Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, November 20, 1993 TAG: 9311220259
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: B12 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Reviewed by JOE KENNEDY|
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
His pal and protege, Bob Edwards, has produced a frank, affectionate book about the Friday mornings he and Barber spent chatting, at long distance, on ``Morning Edition'' over National Public Radio. Edwards, the show's host, has done his homework. That is all the Ol' Redhead ever asked.
``Fridays with Red'' clearly and simply depicts Barber, the legendary sportscaster, as Edwards came to know him. When they started the weekly four-minute conversations in 1981, Barber was 72 years old and 15 years removed from the baseball broadcasts that made him famous. As listeners quickly discovered, he was everything that modern-day broadcasters are not: spontaneous, opinionated, courtly and live, always live.
Edwards was the cool customer of the current age: wry, skeptical and grateful for tape. Somehow, when they spoke, the generations merged. For millions of listeners, their unpredictable talks were the high point of the week.
Walter Lanier Barber was too diverse and cranky a fellow to limit his comments to sports. He instructed Edwards and his audience in the history and personalities of the games, in the vagaries of cats and the beauty of the camellias in his yard. He quoted Scripture, talked of classical music and the world's great literature, and in the next breath offered insight into the breaking story of the day.
By the time he finished each week, he had taught us all something we never expected to know. And Edwards, his beloved ``Colonel Bob,'' acknowledged this with the warmth in his voice.
In this book Edwards tells the story behind the story, tracing the history not only of the Friday sessions but also of Barber's career, including the self-examination the native Southerner went through when he learned that Jackie Robinson, a black man, would play for the Dodgers. Decency and cultural conditioning fought for the broadcaster's soul, but decency won in the end. Robinson and other groundbreaking minority athletes came to respect Barber as a man and as a friend. And Barber felt the same toward them.
By the time he died in October 1992, Barber had often displayed his other side, the one that Edwards calls ``flinty.'' He had little patience with substitute hosts and was especially unresponsive to women. And he was unpredictable. No amount of preparation could defend against the Barber curveball.
Once, knowing he would be filling in for Edwards on a Friday, reporter Jim Angle studied sports all week.
When the segment opened, he greeted Barber, who said, ``Good morning, Jim, and I have just one word for you - wisteria.'' Angle never recovered.
For many listeners, Barber was ``a reminder of a father, a grandfather or a favorite uncle they had - or wished they had.'' Not that he was an easy man.
Even after he had established a rapport with the old pro, Edwards grew tense when the week's news yielded no worthy subject. That meant they'd have to wing it. It was, he writes, ``the ultimate test ... an unrehearsed discussion of no particular subject with a fellow who has no patience for someone who isn't properly prepared. There's at least one contradiction in there somewhere. But it worked.''
Red Barber is gone and greatly missed. He lives on in library bio files and the pages of the six books he wrote, but somehow, it seems unlikely that he'll seem as real in any of those as he does in ``Fridays with Red.'' Bob Edwards has put a laugh and a tear on every page. It is great to have such a good friend back.
\ ``Fridays with Red: A Radio Friendship''
Simon & Schuster. $21.
by CNB