Washington state just lost its fiercest fighter – and I lost one of my fiercest friends.
Dori Monson passed away unexpectedly over the weekend. He was only 61.
When the news first reached me Friday afternoon, I was sitting in Dori’s seat – filling in for him while he took some much-deserved time off from hosting his show on KIRO Radio. All we were told at the time was that he’d suffered a cardiac episode, was at the hospital, and that we’d find out more in a few hours.
As Dori’s inner circle waited into the weekend for updates, many of us were optimistic – I would even go as far as to say we were indignant at the mere concept that he wouldn’t make it. Dori spent his entire life fighting. Surely, he had one more fight left in him.
It was not to be.
“A longtime watchdog of government and social issues, Dori was known by his many listeners as a boy from the ‘mean streets of Ballard,’” Bonneville Seattle and the Monson family wrote in a joint statement. “At the time of his passing Dori was KIRO-FM’s top rated midday host. His career in radio started in 1982 at the University of Washington, and included work at KING-TV, KING Radio and at KIRO since the early 1990's.”
There is simply no remembrance of Dori that can capture the shock of losing him.
There is no remembrance that can do justice to his years of tireless work to improve the state he loved.
There is no remembrance that can possibly paint a picture of what he meant to all those who loved him.
All I can offer is what he meant to me, and what I believe he meant to our state.
The man I knew
My best memories with Dori have nothing to do with radio or politics. While he was passionate about his show and the issues he discussed on it, his true loves were his family, his friends, and his faith.
Today I choose to remember how much fun he was.
There was the time we played cornhole at his house (the lawn game where you throw beanbags at a board). Dori had a bum knee and could barely stand but insisted on playing anyway. He beat everyone – and talked a lot of smack in the process.
There was the night a few years ago that he invited his friends over to play poker. Some of us had been asked to play in a charity poker tournament (despite not knowing how) and Dori was nice enough to teach us how ... very patiently I might add.
There was the time his producer Nicole and I met Dori and his wife at the Tulalip casino for dinner. He was a ringer at craps, so afterward we hit the table. Nicole and I didn’t know how to play (nor did we have enough money to risk losing it). We each gave a little money to him to play for us, knowing he had a better shot. He won big and nearly tripled our cash – giving it back to us without a cut for himself.
Dori was notoriously generous. Last month Nicole and I sat front row at the Luke Bryan show in Vegas. Courtesy of, you guessed it, Dori.
He was also generous with his time and advice. He reveled in being a role model – not just for his three daughters, but for the young women he coached. He led Shorecrest High School to its first girls’ basketball state title in 2016. Proud doesn’t even begin to describe how he felt.
Dori was one of the first people I worked with who didn't just believe in me, but actively worked to help advance my career. As a young woman in news, it meant the world.
When I came to KIRO Radio at 22 years old, he would send me the best tips that came into his inbox. He trusted me to track the stories down, and I like to think I didn’t disappoint him. Together, we won two national Edward R. Murrow Awards for a story on a high school basketball player who had to choose between her father’s funeral and the state championship game. Through his dedicated listeners and show sponsors, Dori was able to secure a private plane so she could make it to both.
When I left the station to try my hand at television news, his support and advice never waned.
A few years ago, I’d made an honest reporting mistake that resulted in vicious attacks online. Seattle activists were urging people to call the newsroom at FOX 13 and have me fired. Dori saw the social media posts and called me. As I sobbed through the phone, feeling sorry for myself, he made me take a few deep breaths then dove right into strategizing damage control.
After I quit my job in TV to go independent, Dori added me as a regular weekly guest on his show and pushed my new podcast whenever he could. When I was first asked to fill-in host for him, I was so honored he would trust me with The Big Show. Dori cared deeply about delivering for his listeners – it’s why he rarely took a day off.
In the New Year, my fiancé and I planned to ask him to officiate our wedding. I will forever regret not asking sooner.
A fearless fighter
Dori loved this state dearly – but, like many of us, he was disappointed to see the direction of things.
In a sea of liberal voices, Dori was an island of common sense and sanity. He offered a much-needed counterpoint to the prevailing narrative in his hometown of Seattle and gave those in the political minority a champion who not only shared their frustrations but fought to fix things.
Dori was a government watchdog, through and through. He didn't just talk about the news of the day, he relentlessly chased leads and broke important stories on topics few in the mainstream media cared to cover. While he hosted an opinion show, he kept his journalistic sensibilities at the forefront. He rightly believed that the role of the free press was to hold those in power accountable. He did that better than anyone I've ever known.
Of course, Dori had his detractors. He was a conservative radio host with a wildly popular show in a deeply progressive city. Some simply could not look past his politics to get to know the man behind the microphone.
Dori, on the other hand, would talk with anyone. Some of his most compelling radio interviews featured people he vehemently disagreed with. I’m reminded of the time last year when he invited a guest on the show who identified as a wolf. Dori could have been condescending or judgmental. Instead, he was respectful, curious, and funny.
Responses to his passing reflect the impact he had on so many, and the immense void he leaves behind.
"He was a beacon of light and all about bringing truth to the people," one Facebook user wrote.
"A voice for the voiceless in Washington State," a comment read.
"I’m crying reading this," read another. "When we lived in Seattle, he helped us to feel not so alone."
That was the beauty of Dori Monson, but also the tragedy of his death.
He made us feel not so alone.
Dori brought us together through the airwaves – tens of thousands of us every single day. People who want better for their state and their nation. People who believe that the government must be accountable to the people. People who trusted a boy from the mean streets of Ballard to tell them the truth.
I went on a walk early this afternoon to reflect on his passing. As I looked up at the mountainside, the sunlight spilling through the low clouds, I wondered where my friend Dori Monson might be. While I’m not religious, Dori was driven and guided by his faith in God, believing that he would be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven after his time on earth came to an end.
If there is a better place, I know Dori is there – looking down on the state he loved so fiercely, telling us to keep fighting for it.
I, for one, have no intention of letting him down.
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