KFBK, Rush Limbaugh — and me
I emptied Rush Limbaugh’s trash.
I dusted his desk, cleaned his ash tray and vacuumed the carpet in his office.
Probably.
Actually, I can’t say for sure because the on-air radio personalities at KFBK in Sacramento whose offices I cleaned in 1984 were long gone by the time my late-night janitorial shift began. Aside from a nighttime crime reporter and producer, I rarely saw anyone at the radio station.
In other words, I never met the man, although KFBK can claim having produced both Limbaugh and me. It’s good that the world will remember one of us.
Limbaugh got his start at KFBK that same year. His show was syndicated in 1988 and eventually he and the production moved to New York. Some say he single-handedly changed the news-talk landscape, nurturing a conservative following like no one had before. Others, including progressive commentators, followed the example he set for success, and the polarization of American political views never looked back.
I remember a small business owner calling in one time to Limbaugh’s show. I laughed when the shop owner put him — and a national broadcasting audience — on hold to attend to a customer. Limbaugh, good-humored, explained to listeners that it’s not easy running your own business, and patiently prattled away while waiting for the man to come back on the line. I did not often share Limbaugh’s takes, but I had to admire that kind of respect for the little guy just trying to make a buck.
In 1984, KFBK was a second job for me. I also worked part-time on a roof stripping crew, and studied full time at Sacramento State. Already deep into journalism studies, I would picture myself in a newsroom and news offices like the ones I tended, hoping someday for a day job in one.
Moving with my over-sized trash can among desks laden with typewriters, Tandy-Radio Shack monitors and mounds of manila files, I sensed the latent energy of a newsroom. Hours after it really happened, I could see shadows of people intently rushing back and forth, shouting sometimes, driving for information and truth and justice. I thought I could be part of that.
In time, I was. Not at that radio station, but in print newsrooms in Oakdale, Manteca and Modesto, learning from and rubbing shoulders with the finest journalists, I felt, on the planet.
But the decline of print newspapers spelled the end of The Bee’s reign on an entire city block on H Street in downtown Modesto, in October 2017. COVID-19 came along not long after, and less than a year ago we found ourselves working from home while bidding farewell to another newsroom on 11th Street.
Newsrooms at McClatchy sister papers in Sacramento and Fresno — as well as in numerous cities across the United States — suffered similar fates. Places like Modesto are fortunate to continue receiving the benefits of local journalism despite the loss of newsrooms, those antiquated hubs of adrenaline, duty and commitment.
Change isn’t always good. Sometimes, it’s just change.
The world is getting by without newsrooms in every town, and will have to learn to get by without Rush Limbaugh, who died Wednesday at age 70.
This story was originally published February 17, 2021 at 4:18 PM.
