Chuck Zink, children's TV host, dies at 79
deb...@comcast.net
By Michael Browning
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Charles DeWayne Zink, Chuck Zink, "Skipper Chuck" to tens of thousands
of children in Miami, and as the host of "The Senior Side" to tens of
thousands of WXEL radio listeners in Palm Beach County and beyond, died
Wednesday at Boca Raton's Hospice By the Sea, of complications
following a pair of strokes suffered within the last few months. He was
79.
Childless himself, Mr. Zink was a father figure to many children who
can still recall his cheery manner and voice, broadcast in grainy black
and white, over Miami's WTVJ from 1956 to 1979. Mr. Zink also hosted
locally the very first muscular dystrophy telethon fund-raiser on
behalf of Jerry Lewis. A letter of appreciation from Lewis hung in Mr.
Zink's room at the Hospice.
His was a familiar voice to the listeners of WXEL in recent years,
where he hosted two programs, The Senior Side, on Sunday mornings and a
three-hour jazz, blues and big-band music show which he enlivened with
personal anecdotes about many of the great performers. He had an
encyclopedic memory for personal details about music-makers, going back
to his days as a young Marine in the Pacific theater of World War II,
when music from home was a precious link with America.
Toward the end, his room was thronged by well-wishers, so many that
idle visitors had to be discouraged from intruding on his last hours.
Hospice staffers were overwhelmed by telephone calls from people
anxious to know his condition. Younger attendants were amazed to learn
what a celebrity they had on their hands.
People who knew him recalled his warmth and affability, his easygoing
manner, his welcoming voice and his bright blue eyes.
Toward the end he lay abed with his eyes shut, visitors said. But
veteran radio man that he was, sound still reached him and touched him.
He responded warmly to familiar voices and would clasp the hands of
those he recognized upon hearing, those who had come to pay their
respects and thank him for a multitude of memories.
His wife of many years, Clarice, was overcome with grief and could not
speak during her husband's last days. "May I please have some privacy
at this painful time?" she entreated, declining to talk about a husband
who, by all accounts, was extremely devoted to her. She was the only
woman in his life, his first and only wife.
"He was aware that I was there," said Jerry Carr, president and CEO of
radio station WXEL, where Mr. Zink ended his broadcasting career. "He
squeezed my hand. He had a minor stroke some time back and came to me
and asked to be relieved of doing The Senior Side."
"Then, a few weeks ago, he came to me and asked to stop doing his
Saturday night program of blues, jazz and big-band music.
"Then, just recently he brought in his enormous collection of CDs and
records and donated them to WXEL. It was almost as if he were tying up
all the loose ends. He was a wonderful man, effervescent, always
affable, always bubbly, always full of hugs," Carr said.
"He kept working right up until the end, almost. Almost you could say
he died on the job," said Denise Sears, projects editor for WXEL. "He
always had new ideas for new shows. He would sit me down and we'd talk
for hours about ideas he had in his head, and memories of the big band
greats he had known. He loved to be here. We were his family, I think.
"It just broke my heart to hear he was in the Hospice By The Sea,"
Sears said.
A studio has been named in Mr. Zink's honor at WXEL. He never accepted
a penny for his work at the radio station. He did it all for free. He
also received an honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters degree from the
Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale in 2003.
"He lived for his audience," Sears said. "He loved sharing his music
and himself."
Skipper Chuck
Mr. Zink was born Feb. 4, 1925 in South Bend, Ind., and spent his early
years there.
"That was the year that Mrs. Nellie Taylor Ross of Wyoming became the
first woman governor in America," he said on one of his last Senior
Side broadcasts at WXEL.
He enlisted in the Marines during World War II and served as a sergeant
in the South Pacific, seeing action at the hot-fought battle of Iwo
Jima and winning the Bronze Star.
Like many World War II veterans, he was no braggart. "He never talked
about it," WXEL's Carr said. "But I gathered that he developed his love
of big band music in those days, from listening to broadcasts of Glenn
Miller and Tommy Dorsey."
In later years, Mr. Zink would allow himself to reminisce on the air,
not about the war, but about the restorative beauty and power of the
music he heard in those days. In his words, the big band leaders and
singers, many of whom he came to know personally, came alive as
well-remembered people, brought back to life through Mr. Zink's warm
voice, with an intense, sweet pathos.
He began his on-air career as a radio disc jockey in Hanover, Pa., at
WHVR and was still remembered, nearly half a century later, as a local
celebrity there, a friend, Ed Hoffman, of Port St. Lucie said.
In 1956 he was recruited by WTVJ-TV, Miami, and for the next
quarter-century, he was one of the most popular television
personalities in South Florida. For more than two decades, kids in
Dade, Broward and Palm Beach counties got ready for school watching The
Skipper Chuck Show weekday mornings on Miami's WTVJ-Channel 4.
"Hi, everybody. How're you?" the Skipper sang. "Don't sit quiet, let's
get moving. Have a finger-snapping, hand-clapping time!"
>From 7 to 8 a.m., Monday through Friday, Skipper Chuck entertained and
educated his young watchers with puppets, a clown called Ho-Ho, skits,
sing-alongs, cartoons "and a lot of music and craziness and silliness,"
as he himself put it. The show went on the air in 1957 and signed off
in 1979 with Skipper Chuck's trademark extended three fingers and the
wish for "Peace, love and happiness."
He took the bold step of allowing black children to sit in the
bleachers with white children on his show, a first in those early days
of television in South Florida, where blacks and whites were not even
allowed to swim together at the beach. It was an act of justice still
remembered and appreciated by the black community here.
One of his earliest on-air guests was Mark Foley, today a U.S.
Congressman, who credits Mr. Zink with giving him a taste for public
life. Foley was just 4, going on 5, when he appeared on TV.
"I went on his show in 1958 and wore the Skipper Chuck hat he gave me
for years," Foley said. "He was an incredible pioneer. Those were the
days when you could let your children watch TV, and they wouldn't see
sex and violence, just Skipper Chuck and Captain Kangaroo. He had a
cheerful, cheerful show. There must be thousands of people who were
children in those days, like me, who grew up watching Skipper Chuck.
"We're all going to miss him," Foley said. "He brought sunshine in the
morning."
"He was one of those guys kids in South Florida grew up with," said
Rick Shaw, a veteran disc jockey who has worked for WCKR (today WIOD),
WQAM and WAXY.
"They graduated from him to me. When they discovered girls and rock 'n'
roll, they came over to me. But they were with Chuck for years before
that. He was already here when I came here in 1960, and we stayed
friends. I wore a Greek fisherman's cap, and he wore his Skipper Chuck
hat and people got us mixed up.
"Toward the end I gave up trying to correct them. When they greeted me
with 'Hi, Chuck, how you doing?' I just said: 'Fine!'"
Mr. Zink became a spokesman for Century Village, an announcer for the
Jackie Gleason Show and a fund-raiser for the Jerry Lewis Muscular
Dystrophy telethon from its beginning, a job he kept for 22 years.
"He couldn't eat at a restaurant without people recognizing him," said
bandleader Michael Rose of Stuart. "He was just a great guy, an
enjoyable, pleasant man who donated himself to causes in any way he
could. He has endeared himself to a whole generation of Baby Boomers.
He was a dear friend of mine, a very convivial man, interested in
everybody."
Funeral arrangements remained incomplete as of Wednesday evening.
Hyfler/Rosner
<deb...@comcast.net> wrote in message >
> His wife of many years, Clarice, was overcome with grief
> and could not
> speak during her husband's last days. "May I please have
> some privacy
> at this painful time?" she entreated, declining to talk
> about a husband
> who, by all accounts, was extremely devoted to her. She
> was the only
> woman in his life, his first and only wife.
This is some weird obit. The quotes are hilarious.
Brad Ferguson
<rel...@rcn.com> wrote:
Here's a pic of Skipper Chuck from 2003, posing with a group of
Trekkies working the phones at the local Jerry Lewis Telethon:
http://www.uss-blackstar.com/gallery/view_photo.php?set_albumName=MDA200
3&id=4d
Another recent pic of him here:
http://www.moneywatchradionetwork.com/wjna/images/hosts/zink_120w.jpg
WTVJ/Miami says Chuck's show, originally called "Popeye Playhouse," was
the station's first kids' show. 1957 seems rather late for that, but
you never know. I can't find a pic of him in character, which seems
strange.
Hyfler/Rosner
"Hyfler/Rosner" <rel...@rcn.com> wrote in message
news:COKdnbLIJMg...@rcn.net...
And clearly, I'm not capable of managing this deadpool,
because I didn't even realize we had a hit here.
January 5, and we got TWO. Another rookie in the AO
Deadpool.
Late for work. Will update tonight.
Hyfler/Rosner
BY HOWARD COHEN
hco...@MiamiHerald.com
For a whole generation of South Floridians, Chuck Zink,
better known by his alter ego Skipper Chuck, was bigger than
Barney. To appear on The Skipper Chuck Show defined cool.
And now he -- and innocence, at that -- is gone.
Zink's death was announced earlier this week by the Boca
Raton hospice where he remained after suffering a stroke. He
was 80. His death unleashed many, many fond memories. Here
are some of them:
I was just along for the ride with a lucky friend the first
time I was invited into the studio audience for Skipper
Chuck's Popeye Playhouse. The second time was long
anticipated by the members of my Brownie Troop.
I'm just one of hundreds of thousands of South Florida baby
boomers (and their parents) who spent every weekday morning
during the '60s and '70s watching Chuck Zink as he
introduced cartoons, sang silly songs and hawked Burger King
Whoppers. He was a cross between Mr. Rogers and Jerry
Lewis -- a nurturing father figure passing along words of
wisdom while making you smile.
I had interviewed some celebrities and politicians by the
time I was hired at my third professional job in
broadcasting, but I was totally awed by meeting a real star,
who was now a co-worker. At WKAT radio, Chuck hosted a talk
show, then, after a format change, was a disc jockey for big
band music. I provided local news, and soon our on-air
banter evolved into a close friendship. Friends and family
members at my 1981 wedding were impressed with my celebrity
guest. He brought a most traditional gift -- a set of
towels -- and demonstrated that dancing was also among his
many talents.
We made plans to meet for lunch two years ago. I was going
to bring my digital recorder for reminiscing -- and to have
on file. But he canceled that morning and, though we vowed
to reschedule when things got ''less hectic,'' it didn't
happen.
And there's another lesson Skipper Chuck passed along.
-- Rhonda Victor, 48,
anchor/reporter,
WLRN Miami Herald News
ON THE AIR
REMEMBERING
A COLLEAGUE
Our careers were intertwined for all the years I've been
here since 1960. As you grew up in South Florida one of the
first people in your life on TV was Skipper. If you were
really lucky you got on his show -- half a million kids
appeared on that show in 27 years.
As you got older and realized there were girls and rock 'n'
roll you came over to my world at WQAM. We were stepping
stones for a whole lot of people who were born here and
raised here.
He was something special and one of the nicest guys I've
ever met in broadcasting. He would probably be appreciative
of my saying, ``Peace, love and happiness.''
-- Rick Shaw,
veteran South Florida radio
personality and morning host
on WMXJ Majik 102.7-FM
IN PERSON
SO THAT'S HOW
THEY DO IT
In my small world, Skipper Chuck was a superstar.
Every morning at 7, the Skipper and his goofy sidekick,
Scrubby, kept me company as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes,
combed the cowlicks from my hair and pulled on my
polyester-mix ensemble.
During my elementary school years of the late '60s to
mid-'70s, Skipper Chuck was all I knew. He was the morning
routine.
And then, one day, my world changed.
I was going on Skipper Chuck's show.
My mom took some time off work to take me to the old WTVJ
studio on North Miami Avenue to be on Skipper Chuck. Yet
something was strange. We were going after school, late
afternoon. What happened to 7 a.m.?
From TV land to reality TV, I quickly learned that the show
was taped the afternoon before airing.
So that's how the kids in the audience didn't miss school.
This wasn't the same place I knew from TV. It wasn't black
and white and gray. The bleachers were red, the backdrop a
soft blue. Even Skipper Chuck's face was rosy. Scrubby
warmed up the crowd.
The Skipper came bursting through the door and the kids went
crazy.
He was our Jim Morrison, our Johnny Carson, our Beatles.
Then out came the famous cake, the one that burned with
candles each day to recognize everyone who had a birthday.
My mouth started to water. But the Skipper didn't let us eat
cake. No wonder. It was concrete.
Soon I outgrew the good Skipper. I discovered Jane Pauley on
the Today show. To my own two children, Skipper Chuck is
long-ago history. They have lots of choices if they watch
TV.
But for me, the choice was clear: Skipper Chuck's peace,
love and happiness.
-- Jeff Kleinman, 41,
news desk copy chief
The Miami Herald
TREND SETTER
MAKING A TV DEBUT
IN HIGH FASHION
It was the show. In 1958 my . . . mother dressed me in this
checked suit -- pink and black -- and a bow tie and thank
God it was black and white TV. It's still a family joke.
Traumatized me for years. It's why, to this day, I don't own
ties.
As a kid if you got on Skipper Chuck you were cool -- unless
you wore a checked suit.
-- Tim Chapman, 55,
Miami Herald photographer
SPOON FED?
NOW THAT'S
ENTERTAINMENT
For most of my elementary school years, my daily morning
routine was the same: Roused out of bed by my mother at 6:45
a.m., breakfast waiting for me at the kitchen table, a few
minutes of sleepy conversation with the parents before they
left for work, and then a half-hour of bliss watching The
Skipper Chuck Show. There are other TV programs I remember
fondly from childhood, of course. But it was Skipper Chuck
who entertained me every morning and sent me off to school
in a happy mood. The man could sure play that spoon.
-- Rene Rodriguez, 39,
Miami Herald movie critic
LIGHTS! CAMERA!
BEING ON SKIPPER CHUCK
WAS THE COOLEST
It was a blast. He totally ruled kids' shows. It was amazing
to be in a TV studio and see how it works. I remember during
commercials they would hand out cups of Pepsi. I thought
that was so cool.
There were other locally produced shows -- The Sunday
Funnies and Duck, Duck, Goose -- but Skipper was coolest by
far.
-- Margot Winick, 36,
spokeswoman for
the University of Miami
ON THE SET
A PEEK BEHIND
THE MAGIC SCREEN
The Skipper Chuck Show, viewed from the safety of the living
room floor in the 1960s, may have seemed all sweetness and
light.
On the set, it was something else for some of us wide-eyed
young Miamians -- an educational show in ways that grown-ups
did not fathom.
Don't worry, there was nothing dark about Skipper or his
show. In person, Chuck Zink was exactly the good guy he
seemed to be on TV.
But in small ways, getting on Skipper Chuck for a day
provided the first revealing peek behind the magic screen.
Television was still pretty new and kiddie shows portrayed
grown-ups as kind and wise and caring -- a concept, or
pretense, long ago abandoned by Nick and Disney show
writers.
It was, for example, a surprise that loveable goofball
Scrubby, Skipper's Gilliganesque sidekick and my favorite
character, slinked off to smoke during commercial breaks. I
was on the show only once -- invited as part of a birthday
party around 1969 or '70, I'd guess -- and age and time have
clearly claimed details and maybe my mind made this up over
the years. If so, sorry, Scrubs.
But I swear the only time I saw him smile off camera -- a
thin smirk sliding across his sullen face between drags --
was during the frenzied violence of the balloon drop.
The contest -- a chase for some forgotten big prize hidden
inside one balloon -- always seemed a gleeful frolic on TV.
In person, it was a half minute of mayhem as the kids, many
of them strangers, poured down off the bleachers, throwing
elbows and knees, in the full fury of childish greed.
I recall taking out some big fat kid who pushed down a
little girl in our party with a well-placed shoulder to his
butt as he bent over grasping for a balloon.
On the way out, we all got neat parting gifts, even those of
us who bombed out on the balloon drop. Tickets to the
now-defunct Wometco movies, I think, and some trinkets.
Plus, a whole gallon of Sealtest ice cream. By the time we
got home from the studio, I am pretty certain mine was so
melted Mom had to throw it out. Still, one of the coolest
days ever up to that point.
Thanks, Skipper, for the memories.
-- Curtis Morgan, 47,
Miami Herald staff writer
LOOKING UP
IN THE PRESENCE
OF GREATNESS
I remember my older sister putting curlers in my hair and
then, hours later, after she had carefully brushed it into a
perfect flip and buckled my patent leather shoes, stepping
up to the bleachers on the set of The Skipper Chuck Show. I
think I was afraid when I had to let go of my mother's hand,
but at that moment, Skipper Chuck himself said something
both funny and reassuring that is now lost in the blur of
memories.
He asked me how old I was but I was too shy and too awed at
being a part of something momentous -- to a 6-year-old in a
petticoat, he may as well have been the president, or God.
-- Eileen Spiegler, 46,
Miami Herald Broward
assistant city editor
ON LOCATION
SKIPPER CHUCK
CAME TO VISIT
I moved to the United States from Jamaica when I was 9. I
started school at Highland Oaks Elementary in North Miami
Beach and remember the day The Skipper Chuck Show crew set
up their cameras outside my homeroom. The teacher asked
several of us to line up to be interviewed.
The question: ''Who is your favorite singer?'' That was
easy! Julie Andrews. I knew all the songs from The Sound of
Music. Everyone else named pop stars like KC and the
Sunshine Band and the Bee Gees, but I didn't know a lot of
American music at the time. Hey, they used the clip!
-- Karen Burkett, 38,
multimedia department
The Miami Herald
`A WONDERFUL RUN'
SCRUBBY REMEMBERS
SKIPPER CHUCK
Herald staffer Robert Steinback spoke to Richard Andrews,
the man behind Scrubby, Skipper Chuck's longtime sidekick.
''We never talked down to [the kids.] We would do jokes they
would have to think about.'' He recalled one: A tale about
how few people knew that the legendary archer William Tell
was also a skilled bowler whom everyone wanted on their
team. Which team would William Tell choose?
``The town waited anxiously to find out for whom the Tell
bowls. If the kids didn't get it, too bad. Maybe they'd get
it later.
``We had a wonderful run. It's one thing I can look back on
and remember as a wonderful time of my life.''
-- Richard Andrews
(Scrubby), retired,
Space Coast