Goodbye, old friend.

Fred Charles Sullivan, an old friend of mine, died yesterday. His death was not a surprise as he had been in ill health for some time. Charlie's recent acquaintenances knew nothing of the accomplishments of his life, but knew him only as an old man who was ill. Too bad.

As a young man, Charlie was fascinated by the business of broadcasting, and in about 1951, started hanging around the radio station where I worked. I eventually left that station to chase a career, and while he and I did communicate for a time, we eventually lost track of each other. (Our friendship was renewed when I moved back to New Mexico in 1994.)

Charlie's interest in broadcasting never waned, and he moved to Los Angeles where he started hanging around KNBC-TV. Eventually he was employed by the station. He always said they hired him to get him out of their face. His first job was dragging cables behind studio cameras. The cameramen had to concentrate on instructions from the director, and needed someone to look after the cables from their cameras to be sure they did not become entangled and impede their camera moves.

Eventually Charlie became a producer for NBC and was sent on many assignments around the world. He did some time in Viet Nam shooting film of the war for NBC. On rare occasions he spoke of his acquaintance with such NBC luminaries as Tom Brokaw.

A lifelong Democrat, Charlie was enchanted by the Kennedys. When Bobby Kennedy ran for president, Charlie became very active in the California campaign. He had a box full of old photographs, some of which showed him with Kennedy.

After his father died, Charlie left California to return to New Mexico to help his mother sort out his father's business affairs. He heard the news of Bobby Kennedy's assasination while he was on the road.

Charlie never really got over the loss of the Kennedy brothers, and in later years his living room was more or less a shrine to Jack and Bobby, with large portraits of each on the wall, along with numerous other memorabilia of the era.

Charlie became a significant part of the business community in our city, and enjoyed financial success until he suffered two brain aneurysms. He survived, but with a significant loss of memory.

He lost most of his business enterprises during that period, and became quite embittered. Until his death, he believed he had been cheated by his friends and associates. I will never know what actually happened.

Charlie was married three times and has two daughters by his first marriage. They love their father, of course, but live on the east coast and have little connection with our city.

Charlie and I frequented the same barber shop and our barber, Mike Ortega, was one of Charlie's friends. When Charlie became too ill to vist the barber shop, Mike went to Charlie's home and cut his hair.

When I heard of Charlie's death, Mike was the first one I called. He said he would call another friend, a distant relative of Charlie, and tell him Charlie had died. I asked who else he would call. Mike thought a moment, but could think of no one else to call.

There was no notice of his death in this morning's newspaper.