Here’s a tribute to a fallen friend
If you’ve ever read any of my previous columns in the Herald-Standard, it’s because of Chez Pazienza.
Chez was a prolific writer, whose abilities were without parallel. He was a once-in-a-lifetime talent, who made writing look effortless. His mastery of language, of the nuances of grammar, of the complexity of communicating in the written word, had no equal. Simply put, he was the best. But he wasn’t just a writer. He was my friend.
We met in the spring of 2008, when I was hosting a show at SiriusXM Satellite Radio and he had been freshly fired from CNN. Apart from being an immeasurably talented writer, he was a veteran television news producer on both the local and network level. He had also started writing a blog, which came into the spotlight at CNN, and was the cause of his exit.
I had been a fan of his writing. Although I don’t recall if we had ever exchanged any e-mails beforehand, I do remember I wanted to have him on the show as a guest. His departure from CNN was a big media story, and it made sense to bring him on the program and talk about what happened, about the media business overall, and about the 2008 presidential election.
We would come on the show a few times over the course of the year. A few months after Barack Obama won the election, I left the company. Chez and I stayed in touch over the years. Last fall, about a month before the 2016 election, we talked again in another interview. His barbs were as sharp as they were eight years prior.
Chez was open and honest — maybe more than anyone I’ve ever known — about his life, his struggles with drug addiction, his failed marriages, his shortcomings as a human being. He was not infallible. In fact, it was his humanity that touched so many people in ways that are incalculable.
He could be difficult sometimes. Creative geniuses have reputations for being difficult. And make no mistake about it: Chez Pazienza was a creative genius. He probably would bristle at being called that. There would probably be a few choice four-letter words hurled in my direction; Chez used the “F” word almost like most people use a comma.
When I first started writing in this space, it was partly out of admiration of him. If you ever come across a person who possesses a talent that you wish you had, there’s a part of you that wants to seek their wisdom. I would ask him for writing advice, and he would comply. Chiefly, his advice was simple: write honestly. That is not always easy to do. Honesty means being vulnerable. It means putting yourself out in to a world that isn’t always kind or forgiving. It means having to expose yourself to criticisms from people you’ve never met, but you feel as if they know you. Often I would write for an audience of one: Chez. It pains me to accept that the one person I wish could read this right now is the one person who cannot.
Chez Pazienza died Feb. 25, in Los Angeles. He was 47. He leaves behind two daughters, a fiancée, legions of admirers, and at least one friend with tears in his eyes who misses his friend very, very much.
Joe Salzone is a talk show host at WMBS. He can be reached at joe@wmbs590.com.