The story of an American local radio host who became my friend from afar

I don’t recall precisely when I first heard from Allan Loudell, or what story he wanted to discuss.

I do remember the warm bear hug of enthusiasm, not just for whatever I’d written, but for this business of journalism. You could tell he loved it. You knew he thought it was the greatest blast in the world.

Allan was an anchor at WDEL in Wilmington, Delaware, and during his career he’d met lots of people – senators, members of Congress, that chap about to become president. He equally loved talking to ordinary members of the public, and telling their stories. He went to local high schools to talk to students about being a journalist.

Allan respected his listeners. He reckoned that while they were obviously interested in the local news, and the traffic and weather forecasts, they should also get to learn more about national and international events when they listened to his show.

That was where myself and countless journalists across the country and around the world came in. I loved nothing more that getting an email from Allan saying he just read my story on such-and-such, and would I like to come on WDEL for a few minutes and talk about it? Of course I did.

He had guests on from every publication you can mention –Time magazine, the Los Angeles Times, the Christian Science Monitor.

When I moved to Asia, we kept in touch. India, Pakistan, Thailand – Allan was keen to tell his readers about what was happening in all of those places and more. Coups, elections and floods were mentioned, as well as stories about cricketers or Bollywood stars or India’s growing middle class.

At times it could be frustrating, sitting on hold on a crackly line, often late into the night, waiting for him to put you on.

Yet it was also fabulously ego-deflating. Yes, he wanted to hear about whatever story you thought was the most important thing in the world, but he had a plan and he had a process. “I’ll be with you in a second, Andy,” he’d say. “But first we’ve got the traffic and travel.”

Allan was let go by the station a year or so ago, one of many to lose their jobs in cost-cutting that continues to eat up much of our local media. But he did not sound disheartened – he said he’d had a good run.

He loved long-distance car journeys and we made a plan to look each other up if he were in Seattle, or I in Delaware.

I did not have the chance until last month when I was in Wilmington waiting for the race to be called for Joe Biden, who had represented the state in the Senate for decades. It was then, searching online for his contact information, I read that Allan had died in the summer, at the age of 64, after suffering a short illness. He had left a wife, Barbara, and two children, Michael and Allison.

I felt stunned, sad, angry. How had I missed this awful news? A couple of hours later, the Associated Press said Biden had won called Pennsylvania, and with it the White House.

That night, walking around Wilmington, where Biden and Kamala Harris gave victory speeches, I wondered what Allan would have thought about the local guy winning. I knew he’d have covered the story with grace and aplomb. He was an utter professional.

Back in Seattle, I called Barbara to offer my belated condolences and explain how I’d known Allan for more than 15 years. She said she had received cards and phone calls from across the world from people he had inspired or moved. One had been from the now president-elect.

“We didn’t know just how well-known he was,” she said. “To us, he was a husband and a dad.”

She also spoke of his passion for journalism and “trivia”, and for stories from all over: “He told our children that if you find something you love, you’ll have a job for life.”

Yours sincerely,

Andrew Buncombe

Chief US correspondent