Thank you, Stew Clark and Tom Kraatz: An ode to endorsement and friendship

Around eight years ago, a former boss helped an ambitious sports voice reach the radio.

We were fools traveling down Geyer Road in the late Kirkwood night, searching for endorsement and possibly a path to the radio.

In case you don’t know him, Stew Clark is a “foxhole” friend. When the chips are down and the odds are tight, he’s not going to run away. Friends since our time together at Senoret Chemical, a homegrown pesticide company that gave the world Terro and Sweeney products, Stew and I were similar souls who got along easy. When Senoret was sold to Woodstream in 2012, we didn’t decide a company closure would also close a good friendship.

Friendships are sacred and can be long-lasting bonds, but they take work and effort. If there was a friend to go wandering downtown St. Louis with during the early afternoon or a pal to watch a game with, Stew was the right co-pilot. One time, a pair of executives came into town and Stew enlisted me to drive them all around to the good spots in St. Louis. The Arch, The Hill, Busch, and anything in between. It’s one of those random nights that will go down in memory as an evening with Stew and friends. But that night paled in comparison to the gamble of one particular night.

Wild ideas didn’t bounce off Stew; they instead stuck to his chest for hibernation and marination. So, when a unique opportunity in radio arose in 2016 and money needed to be raised, Mr. Clark was ready. We gave away donuts and stickers at the corner of Litzsinger and McKnight in Richmond Heights. Meetings, emails, and what not were exchanged. After exhausting all options, Stew had one final Hail Mary: Tom Kraatz, the former C.E.O. of Senoret, and a wonderful human who believed in people instead of just numbers.

Tom didn’t have planted Washingtons in his backyard, but there was an intersection of rich and wealth that he lived around comfortably. That’s what happens when you take a small company to something very profitable and desirable to other companies. You build a nice boat, sell it, and find something else to do. Tom lived up in the nicer part of Kirkwood, which is why Stew and I found ourselves on Geyer Road one fateful night.

If you haven’t been around that part of St. Louis county, it’s not a well-marked long road of stacked mansions. It’s a long, winding road with very nice houses located a half mile up the road from where the closest set of eyes could barely see them. Driving up to Tom’s house, at night and without previous GPS familiarity, felt like a part of the Hunger Games in reaching the front door. After a series of close calls and perhaps a couple drops of pee in my pants, the car settled into a position where a tree wasn’t in the way.

Tom was as welcoming as a warm blanket during the winter, breaking open a case of wine. You know things are well when a man can utter the line, “I have a few cases of this delicious red wine, do you want some?” Sure, we do, Tom. More than one bottle was opened, and I don’t usually drink wine. Nothing against the potent grape, but I’d rather swim in a whiskey pool. However, drinking a lot of something does play tricks on your brain and body. Things come out of your mouth that normally wouldn’t from a more sober set of lips.

Stew Clark, Carol Hanlon Nesslein, and Tom Kraatz

Stew and I were there to ask Tom for radio sponsorship. After doing segments and “hits” on numerous radio shows, Chris Denman had cleared a spot for me on 590 The Fan, a local AM radio station in St. Louis. The 5-7am timeslot wasn’t for the faint of heart, but I was open arms due to the chance to be an opening band for The Morning After. That show, led by Tim McKernan, was an AM radio juggernaut. All we needed was brokerage.

You see, if you aren’t a big name on radio, then you aren’t being paid a salary, so air time costs a pretty penny. To 99% of listeners eight years ago, I was a rookie: a loudmouth blogger to some, “who” to others. In order to climb into that morning slot, Stew and I needed $1500 for the first month. Selling myself and my show is a strong suit for others but not me. How does one talk themselves up and not sound like a pompous ass? You need good friends like Stew.

But after three (or four?) glasses of wine, I made a pitch to Tom. Stew provided color and footnotes, including an ability to pay him back. I talked about wanting to create a radio show that talked sports and entertainment: a format that is mostly dormant on the airwaves. I gave it all, including the stories of writing countless articles for friends and boosting the hundred or so souls who read my work. I told Kraatz all about the McKernan show, how it would be like opening for the Stones.

We had no idea if it worked, because Tom just opened another bottle and we kept drinking. He could be an expert poker player if he wanted to, because the hint of “tells” that arrive on his face during a conversation are few and far between. I didn’t know if the boat was smoothly floating down the river or sinking quickly.

FYI: I hate asking for money. It doesn’t matter whether it’s family or friends. It’s a sophisticated blend of stomach ache that hits me when the need ever arose to borrow or ask for money. Help and support are a given in life, but that doesn’t make it feel any better. A sense of failure doesn’t exactly creep in.

I expected to leave empty-handed, but Tom cut a check that night for the full amount. There wasn’t a dream in my head that ended with us leaving Geyer Road that night with the full amount, but we did. I vowed to pay Tom back, but Stew quickly told me it was a gift and that gifts don’t get paid back.

Stew Clark and a mole

Tom never asked for the money, nor did he give me a gambler’s vig on the amount. It was a bundle of hope and faith handed over with goodwill. Gifts aren’t given with the idea of payback or interest gathering over time. They’re a representation of a belief in someone. Stew and Tom believed in me. That was good enough.

Two months into my stint as a very early morning host, my co-host Matt Whitener was recruited to produce an afternoon drive show with T.J. Moe and Cam Janssen. Suddenly, a two-hour show built for two people was a solo hosting gig. Coming up with content, money, and energy was hard without money coming in. Show sponsors came and went, unable to buy into or lend a more helping hand to a show hosted by “Who” Buffa.

After two other failed radio adventures, I went back to being a pinch-hitter or fill-in host. The chances afforded to me I won’t soon forget. Interviewing Paul DeJong while guest-hosting Frank Cusumano’s show. I interviewed Mike Matheny with Matt Berger at Ballpark Village, asking the manager why a baseball stuck to Yadier Molina’s chest protector. Interviewing Steve Savard, Frank Grillo, Dito Montiel, Steve Ewing, and countless other ladies and gents who gave their time to me was a thrill. Carly Schaber came in and guest-hosted with me, handing the mic like a vet who didn’t seem bothered by the texts, calls, and general hysteria of hosting a live show.

I made it work until I couldn’t. As Brian Cox told Dennis Quaid in The Rookie, you can do what you want to do until you need to do what has to be done. McKernan was first class with me, working so I could stay on the air a few more weeks than I was able to pay. When you hear of him, know he’s good people. Talent and compassion don’t roll into one package too often.

Mostly, it was Stew and Tom: The C.O.O. and C.E.O. who gave me a chance to tackle a life on radio. While it didn’t work out, I’ll always remember the extremely classy gesture of one man, the relentless drive of another, and a wild night in Kirkwood.

We all need people like Stew Clark and Tom Kraatz. Thanks for reading, and being a paid subscriber.