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Phil Reidinger was known for an easygoing nature and his support of the news media.
Photo: / Courtesy of the U.S. Military

Phil Reidinger, called the dean of public affairs officers in San Antonio, died Friday morning.

He was 69 and had suffered from cancer, but no cause of death was available Friday. A top public affairs officer for the Army Medical Department Center and School, he had worked as usual earlier in the week. He was planning to retire next year.

Reidinger had been the chief spokesman for Fort Sam Houston before the 2005 base closure round linked it and two other local installations under Joint Base San Antonio. Some knew him as “Mr. Fort Sam Houston.”

Friendly and cheerful, Reidinger could be found alongside journalists as they worked stories that ranged from budget, environmental and operations issues to the rituals of command changes and the Army’s birthday — a parade ground event in which he recounted battles through U.S. history as GIs wore period costumes dating to the Revolution.

News of his death left friends and co-workers in shock.

“I still feel numb,” said Jim Cannizzo, an attorney for the Army at Camp Stanley, Camp Bullis and Fort Sam who worked closely with Reidinger on a host of issues.

“Phil was always synonymous with Fort Sam Houston,” said Brent Boller, a local radio personality who became a spokesman for Joint Base San Antonio. “He was an extremely enthusiastic and dedicated spokesperson for the Army, Fort Sam Houston and the Army Medical Department Center and School. He loved what he did, and it showed.”

A retired Army major who came to the job in the early 1990s, Reidinger was known for an easygoing nature and support of the news media. He was also a workaholic, logging long hours, working weekends and arriving at Fort Sam early each day in a late-model Mercedes or BMW, wearing cowboy boots and a smile.

Dave Smith, retired chief of the public affairs office’s operations division for the Air Education and Training Command, called him “the dean of all public affairs officers” in San Antonio, always willing to give helpful advice to others in the profession.

“You’re either open and willing — and he was — or you just are reticent because you never know what the next line of questioning is going to be,” Smith said. “But Phil was always up front. He was a curmudgeon, but Phil was always there if you needed anything.”

Reidinger, a civilian, gave advice to the military, too. A decade ago, he encouraged Fort Sam’s garrison commander, Col. Wendy Martinson, to meet with CPS Energy officials when congressional and White House wrangling over a $94.5 billion supplemental appropriations bill forced her to decide whether to pay the post’s $4.2 million light bill or keep dining halls open.

The utility company had warned Fort Sam to pay up on June 14, 2006, or risk losing power “without further notice.” She chose to feed her soldiers and took Reidinger’s advice to go public about the dilemma with the San Antonio Express-News.

“As a result of that interview … other garrison commanders around the country spoke with their media in their locations,” Martinson recalled Friday, adding that the funding problems were quickly fixed. “Phil was the tipping point, the guy that kind of said we’re going to have to do something, and it may as well have been us.”

Reidinger also wielded considerable behind-the-scenes influence when high-end suburban development threatened the future of Camp Bullis, a 27,994-acre training range in Northwest Bexar County. He set up meetings that brought Martinson and Fort Sam’s commander, Maj. Gen. Russell Czerw, together with then-Mayor Phil Hardberger.

A critical part of Army combat medic training, Camp Bullis was hampered by increasing light pollution that interfered with realistic exercises. As developers cleared nearby land for projects, the endangered golden-cheeked warbler flocked to the range, making it impossible for the Army to expand or develop new training missions. Czerw, Martinson and Hardberger feared that Fort Sam, the city’s oldest military installation, might close if training had to be relocated elsewhere.

“Phil had come to me to get my help as mayor and said the military was very concerned, and that Camp Bullis was very important to the mission and he did not think people gave a lot of thought to how important it really was,” Hardberger said, adding that Reidinger also quarterbacked visits to the Legislature, where a host of local officials testified in favor of legislation to protect the range.

“He was so passionate about … working with the military, working with the civilians,” said Czerw, who has since retired as commander of the U.S. Army Medical Department Center and School and credits Reidinger for his friendship with Hardberger.

Cannizzo, also a key player in the Bullis maneuvering, said, “Phil was a skillful tactician, had an extensive network of local contacts, and was masterful in dealing with the public, local officials and the press. Without him, Camp Bullis’ significant encroachment issues would not have been largely resolved.”

In praising Reidinger as an environmentalist and passionate advocate for Fort Sam, Czerw echoed comments made by other co-workers and friends as they learned of his death.

“We lost a great PAO,” he said. “But most importantly, I lost a very good friend today.”
