I Remember Cedric Adams

"Tear down San Francisco's ferry building, haul away the Statue of Liberty, close up New Orleans Antoine's, but never move Adams." So said Bob Hope of a now-lendary personality of the Upper Midwest, my former boss and great friend, Cedric Adams.

His presence was an important ingredient in the success of any event from a cow-milking contest to the judging of the annual Miss Minnesota pageant winner. There was a Cedric Adams sandwich, a Cedric Adams rose, Cedric Adams sewing circles, Cedric Adams book societies, a Cedric Adams stallion and hundreds of cats, dogs and children named after him. Oh, yes, and a Cedric Adams appetizer - milk. You might say he saturated the very air of the Upper Midwest. In short, Cedric was a tradition.

He was considered the single most influential regional columnist in the country with two books to his credit and numerous magazine articles. He talked himself through 53 radio and television shows a week and catered to some 17 sponsors and 14 advertising agency executives. His responsibilities would have been enough to consume the full energies of most men, but the ubiquitous Cedric, to top it off, averaged five weekly public appearances, 50 road shows a year and wrote monthly "Star and Tribune" column ads for the "New Yorker" magazine.

A master at nostalgia, he transported his readers into the horse and buggy days of the cob-webbed cellar, the pot-bellied stove in the general store, the village blacksmith shop with its sparks, smoke from the forge and the smell of burning hoofs. And a thousand memories from his readin', writin' and 'rithmatic days in his two room schoolhouse revived similar happy recollections in the minds of his devoted readers.

Mail came in by the bagful. When I joined his seven-girl staff it was hitting 200-500 letters a day. Extracting stacks from his overloaded briefcase, he peddled them among us with the instructions, "be casual, give 'em the homey touch." This was our familiarization with his reading and listening public.

A large, dynamic man, he often reffered to himself as "your rotund reporter," - was a perpetual weight watcher. He once ran a "Cedric Adams Two Day Diet," that won him national attention. Through his mail he figured that 22,765 people had lost 159,355 pounds by following it!

This folksy "Boswell of the Twin Cities," was of medium height with smooth brown hair that receded slightly, a cherubic complexion and sprkling alert blue eyes framed by wildly expressive eyebrows and large horn-rimmed glasses.

He was as familiar to Minneapolis clerks and cabbies as to his fellow co-workers. A blocks walk with Cedric was an exercise in slow motion. Everybody wanted to visit, solicit his advice or just shake hands. "Have you got a minute, Cedric?" "Sure, all the time in the world," he'd say as he stopped to exchange pleasantries while the frantic news-room boys and those of us with scripts to hand him cooled our heels.

Cedric could never be rude or brusque with people, never impatient. He never thought he was so important that he could offend others. This was a happy man who delighted in many things with one manner toward all. A manner of humanness, ease and warmth that came to him as naturally as breathing. Possessing the "common touch," he always had things to say and he said them with simplicity and style.

His column could be late, HE could be tardy because of listening to someone's life story while up against a deadline, and yet, he always chuckled himself out of any "situation." Reffering to his bosses as "Simon Legree," "Whip Lasher," "Slave Driver," and "Pants Prodder," he'd admit that "Through the years they'd put up with a lot of tardiness, fluffs, mis-use of the hyphen, running overtime on the air and bum spelling." His kicker: "All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my darling bosses. They have advised, guided, admonished and understood."

The only son of a widowed mother, Cedric was obliged at an early age to help hack out a livelihood. Finally, after working as a soda jerk, office boy and seed salesman, he graduated from the University of Minnesota in 1931, after nine years of interrupted study. The fact that he had to "scratch," probably helped account for his later ability to understand his public and choose the subject material for his column that most interest them.

Back in the '20s, too Cedric began news broadcasts for WCCO, the then CBS-owned station in the Twin Cities. He delivered the noon news in the auditorium, and though it was a simple news presentation the place was always packed with locals and out-of-towners who just wanted to see "Mr. Northwest." Many were the little housewives who blushingly admitted that "they went to bed with him every night," following his 10 p.m. newscast.

End of part one
Link to part two: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/8314317/i_remember_cedric_adams_part_2.html?cat=49