Sunday morning, MARVIN ZINDLER passed away in his hometown of Houston, TX, a brawling city that sits brazenly on the Texas Gulf Coast and boasts workers who call themselves “Roughnecks” and “Rowdies”. Houston is a very blue-collar place despite the mansion-sized homes that stretch to the west of the city, many housing the best oncologists in the country. A place where traffic is part of daily life and where entire sections of the city have emergency evacuation plans just in case the oil refineries catch fire. Houston of the broad shoulders embraced Marvin Zindler.
With a bright white pompadour toupee that shouted 1970’s and dark aviator sunglasses that would make Jack Nicholson’s look like the kind you pick up at Toys R Us, Marvin had his own look. Nobody else came close, even if they wanted to. You know you’re a real one-of-a-kind when you can go to a Halloween party and see others dressing like you. Loud jackets, outrageous ties, and a voice that would give today’s news consultants a major coronary…it was Marvin.
He did more than just look different. He was the man who pioneered crusader reporting on TV. People didn’t have to live anywhere near Houston to know Marvin – he was one of the main characters of “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas”. You know the one – the flamboyant TV reporter who shut down the pleasure parlor. In real life, Marvin did indeed shut down the state’s legendary whorehouse in La Grange where real Texas Longhorn and Aggie football players frolicked as young men do. It was called the Chicken Ranch and it was a major stop on the Texas Old Boys Network.
But Marvin wasn’t one of those self-righteous types. He was a law-abiding guy who began life as a sheriff, his strong convictions of what was right and wrong already established before he began his career on TV at the age of 51. Yes, 51. A middle-aged guy in a toupee and sunglasses took Houston by storm because Houston recognized the fun Zindler was having. He loved his job. Loved being recognized when he went out to eat. Knew where not to eat because he was the man who, every Friday, told Texans what was going on behind the kitchen doors of their favorite watering holes. If you ever heard Marvin report on “Slime in the ice machine”, you’ll understand why nobody can ever say those five words like him again.
So where are the “new” Marvin Zindlers? Where are those unique characters on TV that bring more than facts to a story…who bring their own sense of style and communication? Where are the folks having fun in front of the cameras? Surely, if we can’t think of any, it’s time to rethink the whole process. Marvin Zindlers bring in viewers. Isn’t that the point?
