Daylight Comin'

 The king is dead. Long live the king. 

It would be easy enough to write a paean to the life and work of Harry Belafonte, who passed away this past week at the age of ninety-six. His calypso style influenced generations of musicians decades after his debut in the late forties, back when he was backed by The Charlie Parker Band, whose members also included Max Roach and Miles Davis. And I could go on about his movie career that saw his star rise even higher by the late fifties. Or perhaps I could just focus on his activism, which saw him standing side by side with Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. and John F. Kennedy. He helped to organize USA for Africa that brought together recording artists from across the spectrum of the industry to record We Are The World. An amazing man with an amazing legacy. 

But that is not why I gathered you all together today. 

Instead, I am here to note the passing of one former mayor the Cincinnati, Ohio: Gerald Norman Springer. His political career, including a stint as campaign adviser to one Robert F. Kennedy would later be obscured by his dabbling in the medium of television. 

Better known to his friends and viewers as Jerry, Mister Springer took an oft-ignored afternoon talk show and turned it into a sensation. In 1991, Jerry took to the airwaves with the high-minded idea of hosting a politically themed chatfest featuring guests like Oliver North and Jesse Jackson. After three years of floundering ratings, Springer's producers decided to get into the business of pandering. They brought on "real people" with "real problems" and then let the cameras roll as lives fell apart. Critics hated it. The public loved it. Confrontations were the name of the game, and kept Jerry's on-set security led by "Big Steve" Wilkos. Fists and food flew and minutes of a show went unheard while censors leaned on the mute button. 

And thus, our modern political rhetoric was born. 

Jerry Springer kept his show chugging along until 2018, but with a "president" in office who could use his own gameshow experience and access to the bully pulpit, there wasn't as big an audience for a former mayor of Cincinnati. He passed away last week just a couple days after Mister Belafonte at the age of seventy-nine. Harry danced lightly but firmly across the Terra. Jerry brought in angry and confused people to let them do the stomping. 

Some will be missed more than others.