WRITTEN + PHOTOGRAPHY BY: Dave Schlenker
A Queen’s Wave Goodbye
It could have been 10 years ago. Maybe 20. No matter. Here’s what I remember.
I was working in the Ocala Star-Banner newsroom when the receptionist downstairs — back when newspapers had a receptionist downstairs — called and said, “Larry Whitler and Robin MacBlane are here. They want … (to Larry and Robin). What is it you want to him to do again?”
“Do the queen’s wave,” I heard Larry say.
“They want you to do the queen’s wave,” the receptionist repeated in the shadow of Whitler, a towering, huggy human whose long hair at the time added to the duo’s moniker, Robin and the Giant.
“Oh, right,” I thought. “I was hoping they had forgotten about that.”
I think it was Queen Elizabeth’s birthday, and they said they were making a video of Ocalans doing the queen’s wave (fingertips skyward, hand rotating regally back and forth). Robin and the Giant were long-loved radio hosts, artists and musicians whose minds were always churning with creativity.
I pretended to be riding in a royal parade, as someone pushed me in a rolling office chair through the lobby waving as Larry filmed. The end result was, as any Robin and the Giant production, a ton of fun. Sweet and silly.
That was the duo’s relationship with Marion County. They saw beauty and fun and personalities and kindness.
As Larry’s brother said, Larry loved everything. Except spinach.
In July, Larry was killed in a car accident. He was 70. Robin was critically injured.
This community gasped.
We stumbled for words and rallied around Robin, who, we knew, would be lost without her beloved Giant. Rooting for her was all this community could do.
She was getting better, and Larry’s service was arranged so she could attend. Less than 20 days later as the service was on the calendar, Robin died.
The memorial service became a double-bill.
This was a double sucker-punch for the many who loved them, who listened to their show, who raised money alongside them, who were interviewed by them, who read their children’s books, who marveled at their paintings, who did the queen’s wave on company time, who saw them busking — accordion and mandolin in hand — in front of the ice cream shop during downtown Arts Walks.
No, this community will not be the same without Robin and the Giant. They adored Ocala and loved being part of it. They told our stories, asked us questions and rarely talked about themselves.
They smiled and laughed. Always. The term “Giant,” someone said at the service, reflected his heart more than his towering stature.
The day Robin passed, longtime TV20 co-anchor and friend Dave Snyder messaged me at 9:30 p.m., not long before the evening news broadcast. Could I confirm Robin had died?
“I am so sorry,” Dave wrote. “I did not know Robin or Larry, but it is obvious how much of an impact they had on the community.”
“Huge,” I answered.
We went back and forth for a bit before I remembered the poor chap was on deadline.
“You know,” he said before we signed off, “we so often hear how amazing people are after they pass.”
He spoke in the context of news, how the best stories are often told in retrospect, how, perhaps, newsrooms should focus more on telling about the Larrys and Robins before their memorials.
I agreed. No question.
And then I had a thought: That was EXACTLY what Robin and Larry did. They focused on us, not them.
They had me on their radio show several times, asking me about cats, daughters, newspapers, poultry anomalies — everything in my wheelhouse.
It wasn’t until this tragic summer that I spoke openly about them: These were truly kind people. Every time I saw them, they were either creating, lifting people up (including the queen) or raising money for local causes (I saw Larry kiss a horse for literacy).
Don’t take good people for granted. Every time I walk by that downtown ice cream shop on a Friday night, my heart will sink.
Then, chances are, I will smile, lift my hand and wave like the queen.
