To regular listeners of NPR, Wade Goodwyn needed no introduction, with his rich, deep Texas bass; he's dead at 63

Wade Goodwyn (NPR photo)

Wade Goodwyn, whose deep, rich Texas bass made him one of the most distinctive voices on the national radio landscape, died Thursday of cancer. He was 63.

"For more than 25 years, Wade reported on his home state of Texas and the southwest United States," Debbie Elliott reports for NPR, which counted Goodwyn as part of its National Desk. "A profile once described his voice like "warm butter melting over barbecued sweet corn." But Goodwyn argued that his writing is what really mattered. And he was right. If his voice pulled you in, his way with words kept you listening."

NPR CEO John Lansing said, "From the first words of one of his stories, you always knew you were being taken on a journey by a master of our craft. You were in for a true treat, whatever the subject matter." Elliott cites this line from his coverage of Hurricane Rita in 2005: "In Louisiana, you hug your NASCAR teddy bear when the big blow comes, even if you're a barrel-chested National Guardsman."

"Goodwyn was a history major at the University of Texas, a natural field of study for the son of noted historian Lawrence Goodwyn, who had been active in the civil rights movement and wrote books on grassroots populism," Elliott recounts. While working as a political organizer in New York City, Wade was "so absorbed by the voices and stories he heard" on WNYC that "decided to pursue a freelance public radio career back home in Texas (where the rents were more affordable). He started freelancing for NPR, and was assigned in 1993 to cover a high-profile story — the standoff between the federal government and cult leader David Koresh in Waco."

Elliott adds, "Wade had a bit of a cult following among listeners who loved the way only he could spin a tale, ever eager to share Texas cultural gems and bits of forgotten history and folklore like a remembrance of sharpshooter Joe Bowman, who Wade said 'was so good with a single-action revolver, he could turn an aspirin into powder at 20 yards ... could take a playing card, set it on edge, and peel it in two with a single bullet.'"