Gary Radnich: A breath of fresh airtime

by David Pollak, Mercury News
March 14, 2005

Every second counts as Gary Radnich backs his Jaguar XJ6 out of the driveway.

It is 9:10 p.m. and he is driving through San Francisco's fashionable Pacific Heights neighborhood. In 13 minutes he needs to be on camera at the KRON-TV anchor desk for that night's ``World According to Gary'' segment.

Crisis? Nope. Business as usual.

Radnich, a San Jose native who marks his 20th year in Bay Area broadcasting today, likes to cut it close. He shows up for work at the last conceivable moment -- whether it's his morning KNBR-AM talk show or nightly KRON newscasts.

When that night's 9 p.m. newscast began, for example, Radnich was watching his 5-year-old daughter drift off to sleep in the home they are temporarily renting. Then two words from his wife, Alicia -- ``OK, Gare'' set things in motion.

Seat belt fastened?

At 9:11 p.m., the Jag is zipping around a slow-moving SUV. He turns right on Van Ness, then weaves his way through traffic. Four minutes later, he is in his parking spot.

By 9:17, Radnich gets off the elevator and stops by his desk. ``I added the last shot from the Warriors game,'' senior sports producer Dave Guingona tells him, a brief update on the story lineup established after the 6 p.m. news.

At 9:20 Radnich applies his makeup. Two minutes later, he's back on the elevator for the ride to the studio.

Just then the words come over the intercom: ``One minute, one minute, one minute, Gary.''

Twenty seconds before the commercial break ends and anchor Tom Sinkovitz is on the air, Radnich takes his seat. As always.

Most colleagues at KRON insist they don't worry about Radnich's nightly dash. ``It stopped bothering me 15 years ago,'' one says.

Don't believe it.

``Everybody who pretends that doesn't bother them,'' veteran videotape editor Bob Bonaventura says, smiling, ``is lying to you.''

He uses his theater background to explain Radnich's dramatic arrivals.

``There were certain rituals that every actor had that made them do well,'' Bonaventura said. ``Gary's is showing up at the last minute.''

Time matters to Radnich, whose lightheartedly abrasive, ad-lib approach has made him the Bay Area's top sports media personality. He figures he'd score high on a ``most disliked'' list, too, which is fine -- at least they're watching.

Airtime -- a whopping 18 minutes nightly -- is one reason he stayed with KRON when the station lost its NBC affiliation three years ago. Family time is important as well. Despite the fact his workday starts at 9:28 a.m. and ends at 11:30 p.m., he can be home for all three meals.

Radnich crams a lot into each day.

7:30 a.m.

His day begins -- ``Usually the kids wake me up'' -- about six hours after Radnich went to sleep. It's twice the rest he got when he did KNBR's 6 a.m. show for three years.

That, he says, took its toll. This? Nothing to it.

The kids are daughters Jolie, 5, and Isabella, 10 months. He dotes on both -- typical of someone in a second marriage who thought diapers were in his past. Radnich and his first wife have three adult children.

They divorced in 1990. He married Alicia, a KRON producer 17 years younger than the 55-year-old Radnich, in 1997.

Alicia is African-American and Radnich relates how they told colleagues at KRON, where anchor Pam Moore offers tips for getting ahead to other black women on staff.

Radnich suggested his own: ``Find a lonely white guy with a few bucks.''

The one-liner rang true.

``I was by myself for a while and I'm the type of guy who should be married,'' he says. ``I've got no interest in walking around and seeing if anybody recognizes me.''

9:26 a.m. to noon

One minute before the on-air handoff from KNBR's morning drive team, Radnich arrives at the station's downtown San Francisco studio.

He slides into a three-way conversation that bounces from Jose Canseco to Charles Manson. Typical Radnich. Sports is only a starting point.

``At this time of the morning, very few people roll out of bed with a jersey on and a beer in their hand,'' Radnich says off the air. ``So you have a little fun with it.''

Much of that comes in a 15-minute slot where he and former Fox host Tony Bruno take on the day's news.

At one point, practically out of nowhere, Radnich rattles off the lineup of the 1957 world-champion Milwaukee Braves -- almost to remind listeners that he does know his sports.

``I don't want to be considered that smart,'' he says later, ``but I don't want anybody, like a player or management, to think I'm stupid either.''

Callers get it. Raider Mort wants to talk about the Oscars. Later, someone links Barry Bonds and Abe Vigoda.

KNBR hosts have on-air computer access so they can monitor breaking news. But Radnich is a technophobe -- not even a cell phone -- so he relies on his producer.

This morning, he relays reports of a civil-suit settlement in the Kobe Bryant rape case.

Radnich shifts gears: Can Bryant reclaim his reputation?

Instantly, seven people call.

12:02 p.m. to 2 p.m.

The elevator whisks Radnich down the 11 flights. Most afternoons, he heads home, takes Jolie to preschool, has lunch and settles in with a pile of newspapers. Research.

Not today.

Today he is meeting his wife and their real-estate agent. Even as renovation of their stucco home in San Francisco's stately St. Francis Wood district nears the end, they're touring a larger house in the neighborhood.

The price tag is in excess of $3 million -- and while he does blink, it's a sign of Radnich's financial position. He confirms that his income is a little more than $1 million a year.

These days, Radnich is entrenched in San Francisco, midway through a seven-year KRON contract. A few years ago, it wasn't so certain. The station was losing its NBC affiliation and he was frustrated.

He and Alicia bought a ``just in case'' condo in Beverly Hills, then sold it when he stayed at KRON.

For now, they're staying in their current home, too.

2 p.m. to 4:14 p.m.

No lunch today. Instead, Radnich drives to San Jose to see his mother.

Radnich grew up in a Willow Glen ranch house where, at 85, Evelyn Radunich lives independently. His father, Bill, a onetime collegiate boxer and San Jose State basketball player, died in 2003.

Radnich said his father shaped his view of sports, warning him early on to avoid hero worship. ``He made a good life for all of us,'' he said.

The driveway backboard is gone, but the brick barbecue pit that helped shape the basketball talent he showed at Del Mar and Branham high schools in the 1960s remains.

The pit made driving to the basket risky. That led to an outside shot that made Radnich a high school all-star.

That career fizzled after two years on scholarship at Brigham Young and one at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, just before Jerry Tarkanian made that team an NCAA power.

``What I was good at didn't translate well,'' said Radnich, whose hot-dog style included behind-the-back passes and, once, a stop at the water fountain before dropping back on defense after hitting a jumper.

Walls of the family home feature framed mementos from Radnich's career. A cover story from Columbus Monthly magazine labeled him ``TV's Bad Boy,'' a title earned in the Ohio capital when he pooh-poohed the importance of an Ohio State victory over Wisconsin his first week there.

Radnich's mother has one explanation for her son's drive to succeed: He was born with three fingers on his left hand. Coaches from other teams told her that motivated him to excel.

At first, Radnich dismisses the idea. Later, he allows that taunts during games could fire him up. At times, he'd even shoot left-handed.

His mother, an avid sports fan, jokes about how she has suffered because her son ``wouldn't ask for a ticket if his life depended on it.'' In 1989, she and Bill went to Miami for the Super Bowl, hoping to somehow get seats. None materialized.

San Jose has not always been kind to its hometown boy. Early on, Radnich's unconventional style was trashed in the paper. A 1996 appearance as emcee for the San Jose Sports Hall of Fame dinner left such a bad aftertaste that former Mayor Tom McEnery still considers Radnich ``insufferable.''

Shrugs Radnich: ``I've had better nights.''

4:15 p.m. to 5:17 p.m.

Returning to San Francisco, the conversation picks up an earlier thread about his approach to the job.

``I get this a lot -- `How can you just wing it on TV?' '' he says. ``The difference is, when I'm driving to work, I'm thinking what I'm going to say and what I'm going to do. When you're driving to work, you're thinking about where to have lunch.''

He has many reasons for staying away from the newsroom until the last minute. He can listen to a Giants game and stay more current. He can avoid the downside of office chit-chat.

``I've seen anchors leave their best show in the room,'' he said. ``They get on the air and they're talked out.''

5:17 p.m. to 6:35 p.m.

Traffic backups never materialize; Radnich gets to KRON 43 minutes before the 6 p.m. newscast. Two station executives heading out the door mockingly stare at their watches.

At one point, anchor Wendy Tokuda offers her two cents on Radnich.

``People are different on the air than they are on TV -- except for Gary,'' Tokuda says.

She describes a classic Radnich stunt: In baseball season, he rolls out a TV during the newscast and shows another station's game broadcast.

``He'll say to the anchors, `You two are in charge of watching the score and letting me know if anything happens,' '' she says, cracking up.

There are 50 seconds to spare when he takes his seat at 6:17.

6:36 p.m. to 9:09 p.m.

It's a rare midweek dinner out.

The destination is more touristy than trendy: Fisherman's Grotto. Radnich explains that Jolie has a wheat allergy and requires gluten-free meals. The chef knows the drill.

Radnich takes his daughters to see the fish tanks, giving Alicia a chance to tell a story that reinforces a point Tokuda made earlier:

What you see on TV is what you get off the set.

``If we're walking down the street,'' Alicia says, ``and somebody stares a little too long, he says: `What's the problem? Too young? Or too black?'

``He doesn't hold his tongue, much to my chagrin at some points.''

9:10 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.

Time for that race to the studio.

Predictably, KRON's news ratings are fifth in the Bay Area. But the 9 p.m. newscast gets the biggest audience by far of its three each night. ``I always say if I drop my pants, I'll do it on the 9,'' Radnich jokes.

He has two segments -- starting with the three-minute ``World According to Gary,'' an opportunity to say whatever he wants. Tonight, he resurrects a topic from earlier in the day: Bryant's reputation.

That goes fine. The traditional sports slot doesn't. Technical problems force KRON to run 14 consecutive minutes of commercials and public service announcements. Radnich's five minutes become two.

Radnich feigns outrage. ``Two minutes? I don't wear a sport coat for two minutes,'' he says, using much of his limited time to take off the jacket, hoping viewers find it more interesting than another NBA dunk.

Radnich uses some of the hour before the 11 p.m. newscast for clerical matters. But he spends most of it reviewing tapes of recent segments.

``I go over and over it and I've been doing this for all 20 years,'' he says. ``Maybe you're moving your hands too much. Maybe you're forcing the jokes.''

He takes whatever he learns with him into the 11:25 p.m. segment, 14 hours after the day's first appearance behind a microphone.

Contact David Pollak at dpollak@mercurynews.com