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 2008-07-06 01:56  #1
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It's now time to say goodbye to a San Antonio institution

Dan Cook: It's now time to say goodbye to a San Antonio institution

Web Posted: 07/04/2008 09:47 PM CDT

By Barry Robinson
brobinson@express-news.net



It was a Tuesday night, around 10 o'clock, in early July 1969. The phone in the Beaumont Enterprise sports department rang twice, and I reached to answer it, not realizing then that it would be the most important phone call of my life.

揌ello, Barry, you don't know me, but my name is Dan Cook. I am sports editor of the San Antonio Express-News, and I'd like to offer you a job.?

揑'll take it,?I said, surprising both of us with the rapid response.

It was a phone call from heaven because I had just walked out of the managing editor's office, where I had been chewed out royally for asking for a $5 per week raise ?to $85. The raise request was loudly rejected, and I was told that at age 21, I should be grateful that I had a job in the first place.

So when Dan Cook called five minutes later and offered me a job, I accepted in a heartbeat. And when he said the starting salary would be $130, I started thinking early retirement.

揧ou will find out many times that timing is the key to everything,?Cook said.

Fast forward 39 years and the time has come to do something I've been dreading since the late 1970s, the first time I saw Dan throw up blood after the fourth night on a 10-day Southwest Conference press tour. I wasn't sure he'd live another few years at the time, but in future years he started taking better care of himself ?he even quit smoking ?and he continued bringing enjoyment to so many of us for three more decades. He died Thursday night. To borrow one of his lines, he was 搄ust a 9-iron short?of his 82nd birthday (Aug. 12).

On my first day on the job, he took me to lunch and said, 揑 believe I told you the weekly pay would be $130. Well, let's make it $135.?

What a contrast: After almost being fired for asking for a $5 raise in Beaumont, I got a raise on my first day at the Express-News.

揑 told you, timing is the key to everything,?he said.

Becoming a legend

Dan ranked as one of the greatest personalities and characters ?and talents ?in the history of our industry. Because he was such a high-profile figure for both newspaper and television, there were few people in South Texas who didn't recognize his name and face. Many would argue that he was better known in this area than the mayor or any of the big-name movers and shakers.

Blackie Sherrod, a newspaper legend in the Dallas-Fort Worth area for nearly 50 years, once said that Dan Cook was better known within his region than any other sports columnist or writer in the nation.

揑t's because of that damn television,?Sherrod reasoned.

Sherrod, one of Cook's closest friends, met Dan and me at DFW Airport one Sunday morning to give us a ride to Texas Stadium for a Cowboys game. As we walked from the gate to the exit, four or five people recognized Sherrod, while 20 to 25 greeted Cook.

揌ey, you're Dan Cook from San Antonio, right??they would ask. Sherrod would cringe, shake his head and mutter, 揇amn television.?

Dan lived life to its fullest and could accomplish more in a day than some people could in a week. There was a stretch in the 1970s when he was the sports editor, a columnist writing six times per week (most columnists today write three), a television sportscaster at KENS doing two shows a night, a bar owner (Dan Cook's Time Out, on Austin Highway) and a radio voice doing five to 10 commentaries per week.

He'd be in his office by 9 a.m., perform duties as sports editor and write a column, call in and tape fresh radio commentaries both morning and afternoon, rush to KENS for the 6 p.m. newscast, go home and eat supper with Katy and the kids, go back to KENS for the 10 p.m. news and then go to Dan Cook's Time Out, where he usually stayed until closing. It wasn't uncommon for him to finally get home and in bed after 2 a.m.

Long ago, Sherrod gave Cook the nickname of 揂ll Burners?because he seemed to go full blast at all times.

Super stories

An incident late one night at his bar is what allowed me to cover my first Super Bowl in 1975. Dan was at the bar on a Monday night, around midnight, and a rugged-looking, drunk customer was getting too loud. Dan asked him to tone it down, and they exchanged words before going outside in the parking lot. During the scuffle, the big guy knocked Cook down and jumped on him. Cook ended up with a separated shoulder.

Early the next morning, my phone rang.

揃arry, how would you like to cover the Super Bowl next Sunday??Dan asked. 揧ou can use my credential.?

We covered Super Bowls together for several years after that and each one resulted in great stories and memories.

At the 1978 Super Bowl in New Orleans, Dan had played poker in the press hospitality room each night and had lost three-straight nights. Around 3 a.m., as we were walking down Bourbon Street, we saw two homeless men up ahead asking for money.

揑 can't believe I'm so broke I don't even have money to give them,?Dan said. 揑 must be getting old. This never would've happened to me when I was younger. I would've found a way to make some quick money.?

The na飗e one, I asked, 揥hat could you possibly do to make money at 3 a.m., 500 miles away from home??

He stopped, looked up and down the French Quarter, and then pulled me through toe-to-toe Super Bowl fans to the entrance of the Old Absinthe House Bar. It was standing-room only, with live jazz music blaring inside, with a few hundred people crowded around the entrance. There was no cover charge.

Dan pushed me through the doorway, and he stopped right in the middle of it.

揧ou stand here and keep an eye out for management or security,?he said.

He then turned sideways and loudly announced to those near the entrance, 揥elcome to the Old Absinthe House. The cover charge is just $5!?

One by one for 10 or 15 minutes, he stood there collecting $5 per head as more tourists squeezed into the bar.

揇an, watch out, here comes a security guard,?I warned.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the bar and through the crowd outside. Once we were a block away, he counted $235, walked over to the two homeless guys we had seen earlier, and gave it to them.

揟hat's one way you can make money if you need it bad enough,?he said.

At the 1980 Super Bowl in Pasadena, we needed to be at the first day of interviews at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday.

揕et's leave Tuesday afternoon, spend the night in Las Vegas, take a 6 a.m. flight to Los Angeles and we'll have time to check in and be at the interviews by 9,?Cook suggested.

So we did. We arrived in Vegas at 6 p.m., walked into the downtown Plaza Hotel at 6:45, took our bags to the room and were back down in the casino by 7:30.

At 10:15, less than three hours later, we were back in the room sitting on a bed in our underwear, emptying all of our pockets. I had just $5.50.

揃eat you!?Dan bragged, actually sounding happy, 揑 have $8.?

In the first few hours of a seven-day, out-of-state trip, we had lost all of our cash except $13.50. The ride to the airport was $9, plus a $1 tip. We had to wait for a free shuttle at the L.A. airport because we couldn't afford a cab.

And for the next six days, we ate free food in the media hospitality room ?breakfast, lunch and dinner. Chips and dips and finger food. Nothing more. Our friends from other papers felt so sorry for us they brought us doggie bags from the nice restaurants they frequented. We agreed not to use our credit cards to punish ourselves for having acted so silly and immature.

揥e will never make this mistake again,?promised Dan. 揘ext time, we'll stop in Las Vegas on the way back home, after the game.?

Quick on the draw

Dan didn't need to be on the road to provide us with great, funny stories.

In the early 1970s, he took a week of vacation and hired carpenters to expand his family's home by enclosing the carport and making a den out of it. The project was completed late afternoon on Friday so Dan went out to the old Flamingo Bar, owned by one of his best friends, to celebrate and tell everyone about his new den. Time passed quickly and next thing he knew, it was past 2 a.m.

So he rushed home, turned into the driveway and forgot that the carport was no longer there. He drove the car right through the new sliding glass door. Katy came running out the front door wondering what had happened.

揝orry, baby,?he said, 揑 forgot my keys.?

Another time, he had stayed out late with his friends at the Flamingo and didn't get home until 4 a.m. He was afraid Katy would be angry so he took off his pants and dress shirt and left them in the car, picked up the newspaper on the driveway and, wearing just a T-shirt and boxer shorts, rang the doorbell. Katy answered the door and Dan immediately explained, 揑 got up early and came out to get the paper, and I guess I locked myself out.?

It was also at the Flamingo late one night when Dan got tired of hearing a guy brag about his golfing skills. Cook wasn't a golfer, but he proposed a $20 bet for lowest score on three holes. The guy would use golf clubs, and Dan would throw the golf ball and use a putter on the greens.

So about 12 of them closed down the Flamingo and drove to Joe Conrad's Par 3 course on San Pedro ?at 2:30 a.m. Using flashlights, they were almost finished with the second hole when several police cars, lights flashing, drove into the parking lot. Police questioned them for 30 minutes then released them.

There are so many great Dan Cook stories that have been repeated for so many decades that it's often hard to separate fact from fiction. There is a different version of the golf story above that claims the late-night golf action took place at Brackenridge, and that Dan lost the bet because there was a torrential downpour outside. Good story, either way.

Another late-night drinking session ended at 2 a.m. when Dan and another guy bet $50 on a 100-yard race. At 3 a.m., their friends blocked off a portion of Loop 410 near Blanco, and Dan easily won the race.

He loved to have fun and would find unusual ways to do it. Back in the 1960s, he used to trade written jabs with Harold Scherwitz, columnist and sports editor at the Light. One day, after Cook thought Scherwitz had taken a cheap shot at him, Dan sent an Express-News secretary to the Light to purchase a classified ad that read: 揕ike new Ford Mustang, only 1800 miles, must sell, $200 cash. Call Harold Scherwitz between midnight and 6 a.m. at ---?

About 2 a.m. the next morning, Cook called the number. Scherwitz answered and, obviously frustrated, yelled, 揑 don't own a damn Mustang!?

The stories are endless. To those of us fortunate enough to be in his inner circle, he was almost superhuman, invincible, a living giant.

A time for every purpose

A few days after he underwent five-way coronary bypass surgery, I was visiting him at the Methodist Hospital and Katy reminded him that the doctor wanted him walking up and down the hallway several times a day. I volunteered to go with him. We took four or five steps and he stopped, wobbled a little, reached over and grabbed my hand as tight as he could. 揇on't let me fall,?he said.

That's when it occurred to me that even Dan Cook was not invincible, that even he could not beat back time and the aging process.

But his keen sense of humor was still there. As we walked back to his room, he started chuckling and said, 揘ever thought I'd be walking in public while holding hands with another man.?

揜emember, Dan,?I said, 搕iming is everything.?

He squeezed my hand tighter and whispered, 揝mart ass.?

Soon after Dan is put to rest, I'm going to Audry's Mexican Restaurant, where Dan had hundreds of interviews and messy meals with Benjamin Broadhind, and I'm asking owner Tony Cantu to put me at the far back, left corner table by the window, the one known as Dan Cook's table. And I'll have nothing but fond memories as I order and enjoy No. 111/2 on the menu. It's called the Dan Cook Favorite (enchilada plate with 1/2 order of bean nachos).

The timing will be right.


来自:http://www.mysanantonio.com/sports/stories/MYSA070508.1C.dancook.robinson.39e861c.html
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