Yesterday I learned of the passing of Mr. Huell Howser. For those who live outside California, Huell’s name may not ring any bells. If you live here, however, it’s hard to not picture him at the mention of his name.
Huell was born in Tennessee, but had lived here for decades. His twang was so thick, however, you’d think he just arrived by Greyhound. That dude could drawl, y’all. His shows about California were always interesting, and it was Huell that made them so. He was genuinely excited about whatever he was profiling, whether it was hot sauce, bathing suits, hiking trails, soda pop or Japanese internment camps. He covered subjects both serious and lighthearted. And he did it all with respect and Southern charm.
I have a bit of a confession to make: I appeared in an episode of Huell’s “California Gold” and in an episode of”Visiting…With Huell Howser.” The “Visiting” episode was about a soda store in Highland Park. As I am a consumer of small-brewers’ concoctions, I was asked to participate. During the filming of that show, I suggested Huell try a spicy ginger ale brewed by Blenheim, out of South Carolina. He did try it, and it brought him to tears. He said he liked it, in spite of the heat, and I was glad.
Years later, I was asked to appear in an episode of “California’s Gold.” This time the focus was on the bathing suit industry and its California history. I brought my cousin Shady along, and we rode to Huntington Beach with my friend Cheyenne and her kids. We all arrived and changed into the vintage suits provided and posed on the beach. I was wearing a 1920’s one-piece (the real deal, folks) and just before I headed out, the stylist said I should be wearing a bathing cap. She had me twist my hair up on top of my head and then she swiftly wedged the cap onto my noggin. I never got to see it and had absolutely no idea how I looked. I went out to the beach, Huell got the shot and then I waited a while, in case anything else was needed. While I stood, people kept coming by and pointing and smiling. I was with a few others, all in period swimmies, so I didn’t think anything of it. When we were finally told the shoot was finished, I turned to head back to the changing area. That’s when I saw my shadow. There were all sorts of strange little doo-dads springing forth from my head. What the heck was on that swim cap? When I removed it, I was able to see: little bird-like shapes were stuck all over the danged thang. I was a total dork. It didn’t matter though (as I’m used to being a total dork), and after the shoot Huell took us all to lunch. It was a really nice day by the sea.
So last night I wanted to somehow honor Huell’s memory. I headed over to a soda shop and got myself a spicy ginger ale. When I popped the cap and the familiar burn went up my nose, I knew I had chosen well. Remembering the Tennessee man who loved California more than anything brought me to tears. Or maybe it was just the ginger ale. Either way, Cheers Huell. And thanks.