A Tribute to Legendary KTLA Reporter Sam Rubin

Many of you welcomed my uncle, legendary KTLA entertainment reporter Sam Rubin, into your homes each morning. He was a man of deep goodness, passion, and humor, a master of red carpets, foremost fan of Apple Pan treats, and renowned for his Disney’s “Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout” screams and optimal frosting distribution cupcake consumption methods. 

Since learning of my uncle’s passing, I’ve found myself in one memory again and again: I’m 7 or 8 years old, sitting next to my uncle in his car. It’s the middle of the night and we’re the only car on the road and I feel like we’re the only people in the world. Talking together. Free and joyful, yet safe, every possibility ahead of us. The windows are down and the night air hits our faces as my uncle and I speed along Pico Blvd.

That’s the experience I most associate with my uncle. And I know he made so many others feel the same way. He was talking with you or asking a question, full attention, and you felt like you were the only person in the world. He was looking at the camera but speaking to your soul. There was chaos in your life, in your day, but for those moments when you were with Sam Rubin, you were safe, life was fun, his joy was contagious, and anything was possible.

This nighttime ride though was a real memory or perhaps an amalgam of them. I drove like this with my uncle many times during the formative years of my childhood. When Pressman Academy had those parent-teacher conference and teacher in-service days, I wouldn’t sleep in. Instead, my mom would wake me at 3:00 a.m. and she’d help me get ready and dressed in my one fancy suit, and then her younger brother, my uncle, KTLA’s Sam Rubin, would pull up to the house and I’d hop in.

Hours after last call, hours before sunrise, we’d speed across town: Pico to Rimpau to 3rd to Van Ness. We’d pull into KTLA. Every visit was magical. Often, I’d join him on air. So many wonderful childhood memories I owe to my Uncle Sammy. I was so proud to be his nephew. I still am.

From my preschool graduation to my rabbinical school ordination, he cheered me on. During his toast at Charlene and my wedding, he explained that his first car had a vanity license plate “Andy’s Unc.” And he was exactly the kind of fun-loving, encouraging, invested, talented, genuine, wisdom sharing, deeply loving, present, curious and passionate uncle that you would expect. He was the same person on camera as off.

Sam was fascinated with my work as a congregational rabbi, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how much he taught me by example: Sam served a devoted congregation made up of daily, weekly, and even those once-or-twice-a-year high holy live-from-the-red-carpet viewers, all of whom rightly looked to him for insight and inspiration. He used his rich experience, genuine curiosity, passion for the material, and unparalleled talent to translate Hollywood scandal, celebrity, and cinema, into meaningful wisdom. He asked deep questions, built enduring relationships, and earned trust. Through his kindness and joy, his passion and optimism, his humor and his belief in the goodness and dignity of all people, until demonstrated otherwise, he enriched and elevated the lives of those who opened their hearts and screens to his smile and words.  

Sam wouldn’t call himself a religious man, but in truth, he understood our heritage and what it meant to be Jewish. He regularly hosted Shabbat meals, hosted Richard Lewis for Passover, and he sent my cousins to Jewish day schools. During his last week of life he wrote about the distressing increase in anti-Jewish hate since Oct. 7, writing “I feel like my mother felt as an 11-year-old girl in Germany. I can’t quite take in that it is all happening …” He stood up against antisemitism in Hollywood from Mel Gibson to Kanye. When an otherwise talented actor suggested that Jews control Hollywood, with indignation and wit, Sam turned to the camera: “A quick sidebar: If Hollywood were really truly run by Jews, entirely for their own benefit, Shouldn’t I be doing better?”

When an otherwise talented actor suggested that Jews control Hollywood, with indignation and wit, Sam turned to the camera: “A quick sidebar: If Hollywood were really, truly run by Jews, entirely for their own benefit, Shouldn’t I be doing better?”

A few years ago, my wife and I joined Sam’s family in Israel. I remember standing with him at my cousin’s bat mitzvah. Work and junkets had taken him all over the world, but he told me nowhere meant as much, nothing was as special as seeing his daughter chant from that sacred Torah scroll overlooking the walls of Jerusalem.

Just weeks after he passed, that cousin graduated from de Toledo High School. In addition to wearing a cap and gown, each graduate wore a tallit with tzitzit that had been tied by their parents at a program earlier in the year. Because that program took place before my uncle’s unexpected passing, in a very physical way, my cousin was wearing her dad and as we celebrated her.We felt my uncle’s alarming absence and spiritual presence with us.

Wishing comfort to all for whom Sam Rubin was a presence in your lives. May the soul of Shmuel ben Tuvia v’Chana, of Sam Rubin be bound up in the bond life eternal.

Rabbi Andy Green is the Senior Rabbi at Congregation Or Tzion in Scottsdale, AZ. He is the proud nephew of Sam Rubin z”l