Studs Terkel was someone whom I read for decades, I think, before I met him, especially his book, his early book, Working. Studs really invented oral history, in a way, I mean what we are doing at the moment is a Studs Terkel-like activity, although of course... no, not quite, because here I am doing more or less a monologue with a little printing, whereas Studs… Studs was as ebullient as Richard Gregory in his way. He was so... so imaginative, he was interested in everything. I... I did many radio shows with him, and I think Jonathan did many radio shows. He... he knew, or he was known by, I think, everyone in Chicago. He and Bellow may have been there, and Saul Bellow may have been there in their young days. Bellow moved, Studs didn’t. I don’t know whether he spent 80 years or whatever in Chicago; he certainly became an institution. Everyone recognised him, I think everyone... everyone loved him.

He was very… a very bold figure on... on the left, and was not taken in by any double talk or... or political contriving. He… and I think he was... he was a pretty good writer himself. In his mid 90s he... he wrote beautifully about hope, and he seemed to me, at that point, to exemplify that a full human life was still possible in the mid 90s and after losing one’s... one's wife of 60 or 70 years. He became very, very deaf, but he wore hearing aids, but... but he would come right up to one. His deafness caused a sort of, intimacy; it made one physically very, very close to him. I loved Studs, and I think he was a very important figure indeed, because he gave voice to so many others who didn’t have a voice, and to give voice to others is... is something of vital, vital importance.