by and by the network let him go.

Ed passed away this week at the tender age of 64, from natural causes. I remember him as publically outrageous - a showman - but, once the mike was off he was a kind professional, a man who could look a cop in the eye and recognize we were all human beings trying to make our way in the world.

Thanks for treating us working dudes like we mattered, Ed.