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Unexpected deaths of industry friends always come as something of a shock. But in the case of Richard Beers, the feeling of loss is especially deep. For a good decade or more, I have always thought of December (until T.H.E. Show Las Vegas said goodbye) and May (when T.H.E. Show Newport/Irvine began) as the months when I would again get in touch with Richard to write my show previews. I always looked forward to these times with glee, because Richard was always a joy. Through his increasingly hoarse and cigarette-smoke clogged lungs, he would chat away, often answering queries for specifics with liberal approximations. But somehow we’d get through it all with lots of laughs, and the preview would come.
Writing my shows wraps, however, was another story. When I’d press Richard for attendance numbers, he’d variously equivocate or suggest something was wrong with me for actually acting like a serious journalist. (“We can never please, Jason,” was one of his retorts to my decision to no longer print inflated attendance figures that other industry veterans questioned.) These periods would quickly turn into a bit of a cat and mouse game, with Richard knowing that if he stalled long enough, the show wrap would have to be posted, figures or not.
And so it went. But despite that little friction, my admiration for Richard and joy in seeing him grew stronger as the years progressed. His achievement with the Southern California show was major, and a great gift to industry and consumers alike. Equally great were his oft-hilarious stints at the microphone during ribbon cutting ceremonies, where he feigned nonchalance even as he fretted and organized for months on end.
Only once did I hit a brick wall with Richard, and that was when I submitted and saw published a photo of him in serious mode, caught off guard while prepping his support staff. “Never take a photo of me when my face isn’t ready!” he admonished me. After that, I only submitted photos of Richard taken during public presentations, when the smile and oft-sardonic gaze were intact.
Richard, I’m sorry for the pain you had to go through. But with Maurice Jung serving as Interim President of T.H.E. Show, and your wishes that “the show must go on” fulfilled, I know you are smiling once again. You will be sorely missed. May your time on other planes be filled with love.