Remembering the king of Buffalo news
I didn’t have to witness a fire in Cheektowaga to appreciate my favourite newscaster
It felt like Walter Cronkite himself had written to me — only better. This was Buffalo’s finest. This was the King. This was Irv
Ask any of my friends, and they’ll tell you it’s true. I own an autographed picture of Irv Weinstein. As you might imagine, this makes me a member of a pretty exclusive club. Stop laughing. You should be jealous. Really.
It all started more than 30 years ago when I wrote a fan letter to the WKBW icon, and he wrote back. This was before the days of email and texting; snail mail was pretty much all we had. One fateful day, an envelope landed in my mailbox courtesy of Irv’s crack publicity team. My fingers trembled as I tore open the flap and excitedly pulled out the contents: a picture. But not just any picture. It was a picture that filled my heart with joy.
Written across the bottom in black magic marker were the words: “To Karen, my favourite Canadian reporter, Irv.” Even now, the sight of it makes me grin. Irv Weinstein had done something he didn’t have to do: he was kind to young woman who idolized him.
It felt like Christmas morning. It felt like Walter Cronkite himself had written to me — only better. This was Buffalo’s finest. This was the King. This was Irv.
This side of the border, of course, I watched the great Connie Smith and Dan McLean deliver the nightly news. Harvey Kirck and Lloyd Robertson did a stellar job, too. But Irv was in a category all his own. He was, well, Irv. Who could forget that familiar voice-over: “It’s eleven o’clock. Do you know where your children are?” Then came the thundering theme song … “Da da da da da da da da da da, da da da daaaaaaa. Da da da da da da da!” The next thing you heard was Irv delivering the magic words: Topping tonight’s Eyewitness News …”
I dutifully took my photo to Fortino’s and had it laminated because I wanted it to last forever. I guess part of me knew that Irv himself wouldn’t last forever, and I would need something to remember him by.
He sat on my desk in the newsrooms at CHML and CHCH-TV for many years, and has had a place of honour in my home along the way, too.
Irv’s picture survived a big purge last summer when I decluttered my house with help from the book “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up.” I tidied up, but I could never sweep Irv Weinstein out of my life.
When I was growing up, most of the kids I knew got up early to watch “Rocketship 7” on WKBW. It came on before school started. After class, we all raced home to watch “The Commander Tom Show.”
Promo the Robot, Mr. Beeper and Dustmop weren’t just a merry band of TV characters. They were our friends.
I loved those shows, too. But there was nothing I loved more than Eyewitness News. I loved Irv’s 1970s glasses and ties. I loved his houndstooth sports jackets. I loved the authoritative way he looked into the camera and told us what had happened that day. I loved the way he pronounced “Cheektowaga,” “Tonawanda” and “Lackawanna.” I loved the way he showed me all the things that had caught fire that day in Western New York, and the firefighters who had put out the flames. I loved the way he joked with sportscaster Rick Azar and weatherman Tom Jolls. I loved that he starred in his own hilarious Eyewitness News commercials.
But most of all, I just loved him. He was an original. And luckily for me, he still lives on in a Kodak picture covered in black magic marker.
Back to you, Irv.
Karen Cumming is a freelance journalist who lives in Burlington.