What a sad and tragic last couple of weeks: Mayer Matalon, Dudley Thompson, Barclay Ewart, Wilmot ‘Motty’ Perkins, Edgar Gallimore and just when you thought the roll call had stopped: Whitney Houston. Even the knowledge that nothing lasts forever — not the good, not the bad, nor the ugly — is of little comfort.

I want to use this column to express my particular sadness on the death of a fearless giant of journalism, Wilmot Perkins.

Wilmot Perkins was a Daily Gleaner and Sunday Herald columnist and a popular radio host who covered the media landscape with his programmes. He started on a programme at the now defunct Jamaica Broadcasting Corporation (JBC) in 1960, after which he hosted What’s your Grouse on RJR. He moved back to the JBC on the programme Public Eye and then Hot Line on RJR in the 1970s and 1980s. When KLAS FM started in the 1990s, Perkins hosted Straight Talk, then moved to Perkins On Line on Hot 102FM. Perkins On Line then moved to Power 106 in April 2002, where he remained on air until just after the December 2011 General Election.

Motty died on February 10, of what we’re not sure as yet; but I think the outcome of the 2011 election broke his heart. And maybe at 80 it was time too; he had said everything, read everything, fought every personal and professional battle possible and to live longer may have meant to endure more of the same — the good, the bad and the ugly. I appreciate the suddenness of his passing for it makes my memories of him all the more sweet, unclouded by thoughts of the ravages of his aging.

He thought I was beautiful: On the rare personal and professional occasions that I had the chance to interact with him, he would greet me warmly and then gaze upon me as though I was the only long and cool drink of water left on a deserted island. Thank God I’m not the jealous type, for while I thought that manly admiration was reserved for me alone, I knew it was in his nature to look at every woman like that. A special note of thanks too to his ophthalmologist who fitted Motty’s inch-thick coke bottle lenses in such a fashion as to make even the most ordinary looking women appear “beautiful” to him, it made me stand a little taller knowing that he had his eyes on me.

I made him laugh: He read my column. Well, I know of one column for certain that he read and was delighted by. It had to do with modern-day answers to the age old question of “Why did the chicken cross the road?” For at least an hour he shared virtues and vices of the column with his listeners on the Monday morning after it ran and he called me all manner of things that indicated he thought me brilliant, funny, hilarious, acutely aware, on-point, skilled. It swelled my head that week and it made me pay even more attention to my columns, knowing, hoping that he continued to read them.

He made me cry: I would spend many an afternoon with him — he on the radio, me at home preparing the nursery for the birth of my first child. I recall his recounting of the 1997 raid on Tivoli Gardens and the moment he understood that the Jamaica Defence Force was shooting into the community from a helicopter (bullets from which would ultimately kill three women and a six-year-old boy who was playing on his bed). I heard his voice crack when he asked the question: “What is this country coming to?” And I started to cry too because I had taken a decision to bring a child into a country whose Government valued little the life of its people and there was no turning back. Motty and I bonded at that very moment and he became my inspiration whenever I hesitated to bawl out over what I perceived were injustices done to my fellow Jamaicans.

Rather than find new words, I’ll run the statement from the minister with responsibility for information, Senator Sandrea Falconer, on his death.

She said his passing has robbed Jamaica of an outspoken and fearless journalist and talk show host who would never back down from his convictions about any issue. “Our nation needs journalists who keep debates about issues in our society alive, and radio talk show host ‘Motty’ Perkins was supreme. His programme welcomed all guests, but his discussions were rightfully tuned to challenge the actions and statements of persons who hold elected office. Despite his incisive thoughts about leaders, he was still a simple man who could laugh with and express genuine sorrow with his callers from all walks of life who shared their stories with him on a daily basis. We extend our condolences to his widow of 56 years and broadcast practitioner, Elaine Perkins, his family and close friends.”

Well said, Sandrea.

Rest in peace, Mr Perkins.

scowicomm@gmail.com