Friday, May 24, 2013

The late great Jim Zabel

(Pictured - Jim Zabel sitting where I normally sat.)

I was one of Jim Zabel’s directors in radio for a period of about eight years, and got to know him pretty well. This was from 1998 to 2005. He and I were players on the afternoon news program Drive-Time Des Moines with Sue Danielson and Jerry Reno, a show that I miss working on and listening to in a most terrible way. We would talk off the air, the two of us, the four of us, mostly the three of them. I was the guy on the other side of the glass. His and mine was very much a "commercial break" relationship. But we never once talked about sports, even though the topic was a pointed interest of mine and the center of his professional life. As a matter of fact, he and I only really talked about one topic ever, and that topic was Frank Sinatra.
Jim loved Sinatra, as I do, and when you knew to look for it, you could see that his own on-air and public persona was cut in large part from the Sinatra cloth. Like FS, Jim relished being with a group of his pals, having a good drink, basically living large. The best word for it is fun-loving. That's what he was. It was easy to see that Jim liked being famous, being recognized by the public. And it was fun to watch him when he was recognized.
I knew the Sinatra music and film catalogue well and had seen the Chairman in concert twice, both times when he was deep into the twilight of his career, but Jim’s experience with Sinatra, conversely, was long and rich. I was  envious. He had seen him the first time in concert sometime during the early ‘40s, when Jim was brand new to Des Moines and Sinatra was still getting billed under the name of his boss, bandleader Tommy Dorsey. Jim was there at the beginning with Frank, in the audience alongside the bobbysoxers. Neither man had yet made his name.
Jim saw Sinatra several times in concert throughout his life, even meeting his idol once backstage in Las Vegas. He rubbed elbows with Frank the way he rubbed them with multiple celebrities. He collected all the record albums—and then bought the same ones again on compact disc. He was personally acquainted with the comic Tom Dreesen, who was Sinatra’s opening act for 14 years. Dreesen was a big sports fan as well as a Midwesterner (Chicago-born and raised), and I want to say that Dreesen even emceed a roast in Jim’s honor at one time. Well, this was just the stuff of legend.
During the winter, when he would enjoy the sun of Arizona, Jim would mail me newspaper clippings of theatrical shows he had attended. I still have his correspondence. One is a recap of a performance by a young Sinatra clone. Another letter contained a brochure for a Rat Pack tribute show he dreamed of seeing. He wrote "You'll swear that all 3 of them are back with us, live- and you are back in the Copa Room of the Sands, so make plans now to fly to London!" All he forgot was the "I love it, I love it, I love it."
Jim loved show business. And he knew he was part of it in a way that I'm not sure the people do today that do what he did. He would stay up watching the late movie and share the details with us the next day. Working the afternoon show allowed for him a lot of late movies, even after he had reached an age when most of his peers were surely beating him to sleep by several hours. He would often remark that a person should never awake before 10 am unless being paid to do it!
Whenever I saw arrive in the newsroom or in the studio, he would be humming something. A jazz standard more than likely. Sometimes I would challenge myself privately to recognize the tune. One day in the studio, he sang every note of an old chestnut called “Oh! Look at Me Now,” which had been Sinatra’s first big hit with Dorsey. The microphones were not “hot.” A commercial was playing through the studio speakers. He had an audience of just three—Sue, Jerry, and me. It was well-established that Jim’s all-time favorite song was “Makin’ Whoopee.” It became a theme song for him. It's been reported that, on a given night, he might lead an entire tavern in a rendition of “Makin’ Whoopee.” But when I think of Jim, I think of “Oh! Look at Me Now,” an unapologetic declaration in music that’s entirely consistent with Jim’s life and work.
We had a very singular relationship, but on occasion, he would stop and ask a question about my family or my life. I think he would start to get curious about this guy in his 20’s who (I dare say) was such a marvelous audience for stories about one of his great passions and about his brushes with greatness.
Jim Zabel will be remembered as the voice of the Iowa Hawkeyes and as possibly the broadcasting touchstone of our time for this community and this state, but I’m going to make a point to think of him first as a connoisseur of music. There's a splendid name for what he was-- a "jazzbo." He was the Sinatra of Iowa to me-- brash and excitable, steering the party, never disguising a single emotion, commanding the microphone with authority.

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