My friend Juan Jose Lopez passed away earlier this week. 64
years young. My friend and former on-air colleague Sly was the first to tell me,
via a text, in Sly’s inimitable way: “I think The Lord is about to call our
friend Juan home.”
When you’re the news anchor on Sly’s broadcast – which I was
for more than a decade – you’re bound to be dragged into some uncomfortable
conversations with Sly’s guests (read: targets). I had more than a few
uncomfortable conversations on-air with Juan, during Juan’s years as a member
of the Madison school board.
I recall one particularly heated on-air conversation where I
said, “Juan, you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” We were
talking about Madison Memorial High School (Sly’s alma mater) football coach
Wally Schoessow. Juan laughed at my barb, and the conversation moved on. I still have a recording of it.
That was a couple of decades ago, and when I got the news
that Juan had died, I recalled that conversation and some of the many others I’d
had with Juan over the years, regarding the school board, Briarpatch, or any of
the many other Latino causes that Juan championed.
Back then – which now seems like centuries ago – you could
have a difference of opinion with someone, have a lively, pointed discussion
without devolving into name-calling, and afterward, continue a cordial
relationship with that person.
Not any more, it seems. No middle ground. No gray areas.
Personal insults. Hateful social media posts.
Our paths crossed many times during my Madison years, and I
ran into Juan at scores of public events. Every time we met, we’d shake hands
firmly, inquire about each other’s well-being, talk about whatever high-profile
cause Juan was involved with at the time, and even do some good-natured
ribbing.
Juan would sometimes chide me with a comeback like, “And you
say I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about?! Ha!” We’d laugh.
The last time I saw Juan was a few years ago, not too long
before my wife and I moved to coastal Connecticut. Toni and I were having
dinner at a Mexican restaurant on Park Street. As we were leaving, Juan was coming
in. After the initial hello’s, Juan said, “It’s nice to see that you’re
supporting one of our Latino businesses with some of those gringo dollars in
your wallet. I hope you left a good tip!”
Rest in peace, Juan Jose Lopez. I hope they name a school
and a bunch of other stuff in Madison after you. You sure earned that kind of
recognition with your tireless advocacy.
