A curmudgeon's swan song

It was with great sadness that I learned of the death of newspaper columnist and "60 Minutes" commentator Andy Rooney last month.

As a child, I endured many a sleep-inducing segment of the Sunday evening program awaiting Rooney's satire.

Unlike today, we didn't have many television stations to choose from in Central Montana back in the late 1970s and early '80s. And the CBS program dominated the ratings, and my interest, in their time slot.

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Rooney's rants were legendary. I wrote a column for my high school newspaper, and found myself often wondering (at the brink of deadline): What would Andy think of (insert topic here)? While the fruits of my labor were undoubtedly not in his league, he pulled me through some tight spots.

Andy was a champ at making his opinions funny. He could make you ponder your stance on just about anything, with his tongue-in-cheek lines about a topic that seemed mundane before he happened to mention it.

During my college years, "Saturday Night Live's" Joe Piscopo mimicked Rooney's bit, but to me it just paid homage to the master's look at life.

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Rooney started as a copy boy in the newspaper industry at the Albany Knickerbocker News in Albany, N.Y. During World War II, Rooney headed off with his typewriter to work for Stars and Stripes before settling in as a newspaper columnist, eventually becoming syndicated.

All told, Rooney wrote 1,097 essays for "60 Minutes." He took the role of curmudgeon to heart, and played it with all the passion and conviction of a broadway actor.

One thing that stood out about Rooney's rants was his perceived sincerity. You just never knew if he was being serious or being a cut-up. He'd give you the same poker-faced mug delivering every line. He was the stand-up comic that never stood up, and delivered in the classic deadpan style.

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As I think back, not one of his essays stands out to me. First I thought maybe I need to jog my memory, and I did a little Internet research. Even though I remembered the majority of the ones I encountered there, none was head and shoulders above his other work.

And that is a fitting tribute to the man. He put his pants on every day and went to work, just like a steelworker or a farmer. He took his craft seriously, and it showed - each and every episode.

No news guy ever influenced me more.

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Godspeed, Mr. Rooney. Sunday nights won't ever be the same.

Jerry Hitchcock is a copy editor for The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176 Ext. 2017, or via email at jhitchcock@cdapress.com.