A Tribute to Harry Radliffe II by Jeff Fager

How wonderful it is to see this turnout in honor of Harry. He would never have expected it. He went over the details of his wishes for his funeral and this service with Melinda, and he made a point of saying that he did not want to presume an event like this, a CBS memorial service, would take place. But the fact that it is taking place, and in a building named for Bill Paley, would have meant a great deal to him.

Harry cried at everything, and this would have brought him to tears, especially the Paley part. He loved CBS. It was part of him, part of his soul, but he was far too humble to assume he would be honored in this way.

Harry was buried last month in Indianapolis, near his parents. It was what he wanted: to go home. His burial followed a beautiful funeral at his sister Betty Jo's church.

At the outset, the minister explained that he had not known Harry, but he did his best. In his opening remarks, he suggested that Harry was probably arriving in heaven and, at that very moment, interviewing St. Peter.

We knew better. Upon arriving, Harry would have been asking St. Peter about the accommodations and then where he could find the best Thai food.

He often talked about his hometown. Harry was very proud to be from Indianapolis. You will hear some of that in the tape Warren Lustig prepared for this day.

He was just a kid from Indianapolis who traveled the world.

But Harry was also elegant and sophisticated, kind and decent, a big, likable bear with a belligerent streak. Sometimes, he might suggest that someone could kiss his behind, and then he would do this: kiss, kiss, kiss.

To me, Harry was like a brother. We grew up together at CBS. More than three decades ago, we met as young producers in the London Bureau.

We knew we had the best jobs in daily journalism. Nothing could have been better than traveling the world, covering conflicts and summits, and setting off on adventures.

Then Harry became bureau chief, the first African American bureau chief at CBS News. It was an important moment in his life. Running the bureau Edward R. Murrow had created was an extraordinary distinction. Beyond that, Harry was succeeding Mark Harrington, who was also his hero.

Mark represented everything Harry believed in. He was smart and remarkably decent, humble, and CBS through and through.

The position of bureau chief also carried real stature with the English, and for an Anglophile like Harry, that mattered as well.

He loved England, along with its history and ceremony. He laughed harder than anyone else at his own imitation of the Queen: "We are not amused."

His favorite Margaret Thatcher story involved a night out with the ten members of her cabinet, all of them men. When the waiter asked, "Madam Prime Minister, what would you like?" she answered, "The steak. Rare." When he followed with, "What about the vegetables?" she replied, "They'll all have the steak too."

Being the boss was not what Harry loved most. He needed to be out in the world. He possessed an insatiable curiosity, which was part of what made him such a great reporter and such a perfect fit for 60 Minutes.

We joined the broadcast as producers at about the same time, 25 years ago. For Harry, it was never simply a job. It was more like a calling. The job was not his entire life, and he was not a workaholic, but it fit naturally with everything he loved doing and everything that mattered to him.

He chased stories that carried him to every point of the compass and achieved what all of us try so hard to accomplish: returning with something original, often beautiful and meaningful. He could hardly wait to begin his next adventure, whether it took him to the coast of Turkey, the Scottish Highlands, or the sushi restaurant on Madison and 47th Street for lunch.

It was common knowledge that if you worked with Harry on a story, whether as a cameraman, associate producer, correspondent, or sound man, you would eventually enjoy a great meal. Harry had it all figured out. He was not going to leave a country before sampling the best it had to offer.

This past summer, Harry took a farewell trip to visit our old friends in London. He did not say it, but he made the trip to say goodbye. He met with a group of our old London bureau friends at one of his favorite French restaurants. After a while, our old friend Peter Bluff pointed toward Harry and announced loudly enough for the waiter and everyone else to hear: "This man knows more about food than your entire nation."

Harry considered it nearly sinful to visit somewhere new without truly taking it in. He wanted to breathe the air, notice the scents, taste the food, interact with the people, and appreciate their art and culture. Wherever he went, he wanted to live in the place, no matter where it was.

He believed this approach made his stories better, and it did. His body of work at 60 Minutes is remarkable, representing one of the most significant contributions in the 48-year history of our broadcast. He never grew tired of it.

Sometimes, everything Harry loved came together in a single story. Two stories in particular come to mind: the piece about the monasteries at Mt. Athos and the one about the Ecumenical Patriarch of the Orthodox Church.

For those who may not know, the Patriarch is the pope of the Orthodox Church, the holiest of the holy in a church of 300 million faithful. Harry earned his trust, which is why the Patriarch agreed to do a story with us.

The Patriarch never forgot Harry or the way he conducted himself. The people of the church called him Beloved. The Patriarch himself used that word in a beautiful letter he sent to us after Harry's death. He wrote: "his creative talents, as well as his constant campaign for justice and human rights, earned him the highest esteem among people of all faiths."

Harry was a confirmed bachelor, and at a certain point in his life, it became difficult to imagine him ever getting married. He needed his freedom.

Still, he considered it. Harry considered everything.

He used to say, "If something ever happens to you, Jeff, I'm going after Melinda." We would laugh. Then, when Mark Harrington died, Harry actually went after Mark's wife, Kyle. He had not been kidding.

But Harry was not alone. During his final years, he was surrounded by people who loved him.

The women began calling themselves Harry's wives: Magalie, Melinda, Crystal, and Fiona. They devoted themselves to Harry and cared for him.

So did Emerson and Rick, along with Harry's brother Brian and his sister-in-law Tina, who meant so much to him.

Shortly before he died, Harry enlisted all of his wives to help him do something extraordinary.

He knew that the end of his life was approaching, and he did not want it to arrive without one last great celebration.

Harry planned the gathering, selected the menu, and requested specific dishes. Our daughter-in-law from Louisiana made the gumbo. He asked Magalie to prepare the gazpacho, Crystal and Emerson to provide the wine, and he ordered a lemon meringue pie like the one his mother used to make.

Everything was to be served on his finest china. Harry could not eat or drink any of it. By then, he was far too sick.

But he sat there and took in the entire occasion. He rallied for that one last hurrah. Then he received a surprise visit from the great Wynton Marsalis, who came and softly played his horn for Harry and his friends. Harry told us history stories.

Then he said goodbye to each of his closest friends. One by one, we embraced him, cried a little, and laughed a little with Harry for the final time.

After everyone had left his beautiful home, Harry was ready to go. He faded a little more each day, and just over a week after that party, he died.

I have never witnessed anything like it. It was his last supper, and it moved every one of us to the core.

You will see part of that gathering in our video tribute to Harry. Warren Lustig created it with Vanessa Fica, who worked so well with him. Most of the tribute is told in Harry's own words and through words taken from his stories.

Harry was one of the reasons we created 60 Minutes Overtime. He would return from his trips, and people would gather in his office or just outside it in the lounge when there was no room inside because his papers were stacked so high.

Recording those stories eventually became a regular online feature of the broadcast, and Harry was especially gifted at telling them.