Remembering Ted Turner
This week, the world lost a giant who revolutionized media, challenged convention, and helped a young flower company gain lots of national exposure.
You’ve likely read obituaries describing Ted Turner as a swashbuckling entrepreneur and extraordinary philanthropist who founded CNN and changed the way the world got its news. Those descriptions are true but only begin to capture the man I knew.
I remember being with him once in Atlanta, arriving at a hotel in his old station wagon. Ted drove right up onto the sidewalk, almost as if he were going to pull straight into the lobby. He hopped out, flipped the keys to the valet, and kept moving without missing a beat.
That was Ted. Wherever he went, the seas parted. He marched to a different drum, and that rhythm allowed him to create such extraordinary things.
I feel privileged to have known him and benefited from his advice. One memorable moment came during the first Gulf War, when many companies were pulling back their advertising. Ted encouraged us to stay on CNN, reminding me that uncertain times are when people need connection the most.
We kept our ads running while many others disappeared. Ted made sure ours stayed on the air, and because there were so few advertisers left, they seemed to run constantly. People still joke that the Gulf War was “brought to you by” 1-800-Flowers.com.
That story captured just one aspect of Ted’s life. He was a man of implausible range: a sailor who won the America’s Cup, the conservationist who became one of the country’s largest private landowners, and the philanthropist who gave a billion dollars to the United Nations and meant every penny of it.
He not only built a media empire and rewrote the rules of cable TV but also pushed the world to something better. This combination of audacity and conscience drew people to him, and those were the reasons I admired him so much.
A few years after the Gulf War, I wanted my son James to see what I saw. He walked into the living room one day while I was watching Ted on television.
“I’d like you to listen to this guy,” I told him.
“Is he one of your heroes?” James asked.
“He sure is,” I replied.
My son saw the look on my face and watched the rest of the interview. It was the first time he realized that even dads have heroes. When he heard the news of Ted’s death on Wednesday, James texted me to offer his condolences on the loss of my hero.
Ted was bold, brash, and far ahead of his time. He reshaped industries — and along the way, helped a young flower company find its footing.
Rest in peace, Ted.