“Excuse me, are you Ben Manilla?” A stranger interrupted Ben and me as we were having a drink in a New York City bar. “I recognize your voice from WLIR.” The stranger and Ben talked for a while before Ben explained that he gets the question frequently when he visits New York. Even though I had known Ben for years, I didn’t realize what a big deal he was. Ben never acted like he was a big deal; he just did what he did better than anyone else.
What Ben did was radio in the purest form. College radio at NYU. Morning host of WLIR. Producer of the “News Blimp.” Creator of “The House of Blues Radio Hour” with Dan Aykroyd. Producer of many public radio programs and documentaries. Professor of podcasting. For his career achievements in radio production, he earned many awards and honors. On that same trip to NYC in 2003, I watched him adeptly interview blues and rock legends like Gregg Allman and John Fogerty in a boiler room below Radio City Music Hall, where he casually introduced me to Martin Scorsese as they were coordinating their respective audio and video documentary productions. I could write a book about his career achievements and his brushes with fame, but if Ben were editing this blog, he would rather talk about life.
Ben was a proud father who cherished his son Griffin, who he brought to Colorado on a college-hunting trip. Ben provided constant updates about Griffin as he was growing up and while in and after college. Ben was deeply in love with his wife Eliza, who was Ben’s closest companion and then caretaker as he battled disease. Their house and gardens were featured in a local northern California newspaper. Ben cared about society and culture and was incredibly kind and giving to others in need. Ben was equally at home giving walking tours of Manhattan where he grew up and being outdoors in nature, and I’ll always treasure our Colorado fishing trip. He was one of the first men (maybe the first) to tell me, “I love you,” and made it easier for me to tell others that I love them.
Ben was happy, funny, creative, humble, and satisfied that he had done his best. Always the optimist and with a sense of humor, Ben wrote his friends recently to let us know that he was having his own going away party. He ended the note with, “Why not? You only die once.” On September 30, Ben left us, but we will never leave or forget Ben. Ben’s impact will live on for years through his productions, both recorded and living.
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