KTVU Anchor Dennis Richmond Passes Away at 81
Noted KTVU anchor Dennis Richmond has passed away at the age of 81. Over his four-decade career, he became a trusted voice in Bay Area journalism, earning respect for his integrity and unwavering professionalism.
Here's what we know so far about Dennis Richmond's death.
Dennis Richmond, the legendary KTVU anchor, has passed away at the age of 81 (via KTVU).
A pioneering figure in broadcast journalism, Richmond was widely recognized as the face of KTVU's Ten O'Clock News for over four decades. He died at his home in Grass Valley, California, with his wife, Deborah, by his side.
Richmond was one of the first African-American anchors of a major market TV newscast, joining KTVU as a part-time clerk typist before rising to the anchor chair in 1976. His tenure at KTVU lasted until 2008, when he retired just days before turning 65.
Known for his calm and authoritative presence, he played a crucial role in shaping the Bay Area's news landscape, covering major events such as the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake and the 1991 Oakland Hills firestorm.
Richmond's legacy extends beyond his time on-air. Colleagues and viewers remember him as a mentor, leader, and journalist who set the standard for integrity. KTVU General Manager Mellynda Hartel mentioned the anchor's 'impact is still felt in the KTVU newsroom today.'
Assistant News Director Darren Zulberti also spoke highly of Richmond, saying, 'He always reminded me and those around him to treat the viewer with respect, reporting oftentimes difficult news in uncertain times with clarity, context and straightforward delivery.'
Born in Ohio, Richmond served in the U.S. Army's 82nd Airborne Division before moving to California. He earned a scholarship to Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism, ultimately dedicating his career to KTVU. Even after retirement, he remained a beloved figure, symbolizing trust and reliability in Bay Area news.
Dennis Richmond's death marks the end of an era for KTVU and the Bay Area journalism community. His contributions to broadcast news and his unwavering commitment to factual reporting leave a lasting impact. He is survived by his wife, daughter, and stepson.
Originally reported by Vritti Johar on ComingSoon.
The post KTVU Anchor Dennis Richmond Passes Away at 81 appeared first on Mandatory.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Yahoo
39 minutes ago
- Yahoo
State grants helps Fairmont State University plant more trees on campus
FAIRMONT — The number of native trees on the campus of Fairmont State University recently increased with help from a grant from the West Virginia Division of Forestry. In April, students and staff planted American holly, Blackhaw viburnum, common witch hazel and eastern redbud trees with the goal of boosting biodiversity on campus. Dubbed the Community EquiTree grant program, which originates on the federal level, helped plant alongside Campus Drive East, which is adjacent to Fairmont State's residence halls and outdoor recreation areas, which "will allow more students and local community members to experience the trees and their benefits," according to a press release. "As a public institution, Fairmont State University is committed to fostering a beautiful, welcoming campus where students, faculty, staff, and community members feel a true sense of belonging," the press release continued. Fairmont State's Creative Sustainability Council, a group of students, faculty and staff members, spearheaded the initiative. Assistant Construction Manager Devin Carpenter, Associate Professor of English Nathaniel Myers, and Councilmember and architecture major Ryan Williams collaborated on the grant. 'The trees themselves are a great project, helping to develop this underused space on campus into something that is both a beautiful showcase of West Virginia trees and helps to mitigate local issues like soil erosion or larger ones like global warming," Williams said. "But even more than that, I hope projects like this inspire more students to get involved. The more people are engaged with their community and campus, the more we can improve and better serve the present and the future.' The WVDOF Urban and Community Forestry program cooperates with communities to promote the long-term care of trees in cities and communities throughout the state. The program also establishes guidelines for planting, caring for and protecting trees throughout West Virginia. Fairmont State's project meets the goals of this program by providing an opportunity for students to get involved with community sustainability projects, for faculty to improve their instruction by helping others understand the importance of trees and nature, and for everyone to better understand and engage with their local environment during and after the planting. "As the trees grow, their benefits will as well. The canopies will help shade the area, especially nearby asphalt parking lots and roads, which can store heat. The roots of the trees will grow into the hillside, stabilizing the soil and preventing erosion. Additionally, their fall foliage will create a beautiful scene familiar to many West Virginians," states the press release. 'The planting of these native species not only aids in beautifying our campus but also offers back to nature a piece of what urban development once removed," Carpenter said. In the coming months, the Creative Sustainability Council will measure the success of the tree planting program using surveys to be administered in the local community and among students. A ceremonial tree planting was held on April 25, 2025 to mark the beginning of the project, which is expected to be completed this month. 'We are all very proud of Ryan and his hard work on this project,' Myers said. 'Hopefully this will inspire future projects that will contribute to sustainability on our beautiful campus.'
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
Howard Library's Project Literacy celebrates dozens who learned English, obtained citizenship, earned high school diploma
When she came to America from Guatemala 38 years ago, Susana Rodriguez didn't know how to read — not even in her native language of Spanish. But after two years in the Howard County Library System's Project Literacy program, Rodriguez can now speak, read and write proficiently in English. Rodriguez was one of about 50 adult English language learners who were celebrated Thursday at Miller Branch Library for receiving a National External High School Diploma, or obtaining American citizenship, or successfully completing the Project Literacy program. Founded in Howard County in 1987, Project Literacy offers free classes and one-on-one tutoring sessions to help students learn English, obtain citizenship, improve work skills or receive a high school diploma . President and CEO of Howard County Library System Tonya Aikens said more than 13,000 English language learners have participated in the 'life-changing' program. 'There's never a dry eye at every single graduation,' Aikens said. 'It's just incredible to hear the sacrifice that these adults are making.' The program's graduation is paid for by the Friends and Foundation of HCLS, board member and Treasurer Ellen Flynn Giles said. The Friends group is a nonprofit organization with a mission to support Howard County libraries. 'This is a real milestone that's not simply a ceremony — it's a crowning achievement,' Flynn Giles said. 'It's a mark of their mental commitment and dedication. Most people were taking these classes at night after working during the day.' Lakeisha Hancock said she moved to Columbia with her four kids — Kira, Maurice, Diamond, and Jamal — to give them the best education she could so they could be successful. The former Baltimore City resident hadn't yet finished high school, so she joined the Project Literacy program. On Thursday she celebrated earning the National External High School Diploma. Hancock said setting an example for her children was her primary reason for completing the diploma — she wanted her children to know that 'they could do it, too' despite any obstacles they may encounter, and that 'the sky's the limit.' Thirteen other honorees received diplomas: Marco Tulio Benitez Jose Martin Contreras Carmelita Findlay Jacobs Kisha Lyne Kelly Yeonhee Kim Varsha Makwana Anderson Osmin Diaz Martinez Arturo Ernesto Martinez Norma Molina Michael Pettengill Johnny Trejo-Garcia Rania Refaat Abdelhafez Shaban Mike Minsup Shin The program is run by volunteers, Aikens said, who all have bachelor's degrees and choose to give their time each week to work one-on-one with students. Nancy Schear, Rodriguez's tutor, said she worked with Rodriguez on every aspect of learning the English language, from learning her ABCs for the first time to being able to write and send texts without any assistance to her two daughters, one of whom is a nurse in Columbia and one of whom is a student at a Baltimore university. Each tutor who had a student in attendance was also recognized at the ceremony for the time they volunteered. More than half the tutors celebrated multiple students who were graduating. Cindy Fitzpatrick, Hancock's coach, said there were no obstacles that could sway Hancock's determination to finish the program, calling her a 'superhero.' 'Perseverance is not just a skill, it's an art,' Hancock said. 'And because of that one word, we are the Class of 2025.' Have a news tip? Contact Kat Mauser at kmauser@


CNN
5 hours ago
- CNN
Once home to the CIA, this tiny Southeast Asia runway was considered ‘the most secret place on Earth'
Deep in the sweltering jungles of central Laos, a 4,500-foot stretch of cracked concrete cuts through the trees — an airstrip without an airport, in a village where many have never been on a plane. But behind its crumbling control tower and bomb-cratered runway lies a hidden chapter of America's Cold War history — a site once known as 'the most secret place on Earth.' The village of Long Tieng sits in central Laos, about 80 miles northeast of the capital, Vientiane. Today, it's a sleepy settlement of a few thousand people who mostly rely on the land to carve out a living. There are a couple of restaurants, two guesthouses and a handful of multipurpose shops selling everything from rice to farming tools made from repurposed bombshell metal — a nod to the village's agricultural roots and wartime past. At the village center lies the airstrip. It no longer serves aircraft, instead now functioning as a kind of outdoor community center: children ride scooters, farmers herd cattle and elderly villagers take early morning strolls before the intense heat engulfs the valley. But 50 years ago, the scene was vastly different. From the 1960s to the early 1970s, Laos played a central role in the United States' fight to stop the spread of communism in Southeast Asia. Long Tieng was the secret headquarters of a US-backed Hmong anti-communist army fighting against the communist Pathet Lao forces, which were supported by the North Vietnamese Army. At its height, tens of thousands of inhabitants — Hmong soldiers, their families, refugees from other parts of Laos, Thai soldiers and a small contingent of American CIA operatives and secret US Air Force pilots, dubbed 'Ravens' — called this place home. It was the heart of the largest paramilitary operation ever conducted by the CIA. At one point in time, the tiny airstrip handled 900 daily take-offs and landings, making it one of the busiest airports in the world. Cargo planes would offload crucial supplies including ammunition and food, which would then be loaded onto smaller planes that flew to even smaller airstrips around the country. Despite the scale of the base, it was so secret even some of those participating in the war in other locations did not know of its existence, says Paul Carter, a Laos Secret War specialist who lives in Southeast Asia. 'The war in Laos was so compartmentalized … I knew guys who participated in that war, they did not even know Long Tieng existed until the late 1960s when they started letting the reporters in there,' he tells CNN. From this remote mountain village, the CIA-backed Hmong army, led by the charismatic General Vang Pao, fought not only the communist Pathet Lao forces but also conducted guerrilla operations — destroying North Vietnamese supply depots, blowing up critical supply routes and generally harassing communist forces — all with full support from the US. As part of this secret war, the US launched a brutal bombing campaign that paralleled its broader military operations in Vietnam. And because international agreements barred direct military involvement in Laos, the effort fell almost entirely on the CIA. American pilots flew thousands of missions from Long Tieng's airstrip, which was known by the codenames Lima Site 98 and Lima Site 20A. Fifty years after the fall of Long Tieng in 1975, I set out to explore the remnants of the US presence in the area. I was drawn here after reading the book, 'A Great Place to Have a War' by Joshua Kurlantzick. It pulled me into a world I'd never known — a hidden Cold War battleground on the sidelines of the Vietnam War. Watching old, grainy newsreels of reporters wandering around the base only deepened my fascination. Somewhere along the way, I realized I needed to see Long Tieng with my own eyes. Before long, I find myself in Vientiane with an old college friend who I've convinced to come along for an adventure and Mr. Pao — the only driver I could find with a car suitable for the journey. Pao says he used to work at the mines near Long Tieng and is familiar with the area, though he admits he's only visited the village once before. Several tour companies organize trips, but the number of tourists that visit Long Tieng still pales in comparison to Laos' major tourist destinations like Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng. Chris Corbett, owner of Laos Adv Tours and Rentals, tells CNN that his company operates around 10 motorbike tours a year to the site, taking a total of around 40 people to the village. He said his guests mainly come from the United States, Australia and Europe. Today, the village remains largely cut off from the rest of the country. Though just 80 miles from Vientiane, the drive takes over eight hours. Beyond the capital's outskirts, roads quickly degrade — first into unsealed dirt tracks, then into rugged mining roads scarred by landslides and potholes. Visibility is often poor — dust kicked up by mining trucks combines with smoke from slash-and-burn agriculture. At times, we crawl forward, barely reaching 5 mph. Part of the road winds over a rugged mountain pass with no guardrails, just a sheer drop into the valley below. Sitting in the back of the car, I grip the seat in front of me as our driver edges closer to the cliffside, the tires skimming loose gravel. At one point, our driver glances back and warns us that if we get a flat tire out here, we'll likely be stuck for a long time — maybe hours. There's no phone signal. We nod silently and keep going. As we approach Long Tieng, the rough dirt road suddenly gives way to smooth pavement. Cresting the final mountain pass, we expect to glimpse the airstrip — but thick smoke shrouds the valley, limiting visibility to a few hundred meters. Descending into the village as the sun sets, there's little sign that 30,000 people once lived here. Family farms now occupy land once filled with barracks and command centers. Military convoys have long been replaced by scooters and cattle. We stay in a guesthouse next to the airstrip. It's barebones — a wooden bed and a single creaky fan that spins with little effect. There's no air conditioning, and the humid air hangs heavy and unmoving. It's hard to sleep — not just because of the heat, but because I can't stop thinking about what this place had once been. The next morning, we walk down the center of the airstrip as the sun rises over the valley. Once one of the busiest runways in the world, it now lies silent. Tall grass sprouts from potholes left by artillery strikes. The crumbling control tower is only half its original height, and the hangars at the far end sit abandoned — rusting reminders of a war long past. As I walk along its length, I notice the absence of signposts, statues or any form of commemoration. Despite the airstrip's historical importance, there's nothing to mark it. Among those who operated out of Long Tieng during the war were the Ravens, a secret group of active-duty Air Force pilots who volunteered to serve in Laos. Their primary role was to act as forward air controllers (FACs), flying low behind enemy lines to identify and mark targets for US Air Force bombers. 'They were just kind of taken off the books,' Carter says. 'They operated under a different cover.' The Ravens wore civilian clothing and were issued US Embassy ID cards. In some cases, Carter notes, pilots were also issued US Agency for International Development (USAID) identity cards. The Ravens often flew in pairs — an American pilot in front and a local Hmong 'backseater' who communicated with ground forces. But they weren't alone over the skies of Laos. Pilots from Air America, a secret CIA-owned airline, also operated in Long Tieng; they flew in crucial supplies to the base and conducted daring search and rescue missions to recover downed pilots deep behind enemy lines. 'I landed there pretty much every other day,' Neil Hansen, a pilot stationed in Laos during part of the war, tells CNN. Hansen worked for Air America between 1964 and 1973 and detailed his experience in the book, 'FLIGHT: An Air America Pilot's Story of Adventure, Descent and Redemption.' 'I was flying a C-123, bringing in munitions, supplies and fuel for 'the little birds,' which would then distribute it to other sites,' Hansen recalls. As part of his mission, he also transported 'CIA customers.' During one flight in 1972, Hansen was shot down over the Plateau de Bolevan in southern Laos. 'After getting my crew out and bailing out, I watched the C-123 fall out of the sky and explode,' he says, noting he was rescued by Air America helicopters shortly after. About 100 meters west of the airstrip stands a two-story house that once served as the headquarters of General Vang Pao, the leader of the CIA-backed Hmong army. From this remote compound, Pao worked closely with American operatives to coordinate a covert war, marshaling thousands of Hmong fighters while receiving US air support, weapons and humanitarian aid in return. Set behind a tall fence and overgrown garden, the house still feels separated from the rest of the village — distant, guarded. A sign on the front door, written in English, reads: 'No entry without permission.' It's the only English sign we've seen in the entire village, and it stops us in our tracks. With no one around, we circle the property, peering through dusty windows, unsure whether we can get inside. An older man in weathered military fatigues appears nearby. Without saying a word, he approaches, slowly dangling a key in front of our faces. He doesn't speak English, but types out a number on his phone. We nod and hand over the cash. A moment later, we're inside. The house is not what I expected. I'd imagined a preserved time capsule, cluttered with mementos or forgotten artifacts — but the rooms are eerily empty. No furniture, no decorations, no posters or portraits of the general. In the foyer, dozens of artillery shells are stacked neatly in one corner, with several mortar rounds resting nearby. It's surreal to see these instruments of war arranged with such quiet precision. Through a translation app, the man warns us not to touch anything — some might still be live. Upstairs, a single wooden desk and chair have been placed near a panoramic window facing the airstrip. I sit down, imagining General Vang Pao and CIA officers in this very spot, directing B-52 bombing runs on communist strongholds. The war — so vast, so devastating — had largely been coordinated from this small, simple room. It was almost impossible to reconcile the scale of the conflict with the modesty of this setting. We climb up to the roof. From there, the view stretches across the old airstrip and into the mountains that once shielded Long Tieng from attack. Today, the village is quiet. A few people walk slowly down the main road. Stray dogs nap in the sun. It's hard to believe that tens of thousands of people once lived here. Today, the impacts of the intense US bombing campaign on Laos are still being felt. Of the 270 million sub-munitions dropped on the country, an estimated 30% did not detonate, according to the Mines Advisory Group (MAG). These unexploded ordnances continue to kill, injure and hinder development across the country, according to MAG. Around the hills of Long Tieng, villagers still rarely venture off established roads and trails to avoid unexploded munitions. Full US-Laos relations were restored in 1992 and since 1995, the US has invested more than $390 million in a Conventional Weapons Destruction program aimed at addressing the legacy of the war. However, questions remain about future US funding of explosive ordinance clearance in Southeast Asia following the Trump administration's widespread suspension of foreign aid. 'I fell in love with Laos,' says Hansen. 'I look back on my time as exciting and a place where I could immerse myself in the culture. I was fulfilling a purpose where I knew I was accomplishing something that was needed.' Back in Long Tieng, children riding scooters zoom past my friend and me, their tires bumping over the broken concrete that once launched warplanes into the sky. I now understand why the community gravitates toward the airstrip whenever they can: it's one of the few open spaces cleared of unexploded ordnance. A rare place where children can play without fear of becoming another casualty of a war that ended 50 years ago. The legacy of a secret conflict — barely remembered back in the United States.