I absolutely loved watching Huell Howser’s show. For those of you outside of California, Huell was a giant weirdo Marine Corps veteran from Tennessee who traveled all around California, inspecting seemingly banal things with the fascination of a 6 year old. No man in the world could find so much excitement in a rock or a dried up bush in the California desert as Huell Howser. He was an equal opportunity enthusiast who would get just as excited over a dog who eats avocados as he did by the moon landing.
Howser was a silver fox of the highest order, he was totally ripped under those blowzy shirts. His burly figure belied a gentle nature and wide-eyed enthusiasm and seemingly limitless inquisitiveness. Huell HAD to know why there was a picture of Burt Lancaster on the wall in a cafe. He would repeat questions that he needed to know the answers to: “Is that the phone Reagan talked on? Do you mean to say that “he” actually spoke on that phone? SO, you are telling me that the Ronald Reagan, the President of the United States, spoke on that actual phone right there? Why, that’s amazing that he used that phone.” He marveled at the clams on Pismo Beach, the traditions of Armenian Christmas and an old man who loves to make yogurt. He was able to talk about Hollywood for an hour without ever mentioning the Film Industry. He was amazed by the juxtaposition of peaches in a basket and peach trees they were picked from, “THE ORCHARD IS RIGHT HERE BY THE STAND!” Then, equally amazed by the fact that the peach lady’s house is also nearby “It’s all in one operation here, where you live, where you work, where you sell your fruit!” In a world of assholes and cynics, Huell Howser was a ray of California sunshine.
A favorite image of him of mine is Huell walking the polo fields at Coachella. His questions to the thin, hipster concert coordinator – drowned out by warmup techno music in the background – about how to coordinate multiple bands playing on multiple stages were priceless. He’d bravely stride up to hipsters to question their baby’s headphones, to a girl in a bikini straight from the shower, to a couple of drunken Scots putting on sunscreen – “They’re putting on the sunscreen!!!”
Huell was my TV go-too when I was fed up with real life. On one particularly glum news day, burned out by the election cycle, I found Howell surrounded by beaming women and their peach pies. I almost cried with relief. He taught me things about California I would never never have taken the time to learn on my own. From the history of the Hollywood sign, to how a bell is made, Huell Howser made everything rapturous and irresistibly captivating. He would –at the sight of a dog who happened to eat avocados–lapse into the kind of euphoria normally reserved for the pony under the Christmas tree. He had an entire show devoted to the Zamboni.
Huell would walk into a restaurant in the middle of the desert, tanned and smiling, and just start taping. Boyish and affable, with an irrepressible country-twang, it didn’t matter if nobody knew him, he was so authentic and sincere, he got everyone on his side. Huell Howser always made plain folks feel important enough to be heard. Pound for pound, there was no better interviewer in public media than Huell Howser. He didn’t try to be coy or ironic or clever. He would simply ask: “What’s that?”
One interesting thing I just learned about him is that in the 1970s, Howser hosted an extremely popular segment show in Nashville. In 1979, he was the subject of controversy when he did a story about how the former Tennessee Governor’s Mansion was slated for demolition to make way for a Popeye’s Fried Chicken outlet. He made no secret of his outrage and disgust at this development and was ordered by station management to stop talking about this on the air. Huell ignored the order and went right on bitching about it. He was given a thirty-day suspension, during which time he found a new job doing the same kind of thing but in New York.
Huell Howser died today at just 67. California has retained some of its authenticity because of Howser’s tireless efforts at showcasing everything and everyone statewide. He was a producer, a director and an actor, but his enthusiasm–his joy for all things Californian–was real. In a world of cynicism and snark, I will miss this man, his “Oh My Gawd!” and his “Oh It’s Beautiful!, and his closing line:
“…and it is a fine example of California’s Gold. S’long everybody!”