What a Hoot! What a Life! What a Man! R.I.P my friend

My friend Martin “Hoot” McInerney died yesterday. He was 86, but he lived about 150 years of life to the fullest. Hoot was a hoot. His smile could light up a room as he peered at you through those squinty eyes. My condolences to his wife of 64 years Patricia.

Every time I asked Hoot to support a charity I was working with, he did not hesitate in writing a check. He loved Detroit and Detroit loved him back.

Hoot’s sense of humor was wicked. We used to produce an annual parody show called the Detroit Press Club SteakOut. There were live acts and taped bits. It was off-the-record and a bit ribald. Check that: it was purposefully dirty. No one was off limits – Kwame, Zetsche, Gov. Granholm, Geoffrey Fieger, Bill Bonds, Brooks Patterson, you name them.

Hoot starred in two video skits. The first one I can’t remember the gag, but it involved Mayor Kilpatrick speaking to a bunch of local car dealers at the offices of the Detroit Area Dealer Association. On the shoot were DADA head Rod Alberts and dealers Richard Genthe, Bob Thibodeau, Carl Galena and Hoot. It was all about influence peddling and the producers, Jody Sherwin and Mark Matthews, had thrown some fake bills on the conference table. Hoot took one look at the fake bounty and said, “That doesn’t look real” and proceeded to reach into his pants pocket, pull out a wad of 100 dollar bills and throw them on the table. There must have been at least five grand. “That’s better,” Hoot deadpanned.

The other Hoot classic was a “commercial” in which Hoot was featuring a used red Lincoln Navigator he had purchased from the Mayor’s office. (Remember Kwame’s infamous Nav?) As Hoot talked up the virtues of the vehicle, hooker after hooker crawled out of the doors. Although I had written the script, I was banned from the shoot. Producer Sherwin said it was “for my own good” as she claimed they were using real prostitutes. I did not see the skit until the actual Steakout performance, only to find that the hookers were people I knew, including my executive assistant Sandy Fraser. The last lady of the night slithered up to Hoot and gave him a kiss on cheek. Hoot responded, “Get back to work Mrs. Vines.” The crowd exploded as I had been punked. I looked over at Hoot at his table and he was busting a gut. (I’m looking for those two videos as we speak and will post them for all to see.)

Hoot, love you my friend. Say hi to my Dad. He’s probably on Heaven’s back nine.