by Luis Fuerte
Accompanying Huell was a group of people associated with the high-rise, and among them was a woman in heels. She casually strode across the walkway and looked back at Huell, her expression saying, “C’mon Huell, you can do it.” He hesitated, and then tentatively followed her lead—as if he were walking on eggshells. Once he was securely on the scaffold, he warily advised the operator, “Any sudden movement and I get real nervous.” Boy oh boy, did he look relieved that he had made it across safely.
Huell working hard to be brave up in the catwalks in the Marine Corps blimp hangar.
Another quirk of Huell’s that many fans will recall was his habit of repeating something a guest said, especially if what he’d heard intrigued him. Often, his astonished repetition would leave a guest with no other option than to politely confirm what he or she had just said.
We were filming up in Taft in Central California, doing an episode on the historic oil fields in the area, when there was talk of something Huell needed to see. So we changed the setup and I shot Huell among a small group of people walking along a country road. Someone in the group told Huell about Lakeview Gusher, a nearby oil well that, in the early 1900s, spewed millions of gallons of oil into the air for eighteen months. Later, someone else repeated the story to him, also referring to the eighteen months. When they got to the site of the well, Huell asked with great Huell enthusiasm, “You mean there was oil coming out of here uncontrollably for eighteen months?” And, of course, everyone confirmed that yes, indeed, that’s exactly what had happened.
The all-time California’s Gold record of Huell and his guest repeating themselves was during a show we did on Santa Rosa Island. I was shooting Huell and a park ranger as they hiked around looking at the island’s native plants. While they were inspecting a flowering prickly pear cactus, another plant caught the ranger’s attention. “And this plant is called the Lemonade Berry,” he said, pointing to the plant in question.
Instantly, Huell’s interest was piqued. “The Lemonade Berry?”
“Yes,” the ranger said. “We call it the Lemonade Berry because—”
In his excitement, Huell cut him off as he strode toward the berry; I followed dutifully with my camera. He said, “What do you mean? This thing is called the Lemonade Berry?”
And the ranger said, “Yes. This is called the Lemonade Berry.”
The five mentions of that plant was Huell’s California’s Gold all-time repeating record, but that was just part of Huell’s charm.
HUELL’S ZEST FOR LIFE
Huell didn’t let anything get in the way of having fun, and mixing business and pleasure was part of his modus operandi. Often he’d meet in advance with people who were going to be on the show, to help get the lay of the land and get a sense of what he wanted to shoot, and sometimes, if he hit it off with the people in question, those meetings would go past midnight.
Early one morning, I was jolted awake by a loud and insistent banging on the door of the room next to mine. It was 4 a.m., and I could tell that Huell was the culprit. He couldn’t find his key, and I guess he figured the door would open if he hit it long and hard enough. After a time, the pounding stopped and I fell back asleep. At least I knew he was alive.
The next morning around 8 a.m., I saw him at the shoot location. His body was there (nursing a cup of coffee), but his spirit appeared to be back in his hotel room, asleep under the covers. As bad as he looked, I knew him well enough that I still could have fun with him.
“It looks like you partied hard last night,” I said. “Did the meeting run late?”
He didn’t say anything, just drank his coffee and looked at me with sleepy eyes. But Huell, always the showman, got it together and when the time came for the camera to roll, he held up the mic with a smile, and did the show just fine.
Another time we were on location shooting a California’s Gold story when Huell showed up after a night of partying with his newfound pals. I walked over to him, and in a ragged voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Hi, Louie.” His shoulders sagged, his face the color of an unripe tomato. He peered at me through narrow slits. The man was in major discomfort, probably thinking that death would be a nice alternative to filming that day. He met my eye, and I thought he was going to say something about how we should get the day’s shooting going.
“Louie,” he said, “take the day off. We can shoot this tomorrow.”
I packed up my gear and went into town to see the sights, while Huell made up for the sleep he’d missed the night before. The next day we got another good California’s Gold in the bag.
Liquid refreshments weren’t Huell’s only fuel of choice. He also liked to eat. No, let me take that back—he loved to eat. And boy, did he love his steaks. On those rare occasions when we ate dinner together, he usually chose the restaurant, which more than likely would be a steakhouse. I’m a pretty light eater, and I haven’t had red meat in more than forty years. But Huell would always order a big piece of meat with mashed potatoes, gravy, and all the fixings. While we talked, I’d have my salad, and he’d make that steak disappear.
Something that I’ll never forget about his eating habits happened during many of our shooting trips in Northern California. Huell just loved to visit the In-N-Out Burger at the Highway 41 Kettleman City exit. He’d get excited as we approached the turnoff, like a little boy who couldn’t wait to open his birthday presents. He’d order fries and burgers, double-doubles, triple patties—whatever looked good to him at the time, downing it all with gusto. I began to think the real reason we did so many shoots up north was so he could make that stop at his favorite I-5 In-N-Out.
As you can probably guess, the two-part “See’s Candies” show that aired in July of 1998 was a sweet slice of heaven for Huell. For the first part, we went up to San Francisco to shoot at one of the original See’s locations, and he got to sample all the delicious chocolates he wanted. I happened to notice that he wore a loose blue sweater that day. He may have worn it because of the cool San Francisco weather, but given how much candy he ate, it might have been a strategic move.
Trying the merch at See’s Candies.
For the second part of the series, we shot at the big See’s factory in Los Angeles. I shot Huell’s tour of the factory for a good part of the day, following him through the candy-making process. See’s makes a great variety of chocolate confections, and Huell cheerily sampled them as he went along. It’s no surprise that he ended the episode by eating a piece right off the assembly line—See’s is a California legend, famous for its chocolates, and for Huell to get a tour of the factory and sample just about all of them was clearly a dream come true for the big guy.
Even with a sweet tooth like his, Huell was an athletic and imposing man. He exercised constantly in the early days California’s Gold, which gave him stamina for the many physically demanding shoots we went on—we climbed mountains, swirled in whitewater rapids, and often hiked for hours just to get our stories. During those years, he always wore his short-sleeved shirts tucked in to show his slim waist, great biceps, and big chest. Pay attention to the way he interviewed people in the early episodes of California’s Gold. You’ll see him standing sideways to the camera, flexing those guns as he leans in, holding his mic in one hand with the other hand on his hip, showing off his fine physique.
By late 2000, years of traveling had begun to take their toll. Huell changed his hair, letting it grow a bit longer so it was fashioned into small waves. I called it his “Greek God” phase: interesting and different, but considerably grayer, just like mine. In our last year working together on California’s Gold, we were shooting at Big Bear in the San Bernardino Mountains when it hit me that he was wearing his shirt hanging out. There was no tight T-shirt tucked into his pants, no showing of his big biceps. Huell’s grand appetite was finally catching up with him, and of course, age was catching up with both of us.
One more thing you may not know about Huell is that he was gay. He was completely private about it, and the public ha
d no idea until someone outed him very publicly after his death—something that would have made him very unhappy. His sexuality didn’t mean a hill of beans to me, and it hasn’t mattered a bit to his fans, either. The wonder, adventure, and entertainment of his shows are what’s important. He showed you the marvelous grandeur of California, from the snow-covered Sierra Nevada to the Pacific’s sandy shores. Perhaps he even inspired you to go see the sights for yourself.
That’s what it was all about, all those California’s Gold shows and the many others he created for your enjoyment. His was a genuine and insatiable curiosity about California and its people, and he had a deep-felt desire to show the world the things he loved about his adopted state. His legacy is reflected in his extraordinary talent for compelling ordinary people to open up and share their stories with others. That’s what we all remember, and cherish, about Huell.
Huell with a Pink’s Huell Dog.
HUELL’S IMPACT
Huell attracted people like a magnet attracts iron filings. No matter where we were, at an airport, a restaurant, or even the gas station, fans would recognize him and congregate around him. At six-foot-four, he stood a head above most of the crowd, but even if he’d been an average-size guy, his warmth and gregarious personality would have drawn people to him. At times, he’d seem genuinely surprised and somewhat flustered with all the adulation. His “Aw, shucks” approach may have been a way to deal with being swamped by people, but I think he was often genuinely taken aback with the attention.
As you can imagine, he got quite a lot of letters from fans detailing their admiration for both him and the programs, but the ones that were the most special to him were the ones about California’s Gold. He loved hearing from people who’d built ships at Richmond’s Kaiser Shipyards during World War II, and from the construction workers who’d helped create the Shasta Dam. His programs touched their lives and awakened their memories.
Since his passing, thousands of people have gathered at Chapman University, home to the Huell Howser Archives, to honor him and his work. At one of these gatherings, I met an enthusiastic and fun group called the HuellAgains, who wore T-shirts with a bold HuellAgains splashed across the front. Their goal was to visit all of the California’s Gold and Visiting with Huell Howser shooting locations throughout the state, sharing their adventures with one another to keep the memory of those shows alive. They still felt that close to him.
I saw many members of the HuellAgains again in Palm Springs in October of 2015. They’d made the trip to the desert to see the unveiling of Huell’s star on the Palm Springs Walk of Stars; I’d been asked to speak at the ceremony. The HuellAgains even gave me one of their colorful T-shirts that they wore so proudly that day.
At the dedication, I shared a few stories about Huell and our adventures together, and then had the privilege of unveiling his star. It was quite an honor. Huell was a genuine, one-of-a-kind guy. And not only did he make viewers’ lives richer with his shows about California, but he also had a positive impact in many other ways.
For example, sometimes Huell took on the role of crusader. He particularly liked to use Visiting to advocate for causes he believed in. During the Los Angeles County budget crisis of 1993, Huell learned that the Los Angeles Board of Supervisors was considering closing fifty of the county’s eighty-seven libraries to help balance the budget. So Huell developed a Visiting episode called “Library,” for which he interviewed patrons at a county library who talked about how much they needed and enjoyed its services. “We need the taxpayers of Los Angeles County to hear this,” he said. “What kind of society are we if we close libraries?”
The last shot in the show was a large group of children. “Think of the kids,” he said, warning that LA County’s children would be irreparably harmed if the libraries closed. Huell’s appeal helped the cause: all the libraries that were slated to be closed were kept open.
WHAT HUELL DID FOR SMALL BUSINESSES
To me, there’s no question that Huell was the best booster that California has ever had. Every time he visited and then showcased a park, fair, monument, or special event in the state, there’d be a surge of visitors who wanted to experience what he’d showed them. He was the Pied Piper of California.
Huell never did a show about a location or business to deliberately punch up its sales. That was the incidental result of his interest in whatever he was exploring. After a visit from Huell aired on TV, new customers would show up to that establishment in droves, typically pushing sales sky high in the weeks, months, and even years after the show aired.
Take, for instance, Huell’s Visiting interview with John Nese, owner of Galco’s Old World Grocery. This specialty store in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles carries virtually every kind of soda you’ve ever imagined, including old-time favorites that many of us remember from our childhoods. Huell had a great time talking with John and his family, who run the store together.
Exploring the beverage array at Galco’s Old World Grocery.
Before the show aired, Huell called John to alert him that a lot of people were going to show up at his door. “I want you to be ready,” he said. “You’re going to be busier than you’ve ever been.”
John stocked the shelves in anticipation of a good sales day—and was shocked when the huge crowd that showed up emptied his store in no time flat. “Huell was the best thing that ever happened to small businesses,” said John.
Huell used to stop by now and then to talk with John and see how things were going with him and the store. He didn’t forget the people in his shows who became his friends.
At the Galco shoot, I overheard a customer say to Huell that he’d always wanted to meet him, but he also wanted to see who Louie was, the guy Huell was always calling to when he wanted to get a close-up of something. So Huell called me over and introduced me, and the customer exclaimed how he was so pleased to meet me and talked about liking my camera work. I’m a pretty shy person, and to this day I still hope he wasn’t terribly disappointed with my quiet way of saying thanks—especially after meeting Huell, who was so outgoing—but he seemed glad that he’d finally met the man behind the camera.
Another shoot we did for Visiting was at Stan’s Donuts in Westwood, near UCLA. Huell had done a mini-story on the doughnut shop when he’d worked with Ralph Story at KCBS. Over the years, he had kept in touch with the owner, Stan Berman, and he thought Stan’s deserved a good half hour of doughnut airtime.
So we shot an episode there, and Huell ate his doughnuts and had a lot of fun with Stan and his customers. Before the show aired, Huell called Stan and told him to get ready for an increase in business. Stan said that on the day the show went on the air, business went up by twenty-five percent—and that’s just for one day, at a simple doughnut shop in Westwood.
During that shoot, Huell sampled a doughnut topped with peanut butter and chocolate. He loved it, and because of his rave review on camera, Stan named it in his honor. To this day, you can order the Huell at Stan’s Donuts, and you’ll get that peanut butter and chocolate delight.
Stan has often said that people come into his shop early in the morning on a “Huell run,” making Stan’s Donuts their first stop on a day of visiting places Huell had been to. A later stop might be lunch at Pink’s Hot Dogs or Philippe’s for a French-dip sandwich, and they’d often finish the Huell run at Galco’s to buy some unusual sodas or at Fosselman’s to have some ice cream.
Stan says there’s camaraderie among the owners of the businesses that Huell celebrated, and that they stay in touch with one another. They even send customers who are on a Huell run to other stores in their special club.
Pink’s Hot Dogs in Los Angeles was one of Huell’s favorite places to eat, and it’s another business that benefitted from Huell’s exposure. He loved their dogs and had been a regular customer for some time before we did our two shoots there. Every year on their anniversary, Pink’s celebrates with a charity event, pricing their hot dogs for that year. For exampl
e, on their seventy-fifth anniversary, they sold seventy-five cent hot dogs for seventy-five minutes. All the money earned goes to the charity choice of whichever celebrity Pink’s invited that year to help draw people to the event.
Stan takes the mic while Huell tries the goods.
Huell with Gloria Pink at Pink’s Hot Dogs.
Though all of Pink’s celebrity hosts—actors, athletes, politicians—have drawn large crowds to the event over the years, their numbers paled in comparison to the year Huell hosted the celebration. More than a thousand people showed up, jamming the sidewalks for blocks. One family came all the way from Fresno just to meet Huell. That family’s wish was granted, and the owner, Richard Pink, said Huell made it a point to talk with them.
Richard said that Huell helped put Pink’s on the map, inspiring travelers from all over the state (and the country) to visit the simple hot dog stand. “It’s like a pilgrimage, people coming from distant locations because Huell visited us and liked our dogs,” he said. “His credibility was so strong. People believed him.”
For our second shoot there, Pink’s created a special hot dog for Huell, and they presented it to him as a surprise. Made with two dogs, mustard, onions, and chili, it was dubbed the Huell Dog—and I could see that he was truly honored. It remains a popular menu item. If you go to Pink’s, look for the sign shaped like California on the menu wall, with a picture and label for the Huell Dog. Order it, and think about Huell enjoying his own special dog with that signature grin on his face.
Of all the businesses we shot, Broguiere’s Farm Fresh Dairy in Montebello held a special place in Huell’s heart. During our first of several shoots at the dairy, I could see that Huell and owner Ray Broguiere had hit it off immediately. They joked and laughed and matched each other’s personalities—there was never a moment of dead air between the two.