Turner's rum-fueled triumph: a newport legend's unforgettable exit

Ted Turner, the media mogul and arguably the most flamboyant figure in American broadcasting, has died at 83. His legacy is complex, a tangled web of philanthropic endeavors and, frankly, some spectacularly bad business decisions. But one image, one moment in particular, perfectly encapsulates his spirit: a bottle of rum and a frankly terrifying level of inebriation after defending the America’s Cup in 1977.

The day turner drowned in rum

Erik Loomis’s obituary rightly highlights Turner’s contributions – TCM, baseball, land conservation – and acknowledges his missteps. Yet, it’s that press conference in Newport that truly defines him. The delay after the final race, a typical sailor’s post-victory celebration, saw the crew of the Intrepid indulging in a predictably boozy spree. But Turner… Turner went further. I remember it vividly. He descended into the press room, a rum bottle clutched in his hand, disappearing under the table for refills – a ritual performed with a surprising degree of shamelessness.

A colossal son of a bitch

Accounts vary, of course, but the consensus is that Turner was, to put it mildly, spectacularly hammered. He reportedly staggered out of the event, a legend in Newport, leaving behind a scene of chaotic merriment. It wasn’t just the drinking; it was the sheer, unapologetic joy of it all – an almost defiant embrace of excess. My friend George Reedy once described Lyndon Johnson with similar bluntness: a son of a bitch, but a colossal one. Turner, in his own way, mirrored that sentiment. He was a risk-taker, a visionary – and a complete disaster when it came to, well, almost everything except making a spectacle.

The takeaway? Turner wasn’t a conventional hero. He was a force of nature, a chaotic, brilliant, and often infuriating figure who left an indelible mark on the media landscape. And that image of him, submerged in rum, remains a potent reminder of his singular, unforgettable brand of American eccentricity.