Mike Royko

Mike Royko was a legendary newspaper columnist in Chicago for the Chicago Daily News, the Chicago Sun-Times, and the Chicago Tribune. He passed away in 1997.





In the mid-90s the John Landecker show was co-hosted by Vicki Truax, who was married to legendary Chicago TV sportscaster Tim Weigel.

Through Vicki, Tim became a friend of mine. Tim was a gregarious guy, and it seemed like we were invited to parties at his huge Evanston mansion all the time. The guest lists at these parties read like a who's who of Chicago's media, including one of Tim's very best friends; Mike Royko.

I grew up reading him, and I considered him one of America's greatest living writers, but he was not exactly known as a warm and fuzzy guy. I was actually scared to death of him. Whenever I got into a conversation anywhere near the man, I just prayed I didn't say anything stupid. I respected his talent so much it would have killed me if he thought I was an idiot. (And he thought just about everyone was an idiot—he was famous for his ability to slice and dice with an effortlessly tossed barb.)

Therefore, whenever Royko was around, I was mute. I just liked standing near him and listening to his stories. I was pretty sure he had no idea who I was, and I liked it that way, but I was pretty sure it couldn't last forever.

I was right.

At one of these shindigs I was talking to Tim about something we had done on the radio show that week. It was a wacky parody song about John Wayne Bobbitt, the most famous man in America at that time. (Remember him? He was the guy who had his thingee cut off by his wife.) Tim really thought the song was funny, and asked me if I wrote it.

While I was in the middle of openly admitting that I wrote a wacky parody song about a guy who had his penis cut off, I didn't see America's most respected newspaper columnist walk up next to me. When I saw him, my heart sank. He was clearly listening in on the conversation.

At that moment I knew I would no longer be able blend into the walls and just listen to Royko.

"You wrote that Bobbitt song?" he asked me.

I gulped and braced myself for the slapdown king's inevitable slapdown.

"Yes he did," Tim answered for me. "Did you hear it?"

Royko nodded. "Yeah, my wife had it on in the car," he said. I could hear the disdain in his voice. I knew he wasn't a regular listener of the show.

Tim asked him the one question I never would have asked in a million years. "What did you think of it?"

Royko looked at me, and just for a second, a crooked little grin formed at the corner of his mouth. "I thought it was genius," he said.

I don't remember anything else that happened at the party that night. I don't even remember leaving the party, or getting home. I might have flown home, I'm not sure. But I'll always remember that one little moment when the wacky parody song writer was given the momentary seal of approval from one of his idols.

On the other hand, as my wife always points out when I tell this story, "He was hitting the gin pretty hard that night."

As if that matters.