Dennis Edward Hogan (“Denny” or “Captain Video”) passed away peacefully on March 26, 2025, at the VA Hospital in Jefferson Barracks. He was 81 years old.

Born January 24, 1944, to Edward J. Hogan and Loretta (Rabbit) Hogan, Denny was one of six children in a close-knit, faith-filled St. Louis family. He is now reunited with his beloved parents; sister Marie Hogan O’Leary; brother Edward “Eddie” Hogan; niece Kathleen Spearing-Medina; nephew William “Bo” O’Leary; and “Mama” Albo.

Denny leaves behind three sisters—Virginia (Dominic) Albo, Colleen (Cornelius) Krentz, and Joan Hogan—along with a host of nieces and nephews, whom he adored. He always took great joy in their lives. Although he didn’t have children of his own, he had a big heart and made space for everyone in it. 

Deeply religious, Denny assured those around him, in his characteristically blunt way, that he was ready to die and looked forward to giving those who went before him a big hug. In his final weeks, he enjoyed the little indulgences life still offered, especially ice cream and dozens of chocolate Easter eggs. Diabetes be damned! There was only one thing he left undone—winning the lottery. Not because he wanted the money, but so he could give it away to family and friends. He religiously bought tickets and kept careful track of the jackpot to inform the elaborate calculations of exactly how he would divide it.

Denny was a proud veteran and entrepreneur, known for his generosity and loyalty to family and friends, his unfiltered sense of humor, and his daily devotion to CNN. 

Soon after he joined the United States Navy, they discovered he had a rare talent for aerial cartography. From high-altitude photographs, he could identify meaningful details, earning high respect from his colleagues and supervisors. After the Navy, Denny returned to St. Louis and discovered another unique talent—recognizing trends in technology. In the late 1970s, he became one of the first people in the country to sell VCRs. A reporter from Barron’s was stunned to find one of the country’s first VCR retailers wasn’t in New York or L.A. He opened a shop originally called “The Video Showroom,” at a time when people didn’t even know what “video” meant. Denny explained the magic of a machine that could record television and also allow them to watch their favorite films in the comfort of their living rooms. Customers were baffled, so he called them “Television Recorders” until the term VCR caught on. 

To boost business, Denny starred in his commercials—many of which he wrote—and Captain Video was born. Poking fun at himself, he became an accidental folk hero. 

Eventually, big-box retailers caught onto the trend, and Captain Video couldn’t compete. So he pivoted once again—this time into the new world of personal computers. He taught himself programming and created a software system called Video-Smart to help video rental stores manage their inventory more efficiently. He was always tinkering with the next big idea.

Denny was a complicated character. He will be remembered for his generosity and legendary lack of a filter. You always knew where you stood with Denny—he’d tell you. But he loved his family fiercely, even if he didn’t always show it in conventional ways. His legacy is the laughter, loyalty, and stories he leaves behind.

A funeral Mass will be held on Saturday, May 10th at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Clayton @ 10am, with interment to follow at Calvary Cemetery @ 11:30am. 

In lieu of flowers, Denny would want you to give to a charity that means something to you—buy a lottery ticket, and maybe treat yourself to a scoop of ice cream while you’re at it.