How did this veteran of the Pacific Theater in World War II become so worked up?

It is a passion that grew from an adventurous life.

As a young singer from just outside Baltimore, he moved to Florida well before Disney, so he could attend Stetson University in DeLand. In his words, it was a "natural wonderland" teeming with unique plants and animals in balance with an environment so clean he could smell the citrus trees.

He was into his fourth year at Stetson when he left, joining the Navy in 1944. He saw action and survived several close calls.

But when a wave threw him against a boat, he suffered nerve damage that he believes caused the tremor that slows him even today.

Back in the States, he landed jobs at radio stations in Annapolis and Washington D.C.

Before long, he was hired on at WTTG, the first television station in Washington. He started as a booth announcer, introducing programs, and became an on-air personality, reading news and playing the straight man alongside a children's show character named Hoppity Skippity.

"I even have people come up to me today and say they remember the show and were devoted fans," he said. "It was fun to do."

The era was a pioneering, fun time, and Williamson was involved in some groundbreaking moments.

For instance, he can't remember whether it was 1947 or 1948, but he recalls working as a commentator on the first broadcast from Capitol Hill, a House Armed Services Committee hearing involving then-Gen. Dwight David Eisenhower.

Williamson also played Santa Claus and met such entertainment giants as Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Duke Ellington and Billie Holiday as they visited the station for live, on-air performances.

Eventually, he moved into advertising and executive positions at television stations and ad agencies in Greensboro, N.C., Charleston, S.C., and Orlando.

But while television is a sweet spot of memories for Williamson, it is also a source of sourness.

"I think it's lost its soul," he said. "It seems that anything goes and there's so much deception.

"They can spin something that's not correct into something the public believes is true."

As ownership of most television stations has fallen into the hands of the same seven or eight conglomerates, the business has lost much of its originality, he said.

He and wife Natalie Dix, the retired Daytona Beach News-Journal editorial page editor (who first met Williamson at Stetson in the 1940s), limit their viewing to mainly news-oriented programs and Comedy Central's "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart."

Instead, he spends a lot of time admiring the mostly wild plants and flowers that provide cover for his home.

"I believe cutting trees is responsible for other problems we have today. We bare too much land and it allows the sun to dry it out and reduces our evaporation."

He's convinced deforestation has altered the state's climate, raising temperatures. "We seldom hit 90," in the 1940s, he said.

Politically, he had embraced the conservative message of Barry Goldwater in the 1960s, but he returned to Florida in 1970 and his concern for the environment grew. He switched to the Democratic Party in the late 1980s.

Williamson volunteered for environmentalist Reid Hughes, a Democratic candidate for Congress in 1982 and 1990. Hughes said his background in television and radio was invaluable to his campaigns, though Hughes lost close races to incumbents both times.

"He works harder than the rest of us," Hughes said. "He has been an inspiration to the environmental constituency with his leadership."

Another cause Williamson took up was overpopulation and its societal and environmental effects. For years, he traveled the state, giving presentations on the problem.

But the message never seemed to catch on.

"I think I'm more disillusioned by the human condition than anything else," he said. "I think I'm frustrated because in Florida, we're continuing to do the things that are not good for us.

"I'm a pessimist, I guess, and I hate to be a pessimist. I look across the world and I see people starving and I see genocide and what's going on in Iraq and Palestine and I'm frustrated that I can't do anything about it."

Williamson insists his anger has little or nothing to do with his family life. He was married once, and divorced, and has not spoken to his adopted son for many years.

He stays busy. He travels and continues strategizing with groups such as the Volusia-Flagler Environmental Action Council. He talks about finishing his life story.

In quiet moments at home, he admires the lizards he claims drink from a manmade pond he had dug in his backyard in Holly Hill, an otherwise largely urban city. He watches the koi.

He notices an air potato vine growing on one of his palm trees, and thinks to himself, "Gee, I've got to get that taken care of."

He tries to steady that tremor.

Copyright © 2004 News-Journal Corporation