| COLLEAGUES REMEMBER LARRY LAMOTTE
following are remembrances from former and present newspeople
MEMORIAL SERVICE HELD IN ATLANTA
- FUNERAL PLANNED IN WASHINGTON D.C.FUND TO HELP THE
LAMOTTE CHILDREN IS SETUP
A Memorial service was held for
Larry LaMotte this past Friday at Haygood Memorial United
Methodist Church in Atlanta.
The Ryan and Krysta LaMotte
c/o Peggy Orson
3414 Peachtree Street NE
Atlanta, Ga 30326
FUNERAL SERVICES ARE PLANNED
IN WASHINGTON D.C. for 11am Saturday, June 21 at...Hillsboro
United Methodist Church at Purcellville, VA
Internment of his ashes will immediately follow at the
--Any friends or colleagues of Larry's who wish to attend
will be welcome.
Messages to Larry's mother may be sent to ...
Mrs. Clyde LaMotte
c/o Kay Bernier
1001 E. Beech Rd.
Sterling, VA 20164
Cards and condolences can be
sent to Sandee, Ryan and Krysta ...
420 Melrose Ave.
Decatur, GA 30030
From Jo LeGood
It's funny because I hadn't seen Larry in a couple of years,
but he was never that far from my thoughts. At times in my
life where Larry had once offered a little of his wisdom,
I would find myself from time to time remembering things he
had said or shared with me, and wonder what he was up to.
I will always remember Larry as great journalist, a teacher,
and a friend. Larry always worked for excellence in journalism,
and stood for the very things that journalism always used
to be about: integrity, honesty, good reporting...perfection.
Larry was always the one to take us baby journalists under
his wing, and patiently show us how things should be done,
and shared with us his experience, without expecting anything
in return. I was always impressed with his willingness to
teach and to share, and he never belittled anyone in the process.
But more than a great journalist, Larry a teacher, a counselor,
a friend who always had such a positive outlook on life. It
was impossible to be negative around Larry, no matter how
hard you tried. He often shared his little "Larryisms"
with you, and made you see another side to the issue. I remember
there were times when Larry would "hover" at my
desk and want to share something he was thinking about - usually
something pretty deep and philosophical - and at times you
wouldn't want to hear it because you were busy - but then
later, you would really think about what he said, and what
he shared, and I was always thankful for that.
For many of the years I worked with Larry, my office was
next to his, and we were often the first to arrive in the
mornings. It was so nice to start the day off with such a
cheerful, friendly man. And I'd stop in his office just for
a brief chat - the office that was so stacked full of at least
a year's worth of newspapers that you wondered if he ever
threw anything away - and Larry would share something about
himself with you. Mostly he talked of his children, and his
thoughts on raising them. He was always so focused on raising
the most healthy and well loved children. A day didn't go
by where you would hear about something they had accomplished,
and you could see how proud he was of them.
Larry treated everyone as a friend, and with respect. He
cared about all of us who worked with him and took an interest
in our lives. You couldn't possibly work with Larry and not
know him, or he not know you. I remember Larry would talk
endlessly about baseball, an interest I didn't share, but
nevertheless, he was sharing himself with you. And I remember
little country-western songs he would make up and sing to
you, particularly while you were waiting something out on
a shoot, like for the cameras to be in place for one of his
infamous stand-ups. He'd sing. And I would laugh. He didn't
care whether or not any of it was good. He was sharing himself
|Larry was News Director of KTOK Radio in the 70s
and a crew traveled to Ukraine for an exclusive look inside
Chernobyl's burned Reactor 4 and a first-hand look at
genetic ramifications the nuclear power plant's explosion
I remember one shoot in particular where we went to the Bronx
in New York. Most people in the Bronx have a reputation for
using curse words the same way most people use adjectives,
and Larry knew I didn't like to curse. He would do his best
to goad me into speaking the Bronx lingo, but try as he may,
I would insist that things were Fuzzy, or Sugary, or Filling,
or Sassy...and wouldn't be tempted. I think I grew the closest
to Larry on that shoot.
Perhaps of the shoots that seemed to make the most impact
on Larry was one we did together about a Life Coach - someone
who helped people organize their lives, and learn to have
balance throughout, so that they actually had a real life.
Larry found his calling in that story, because it was already
his gift that he gave to each of his colleagues...and I'm
told he later went on to become a coach and mentored many
after he left CNN.
Larry will always be around because he shared so much of
himself with everyone. I know that I was once a little irritated
by his hovering, but I am now thankful because I see what
he was doing - giving little pieces of himself to each and
every one of us so that he could live forever.
Thank you, Larry, my dear Friend
LETTER TO LARRY'S CHILDREN
From Shari Bell
Dear Ryan and Krysta,
Before I ever met your father in 1991, Id already heard
all about him. He was legendary at CNN. Larry LaMotte had
been everywhere, covered every kind of story and had worked
with the best. He had a reputation of being tireless and relentless.
He had a knack of making people cry.
I was a young producer fresh out of the sports department
and new to news when I got my first assignment with him. I
was nervous and intimidated. Would this guy be forgiving of
my rookie mistakes? Or would he criticize my every decision.
Would he make ME cry?
Larry was generous and encouraging. It was the first of many
memorable stories I did with your dad. Some of them are among
the finest work of my career.
Larry didnt make me cry, I certainly saw why he had
earned the reputation for eliciting tears. He loved people
stories and was good at drawing out the emotions of
people we interviewed. No question was out-of-bounds. He asked
the intimate ones and the tough ones.
In the field your father was tireless and fearless. I saw
him climb an ice-covered, structurally unsafe bridge in New
York, hike up steep and rocky hills in Nepal and explore the
murky remains of the burned-out reactor in Chernobyl.
I remember one particular afternoon in Chernobyl. We were
in an area where people werent supposed to live due
to the high amounts of radiation in the soil. We came across
an elderly couple who had moved back in the exclusion zone
illegally. After we interviewed them, they invited us in their
house for some food from their garden. I cringed. We knew
that the food was probably contaminated. But it would be rude
to refuse. I took the smallest nibble possible. Your dad ate
everything offered to him, and asked for seconds. He drank
vodka with the couple and swapped stories, although neither
spoke the others language. Im certain by the end
of our visit they were debating the Braves latest trade.
Your father never missed a chance to talk baseball with anyone.
I knew your dad to be generous and energetic, funny and unpretentious.
He wasnt into being a star, just a good journalist and
He was also stubborn. I argued with Larry more than I have
with any other correspondent. He could be uncompromising.
But it was always in the name of the story, of making the
piece the best it could be.
Larry cared for the people he interviewed, the people he
worked with, but mostly he cared about the people he came
home to his family. I felt I was there with you for
all your early milestones because your dad talked of you and
your mom all the time. He was very proud of you.
Im proud and lucky to have known and worked with your
father. He truly was legendary.
Memories of Larry
From Marika Olsen
Sent From Tashkent, Uzbekistan
I have to admit that when I first met him, I thought Larry
was a bit of an ogre. According to my 28 year old self, he
had a hot temper and was a complete grouch.
I was cowed. He was bullish.
But over the years, I came to know a very different Larry.
Under all his bluster and eruptive, volcanic temper, was a
supremely kind person, a person who loved taking time to talk
with me about the bigger issues of life; like what it meant
to be happy, the meaning of our lives here on earth, and what
we needed to do to be good reporters. (Yes, we considered
being a good reporter to be one of lifes big issues.)
And of course we spent a lot of time talking about his second
favorite subject, genetics and predetermination. Larry always
argued that genetics were the prime determiner of how a persons
life turned out and that he was generally powerless to change
things. Me? I was a member of the Nurture team.
Neither of us managed to change the others mind, but
we both loved the debate.
During the 10 years I knew him, Larry often took time out
to encourage me, even during times when he himself was under
the gun. I was so damn grateful he thought I had talent. Especially
since I was kind of a pain in the ass. But Larry believed
in me. And I was supremely grateful to him for those times
when he made me feel like Superwoman.
I will never forget our last conversation when he began to
take on coaching for a living. I dont think there was
a happier human being on the planet. He spoke so excitedly
about how he was learning new skills and changing some of
his get-in-my-own-way habits that kept him from being and
doing and feeling everything that he could. I came away amazed.
He was positively, dare I say it, glowing.
Now when I think back to my last conversation with him, I
think Larry himself provided for me the evidence I needed
to win my long standing argument with him on predestination.
He showed me that it was possible for all of us to change,
at any point in our lives, and become who we want to be and
live the life that we want.
I am so sorry the world has lost Larry Lamotte.
I read the news of his death on the other side of the planet,
And as of today, there are 20 people here in Tashkent who
know about what a sweet, complicated and wonderful man Larry
I will miss him.