Ty always wanted to meet for happy hour. Or, invite friends over for roast chicken and Negronis while dancing to Bowie in the kitchen all evening—often painfully last-minute; often on a work night. He also pitched endlessly for impulsive exploits to Tucson or Flagstaff. “Just take tomorrow off,” he would press. Ty always wanted to be with the people he loved most and escape the chaos of a professional life he so masterfully crafted.
A uniquely successful Phoenix area business owner and influential man about town, his public persona was not the “real” Ty. That’s who he wanted you to see—to admire, to love, and yes: to fear. If you didn’t like Ty, if he made you angry, if you didn’t understand him, that was often his master plan.
For a man who thrived on leveraging life’s chaos to his advantage, impulsive adventures with his closest were moments of sanity—and humanity—for him. For a man whose ego seemed unbearable to those who didn’t know him, Ty’s kryptonite was simple: being alone. The close companionship of those he loved most was the medicine to his demons and a balance to the mental drain of his well-documented professional talents.
Leader, mentor and provocateur, Ty transcended the sum of his parts. The Phoenix area thought leader, creative director, entrepreneur, “publicist’s publicist” and voice for local LGBTQIA+ and Native communities, Ty was a force of nature who passed away suddenly in July of 2022, sending shockwaves throughout the circles he navigated. From the clients and brands he transformed; the restaurant and chef community he championed before others cared to notice; the local PR industry he intimidated; and, the writers, editors and food media, who, without his behind-the-scenes influence, likely would not be where they are today, Ty was an unavoidable (and often polarizing) personality where even his enemies respected him.
To bring this back down to earth, Ty was simply one of my best friends. He was the type of friend who became fused to the story of my adult life, professionally and personally. While our paths first crossed because of food, it quickly became just one of many ways our friendship intersected. His impact on my life is cataloged in ways I am only still processing years later. We planned to grow old and salty together, laughing at a world that’s been so cruel to us both. My life now carries a void that’s impossible to describe.
Ty was also complicated. Ty was difficult. Ty was controlling. Ty sometimes demanded perfection in others beyond reason. Ty spent his life running away from—and managing—his childhood trauma and demons. Ty made mistakes. Ty battled deep insecurities. However, only those within his inner circle, to those he was most vulnerable, were privy to this darker side of someone outsiders thought unflappable. In the end, these were the vulnerabilities that made him human and, ultimately, why those of us who did get to know him so well, loved and accepted him so greatly.
Ty appeared into my life as instantly and unplanned as he left it. What transpired in the years since our first encounter nearly 20 years ago, are chapters of moments forever hardwired into my DNA. More than anything, he was one of my biggest cheerleaders. Even if he disagreed with decisions I was making in my own life (you always knew where you stood with Ty), he was always there if I needed his unvarnished council. In my professional career alone, sharpening the skills that allowed me to thrive at what I do now, he was a mentor for me in ways I am still uncovering.
Ty’s impact on the Phoenix and Arizona restaurant and food community, in particular, was so pervasive, that he became an enigma. He was an elusive gatekeeper—or “man behind the curtain”—who had a predatory sense for talent and championed upstarts in an industry otherwise all too often handicapped by inexperienced publicists, spray-and-pray press releases and hollow “influencer” spectacles. He was an early adopter of new media and cultural shifts who exploited emerging trends on behalf of both his clients’ and communities’ benefit.
To those reading this who may not know who he was, understand this: The local restaurants, big-name chefs, mixologists, food writers, social media personalities and agency marketing creatives you support or follow right now, directly or indirectly, all carry threads of Ty’s influence—his fingerprints in the industry are everywhere. Whether those in the community like to admit it or not (many don’t), Ty helped design the roadmap, the template, so many of today’s most successful and relevant local restaurants, chefs and food brands adhere to.
About two weeks before his passing, Ty sent a message asking me to call him immediately—that he had a “super big secret” to share. I was distracted at work and, assuming it was simply another spontaneous adventure that could wait, I flaked and said I’d call him later. I never did.
The next time I saw or spoke to Ty, he was under at-home hospice care, already off life support and barely responsive due to heavy sedation. I sat alone on his bed next to him, grabbing his arm as his body shuffled, struggling to keep his eyes open.
For nearly ten minutes I shook and sobbed. I said everything I could think of that would calm my impatient need for closure with one of my best friends. I told Ty I was upset he was leaving me so soon, reminding him of our plans to age ungracefully together, friends to the end, and that I didn’t know how I’d survive without his energy and guidance in my life. As I squeezed his arm harder and harder, I thanked him for everything he did for me and apologized shamefully for knowingly not always being the best friend he deserved in return. I could hardly drive home from his house that afternoon I was so shaken. He left us the very next day.
I wish I would have called him back.
Ty, the sting of your absence in so many of our lives will never fade. You are everywhere we go. So many jokes we tell, and stories we share, you are there. I loved those happy hours. I miss those perfectly irresponsible adventures. I miss the ability to text you at 3 a.m. knowing you were ready to cackle at our latest inside joke. The smallest moments often leave the biggest marks. You will be missed, sir.
I invite everyone to read more about the vibrant life of Phoenix go-getter, and my good friend, Ty Largo. Check out the lovely piece written by Andi Berlin in The Arizona Republic I was interviewed for, shortly after his passing, on AZCentral.com: HERE.
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