Remembering Mr. Stambaugh
They came from California and nine other states.
They were family members and friends and neighbors and former colleagues — all coming to the St. Paul Catholic Newman Center in Fresno this past Monday to memorialize the life of Rodney Elliott Stambaugh — who was better known to hundreds of thousands of Valley TV viewers as Bud Elliott.
He had passed away last November — just shy of his 77th birthday — a victim, far too young, of Parkinson’s.
Bud served as Channel 24 anchor in Fresno for more than two decades, following stints in radio in Denver and at CNN in Atlanta and a TV station in Virginia.
On Monday, Bud and Peggy’s son Andrew gave a moving, heartfelt eulogy for his dad — one that had many in our large crowd in tears.
Andrew said the essence of his dad was exemplified most clearly with his family.
Bud showed his love in many ways, Andrew said. Fresh-cut flowers for his wife Peggy, and unwavering loyalty to her for a half-century.
Frequent notes of encouragement for Andrew’s sister Sarah. Frequent “care packages” of clippings and assorted items for Andrew.
Bud was, Andrew said, the foundation of their family. He taught by example. He was a reserved and humble man, he said.
Bud “drank deeply of life” and had an insatiable curiosity.
He had more than the verbal skills that he exhibited every night on TV news.
He knew carpentry and remodeled their home in northwest Fresno several times.
He loved cooking. He took up boxing and woodworking after he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s as his way of fighting back against the disease.
He was an excellent photographer. He loved history and gardening.
Andrew called his dad a “man of words” who insisted on clear, concise language in his TV scripts and in life.
Bud knew, Andrew said, what he was on Earth to do — and he mentored generations of journalists.
The thing Bud was most proud of, Andrew said, was the trust that viewers gave him in letting him into their homes for decades.
He insisted on impartiality, and no one ever knew what his opinions were because he kept them out of his scripts.
He was trying to tell the truth, Andrew said, and he was proud of it.
Andrew said that after Parkinson’s forced Bud off the air and began taking over his body, “Not once did he complain. Not once did he curse his fate. He endured.”
Andrew said he learned his dad lived by four codes.
First — you can just do things. You’re free. Do things. Try things.
Second — anything worth doing is worth doing well. Good work has value. Excellence is contagious.
Third — keep your wits about you. Stay calm.
Fourth — be kind. Those two words were among the last Bud ever verbalized. Andrew called them the distillation of Bud’s deep faith.
After the Monday service, two of Bud’s former colleagues at 24 reflected on their times with him.
Catherine Mylinh — who was a young reporter at 24 when Bud was anchoring — broke down when she told me that working with Bud was “such an honor.” She said he was generous with his time and wisdom — and she thinks about his teachings every day.
And she told a story about how — years after she had left 24 — she was in a San Francisco juice bar in the Marina District and had no idea Bud was in town.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and, in a “low husky voice,” Bud said: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine” — quoting Humphrey Bogart in “Casablanca.”
It simply confirmed to Catherine what she already knew — that Bud was well-learned, well-read, and had an amazing wit.
Faith Sidlow — who co-anchored with Bud for years — remembered that she and Bud had many moments off-air in the newsroom when they laughed so hard, they cried.
She said she loved watching the way his mind worked when he wrote a story, always making sure it was correct — every word. A true journalist.
And she said that, for years, at the first of every month, Bud would text her with the message, “Happy Bunny Rabbit Day.”
Why? Just because. It was a sign of their friendship.
Rodney “Bud” Elliott Stambaugh, you were a jewel, indeed. The Valley was so lucky to have you giving the news every night for all those years.
RIP, my friend.
–Dennis