Alison Shelley/NPR
NPR has lost one of its idiosyncratic and most famous voices. Longtime National Desk correspondent Wade Goodwin died Thursday of cancer. he was 63 years old.
For more than 25 years, Wade has covered his home state of Texas and the Southwest, covering headlines such as the Oklahoma City bombings, school shootings, hurricanes, American sniper murder trials and Boy Scout sexual abuse scandals. rice field.
“For generations of public radio listeners, myself included, he was one of NPR’s iconic voices,” NPR CEO John Lansing said in an email to staff. “Apart from his instantly recognizable voice, Wade was also a uniquely gifted storyteller and a brilliant reporter. It turns out that you are being taken to. You were in just such a situation. A true feast, whatever the subject matter.”
his penetrating writing and “a loud, deep, rich voice”
Wade’s soothing bass had the effect of bringing the listener a little closer to the radio. A profile once described his voice as “warm butter melting over a sweet corn barbecue”. But Goodwin insisted that it was his writing that really mattered. And he was right. Even though his voice draws you in, his use of words keeps you listening. For example, this memorable line in 2005’s Hurricane His Rita coverage:
“In Louisiana, even the barrel-chested National Guard hugs a NASCAR teddy bear when it hits hard.”
“You know Wade was a poet,” says NPR senior editor Steve Drummond. “It was the little details he saw on site, the little colors and sounds that made his words shine.”
Courtesy of the Goodwin family
Drummond says his powers of observation, combined with his big, deep, rich voice, made it fun to hear Wade on the radio, even when he was delivering bad news.
“He was just a great storyteller,” says Drummond.
fascinated by radio and its storytelling
It was radio storytelling that drew Wade Goodwin into journalism. He majored in history at the University of Texas, a natural field of study for the son of famed historian Lawrence Goodwin, who was active in the civil rights movement and wrote a book on grassroots populism in America. .
After college, Wade left Austin to work in New York City as a political organizer. There he fell in love with his NPR affiliate WNYC. He told Current in 2016 that he fell in love with the voices and stories he heard and decided to return to his hometown of Texas (where his rent was more affordable) to pursue a career in freelance public radio. said he decided.
He began working as a freelancer for NPR, and in 1993 was assigned to cover a high-profile story about the confrontation between the federal government and cult leader David Koresh in Waco, Texas.
Courtesy of the Goodwin family
“On February 28th, when winter dawn broke across the landscape of central Texas,thofficials of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms rushed to prepare an assault on David Koresh and his followers on the Branch Davidian property,” reported Goodwin. morning paper. “Heavily armed cultists were waiting for them a few hundred yards away.”
It was the first of countless tragic news events that Wade would witness. Mass shootings at churches, schools and military bases. Boy Scout sexual abuse scandal. And right in the middle is the 2016 Dallas police officer ambush murder.
“Today was a very difficult day, the toughest day this city has had in about 50 years,” he said. morning paperHe likened the atmosphere to the situation after President Kennedy’s assassination.
He’s politically savvy and has profiled a number of up-and-coming political stars from Texas over the years. Among them are George W. Bush, Laura Bush, Rick Perry, Ted Cruz, Dick Cheney and Beto O’Rourke. He reported on the rise of the Tea Party, covered Enron’s financial scandals and trials, and remembered the wit and wisdom of Molly Ivins.
Some of his most rewarding jobs were breaking news
One of his greatest stories was the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing. In the incident, domestic terrorists planted a truck bomb in the Alfred P. Mura Federal Building, killing and wounding hundreds of people, including children at a nursery school.He was live on NPR from the scene morning paper Within 24 hours:
“I think it’s cliché that any disaster hits a community hard, but in this small town, actually a small Midwestern town, this tragedy was really serious,” he reported. “Especially the deaths of children seemed to upset everyone.”
Kate McCrea Media/NPR
He stayed to follow up the search and arrest of bomber Timothy McVeigh.
“He really did a good job of injecting humanity into a situation that people would want to look away from,” says NPR Editor-in-Chief Vicky Walton-James. She said Wade brought a unique voice to the network’s breaking news coverage.
“He could put you in that position and help you understand what happened to someone and what the broader implications were,” she says.
He also had a passion for stories about injustice. One of which was his coverage of Regina Kelly, who sued the Corrupt Drugs Task Force in 2002, and was the inspiration for this film. american violet.
“He wanted people to get the help they needed and to help correct their mistakes,” says Walton James.
Courtesy of the Goodwin family
As James Lee Woodard tells the story, Wade came to his Dallas home studio for an interview the very day he was acquitted and released from prison. Here is Wade’s recollection of that day:
“My two big dogs, Miles and Rosie, ran into the room with stuffed animals in their mouths and showed how good guard dogs they were. Miles jumped up and bit James Lee’s lips. ‘Leave the man alone,’ I said. “Get out of here.” Woodard stopped me and said, “No, I love dogs.” “It’s been a long time,” I said, regretting the words that came out of my mouth, when Woodard burst into tears and whispered, “It’s been 27 years,” getting to his knees and playing with Miles and Rosie. “I stood there watching for a while, then sat down. ‘Take it easy, Mr. Woodard,’ I said. ‘You can wait for the interview.'”
Finding and Enhancing Rarely Heard Voices
Wade Goodwin has left a strong impression on many listeners by raising his voice, which is sometimes buried in the media environment. A story about a Dallas street choir of homeless singers performing at Carnegie Hall in 2017 brought listeners to tears, according to reactions on NPR’s Facebook page.
“It was such a beautiful story,” commented Rebecca Kinder Lahan. “I cried while listening.”
Courtesy of the Goodwin family
“Am I the only NPR listener who appreciates Wade Goodwin’s radio voice?” Eileen Tomaras-Spica asked in a comment on the article.
No, Wade had a bit of a cult following among listeners. They love the way only he spins stories, and are always willing to share pieces of Texas cultural gems and forgotten history and folklore, like Wade’s recollections of sniper Joe Bowman. was enthusiastic. He was very good with a single-action revolver and could turn aspirin into gunpowder from 20 yards away… He could pick up a deck of cards, raise the blade, and rip it in two with a single bullet. rice field. ”
During his 30 years at NPR, Wade Goodwin has represented many joys and many traumas. His determination was not derailed when he was diagnosed with cancer.
“Wade covered the Hurricane in August 2020 during the pandemic,” says Walton James. “He was covering the Boy Scout scandal. He wanted to be part of it. He wanted to do the best he could. He had that kind of spirit.”
Twenty-five years later, Wade reflects on the damage of the Oklahoma City bombings, giving listeners a glimpse of what it’s like to think about all that you’ve seen.
“When I tried to record the narration of the story of the bagpipe player playing ‘Amazing Grace,’ I got stuck at that part and couldn’t continue. I gave the recording engineer five and then I told him to try it.” “No, no,” I insisted. “I need to stay here. I think there are other co-conspirators.” ”
Wade Goodwin is survived by his wife Sharon and two daughters Hannah and Sam.
Courtesy of the Goodwin family