How Milwaukee Reacted to My Sudden Fame with the Controversial Morton Downey Jr.

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Photo: mortondowneyjrshow.com

Morton Downey Jr.

Morton Downey Jr.

It happened in Milwaukee on the street, in a supermarket, restaurants, coffee lines at work and the airport, when my old friend, Victor—whom I hadn't seen in years—shouted it and everyone looked my way.

“Hey, Dickie Carter,” he yelled, as he hurried away. “I saw you on that crazy TV show with that maniac. You did good.”

The “it” was me showing up on the wildest, wackiest, television program in front of the wildest, wackiest live audience run by Morton Downey Jr.—the wildest, wackiest host in the land of TV hijinks.

As a native Milwaukeean unaccustomed to in-your-face recognition, the unexpected “it” began in 1988 by virtue of two guest appearances on Downey's controversial, nationally syndicated holler-fest. After umpteen relatively unheralded years in the newspaper business—eight as a pictured columnist in Milwaukee and two other cities—my face finallly had become familiar.

 “How was it talking with that bully?” asked a gift shop owner near my apartment. “Didn't I see you on a documentary?” asked a young man on Walnut Street. “You mean the Downey show,” I replied.

Before he could answer, his female companion mumbled something I couldn't make out. “She said your face tells her what’s on your mind,” he said, vigorously shaking my hand. 

“You were on that crazy TV show,” said a little old lady on North Avenue. “Hey, I saw you on the Morton Downey Jr. show,” said a 12-year-old seventh-grader during my Black History Month Career Day talk at a local junior high school.

Racist or Communist?

“Is he a racist?” asked a morning office coffee buyer, “or a just a Communist? You know, his red socks,” he snarled. “Caught you on the Downey show,” said an elderly man in Pick’ N’ Save Supermarket. “You were strong. How’d it feel sparring with that audience? They act like lunatics,” he said, slapping me on the back.

“What's it like sitting there,” asked a lady in the middle of crossing busy Wisconsin Avenue here. “And what's Morton Downey really like?"

At that moment, I recalled how Al Jarreau, my boyhood Milwaukee pal, loved mimicking the beer commercial which rang out: “I’m from Milwaukee, and I ought to know.”

Well, here's what I knew then—during about a half-dozen more Downey show shots—and my subsequent national TV gig as co-host with Downey in 1989-90 on CNBC’s “Showdown.” I was the liberal sparring with Mort, the conservative. And we were the first Black-White co-host of a national TV talker.

What it was like on the original “Downey” was boisterous, unpredictable and, as far as I knew, every aspect was unrehearsed. And based on our many post-show dinner conversations, Downey was a fun guy. Off the air, he was a gentleman. He wore red socks, he told me, “because old man Joe Kennedy told his father—Morton Downey Sr., the famed Irish tenor—never trust a man who wears red socks and brown shoes.”

Fire and Fury

In front of the cameras, however—with a partisan, hand-picked youthful audience egging on his mouth-fighting with chants of "Duke! Duke! Duke!”—Downey was all fire and fury. Yet, here I was, on TV with him – to the delight, and wonderment, of my fellow Milwaukeeans, friends and strangers alike. Many of them still can’t believe their Dickie Carter did this.

But quite frankly, I loved it when Mort—professing disdain for guests who went on too long or crude audience members—snarled “Zip it!” or just plain “Shut up!”

Indeed, Downey’s contributions to live-action, in your face talk television ought to be appreciated, not forgotten or shunted aside. He was one of the first and, perhaps, the very best of the genre. He preceded Oprah, Geraldo and Sally Jessie and upped the ante by moving around the stage and inviting audience members to the microphone to take their best shots.

Of course, Mort came in for his share of criticism. There was the “who-is-this-nut?” finger-pointing as his New Jersey-based TV show “super-stationed” its way around the country. And the scathing reviews and inevitable “I told-you-so’s” when, despite high ratings, Mort was dumped in the wake of the infamous skinhead “attack” at the San Francisco airport in mid-1989.

Showdown on CNBC

Seeking a comeback, in November 1989 he called me at home late one night and asked me to co-host CNBC’s “Showdown” in prime-time five nights a week. As a New York Daily News columnist and editorial writer, I recognized this as a great opportunity to get into TV. Mort arranged for a limo to pick me up at the paper for twice-weekly tapings in Fort Lee, New Jersey, and encouraged me to occasionally bring along my wife, Janice, an assistant to the publisher at The News.

As expected, my fiery, long-time Milwaukee pal, George F. Sanders, suggested that I should “really tell that racist son of a bitch where to get off. You know, kick his loudmouth ass.”

I also heard, by phone, from Tonish Jones, a former Lincoln High School classmate living in California, who simply expressed surprise. Other high school pals, John Givens, James Reed and former WYMS-FM dee-jay, Alvin Russell, were very positive, as was Dave Behrent—editorial page editor of the Milwaukee Journal—who wrote me a nice letter.

During an exciting run at 8 p.m. Monday-Friday, our CNBC ratings topped Dick Cavett’s at 8:30 p.m. Guests included actress Lee Remick; Rev. Al Sharpton; CORE’s Roy Innis; New York’s Amsterdam News Publisher Bill Tatum; humorist Andy Rooney; light-heavy boxing champ Jose Torres; basketball star Gary Brokaw; Daily News cartoonist Bil Gallo; radio talker Lynn Samuels; PBS-TV’s Tony Brown; noted artist Mark Kostabi; famed attorney Alan Dershowitz; Collin Moore, attorney for a suspect in the Central Park jogger rape, and Barry Slotnik, attorney for notorious subway shooter, Bernhard Goetz.

In turn, I booked Mort as a telephone guest in 1994 on “The Carter-McGee Report” on Milwaukee’s WNOV-AM. Two years later, Mort hosted another juicy, short-lived TV talkfest in Chicago, on which I appeared in March 1996. Our subject was Black liberals vs. Black conservatives, and sparks flew. We had a fine time.

How popular was Morton Downey Jr.? On June 17, 1994, a USA Today write-in “Star Gauging” poll of 2,000 readers picked him as a celebrity they wanted to see more of. Mort was fourth (behind Michael Bolton, Paul McCartney and Barry Manilow) and ahead of 500 others—as well as 200 that people were sick of, such as Madonna and Michael Jackson.

Responsive Chord

One of my last appearances on the original “Downey” was Jan. 25, 1988—the night of President Reagan's nationally televised State of the Union address. “Downey” officials told me their show that night scored its all-time highest rating. Was this due to disenchantment with Reagan or enchantment with Downey? I opt for the latter. Mort simply struck a responsive chord with America's TV viewers.

 “He befriended the working people,” explained Len Schwende, who ran Downey's national fan club, Loudmouth America. He arrived at this conclusion, he said, when discovering the fervor with which Mort stood up for the downtrodden and his easy manner with fans. 

How well I recall speaking to by Mort by phone in Milwaukee in the summer of 1996, when he was about to undergo an operation in California for lung cancer due to the chain smoking which led his death, at 68. We often spoke by phone following our time as TV antagonists – which continued to confound my skeptical best friend, George Sanders.

Prior to his passing, Mort told me he’d preceded the surgery by two weeks of abstinence. Despite the prospect of losing part of a lung, he had hopes of doing more movies, TV infomercials and starring in a show he’d written called “The Investigator.” There was no way he was going to be exiled into oblivion, he said.

In 1999, when I was seriously ill, Mort was quick to call, commiserate and cheer me up. Indeed, his peak TV persona belied the real-life gentle man. To me, Downey always was for real, and I feel privileged to have known him. My gigs on his shows got me instant recognition here, and elsewhere. For which I still say, “Thanks, Mort.”