January 18, 2023 • 55 mins
EPISODE 114: COUNTDOWN WITH KEITH OLBERMANN
A-Block (1:45) SPECIAL COMMENT: May George Santos burn in hell, and the sooner the better. A homeless disabled Navy veteran tells the Oyster Bay NY "Patch" news site that Santos told him he would raise the $3,000 needed for life-saving surgery for the vet's Service Dog, Sapphire. And Santos raised it. And Santos kept it. And Sapphire died.
It boils down to this: George Santos as good as killed a dog, for money.
And today, a political prostitute named Kevin McCarthy will lecture this country about the will of the voters, and refuse to call for Santos merely to resign from Congress, and will insist "I try to stick by the Constitution" solely because McCarthy needs Santos's vote to keep his sorry ass in the Speaker's chair. And I tell people that once, maybe Republicans were just as soulless and evil as they are today, but they used to have a fear of getting caught doing and being it, and so they would refuse to enable wretched, disgusting sociopaths like George Santos. And now the fear is gone, and so with it is any claim of either morality or humanity in that party. Because as amoral as McCarthy is, he was not alone in turning away from the story of Sapphire and god knows how many other Santos stories like it, and giving him seats on the House Small Business and Science Committees. Steve Scalise is guilty, too. And Tom Emmer. And Elise Stefanik. And Mike Johnson. And Gary Palmer. And Richard Hudson. And the rest of the Republican "leadership" in the House.
And today not one reporter will ask any of them, the question: "How can you defend your man George Santos? He ran a fake pet charity and by proxy killed a disabled veteran's service dog so he could take the money from the GoFundMe. How can you defend him? How can you NOT spit in his face?"
B-Block (23:41) EVERY DOG HAS ITS DAY: Ravioli (24:41) THE WORST PERSONS IN THE WORLD: Madison Square Garden's face and facial recognition device attacked by all of New York's politicians; what's that on Kyrsten Sinema's shoulder, and hey, Ted Cruz, why didn't you wager some incest porn? (29:58) THINGS I PROMISED NOT TO TELL: First came the ten hours in a blizzard in a car that had just had its snow tires removed by George's father because after all it was April and it NEVER snows in April. But then, after the trial-by-snow, there was... The Adler Letter.
C-Block (44:32) THINGS I PROMISED NOT TO TELL, PART 2: The Adler Letter, written by the-then News Director of WCBS Radio in New York, Lou Adler, changed my life. Nearly 44 years later it still hangs in a place of honor on my wall, and 37 years later I got to repay his kindness and support.
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Countdown with Keith Olderman is a production of I Heart Radio.
This is dedicated to a dog named Sapphire. It is
(00:27):
hard to believe that on a day when Kevin McCarthy
took four people who tried to overthrow the President elect
of the United States, Bobert, go Sar Green, and Perry
took those four and put them on his House Star
Chamber committee dedicated to investigating the now President of the
United States, on a day when he also took this
(00:51):
insurrectionist one time nine eleven Truther threat to homeland security,
Marjorie Taylor Green, and put her on the committee in
favor of homeland security. On a day when all that happened,
it is hard to believe that another Republican congressman did
something worse. Yet one of them did. His name is
(01:14):
George Santos, or his name is Anthony Devolder, or his
name is Anthony Zabrovski, or his name is god knows what.
But yesterday we found out the details of the time
that this filth, this worm, this irredeemable trash, Santos, Devolder, Zabrovsky,
(01:40):
whoever he is, we learned the details of the time
when he told a homeless, disabled Navy bet that he
would raise the three thousand dollars needed for life saving
surgery for the vets service dog, and Santos raised it,
and Santos kept it, and the dog died. The hyperlocal
(02:08):
news source Patch for Oyster Bay, Long Island reported these
terrible details yesterday. It boils down to this, George Santos
as good as killed the disabled veterans dog for money,
and entirely apart from the great glowing mockery of our
form of government that he represents, that doubles every minute
he sits there pretending he has a right to be
(02:31):
in Congress, or in any decent society or in this country.
Apart from that, just for the story of Sapphire the
service dog, George Santos can burn in hell, and the
sooner the better. The Navy veterans name was rich Ostoff,
(02:53):
and his dog was named Sapphire. After rich Ostof was
honorably discharged in two thousand two. Things did not go
well for him, except for a day in two thousand
six that a veteran's charity gave him Sapphire. By two
thousand sixteen, they were living in a tent inside an
abandoned chicken coop in Howell, New Jersey. Ostov had broken
(03:16):
his leg. He could not work, he had to panhandle,
but he had Sapphire, and she was, he says, literally
the difference for him between life and death. When he
could think of no other reason to go on, he
asked himself what would happen to her if he were
no longer there? And so he would go on, and
(03:37):
Sapphire would go on with him. And then came the tumor.
It was in now ten year old Sapphire's stomach, and
a veterinary tech told rich Ostov that the bad news
was the surgery to remove it would cost three thousand dollars,
but the good news was the surgery would almost certainly
save Sapphire's life. And the veterinary tech added, I know
(04:00):
a guy who runs a pet charity who can help you.
The charity, except it was not a charity, was called
Friends of Pets United f o p U, and the
guy was named Anthony Devolder, and that Friends of Pets
United was the purported charity. George Santos made sure to
(04:24):
tell the voters about in two and that it was
a fraud that often held fundraisers, which always seemed to
hit some kind of wall or hitch before the recipients
got their money. We knew that that was in the
original New York Times story of December. But this, this
(04:44):
story about Sapphire, the murder of Sapphire, this we did
not know. By May first, two thousand sixteen, rich Ostoff
and Anthony Devolder had made contact. They talked, Ostov said
twice or maybe three times on the phone, and Devolder
(05:06):
immediately sprang into action. He started a go fund Me
for Sapphire. On that day, Astoff posted a photo of Sapphire,
the huge tumor obvious just in front of her back
left leg. Posted the photo on social media, Hey Facebook friends,
Astoff wrote, I'm trying to raise three K to pay
(05:27):
for my Pitter pups life saving tumor removal. If you
can donate or know someone who can, would you please
go to my go fund me dot com account and
there it is below Sapphire's photo. Click here to support
Sapphire the Veteran Rescue by Anthony Devolder. By the end
(05:50):
of June, they had raised the three thousand dollars. Rich
Austoff estimated that half of that came from his friends,
Sapphire would have her surgery, and then Anthony Devolder George
Santos revealed there was a catch. He Santos Devolder had credit,
(06:11):
he said, at a veterinary practice in Queens, so Astov
had to bring Sapphire there for the surgery, not to
the clinic in New Jersey that was ready to operate.
And so in August they went. The same veterinary tech
who had suggested Ostof contact Friends of Pets United in
the first place, actually drove them there. And that's when
(06:33):
a vet at that place briefly examined Sapphire and told
the shocked Astof that he could not operate on Sapphire's tumor.
And because George Santos's vet said he couldn't operate, rich
Austov says George Santos as Anthony Devolder then told Ostoff
that he quote didn't do things my way, and so
(06:56):
he Santos would be keeping the money from Sapphire's go
fund me, which he and he would use on another animal,
the navy man. Austov says he and Devolder Santos spoke
and exchange text for the last time in November two
thousand six as to Sapphire's money, quoting texts from Santos
(07:19):
that he showed to the Oyster Bay patch site and
of which there are screen caps. The remaining will be
used if applicable if she is a candidate for the surgery.
Keep in mind fo p U is a reputable organizations.
We care for many animals and have the upmost respect
for every single one. Ostov pleaded. The tumor he texted
(07:44):
Santos was quote three times the size it was in April.
This was the moment Santos chose to boast quote. Remember
it is our credibility that God go fund me them
sebs to contribute. We are audited like every five oh
one c three, and we are with the highest standards
(08:07):
of integrity. You have to remember every ride and every
life you take from volunteers are paid for gas, tolls, lunch,
all of that. Everyone has collaborated. The only ride he'd
gotten had been from that vet tech who had put
him in touch with George Santos in the first place.
(08:28):
But then Santos said he would take Sapphire for an ultrasound,
but only to the Queen's location. And then there was
another catch. He texted Astov quote, and you're not coming
for the ride fo P. You will handle this from
now on only with the animal. We do not drive
(08:48):
people around, nor do we give them rides. We transport
animals in need, not needy owners exclamation point. Further to
this case, Sapphire is not a candidate for surgery. The
funds are moved to the next animal in need, and
we will make sure we use of resources to keep
her comfortable. At about that point, another VET, an X
(09:12):
marine and retired police sergeant named Michael Bohle contacted George
Santos and tried to intervene. He says he told Santos
he was messing with a veteran and he needed to
either give ostof the money raised for Sapphire or get
him another service dog bowl, says quote. He Santos was
totally uncooperative on the phone, and that is when the
(09:37):
go fund Me for Sapphire was deleted. Astof went back
to Facebook on November sixteen. Quote, I'm sorry to say
that we were scammed by Anthony Devolder and Friends of
Pets United fo PU through a series of bad veterinary
contacts and subterfuge regarding payment. Sapphire has not received reveterinary care,
(10:01):
and her growth is three to four times bigger than
it was when the campaign was fulfilled. She is facing
euthanasia within months. Even that small piece of humanity and
dignity was denied to Sapphire because of now Congressman George Santos.
(10:22):
Rich Astov did not have the money for the euthan asia.
Sapphire lingered until January of two thousand seventeen. On the
fift of that month, finally somebody helped out. They euthanized her.
I love that dog so much, Astov set of Sapphire.
I inhaled her last breaths. There were, according to a
(10:47):
woman who worked with George Santos at the Dish Network
call center, the previous highlight of his professional career, many
many fundraisers for dogs in needs, both on the Facebook
page of Friends of Pets United, whatever that really was,
and on George santos Is personal page. The vet Tech
(11:08):
the initial link between Devolder Santos and rich Austov and
his late dog. Sapphire refused to comment on this story
for Patch in Oyster Bay, but something Astof texted to
Santos in November two thousand sixteen, may have summed up
this entire deplorable, despicable, in human scam. I'm starting to
(11:30):
feel ostof, wrote then to now Congressman George Santos, like
I was mined for my family and friends donations. That's it,
isn't it. In other words, as bad as it would
be to raise money to try to save a homeless
Navy Vets service dog and then take the money away,
(11:54):
this this was actually worse. George Santos, posing as good
Samaritan Anthony Devolder, went looking for dogs and dog parents
in need, and in at least one case, raised money
in that dog's name, knowing all the time that he
(12:15):
would make it impossible for that dog to get that money.
George Santos did not just passively aggressively kill rich Ostov's
beloved dog, Sapphire. He didn't just steal the money that
was raised to save her. This was a premeditated scam
(12:37):
all too well known in dog rescue circles. You step
in and make sure the only money that can be
raised for the dog never gets to the dog, so
that instead it gets to you. It is in effect
premeditated murder for money. Yesterday, the Speaker of the House
(13:04):
of represented. It is Kevin McCarthy who keeps refusing to
say what even other Republican Congressmen are already saying. Who
keeps refusing to call for this scumbag George Santos just
to resign from the House, never mind to go to prison.
Who keeps condescendingly invoking the will of the voters and
the lack of criminal charges and let him serve and quote,
(13:27):
I try to stick by the constitution. This a moral, gutless, spineless,
soul less chief political prostitute. Kevin McCarthy gave George Santos
a seat on the House Committee on Small Business and
(13:48):
another seat on the House Committee on Science, Space and Technology.
There must come a time in this country when we
again stop providing ways out for worthless excrement like George Santos,
(14:10):
and ways out for the even more worthless excrement like
Kevin McCarthy, who knowingly and willfully protect the George santos
Is of this country and enable them and cover up
for them. The politicians of this nation have never had
(14:31):
a surfeit of honor or respectability, but Republicans did once
have healthy, useful, answerable fear, fear of being caught, fear
of being shamed, fear of being brought down because like
George Santos, they are predators who scam homeless navy vets
(14:53):
and kill their dogs by proxy, or because, like Kevin McCarthy,
they need George Santos's vote so they can keep their
own worthless asses in all us two years from now.
Once well, what happened to rich Austof and poor Sapphire
(15:14):
may not have really mattered to most of them, or
some of them, or maybe even to any of them.
It used to really matter to them. What would happen
to them if it was obvious that they didn't care? Sincerity, shame, fear.
We need something to keep these fascist monsters minimally accountable,
(15:39):
to at least this minimum standard. Kevin McCarthy, pretend you
are a human being. Because today George Santos is a
Republican member in good standing and on two separate committees
of the one and eight Congress, and he is so
(16:01):
today and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, and he
will be through the third of January two thousand, because
Kevin McCarthy permits it, and because Majority Leader Steve Scalise
permits it, and because Majority Whip Tom Emmer permits it,
(16:25):
and because House Republican Conference Chair Elease Stefanic permits it,
and because Deputy Chair Mike Johnson permits it, and because
House Republican Policy Chair Gary Palmer permits it, and because
Republican Congressional Committee Chair Richard Hudson permits it. And may
(16:45):
they all burn in hell. These are the men and
women without morals, without conscience, without humanity, without that useful
fear of getting caught, whose every pious pronouncement and judgment
(17:07):
are just shallow performances and callous play acting. And today
they will judge that this unspeakable, subhuman trash, this wretched, disgusting,
sociopathic George Santos, Anthony Devolder Zabrovski, who stole charity money,
(17:30):
who scammed a homeless veteran, who let the service dog
die a terrible death, they will judge that George Santos
is just fine by them. And Kevin McCarthy will lead
them as they do. He is their leader. What he
(17:53):
can claim he leads them in or two is anybody's guess.
And not one reporter who sees any of them, not
one will ask the question that Kevin McCarthy should have
to answer today, Mr speaker, how can you defend your
(18:16):
man George Santos? He ran a phony pet charity and
by proxy he killed a dog so he could keep
three thousand dollars in go fund me donations. How can
you defend him? How? Mr Speaker, can you resist spitting
(18:44):
in his face? In memory of Sapphire still ahead? Congressman
(19:08):
Eric Swalwell of California offers Senator Ted Cruz of Texas silly,
somewhat self deprecating wager on the outcome of the San
Francisco Dallas NFL playoff game. Cruisers response is a marvelous
mixture of racism and conspiracy theories. So the World Economic
Forum and Senator Kirsten Cinema and what's that smell? My god,
(19:31):
did something die in here? Oh? It's that large carcass
like item that Senator Cinema is wearing around her shoulders.
And first came the ten hours in a blizzard in
a car that had just had its snow tires removed
because it was April and it never snows in April.
But at its end there was the Adler letter. Nearly
(19:56):
forty four years later, it is still one of the
pivotal moments of my life, the Adler letter. I'll tell
you the very long, long story of April eighth nine
in Things I promised not to tell. That's next. This
is countdown. You know. This is countdown with you know
(20:23):
Keith still ahead. Since it was April. My friend's dad
had done him a solid and removed his snow tires,
which made our drive back to Ithaca, New York, real
interesting after the blizzard hit. But that was just the
ten hour preamble. What awaited me when we finally got
there was the lou Adler letter, the subject of today's
(20:45):
Things I promised not to tell. Coming up first. In
each addition of Countdown, we feature a dog in need
you can help. Every dog has its day, once again
a repetition of an unusual dog name Ravioli. This Ravioli
rescued here in Queen's By Near and Far Animal Foundation,
wandering the winter streets, emaciated, ski in raw hair sparks.
(21:06):
His condition was so bad they took him to the
veterinary Hospital the University of Pennsylvania. He's got so much
wrong with him that if you saw a picture, you'd
say he's a little Chihuahua mix right. Actually he's a
French bulldog, so skinny he's literally unrecognizable. They think they
can save him. It will take time and money and
near and far as doing a fundraiser for him on
(21:27):
Cuddly You can donate great find h Matt Cuddley or
on my Twitter feed and your retweets will help him too.
I thank you, and Ravioli thanks you. Time now for
(21:51):
the daily roundup of the misgrants, morons and done in
Krueger effects specimens who constitute today's worst persons in the world.
Lebronze Senator Kirsten Cinema proving her new political self identification
quote independent is just another brand name. She's at the
World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, trashing the Democrats, rationalizing,
(22:15):
helping to destroy democracy, and cheering on money. She was
also seeing yesterday at some sort of panel wearing some
kind of fur clothing thing might have been a mink stole,
but a mink stole from the you know, Corrella Deville collection.
But the closest comp was actually this. There were feathers
(22:38):
flying out of it in all directions and it was
large enough to serve as a park of for a moose,
and it really looked like Senator Cinema was wearing a
dead muppet. Anybody's seeing Grover our runner up, and combined
with the winner, we have crashed together two segments Worse
Persons and Sports Today. The silver medalist is James Doland,
(23:02):
owner of Madison Square Garden here in Funds at E.
He's also the owner of the New York Knicks, New
York Rangers, Radio City Music Hall, and a surreptitious facial
recognition system so sharp that it allows his minions to
spot lawyers who work for a firm representing one of
the many people who suing him and kick them out
of his buildings. I told you part of this story
(23:25):
in October. One attorney who's not even involved in any
of their company's lawsuits against Madman Jim. She was literally
thrown out of a Brandy Carlisle concert at MSG after
they had been admitted and seated, because facial recognition identified
her as working for a firm that had had the
nerve to sue one of Nolan's companies, so out she
(23:46):
and her husband went. Then last month, another lawyer escorting
girl scouts to see the Rocketts at Radio City was
denied admission same excuse the MSG spy satellite had showed
she worked for a forbidden firm. Other lawyers have been
kicked out of Nick's games and Rangers games in similar circumstances.
(24:07):
Since November now, eight elected government officials representing Manhattan, running
the gamut from state reps to U S Senator Chuck Schumer,
have sent Dolan and MSG a letter warning them they
are quote using facial recognition technology against its perceived legal enemies,
which is extremely problematic because of the potential to chill
(24:28):
free speech and access to the courts. And maybe Dolan
wants to stop this immediately because otherwise, let me translate
the note for you, the governments will all act against
you know, the liquor licenses and MSG and Radio City,
and they'll revoke the expiring permit that allows MSG to
have more than seats, and uh, what about that infamous
(24:52):
state tax abatement that inexplicably lets Dolan not pay the
forty three million dollars a year he otherwise would have to.
On the other hand, the Rangers have not won the
championship since and the Knicks have not once since nineteen
seventy three, So maybe the expulsions courtesy the Madison Square
Garden Stazi are not entirely a bad thing, but finally
(25:16):
our winner, Senator Ted Cruz, worst Person's Hall of Famer
and snot nosed little clown. In the endless tradition of
politicians making show wagers on sporting events involving their local teams,
California Congressman Eric Swalwell proposed one to Cruise about the
upcoming NFC playoff game. Quote, I will make this open
(25:39):
bet to Ted Cruz. If the Dallas Cowboys beat the
forty Niners, I won't tweet for the rest of January.
If the forty Niners win, you can't tweet for the
rest of January. How Texan? Are you? Ted? Deal? And
it's not a great gag, but it's not a bad one.
It tweaks Cruise, but Squalwell is also self deprecating, and Cruise, well,
(26:02):
he's Ted Cruz. He applied completely not in kind. How about,
he replied to Congressman Swallowell, we bet a Chinese dinner.
I don't know. Senator, Instead of that, how about if
the forty Niners beat the Cowboys, you give Swallowell your
entire collection of incest porn that America found out about
(26:25):
when you liked an illustrated tweet from at sexual Posts
on your personal Twitter account in two thousand seventeen and
then blamed a staffer, Ted Weasley, Little incest porn, Bastard cruise,
two Day's worst parson in. And now to the number
(27:06):
one story on the countdown and my favorite topic, me
and things I promised not to tell. And this is
the story, and it's a long one. As you can tell,
I'm starting it earlier than usual, the story of the
Adler Letter and the hell through which I had to
go just to read it, all of which was entirely
worth it, and has been every day of the forty
(27:27):
three years since the Adler Letter. Falling into my hands
on the night of Sunday, April nine was like the
PostScript to a breathless five page novel that turns out
to be a million times more exciting, more interesting, and
more important than those entire first five pages. We had
driven by that point around nine or ten hours. I
(27:52):
do not believe I ever actually expected to die on
the trip, but I was at least a dozen times
absolutely convinced that George and I would wind up in
the hospital he and I were college seniors, then on
home to see the defending two time world champion New
York Yankees opened the nineteen seventy nine baseball season, and
then back on the road right after that game on
(28:13):
Sunday for the four four and a half hour trip
from the parking garage at Yankee Stadium to the rural
wilds of Ithaca, New York in earliest springtime. We had
done this countless times over four years, but I did
not know, as I got out of my dad's car
and into George's on the way to Yankee Stadium that
this trip had two previously unimaginable components. First, already at
(28:40):
that hour, the Adler letter had been sitting in my
mailbox at my apartment at two and seven Delaware Avenue, Ithaca,
New York, for at least a day, perhaps two. And
I did not know the other thing, and only found
out as George told me about it at the ball
game that his father had yelled towards him as George
backed out of the driveway to go pick me up. George,
(29:03):
there's rain in the four cast drive. Carefully, remember I
took off your snow tires yesterday. Because it's spring. Oh.
The midpoint of the trip more or less, from Metropolitan
New York to Ithaca was a McDonald's restaurant in Liberty,
New York. And we stopped there as always and got
(29:25):
a late lunch. And I was sitting facing the window
as it got dark, and George was sitting facing the
counter as we ate and mumbled. I said, George, do
you have a bad case of dan druff? Or did
it just start really snowing? George wheeled around to look
out the window. Oh. We wrapped up our burgers and
(29:48):
took them with us and literally ran to the car.
My father and his goddamn snow tire obsession, George shouted.
Within an hour on the outskirts of Binghamton, New York,
three or four inches of snow had reduced speed to
just above single digits and visibil to next to nothing.
George was a meticulously good driver. It didn't matter. We
(30:10):
spun out, I mean a full three sixty. We're going north. Oops,
we're going west and on coming traffic. Ups. We're going
south into the cars behind us. Oops, we're going east
into the ditch next to the highway. Oh boy, we're
going north. Again. I think we spun out six or
seven times on the highway alone before Binghamton, and everybody
(30:32):
else was doing it too. George's father had removed all
of their snow tires. There was some solace in that,
seeing other cars in both directions doing exactly the same thing.
I could have swore. I heard one of the drivers
swear at George's father. In fact, we were not far
north of Binghamton. No still skidding, still spinning, George swearing NonStop.
(30:54):
When he interrupted himself long enough to ask me what
time it was. I had to hold my watch up
to the car window to get brief flashes of illumination
from the highway lights and the skidding driver's rocketing past
us in all directions. Little after seven, we skid it again.
George swore again put the Ranger game on. I do
(31:15):
it myself, but we skid it again. By now I
was getting used to it, and I turned the radio
literally before George regained control of the steering. I found
the Ranger station, the one in New York w NW.
If you had told me that night that a little
over a year later I would be broadcasting on w
n AW, my first thought would have been, so we
(31:37):
don't get killed tonight because George's father took off the
snow tires. That's nice. Oh and I also worked there,
and I'm not a ghost. If you had told me
that night that the Adler letter was waiting for me
back in my snow covered mailbox in Ithaca, I might
have pressed George to go faster. They might not have
even found our bodies in that eventuality. The storm, as
(32:00):
storms often did in those days, somehow boosted the A
M radio sick Noll, and though we were two hundred
miles away from the transmitter Marv Albert and the w
n a W New York Rangers hockey broadcast they were
not yet owned by Jim Dolan. Was clear as a bell.
The traction even seemed to get a little bit better,
But we both knew the ordeal that lay ahead. In
(32:23):
the personification of ordeals, the exit at Whitney Point, New York.
It amazed us, as it amazes the students there now,
as it must have amazed the students who went their
century ago. That Cornell University, which I attended, and Ithaca College,
which George attended, were both an hour's drive away from
(32:44):
the nearest Highway. There was, in fact, no access to Ithaca,
New York by anything more than a two lane road.
The train had stopped running some time before. It was
that or the airplanes, and I'm gonna shure you on
that night none of the airplanes were going either. It
was legendary on the Cornell campus that old Ezra Cornell,
(33:06):
the barely literate railroad tie preservative tycoon of the nineteenth century,
decided to give away nearly all of his fortune, which
today would have been at least a billion dollars. He
told a friend he was going to open a university
where anyone can study anything. The friend reacted in horror.
They will stampede the place, Ezra. Ezra laughed, Wait, do
(33:30):
you see where I put it? Ezra Cornell's little geographical
joke was still vividly alive on odd years later, as
it still is today. The easiest of the roots to
his university was the one that took you from Ithaca
to Whitney or Whitney Point or Lyle or Center Lyle,
(33:54):
the Whitney Point capital of the metroplex. Lyle, also known
as the Calcutta of Broome County, where nearly three thousand
people live top each other in condition so crowded that
every person barely has his own square mile. There's nobody there.
Once you get off at Whitney Point, you were at
(34:15):
the Mercies of Roots seventy nine, where if traffic was light,
or the driver's at Droit, you might make it back
to Ithaca in thirty minutes, but if you got stuck
behind somebody, it could take an hour. Or if there
was an April blizzard and George's father had taken off
his snout tires, it could take you longer than it
took Antarctic explorers to reach the pole, and you might
(34:37):
see still more snow and ice coming at you from
all directions. I believe George and I skidded making the
left turn off the highway, but he still managed to
stay on the road. The radio signal from the Rangers
game was not so fortunate. Within minutes, w n AW
began to compete for space on George's car radio with
(34:58):
some audible noise. It could suddenly pick up from George's
own turn signals, make a rite, and Marv Albert was
suddenly drowned out by ALLOUDI as in Rickers across the
click click pot ban slashers click click. Within minutes after
(35:18):
the first spin out on Roots seventy nine, mercifully with
literally no other cars on the road, the woo woo's arrived.
We never did figure out what they were, but they
waxed and waned so slowly that at first I asked
George why Ranger fans at Madison Square Garden were chanting
Woo woo. George was too busy swearing to answer. The
(35:43):
snow was now horizontal, and as it danced towards us
in George's headlights, it was hypnotic, and the Ranger broadcast
now sounded like this, full of click clicks and woo woo's.
The curse cross the woo woo woo pot ban slashers,
the click click click click click, damn it all the Hello.
(36:05):
Davidson rolls on to say whoa saliva pitch click click click,
click click. The trip from Whitney Point had taken well
over an hour, and we were not halfway there yet.
When the inevitable occurred, George kept a steady, slow paced
ten or fifteen miles an hour tops. He did not accelerate,
(36:25):
he did not turn. Yet all of a moment, his
green nineteen seventy, Dodge Dart decided to make an abrupt
left turn at about a forty five degree angle. We
were off the road in seconds, accelerating and headed for
an unscheduled visit to the front porch of a farmer's
house that had to have been set back at least
two hundred feet from the road. Here, finally, the heavy
(36:48):
snow work to our advantage. It slowed us down, then
it stopped us. It stopped us just two or three
feet before we would have plowed into the man's house. However,
since we were in Richford, New York by now birthplace
of John Rockefeller, by the way, or we were in
Caroline or Caroline Center or Slanderville Springs, or wherever the
(37:11):
hell we were, the homeowner emerged, bearing not a gun
nor an attitude, but genuine concern for us. In fact,
he heard the Ranger game on our radio and asked
me the score, which is when I noticed that the
moment we had left the road, the woo woos had stopped,
and the w NW signal was as good as it
(37:33):
must have been inside Madison Square Garden. The farmer helped
us push the car back onto route seventy nine, and
as we got in he went and said it where
snow tie. His son, George started to swear, so I
took over and explained about his father. Never been up
here has he? George started it up and now drove
(37:56):
even slower. Within a minute, the woo woo's were back.
Marv Albert was sel Messina where the right Drewson Islanders. Whoooo,
we got there. Finally, George was actually going to try
to drive up the hill that led to the other
(38:16):
hill that led to Delaware Avenue, where my apartment was.
Calculating that I had pressed my luck sufficiently, I told
him to just let me out at East State and
Mitchell and I'd make it from there on foot. Thankfully,
George's father had not removed the sure gripped souls from
my winter boots. I actually went to my radio station first.
(38:38):
It was literally a two minute walk from there to
my apartment. I lingered at w v b R for
fifteen or twenty minutes, and then hiked back home. The
rangers had long since one from the station. I had
called George's apartment and he had made it back there
to Ithaca College, I took my first deep breath since
the McDonald's in Liberty, and I reflected that it was
(38:58):
only about five and a half hours until my next class.
And guess what I was going to cut it again.
I stomped off the snow onto my porch. I opened
the door, and I dumped my bag inside, and then
reached out back into the mailbox. And I saw it
almost immediately in the upper left hand corner, in an
(39:20):
unmistakable font, the return address Adler w CBS, CBS Radio,
a division of CBS Inc. Fifty one West fifty Street,
New York, New York, one zero zero one nine, Adler,
(39:42):
Lou Adler. Lou Adler was radio news in New York City.
I could barely breathe the Adler letter. What was in
the Adler letter which explains why forty three, nearly forty
four years later, I know it by heart and I
(40:03):
can tell you exa actually where it is at this
exact moment. What was in that letter? Right after this,
resuming the number one story on the countdown and the
several lifetimes contained. On the date of Sunday, April nine,
I had just survived a nine or ten hour drive
(40:24):
in a blizzard right after my friend's Dad had helpfully
removed my friends snow tires. I had lived to resume
my desperate bid both to graduate college in two months
and get a job somewhere in radio in three months,
And against all odds, amid all the snow and mess,
there was a letter waiting for me at my apartment
(40:47):
in silent snow, inundated Ithaca, New York, A letter from
Lou Adler, the news director of leading all news radio
station in the country. Lou Adler had begun on w
CBS Radio the year I was born. In nine seven,
(41:08):
the station went all news and immediately became the best
all news station in the country. Lou Adler co anchored
the mornings, and eight years earlier he had become the
station's news director as well. He was the best. His
co anchor, Jim Donley, was the best. His sportscaster, Ed Engles,
(41:28):
was the best. Their reporters were the best. His weather
man was the best. His traffic guys were the best.
His jingles were the best. I listened daily in high school,
and when I was home from college, I did not
take literal notes, only mental ones. My graduation, if I
(41:49):
made it, was seven weeks away. I had never worked
in television in any form, but I had been on
radio two or three thousand times by that point, and
I thought I was pretty good at it. In the
preceding months, as I tried to get a job somewhere,
I had flooded every radio station in every major market
in the Northeast with a demo tape and a resume.
(42:10):
I figured I might as well start in my home
of New York and not eliminate a potential job, no
matter how long a long shot it might have been.
If I was not good enough to work there, I
concluded I should let the people who ran New York's
radio stations decide that, since that's what they were paid
to do. To this point, they in fact had decided
(42:33):
exactly that. None of them had responded. I got a
few nibbles from some of the smaller stations, but as
of April eight, and as it turned into April nine,
I had zero job prospects in local radio. Other friends
were getting offers in Waterbury, Connecticut and Laconia, New Hampshire,
(42:54):
the thought of which filled me with abject terror. And now,
after this ordeal by Snow, after the w n W
whose and his father's near fatal decision to remove the
winter tires. Here in my hand was a letter from
the man who was, to my mind, the best radio
newscaster I had ever heard. Obviously it would be a rejection.
(43:19):
But even in that moment, even at my age twenty
years two months and change, I was awe struck not
only that leu Adler had replied, but that he alone,
of all of them, had replied. I believe I did
not remove my parka before I opened the envelope. I
did put on one lamp in my apartment, and I
(43:42):
read on the envelope, and then in the letter. W
CBS CBS Radio, a division of CBS Inc. Fifty one
West fifty second Street, New York, New York, one double
zero one nine two one two nine seven five four
three two one April three, seventy nine, Mr Keith Alverman,
two seven Delaware Avenue, Eaco, New York, Oh, Dear Mr Olberman,
(44:09):
this will reply to your letter of March, with which
you included a tape of your sports work on w
v b R FM. Sometimes it's hard to know what
a man can do by listening to a brief tape. Wait,
I thought a man which which which man, oh me.
(44:31):
Sometimes it's hard to know what a man can do
by listening to a brief tape. But I must tell
you I was excited by what I heard of yours.
I think you have exceptional talent and poise considering your
age and experience. You read well, and you write well,
and you know how to use tape. If the short
tape is truly representative of what you can do, and
(44:54):
if your knowledge of sports is broad, and if you
can perform under pressure well, then I feel you have
an excellent future in this industry. By now, my heart
was beating so furiously I could hear it in my head.
I was this close to hearing it make the woo
woo sound in my head. I think it might be,
(45:17):
he continued, a good idea for us to meet. Let
me know when you can make it to New York.
I have nothing here for you, and I know of
nothing solid. But if I feel as strongly about your
potential after we meet as I do now, a meeting
certainly could do you no harm. Sincerely, Louis c Adler,
(45:41):
Director News, Operations and Programs l C A slash p P. George,
I screamed into the phone. Can we drive back to
the city right now, I'll buy a new snow tires.
George swore at me, and then I read him the letter,
(46:01):
and he paused, now we should and go tonight. You're
not gonna get to see him tomorrow, wait till you
get your appointment. But but Jesus, this is like the
manager of the Yankees asking you to stop by the
stadium and bring your glove and bat just in case.
I think I got to sleep at sunrise. I had
read the Adler letter by then twenty or thirty times,
(46:25):
and not until the fifteenth or so did I stop
expecting it to have turned back into some courteous form
letter rejection badly zeroxten slightly off center. Slowly it dawned
on me that my own assessment of my skills in
radio were not predicated on the ego I already had,
or even the context of what else I could hear
(46:46):
on radio in Ithaca, which was then the three hundred
and fifty first largest radio market in the country. I
cannot describe now the sense of validation, except to say
that I have seriously considered not taking Lou Adler up
on his offer to meet him at CBS World headquarters
(47:07):
black Rock itself, where William S. Paley would be working upstairs.
Because short of offering me a job, there really was
no chance Mr Adler could do or say anything more
that could make me feel better nor more confident that
my dream of becoming a sportscaster would not lead me
to starvation or Laconia, New Hampshire, or both. In fact,
(47:33):
in person, lew Adler found more things to say to me.
If I had an opening for a sportscaster right now,
I would seriously consider you for it. I would hesitate
because of your age and because of your lack of experience,
and then I'd probably do it anyway. He was as
warm and supportive and as informal as his letter had been,
(47:56):
structured and serious and tempered. Let me take you on
a tour. We saw the live w CBS studios, the
production studios, the writer's area. I wasn't just speechless, I
was again breathless. And you should probably recognize this man
by voice, if not by sight, Lou Adler said to me,
Keith Olberman, meet our sports director, Ed Angles. Ed this
(48:18):
is Keith. This is the fellow with the tape. Ed
Angles took a moment, then his eyes brightened and widened. Hi,
what a tape, Jesus, Lou, don't tell me you've hired him?
Did you fire me? And I must confess I thought
for a second it might have happened. I did not
shrink from the fantasy as much as I liked at Angles.
(48:41):
Adler laughed, Now, Eddie, Then he paused, not yet. We
went back to Adwer's office. Have you got any job prospects?
I explained that a month earlier, thanks to a chain
of recommendations that stretched from my internship at Channel five
Television the year before, through a young ABC Sports executive
named Bob Iger to a friend of a friend of
(49:03):
a friend of a friend of his. I had met
everybody at the radio network of United Press International, and
I was supposed to go back and see them about
working their freelance as summer vacation relief doing sportscasts and newscasts.
And Lou Adware said that would be ideal for you.
It is a tough place to work, and they don't pay,
(49:24):
but it is here in the city, and every other
radio station in this country will hear you on the feed.
And and that's where we hired at Angles from. So
if we have an opening, he smiled broadly. I can
poach you, and I can get you here in two weeks.
Lou Adware suggested the CBS station in Atlanta would be
needing a sportscast here in a few months. I'll stay
(49:46):
on top of that. They already have a copy of
your tape. I hope you don't mind. In fact, I
made several copies of your tape. If U p I
doesn't work out, I am confident you'll be offered that
job in Atlanta, and probably quite a few other jobs.
I hope I've been of some help. Stay in touch
one of the privileges of this job, he said, to
be able to help. And then he said, but frankly,
(50:09):
you're not going to need that much help. I may
have taken the train back to my folks house, or
I may have walked the twenty miles or just floated
as it worked out. The up I job worked out
full time. Two months later, at the first game I covered,
I walked into the press box at Chase Stadium and
(50:29):
there was ed angles from w CBS. Thank god you
went to U P I. The way Adwerd went on
about you, I seriously wondered if he was planning to
bring you in and kick me out. The Atlanta offer
that Lou Adware had arranged came, I turned it down.
About a year later, I got a call from Lou
Adward's assistant saying they were going to need a new
afternoon sportscaster at w CBS and would I send a
(50:52):
new tape. But by that fall, when the job finally opened,
Adwer was leaving w CBS to become news director and
vice president of another New York station, w o R.
His accessor at w CBS would choose somebody else for
their job, just as I heard from the people who
ran the radio network that the w R folks had
(51:13):
started the year before. That was not coincidental either, Lou
Adwer had also sent them my tape. There is inevitably
a punchline to these stories. In two thousand six or
two thousand seven, when Countdown had become the highest rated
cable news program that was not on Fox, an email
(51:34):
appeared in my inbox at work. I couldn't believe the
name of the sender, Lou Adler. He began just as
formally as he had in nine nine. He actually felt
it was necessary to remind me of his letter. He
said he watched the show nightly, and when he found
other viewers of the program, he told them the story proudly.
(51:54):
He said. He actually asked if I remembered, it still
chokes me up. Immediately, I wrote him back, remembered, remembered.
I told him I still had the letter, and I
still had the sense of confidence that had given me
that it was central to my decision to more or
(52:16):
less give up my sports career later at the age
of thirty eight and try news. And I told him
the whole driving back to Ithaca and the snow tires
story which I had left out in told him that
just for fun. And now Lou Adler wrote back again
within minutes. He had just retired after running the mass
communications program at Quinnipiac College, and he said that he'd
(52:37):
had a strong sense of his career having been nothing
more than the proverbial punch into a pail of water.
Now it was my turn to reassure him that the
people like me he supported and taught and broadcast too,
had long since begun to support and teach the next generation,
(53:02):
and that generation was already supporting the one. I do
that and there would be people in this business, his business,
beginning their careers after both of us were dead, who
would owe debt of gratitude, whether or not they ever
knew it to Lou Adler, a debt of gratitude the
(53:22):
same as I always would. Lou Adler died five years
ago last month at the age. There are letters and
photos in the hallway that leads from the front door
of my home. The letters and pictures are from Barack Obama,
(53:43):
Bill Clinton, Jimmy Carter, Joe Biden, and Lou Adler. M
(54:05):
Countdown has come to you from the studios of Alderman
Broadcasting Empire World headquarters in the Sports Capsule Building in
New York, which is eight blocks from where I met
Lou Adler in Thank you for listening. If you have
not subscribed, please do so, because we can never have
enough subscribers. Here are the credits. Most of the music,
(54:27):
including our theme from Beethoven's Ninth arranged, produced and performed
by Brian Ray and John Philip Channel. Bryan and John
are the Countdown musical directors. All orchestration and keyboards by
John Philip Chanelle. Guitars based on drums by Brian Ray
and produced by t k O Brothers. Other Beethoven selections
have been arranged and performed by No Horns Allowed. The
(54:47):
sports music is the Ulderman theme from ESPN two, and
it was written by Mitch Warren Davis courtesy of ESPN, Inc.
Musical comments from Nancy Faust The best baseball stadium organist ever.
Our announcer today was Richard Lewis, and everything else was
pretty much my fault, although some of it is Lou
Adler's responsibility. That's countdown for this the sty third day
(55:09):
since Donald Trump's first attempted coup against the democratically elected
government of the United States. Arrest him now while we
still can. The next scheduled countdown is tomorrow. I'm Keith Olverman.
Good morning, good afternoon, good night, and good luck. Countdown
(55:36):
with Keith Olderman is a production of I heart Radio.
For more podcasts from I heart Radio, visit the i
heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Countdown with Keith Olderman is a production of I Heart Radio.
This is dedicated to a dog named Sapphire. It is
(00:27):
hard to believe that on a day when Kevin McCarthy
took four people who tried to overthrow the President elect
of the United States, Bobert, go Sar Green, and Perry
took those four and put them on his House Star
Chamber committee dedicated to investigating the now President of the
United States, on a day when he also took this
(00:51):
insurrectionist one time nine eleven Truther threat to homeland security,
Marjorie Taylor Green, and put her on the committee in
favor of homeland security. On a day when all that happened,
it is hard to believe that another Republican congressman did
something worse. Yet one of them did. His name is
(01:14):
George Santos, or his name is Anthony Devolder, or his
name is Anthony Zabrovski, or his name is god knows what.
But yesterday we found out the details of the time
that this filth, this worm, this irredeemable trash, Santos, Devolder, Zabrovsky,
(01:40):
whoever he is, we learned the details of the time
when he told a homeless, disabled Navy bet that he
would raise the three thousand dollars needed for life saving
surgery for the vets service dog, and Santos raised it,
and Santos kept it, and the dog died. The hyperlocal
(02:08):
news source Patch for Oyster Bay, Long Island reported these
terrible details yesterday. It boils down to this, George Santos
as good as killed the disabled veterans dog for money,
and entirely apart from the great glowing mockery of our
form of government that he represents, that doubles every minute
he sits there pretending he has a right to be
(02:31):
in Congress, or in any decent society or in this country.
Apart from that, just for the story of Sapphire the
service dog, George Santos can burn in hell, and the
sooner the better. The Navy veterans name was rich Ostoff,
(02:53):
and his dog was named Sapphire. After rich Ostof was
honorably discharged in two thousand two. Things did not go
well for him, except for a day in two thousand
six that a veteran's charity gave him Sapphire. By two
thousand sixteen, they were living in a tent inside an
abandoned chicken coop in Howell, New Jersey. Ostov had broken
(03:16):
his leg. He could not work, he had to panhandle,
but he had Sapphire, and she was, he says, literally
the difference for him between life and death. When he
could think of no other reason to go on, he
asked himself what would happen to her if he were
no longer there? And so he would go on, and
(03:37):
Sapphire would go on with him. And then came the tumor.
It was in now ten year old Sapphire's stomach, and
a veterinary tech told rich Ostov that the bad news
was the surgery to remove it would cost three thousand dollars,
but the good news was the surgery would almost certainly
save Sapphire's life. And the veterinary tech added, I know
(04:00):
a guy who runs a pet charity who can help you.
The charity, except it was not a charity, was called
Friends of Pets United f o p U, and the
guy was named Anthony Devolder, and that Friends of Pets
United was the purported charity. George Santos made sure to
(04:24):
tell the voters about in two and that it was
a fraud that often held fundraisers, which always seemed to
hit some kind of wall or hitch before the recipients
got their money. We knew that that was in the
original New York Times story of December. But this, this
(04:44):
story about Sapphire, the murder of Sapphire, this we did
not know. By May first, two thousand sixteen, rich Ostoff
and Anthony Devolder had made contact. They talked, Ostov said
twice or maybe three times on the phone, and Devolder
(05:06):
immediately sprang into action. He started a go fund Me
for Sapphire. On that day, Astoff posted a photo of Sapphire,
the huge tumor obvious just in front of her back
left leg. Posted the photo on social media, Hey Facebook friends,
Astoff wrote, I'm trying to raise three K to pay
(05:27):
for my Pitter pups life saving tumor removal. If you
can donate or know someone who can, would you please
go to my go fund me dot com account and
there it is below Sapphire's photo. Click here to support
Sapphire the Veteran Rescue by Anthony Devolder. By the end
(05:50):
of June, they had raised the three thousand dollars. Rich
Austoff estimated that half of that came from his friends,
Sapphire would have her surgery, and then Anthony Devolder George
Santos revealed there was a catch. He Santos Devolder had credit,
(06:11):
he said, at a veterinary practice in Queens, so Astov
had to bring Sapphire there for the surgery, not to
the clinic in New Jersey that was ready to operate.
And so in August they went. The same veterinary tech
who had suggested Ostof contact Friends of Pets United in
the first place, actually drove them there. And that's when
(06:33):
a vet at that place briefly examined Sapphire and told
the shocked Astof that he could not operate on Sapphire's tumor.
And because George Santos's vet said he couldn't operate, rich
Austov says George Santos as Anthony Devolder then told Ostoff
that he quote didn't do things my way, and so
(06:56):
he Santos would be keeping the money from Sapphire's go
fund me, which he and he would use on another animal,
the navy man. Austov says he and Devolder Santos spoke
and exchange text for the last time in November two
thousand six as to Sapphire's money, quoting texts from Santos
(07:19):
that he showed to the Oyster Bay patch site and
of which there are screen caps. The remaining will be
used if applicable if she is a candidate for the surgery.
Keep in mind fo p U is a reputable organizations.
We care for many animals and have the upmost respect
for every single one. Ostov pleaded. The tumor he texted
(07:44):
Santos was quote three times the size it was in April.
This was the moment Santos chose to boast quote. Remember
it is our credibility that God go fund me them
sebs to contribute. We are audited like every five oh
one c three, and we are with the highest standards
(08:07):
of integrity. You have to remember every ride and every
life you take from volunteers are paid for gas, tolls, lunch,
all of that. Everyone has collaborated. The only ride he'd
gotten had been from that vet tech who had put
him in touch with George Santos in the first place.
(08:28):
But then Santos said he would take Sapphire for an ultrasound,
but only to the Queen's location. And then there was
another catch. He texted Astov quote, and you're not coming
for the ride fo P. You will handle this from
now on only with the animal. We do not drive
(08:48):
people around, nor do we give them rides. We transport
animals in need, not needy owners exclamation point. Further to
this case, Sapphire is not a candidate for surgery. The
funds are moved to the next animal in need, and
we will make sure we use of resources to keep
her comfortable. At about that point, another VET, an X
(09:12):
marine and retired police sergeant named Michael Bohle contacted George
Santos and tried to intervene. He says he told Santos
he was messing with a veteran and he needed to
either give ostof the money raised for Sapphire or get
him another service dog bowl, says quote. He Santos was
totally uncooperative on the phone, and that is when the
(09:37):
go fund Me for Sapphire was deleted. Astof went back
to Facebook on November sixteen. Quote, I'm sorry to say
that we were scammed by Anthony Devolder and Friends of
Pets United fo PU through a series of bad veterinary
contacts and subterfuge regarding payment. Sapphire has not received reveterinary care,
(10:01):
and her growth is three to four times bigger than
it was when the campaign was fulfilled. She is facing
euthanasia within months. Even that small piece of humanity and
dignity was denied to Sapphire because of now Congressman George Santos.
(10:22):
Rich Astov did not have the money for the euthan asia.
Sapphire lingered until January of two thousand seventeen. On the
fift of that month, finally somebody helped out. They euthanized her.
I love that dog so much, Astov set of Sapphire.
I inhaled her last breaths. There were, according to a
(10:47):
woman who worked with George Santos at the Dish Network
call center, the previous highlight of his professional career, many
many fundraisers for dogs in needs, both on the Facebook
page of Friends of Pets United, whatever that really was,
and on George santos Is personal page. The vet Tech
(11:08):
the initial link between Devolder Santos and rich Austov and
his late dog. Sapphire refused to comment on this story
for Patch in Oyster Bay, but something Astof texted to
Santos in November two thousand sixteen, may have summed up
this entire deplorable, despicable, in human scam. I'm starting to
(11:30):
feel ostof, wrote then to now Congressman George Santos, like
I was mined for my family and friends donations. That's it,
isn't it. In other words, as bad as it would
be to raise money to try to save a homeless
Navy Vets service dog and then take the money away,
(11:54):
this this was actually worse. George Santos, posing as good
Samaritan Anthony Devolder, went looking for dogs and dog parents
in need, and in at least one case, raised money
in that dog's name, knowing all the time that he
(12:15):
would make it impossible for that dog to get that money.
George Santos did not just passively aggressively kill rich Ostov's
beloved dog, Sapphire. He didn't just steal the money that
was raised to save her. This was a premeditated scam
(12:37):
all too well known in dog rescue circles. You step
in and make sure the only money that can be
raised for the dog never gets to the dog, so
that instead it gets to you. It is in effect
premeditated murder for money. Yesterday, the Speaker of the House
(13:04):
of represented. It is Kevin McCarthy who keeps refusing to
say what even other Republican Congressmen are already saying. Who
keeps refusing to call for this scumbag George Santos just
to resign from the House, never mind to go to prison.
Who keeps condescendingly invoking the will of the voters and
the lack of criminal charges and let him serve and quote,
(13:27):
I try to stick by the constitution. This a moral, gutless, spineless,
soul less chief political prostitute. Kevin McCarthy gave George Santos
a seat on the House Committee on Small Business and
(13:48):
another seat on the House Committee on Science, Space and Technology.
There must come a time in this country when we
again stop providing ways out for worthless excrement like George Santos,
(14:10):
and ways out for the even more worthless excrement like
Kevin McCarthy, who knowingly and willfully protect the George santos
Is of this country and enable them and cover up
for them. The politicians of this nation have never had
(14:31):
a surfeit of honor or respectability, but Republicans did once
have healthy, useful, answerable fear, fear of being caught, fear
of being shamed, fear of being brought down because like
George Santos, they are predators who scam homeless navy vets
(14:53):
and kill their dogs by proxy, or because, like Kevin McCarthy,
they need George Santos's vote so they can keep their
own worthless asses in all us two years from now.
Once well, what happened to rich Austof and poor Sapphire
(15:14):
may not have really mattered to most of them, or
some of them, or maybe even to any of them.
It used to really matter to them. What would happen
to them if it was obvious that they didn't care? Sincerity, shame, fear.
We need something to keep these fascist monsters minimally accountable,
(15:39):
to at least this minimum standard. Kevin McCarthy, pretend you
are a human being. Because today George Santos is a
Republican member in good standing and on two separate committees
of the one and eight Congress, and he is so
(16:01):
today and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, and he
will be through the third of January two thousand, because
Kevin McCarthy permits it, and because Majority Leader Steve Scalise
permits it, and because Majority Whip Tom Emmer permits it,
(16:25):
and because House Republican Conference Chair Elease Stefanic permits it,
and because Deputy Chair Mike Johnson permits it, and because
House Republican Policy Chair Gary Palmer permits it, and because
Republican Congressional Committee Chair Richard Hudson permits it. And may
(16:45):
they all burn in hell. These are the men and
women without morals, without conscience, without humanity, without that useful
fear of getting caught, whose every pious pronouncement and judgment
(17:07):
are just shallow performances and callous play acting. And today
they will judge that this unspeakable, subhuman trash, this wretched, disgusting,
sociopathic George Santos, Anthony Devolder Zabrovski, who stole charity money,
(17:30):
who scammed a homeless veteran, who let the service dog
die a terrible death, they will judge that George Santos
is just fine by them. And Kevin McCarthy will lead
them as they do. He is their leader. What he
(17:53):
can claim he leads them in or two is anybody's guess.
And not one reporter who sees any of them, not
one will ask the question that Kevin McCarthy should have
to answer today, Mr speaker, how can you defend your
(18:16):
man George Santos? He ran a phony pet charity and
by proxy he killed a dog so he could keep
three thousand dollars in go fund me donations. How can
you defend him? How? Mr Speaker, can you resist spitting
(18:44):
in his face? In memory of Sapphire still ahead? Congressman
(19:08):
Eric Swalwell of California offers Senator Ted Cruz of Texas silly,
somewhat self deprecating wager on the outcome of the San
Francisco Dallas NFL playoff game. Cruisers response is a marvelous
mixture of racism and conspiracy theories. So the World Economic
Forum and Senator Kirsten Cinema and what's that smell? My god,
(19:31):
did something die in here? Oh? It's that large carcass
like item that Senator Cinema is wearing around her shoulders.
And first came the ten hours in a blizzard in
a car that had just had its snow tires removed
because it was April and it never snows in April.
But at its end there was the Adler letter. Nearly
(19:56):
forty four years later, it is still one of the
pivotal moments of my life, the Adler letter. I'll tell
you the very long, long story of April eighth nine
in Things I promised not to tell. That's next. This
is countdown. You know. This is countdown with you know
(20:23):
Keith still ahead. Since it was April. My friend's dad
had done him a solid and removed his snow tires,
which made our drive back to Ithaca, New York, real
interesting after the blizzard hit. But that was just the
ten hour preamble. What awaited me when we finally got
there was the lou Adler letter, the subject of today's
(20:45):
Things I promised not to tell. Coming up first. In
each addition of Countdown, we feature a dog in need
you can help. Every dog has its day, once again
a repetition of an unusual dog name Ravioli. This Ravioli
rescued here in Queen's By Near and Far Animal Foundation,
wandering the winter streets, emaciated, ski in raw hair sparks.
(21:06):
His condition was so bad they took him to the
veterinary Hospital the University of Pennsylvania. He's got so much
wrong with him that if you saw a picture, you'd
say he's a little Chihuahua mix right. Actually he's a
French bulldog, so skinny he's literally unrecognizable. They think they
can save him. It will take time and money and
near and far as doing a fundraiser for him on
(21:27):
Cuddly You can donate great find h Matt Cuddley or
on my Twitter feed and your retweets will help him too.
I thank you, and Ravioli thanks you. Time now for
(21:51):
the daily roundup of the misgrants, morons and done in
Krueger effects specimens who constitute today's worst persons in the world.
Lebronze Senator Kirsten Cinema proving her new political self identification
quote independent is just another brand name. She's at the
World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, trashing the Democrats, rationalizing,
(22:15):
helping to destroy democracy, and cheering on money. She was
also seeing yesterday at some sort of panel wearing some
kind of fur clothing thing might have been a mink stole,
but a mink stole from the you know, Corrella Deville collection.
But the closest comp was actually this. There were feathers
(22:38):
flying out of it in all directions and it was
large enough to serve as a park of for a moose,
and it really looked like Senator Cinema was wearing a
dead muppet. Anybody's seeing Grover our runner up, and combined
with the winner, we have crashed together two segments Worse
Persons and Sports Today. The silver medalist is James Doland,
(23:02):
owner of Madison Square Garden here in Funds at E.
He's also the owner of the New York Knicks, New
York Rangers, Radio City Music Hall, and a surreptitious facial
recognition system so sharp that it allows his minions to
spot lawyers who work for a firm representing one of
the many people who suing him and kick them out
of his buildings. I told you part of this story
(23:25):
in October. One attorney who's not even involved in any
of their company's lawsuits against Madman Jim. She was literally
thrown out of a Brandy Carlisle concert at MSG after
they had been admitted and seated, because facial recognition identified
her as working for a firm that had had the
nerve to sue one of Nolan's companies, so out she
(23:46):
and her husband went. Then last month, another lawyer escorting
girl scouts to see the Rocketts at Radio City was
denied admission same excuse the MSG spy satellite had showed
she worked for a forbidden firm. Other lawyers have been
kicked out of Nick's games and Rangers games in similar circumstances.
(24:07):
Since November now, eight elected government officials representing Manhattan, running
the gamut from state reps to U S Senator Chuck Schumer,
have sent Dolan and MSG a letter warning them they
are quote using facial recognition technology against its perceived legal enemies,
which is extremely problematic because of the potential to chill
(24:28):
free speech and access to the courts. And maybe Dolan
wants to stop this immediately because otherwise, let me translate
the note for you, the governments will all act against
you know, the liquor licenses and MSG and Radio City,
and they'll revoke the expiring permit that allows MSG to
have more than seats, and uh, what about that infamous
(24:52):
state tax abatement that inexplicably lets Dolan not pay the
forty three million dollars a year he otherwise would have to.
On the other hand, the Rangers have not won the
championship since and the Knicks have not once since nineteen
seventy three, So maybe the expulsions courtesy the Madison Square
Garden Stazi are not entirely a bad thing, but finally
(25:16):
our winner, Senator Ted Cruz, worst Person's Hall of Famer
and snot nosed little clown. In the endless tradition of
politicians making show wagers on sporting events involving their local teams,
California Congressman Eric Swalwell proposed one to Cruise about the
upcoming NFC playoff game. Quote, I will make this open
(25:39):
bet to Ted Cruz. If the Dallas Cowboys beat the
forty Niners, I won't tweet for the rest of January.
If the forty Niners win, you can't tweet for the
rest of January. How Texan? Are you? Ted? Deal? And
it's not a great gag, but it's not a bad one.
It tweaks Cruise, but Squalwell is also self deprecating, and Cruise, well,
(26:02):
he's Ted Cruz. He applied completely not in kind. How about,
he replied to Congressman Swallowell, we bet a Chinese dinner.
I don't know. Senator, Instead of that, how about if
the forty Niners beat the Cowboys, you give Swallowell your
entire collection of incest porn that America found out about
(26:25):
when you liked an illustrated tweet from at sexual Posts
on your personal Twitter account in two thousand seventeen and
then blamed a staffer, Ted Weasley, Little incest porn, Bastard cruise,
two Day's worst parson in. And now to the number
(27:06):
one story on the countdown and my favorite topic, me
and things I promised not to tell. And this is
the story, and it's a long one. As you can tell,
I'm starting it earlier than usual, the story of the
Adler Letter and the hell through which I had to
go just to read it, all of which was entirely
worth it, and has been every day of the forty
(27:27):
three years since the Adler Letter. Falling into my hands
on the night of Sunday, April nine was like the
PostScript to a breathless five page novel that turns out
to be a million times more exciting, more interesting, and
more important than those entire first five pages. We had
driven by that point around nine or ten hours. I
(27:52):
do not believe I ever actually expected to die on
the trip, but I was at least a dozen times
absolutely convinced that George and I would wind up in
the hospital he and I were college seniors, then on
home to see the defending two time world champion New
York Yankees opened the nineteen seventy nine baseball season, and
then back on the road right after that game on
(28:13):
Sunday for the four four and a half hour trip
from the parking garage at Yankee Stadium to the rural
wilds of Ithaca, New York in earliest springtime. We had
done this countless times over four years, but I did
not know, as I got out of my dad's car
and into George's on the way to Yankee Stadium that
this trip had two previously unimaginable components. First, already at
(28:40):
that hour, the Adler letter had been sitting in my
mailbox at my apartment at two and seven Delaware Avenue, Ithaca,
New York, for at least a day, perhaps two. And
I did not know the other thing, and only found
out as George told me about it at the ball
game that his father had yelled towards him as George
backed out of the driveway to go pick me up. George,
(29:03):
there's rain in the four cast drive. Carefully, remember I
took off your snow tires yesterday. Because it's spring. Oh.
The midpoint of the trip more or less, from Metropolitan
New York to Ithaca was a McDonald's restaurant in Liberty,
New York. And we stopped there as always and got
(29:25):
a late lunch. And I was sitting facing the window
as it got dark, and George was sitting facing the
counter as we ate and mumbled. I said, George, do
you have a bad case of dan druff? Or did
it just start really snowing? George wheeled around to look
out the window. Oh. We wrapped up our burgers and
(29:48):
took them with us and literally ran to the car.
My father and his goddamn snow tire obsession, George shouted.
Within an hour on the outskirts of Binghamton, New York,
three or four inches of snow had reduced speed to
just above single digits and visibil to next to nothing.
George was a meticulously good driver. It didn't matter. We
(30:10):
spun out, I mean a full three sixty. We're going north. Oops,
we're going west and on coming traffic. Ups. We're going
south into the cars behind us. Oops, we're going east
into the ditch next to the highway. Oh boy, we're
going north. Again. I think we spun out six or
seven times on the highway alone before Binghamton, and everybody
(30:32):
else was doing it too. George's father had removed all
of their snow tires. There was some solace in that,
seeing other cars in both directions doing exactly the same thing.
I could have swore. I heard one of the drivers
swear at George's father. In fact, we were not far
north of Binghamton. No still skidding, still spinning, George swearing NonStop.
(30:54):
When he interrupted himself long enough to ask me what
time it was. I had to hold my watch up
to the car window to get brief flashes of illumination
from the highway lights and the skidding driver's rocketing past
us in all directions. Little after seven, we skid it again.
George swore again put the Ranger game on. I do
(31:15):
it myself, but we skid it again. By now I
was getting used to it, and I turned the radio
literally before George regained control of the steering. I found
the Ranger station, the one in New York w NW.
If you had told me that night that a little
over a year later I would be broadcasting on w
n AW, my first thought would have been, so we
(31:37):
don't get killed tonight because George's father took off the
snow tires. That's nice. Oh and I also worked there,
and I'm not a ghost. If you had told me
that night that the Adler letter was waiting for me
back in my snow covered mailbox in Ithaca, I might
have pressed George to go faster. They might not have
even found our bodies in that eventuality. The storm, as
(32:00):
storms often did in those days, somehow boosted the A
M radio sick Noll, and though we were two hundred
miles away from the transmitter Marv Albert and the w
n a W New York Rangers hockey broadcast they were
not yet owned by Jim Dolan. Was clear as a bell.
The traction even seemed to get a little bit better,
But we both knew the ordeal that lay ahead. In
(32:23):
the personification of ordeals, the exit at Whitney Point, New York.
It amazed us, as it amazes the students there now,
as it must have amazed the students who went their
century ago. That Cornell University, which I attended, and Ithaca College,
which George attended, were both an hour's drive away from
(32:44):
the nearest Highway. There was, in fact, no access to Ithaca,
New York by anything more than a two lane road.
The train had stopped running some time before. It was
that or the airplanes, and I'm gonna shure you on
that night none of the airplanes were going either. It
was legendary on the Cornell campus that old Ezra Cornell,
(33:06):
the barely literate railroad tie preservative tycoon of the nineteenth century,
decided to give away nearly all of his fortune, which
today would have been at least a billion dollars. He
told a friend he was going to open a university
where anyone can study anything. The friend reacted in horror.
They will stampede the place, Ezra. Ezra laughed, Wait, do
(33:30):
you see where I put it? Ezra Cornell's little geographical
joke was still vividly alive on odd years later, as
it still is today. The easiest of the roots to
his university was the one that took you from Ithaca
to Whitney or Whitney Point or Lyle or Center Lyle,
(33:54):
the Whitney Point capital of the metroplex. Lyle, also known
as the Calcutta of Broome County, where nearly three thousand
people live top each other in condition so crowded that
every person barely has his own square mile. There's nobody there.
Once you get off at Whitney Point, you were at
(34:15):
the Mercies of Roots seventy nine, where if traffic was light,
or the driver's at Droit, you might make it back
to Ithaca in thirty minutes, but if you got stuck
behind somebody, it could take an hour. Or if there
was an April blizzard and George's father had taken off
his snout tires, it could take you longer than it
took Antarctic explorers to reach the pole, and you might
(34:37):
see still more snow and ice coming at you from
all directions. I believe George and I skidded making the
left turn off the highway, but he still managed to
stay on the road. The radio signal from the Rangers
game was not so fortunate. Within minutes, w n AW
began to compete for space on George's car radio with
(34:58):
some audible noise. It could suddenly pick up from George's
own turn signals, make a rite, and Marv Albert was
suddenly drowned out by ALLOUDI as in Rickers across the
click click pot ban slashers click click. Within minutes after
(35:18):
the first spin out on Roots seventy nine, mercifully with
literally no other cars on the road, the woo woo's arrived.
We never did figure out what they were, but they
waxed and waned so slowly that at first I asked
George why Ranger fans at Madison Square Garden were chanting
Woo woo. George was too busy swearing to answer. The
(35:43):
snow was now horizontal, and as it danced towards us
in George's headlights, it was hypnotic, and the Ranger broadcast
now sounded like this, full of click clicks and woo woo's.
The curse cross the woo woo woo pot ban slashers,
the click click click click click, damn it all the Hello.
(36:05):
Davidson rolls on to say whoa saliva pitch click click click,
click click. The trip from Whitney Point had taken well
over an hour, and we were not halfway there yet.
When the inevitable occurred, George kept a steady, slow paced
ten or fifteen miles an hour tops. He did not accelerate,
(36:25):
he did not turn. Yet all of a moment, his
green nineteen seventy, Dodge Dart decided to make an abrupt
left turn at about a forty five degree angle. We
were off the road in seconds, accelerating and headed for
an unscheduled visit to the front porch of a farmer's
house that had to have been set back at least
two hundred feet from the road. Here, finally, the heavy
(36:48):
snow work to our advantage. It slowed us down, then
it stopped us. It stopped us just two or three
feet before we would have plowed into the man's house. However,
since we were in Richford, New York by now birthplace
of John Rockefeller, by the way, or we were in
Caroline or Caroline Center or Slanderville Springs, or wherever the
(37:11):
hell we were, the homeowner emerged, bearing not a gun
nor an attitude, but genuine concern for us. In fact,
he heard the Ranger game on our radio and asked
me the score, which is when I noticed that the
moment we had left the road, the woo woos had stopped,
and the w NW signal was as good as it
(37:33):
must have been inside Madison Square Garden. The farmer helped
us push the car back onto route seventy nine, and
as we got in he went and said it where
snow tie. His son, George started to swear, so I
took over and explained about his father. Never been up
here has he? George started it up and now drove
(37:56):
even slower. Within a minute, the woo woo's were back.
Marv Albert was sel Messina where the right Drewson Islanders. Whoooo,
we got there. Finally, George was actually going to try
to drive up the hill that led to the other
(38:16):
hill that led to Delaware Avenue, where my apartment was.
Calculating that I had pressed my luck sufficiently, I told
him to just let me out at East State and
Mitchell and I'd make it from there on foot. Thankfully,
George's father had not removed the sure gripped souls from
my winter boots. I actually went to my radio station first.
(38:38):
It was literally a two minute walk from there to
my apartment. I lingered at w v b R for
fifteen or twenty minutes, and then hiked back home. The
rangers had long since one from the station. I had
called George's apartment and he had made it back there
to Ithaca College, I took my first deep breath since
the McDonald's in Liberty, and I reflected that it was
(38:58):
only about five and a half hours until my next class.
And guess what I was going to cut it again.
I stomped off the snow onto my porch. I opened
the door, and I dumped my bag inside, and then
reached out back into the mailbox. And I saw it
almost immediately in the upper left hand corner, in an
(39:20):
unmistakable font, the return address Adler w CBS, CBS Radio,
a division of CBS Inc. Fifty one West fifty Street,
New York, New York, one zero zero one nine, Adler,
(39:42):
Lou Adler. Lou Adler was radio news in New York City.
I could barely breathe the Adler letter. What was in
the Adler letter which explains why forty three, nearly forty
four years later, I know it by heart and I
(40:03):
can tell you exa actually where it is at this
exact moment. What was in that letter? Right after this,
resuming the number one story on the countdown and the
several lifetimes contained. On the date of Sunday, April nine,
I had just survived a nine or ten hour drive
(40:24):
in a blizzard right after my friend's Dad had helpfully
removed my friends snow tires. I had lived to resume
my desperate bid both to graduate college in two months
and get a job somewhere in radio in three months,
And against all odds, amid all the snow and mess,
there was a letter waiting for me at my apartment
(40:47):
in silent snow, inundated Ithaca, New York, A letter from
Lou Adler, the news director of leading all news radio
station in the country. Lou Adler had begun on w
CBS Radio the year I was born. In nine seven,
(41:08):
the station went all news and immediately became the best
all news station in the country. Lou Adler co anchored
the mornings, and eight years earlier he had become the
station's news director as well. He was the best. His
co anchor, Jim Donley, was the best. His sportscaster, Ed Engles,
(41:28):
was the best. Their reporters were the best. His weather
man was the best. His traffic guys were the best.
His jingles were the best. I listened daily in high school,
and when I was home from college, I did not
take literal notes, only mental ones. My graduation, if I
(41:49):
made it, was seven weeks away. I had never worked
in television in any form, but I had been on
radio two or three thousand times by that point, and
I thought I was pretty good at it. In the
preceding months, as I tried to get a job somewhere,
I had flooded every radio station in every major market
in the Northeast with a demo tape and a resume.
(42:10):
I figured I might as well start in my home
of New York and not eliminate a potential job, no
matter how long a long shot it might have been.
If I was not good enough to work there, I
concluded I should let the people who ran New York's
radio stations decide that, since that's what they were paid
to do. To this point, they in fact had decided
(42:33):
exactly that. None of them had responded. I got a
few nibbles from some of the smaller stations, but as
of April eight, and as it turned into April nine,
I had zero job prospects in local radio. Other friends
were getting offers in Waterbury, Connecticut and Laconia, New Hampshire,
(42:54):
the thought of which filled me with abject terror. And now,
after this ordeal by Snow, after the w n W
whose and his father's near fatal decision to remove the
winter tires. Here in my hand was a letter from
the man who was, to my mind, the best radio
newscaster I had ever heard. Obviously it would be a rejection.
(43:19):
But even in that moment, even at my age twenty
years two months and change, I was awe struck not
only that leu Adler had replied, but that he alone,
of all of them, had replied. I believe I did
not remove my parka before I opened the envelope. I
did put on one lamp in my apartment, and I
(43:42):
read on the envelope, and then in the letter. W
CBS CBS Radio, a division of CBS Inc. Fifty one
West fifty second Street, New York, New York, one double
zero one nine two one two nine seven five four
three two one April three, seventy nine, Mr Keith Alverman,
two seven Delaware Avenue, Eaco, New York, Oh, Dear Mr Olberman,
(44:09):
this will reply to your letter of March, with which
you included a tape of your sports work on w
v b R FM. Sometimes it's hard to know what
a man can do by listening to a brief tape. Wait,
I thought a man which which which man, oh me.
(44:31):
Sometimes it's hard to know what a man can do
by listening to a brief tape. But I must tell
you I was excited by what I heard of yours.
I think you have exceptional talent and poise considering your
age and experience. You read well, and you write well,
and you know how to use tape. If the short
tape is truly representative of what you can do, and
(44:54):
if your knowledge of sports is broad, and if you
can perform under pressure well, then I feel you have
an excellent future in this industry. By now, my heart
was beating so furiously I could hear it in my head.
I was this close to hearing it make the woo
woo sound in my head. I think it might be,
(45:17):
he continued, a good idea for us to meet. Let
me know when you can make it to New York.
I have nothing here for you, and I know of
nothing solid. But if I feel as strongly about your
potential after we meet as I do now, a meeting
certainly could do you no harm. Sincerely, Louis c Adler,
(45:41):
Director News, Operations and Programs l C A slash p P. George,
I screamed into the phone. Can we drive back to
the city right now, I'll buy a new snow tires.
George swore at me, and then I read him the letter,
(46:01):
and he paused, now we should and go tonight. You're
not gonna get to see him tomorrow, wait till you
get your appointment. But but Jesus, this is like the
manager of the Yankees asking you to stop by the
stadium and bring your glove and bat just in case.
I think I got to sleep at sunrise. I had
read the Adler letter by then twenty or thirty times,
(46:25):
and not until the fifteenth or so did I stop
expecting it to have turned back into some courteous form
letter rejection badly zeroxten slightly off center. Slowly it dawned
on me that my own assessment of my skills in
radio were not predicated on the ego I already had,
or even the context of what else I could hear
(46:46):
on radio in Ithaca, which was then the three hundred
and fifty first largest radio market in the country. I
cannot describe now the sense of validation, except to say
that I have seriously considered not taking Lou Adler up
on his offer to meet him at CBS World headquarters
(47:07):
black Rock itself, where William S. Paley would be working upstairs.
Because short of offering me a job, there really was
no chance Mr Adler could do or say anything more
that could make me feel better nor more confident that
my dream of becoming a sportscaster would not lead me
to starvation or Laconia, New Hampshire, or both. In fact,
(47:33):
in person, lew Adler found more things to say to me.
If I had an opening for a sportscaster right now,
I would seriously consider you for it. I would hesitate
because of your age and because of your lack of experience,
and then I'd probably do it anyway. He was as
warm and supportive and as informal as his letter had been,
(47:56):
structured and serious and tempered. Let me take you on
a tour. We saw the live w CBS studios, the
production studios, the writer's area. I wasn't just speechless, I
was again breathless. And you should probably recognize this man
by voice, if not by sight, Lou Adler said to me,
Keith Olberman, meet our sports director, Ed Angles. Ed this
(48:18):
is Keith. This is the fellow with the tape. Ed
Angles took a moment, then his eyes brightened and widened. Hi,
what a tape, Jesus, Lou, don't tell me you've hired him?
Did you fire me? And I must confess I thought
for a second it might have happened. I did not
shrink from the fantasy as much as I liked at Angles.
(48:41):
Adler laughed, Now, Eddie, Then he paused, not yet. We
went back to Adwer's office. Have you got any job prospects?
I explained that a month earlier, thanks to a chain
of recommendations that stretched from my internship at Channel five
Television the year before, through a young ABC Sports executive
named Bob Iger to a friend of a friend of
(49:03):
a friend of a friend of his. I had met
everybody at the radio network of United Press International, and
I was supposed to go back and see them about
working their freelance as summer vacation relief doing sportscasts and newscasts.
And Lou Adware said that would be ideal for you.
It is a tough place to work, and they don't pay,
(49:24):
but it is here in the city, and every other
radio station in this country will hear you on the feed.
And and that's where we hired at Angles from. So
if we have an opening, he smiled broadly. I can
poach you, and I can get you here in two weeks.
Lou Adware suggested the CBS station in Atlanta would be
needing a sportscast here in a few months. I'll stay
(49:46):
on top of that. They already have a copy of
your tape. I hope you don't mind. In fact, I
made several copies of your tape. If U p I
doesn't work out, I am confident you'll be offered that
job in Atlanta, and probably quite a few other jobs.
I hope I've been of some help. Stay in touch
one of the privileges of this job, he said, to
be able to help. And then he said, but frankly,
(50:09):
you're not going to need that much help. I may
have taken the train back to my folks house, or
I may have walked the twenty miles or just floated
as it worked out. The up I job worked out
full time. Two months later, at the first game I covered,
I walked into the press box at Chase Stadium and
(50:29):
there was ed angles from w CBS. Thank god you
went to U P I. The way Adwerd went on
about you, I seriously wondered if he was planning to
bring you in and kick me out. The Atlanta offer
that Lou Adware had arranged came, I turned it down.
About a year later, I got a call from Lou
Adward's assistant saying they were going to need a new
afternoon sportscaster at w CBS and would I send a
(50:52):
new tape. But by that fall, when the job finally opened,
Adwer was leaving w CBS to become news director and
vice president of another New York station, w o R.
His accessor at w CBS would choose somebody else for
their job, just as I heard from the people who
ran the radio network that the w R folks had
(51:13):
started the year before. That was not coincidental either, Lou
Adwer had also sent them my tape. There is inevitably
a punchline to these stories. In two thousand six or
two thousand seven, when Countdown had become the highest rated
cable news program that was not on Fox, an email
(51:34):
appeared in my inbox at work. I couldn't believe the
name of the sender, Lou Adler. He began just as
formally as he had in nine nine. He actually felt
it was necessary to remind me of his letter. He
said he watched the show nightly, and when he found
other viewers of the program, he told them the story proudly.
(51:54):
He said. He actually asked if I remembered, it still
chokes me up. Immediately, I wrote him back, remembered, remembered.
I told him I still had the letter, and I
still had the sense of confidence that had given me
that it was central to my decision to more or
(52:16):
less give up my sports career later at the age
of thirty eight and try news. And I told him
the whole driving back to Ithaca and the snow tires
story which I had left out in told him that
just for fun. And now Lou Adler wrote back again
within minutes. He had just retired after running the mass
communications program at Quinnipiac College, and he said that he'd
(52:37):
had a strong sense of his career having been nothing
more than the proverbial punch into a pail of water.
Now it was my turn to reassure him that the
people like me he supported and taught and broadcast too,
had long since begun to support and teach the next generation,
(53:02):
and that generation was already supporting the one. I do
that and there would be people in this business, his business,
beginning their careers after both of us were dead, who
would owe debt of gratitude, whether or not they ever
knew it to Lou Adler, a debt of gratitude the
(53:22):
same as I always would. Lou Adler died five years
ago last month at the age. There are letters and
photos in the hallway that leads from the front door
of my home. The letters and pictures are from Barack Obama,
(53:43):
Bill Clinton, Jimmy Carter, Joe Biden, and Lou Adler. M
(54:05):
Countdown has come to you from the studios of Alderman
Broadcasting Empire World headquarters in the Sports Capsule Building in
New York, which is eight blocks from where I met
Lou Adler in Thank you for listening. If you have
not subscribed, please do so, because we can never have
enough subscribers. Here are the credits. Most of the music,
(54:27):
including our theme from Beethoven's Ninth arranged, produced and performed
by Brian Ray and John Philip Channel. Bryan and John
are the Countdown musical directors. All orchestration and keyboards by
John Philip Chanelle. Guitars based on drums by Brian Ray
and produced by t k O Brothers. Other Beethoven selections
have been arranged and performed by No Horns Allowed. The
(54:47):
sports music is the Ulderman theme from ESPN two, and
it was written by Mitch Warren Davis courtesy of ESPN, Inc.
Musical comments from Nancy Faust The best baseball stadium organist ever.
Our announcer today was Richard Lewis, and everything else was
pretty much my fault, although some of it is Lou
Adler's responsibility. That's countdown for this the sty third day
(55:09):
since Donald Trump's first attempted coup against the democratically elected
government of the United States. Arrest him now while we
still can. The next scheduled countdown is tomorrow. I'm Keith Olverman.
Good morning, good afternoon, good night, and good luck. Countdown
(55:36):
with Keith Olderman is a production of I heart Radio.
For more podcasts from I heart Radio, visit the i
heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Host
Keith Olbermann
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