A Word On Steve Irwin
I worked in television for more than thirteen years as a reporter, cameraman, editor, anchor, and producer. I’ve interviewed thousands of people, covered natural disasters, fires, hardships, nature stories, you name it. When someone in my old field excels, I feel a sense of pride. Today’s television has much to criticize; yet I do occasionally find worthwhile moments to feel a bit proud of. The late Peter Jennings was the most rational and calm voice of 9/11; it was his finest hour, in my opinion. His passing was huge; it felt like the end of an era. Indeed, when my fellow journalists pass away, I do feel the loss, even having left television behind for the printed page.
It was hard to consider Irwin part of television’s elite. He was just too goofy, too absorbed in the world around him to be as camera-conscious as others in “the biz.” He really didn’t seem to care about anything but what was happening in front of the lens at the moment he put himself in front of some dangerous wild animal. Irwin carved out his own niche in TV land. He didn’t stoop to “America’s Funniest” level, he didn’t reach above the viewer’s head, either. He was a man who managed to clown his way into the heart of the most cynical business ever known outside of politics and the world’s oldest profession. It’s not easy to present an “all ages” program that doesn’t feel sickeningly homogenized and toned-down. When exceptions come along, one tends to take notice. Steve Irwin was deeply concerned about conservation, ecology, and protecting animals. Rush Limbaugh can rail against what he calls “environmentalist whackos” all day long, but Irwin was an excellent example of the ultimate activist; someone who simply lived out their beliefs, tried to show others the wonders around them, and –at least in my experiences watching his antics over the years—refrained from polarizing rhetoric and idiotic sloganeering. There weren’t too many like Irwin, and the world is a poorer place without him. If more environmentally concerned people like Irwin could rise to prominence, it wouldn’t take long to get rid of the “whacko” factor. I didn’t know Steve Irwin the human being. I knew him as his TV caricature. Who was he really? I’ve got no way to tell. I base my words here on impressions, on partial information. Maybe behind closed doors, he was a different sort. Somehow I don’t think so, and if I’m wrong, I don’t want to know. From where I sit, television has lost another unique individual. He isn’t the first to make an impression, he certainly won’t be the last, but he does leave quite a lot to live up to in terms of uniqueness. I don’t know if his TV contemporaries are up to meeting the challenge, but it would be nice to see them try, somehow. So long, Steve Irwin. Joe Wallace E-mail This Page | Talk About It | Return to My Column
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This installment of my usually snarky column is a bit more somber. No jokes this time, nothing snotty; this is an honest, no-kidding farewell to Steve Irwin. 
When Steve Irwin died, I felt that television had lost something unique. It’s true that Irwin was a figure of fun for many satirists and comedians; his clownish, and sometimes downright scary behavior was easily lampooned. Even so, it was damn near impossible of accusing the man of being a fake. His enthusiasm was genuine. His manic energy and missionary zeal for the wild never felt forced or artificial. 
