His children have set up a MySpace site at www.myspace.com/herbshaindlin
In their words:
"We wanted to give the public who loved our father so much
a place to share and send their wishes.
Thank you to everyone who listened to and watched Dad
all the years he was doing what he loved so much.
He loved journalism in its purest form.
He loved being the center of attention.
Most of all he loved making people think."
I'm going to take this opportunity to re-run a story which many readers originally thought was a eulogy. Although it was not intended as such, it serves that purpose today.
originally posted October 2, 2005:
Herb Shaindlin’s talk radio program "The Public Opinion Hotline," which aired on AM 750 KFQD for most of my life and certainly all of my formative years, educated me in more ways than I have time to list on this post so I’ll give you just a few examples:
One is that Herb’s program introduced me to the works of Stephen King, Tom Lehrer, Spike Jones, Robert Service, and many other artists. One taste of each of these artists led to exploring most of their works and works of similar artists. In this way he set my compass on the course I have taken ever since.
The second is that he told stories of his life. Many of these stories rattle around in my head to this day.
Last night I saw a helicopter fly past my house at relatively low altitude, creating a certain amount of noise in its wake. From its direction of travel (and the few helicopters that would have any reason to fly over my house) I could identify it as the LifeGuard Air Ambulance.
As I watched it pass I had to smile as I was reminded of one of Herb’s stories. If memory serves, the story goes like this:
When Herb was growing up in Brooklyn, New York, he would constantly hear the wailing of all types of sirens: police sirens, ambulance sirens, fire engine sirens. He once asked his mother if the sirens bothered her or worried her because every siren meant that there had been a crime or an accident where someone was probably hurt.
Her response was a surprising “No.” She explained, “Every time I hear a siren I don’t get mad because it is interrupting my peace and quiet; rather I am happy because I know that someone is racing as fast as they can to help someone else. Sirens are a happy sound.”
Ever since hearing this story (at least 20 years ago) I have smiled a little when I hear a siren. And now I smile at helicopter noise too.
Thanks Herb, you are the very best.