The legacy of a radio station is a very important thing. That is what we frequently believe. Many program directors get this call from time to time: “I am looking for the audio copy of something from 1965.” The nice lady’s grandfather played the guitar for a segment, and she just wanted a copy.
Bill Simmons just went off on ESPN, which erased his past work. There is a certain amount of hubris to our work. We believe that it is important. Radio’s history is disappearing, and perhaps it should, but it likely never will from the brains of our listeners.
I am a radio historian. I love our industry and the traditions that built a major medium that still connects with people after more than 100 years. I’ve spent half of my life hosting morning shows or being a producer sidekick on a successful radio show. I love the work that I have done.
Sure, there have been bad moments, but for me every moment on the air has been pure joy. It is currently common practice for radio stations to post a complete radio show online and call it a podcast. I have a box with about 50 cassettes of my past work. And I have yet to make it digital, for whatever that nostalgia means. I get calls and direct messages from listeners who have found value in my on-air ramblings. You probably have received those communications as well.
I was at an event this past weekend where a listener came up to my station’s morning show producer and told him that he enjoyed his comments on the show. My producer replied perfectly when he said, “Thank you very much.” This was the right thing to say. Meeting the expectations of our listeners is essential. I praised my show’s producer afterward. I have also told him this truth. No matter how long he does this, he will hear from listeners about a great moment on the show. I told my producer to thank the listener even if he doesn’t remember the moment.
Being grateful for creating memories is quite an honor. My first on-air experience was over 30 years ago, and I get notes fairly frequently. It astounds me, but it is a gift.
Your Station’s History Matters
Let’s talk about your station’s history. It is important. One of the gifts of radio is that people find that personal connection with your station. Your job has impacted people going through divorces, marriages, and other life-defining moments. There are people who have fond memories that they will carry with them until their deaths and perhaps beyond.
No online video has that impact. We are with people at their greatest highs and lowest lows. Radio means a hell of a lot. Radio’s intimacy is second to none. When I hear people say that radio is dead, I often think that they don’t understand the magic. I jumped onto an X livestream hosted by someone whom I am casually acquainted with. She kindly introduced me as a Twin Cities radio legend, which was very sweet, but I can’t hold the microphones of Tom Barnard, Bob Yates, Don Vogel, Chuck Knapp, Boone & Erickson, John Hines, and so many others. I am so glad, though, that my work made an impact.
Well, I assure you that you are making an impact. People live by the moment, and our radio shows should do the same. Listening to your show this week is a person who lost a child, had a spouse leave them, was fired from a job, or found out that they have cancer. You are their lifeline.
Radio’s Impact on Our Communities
I refuse to minimize our impact on our communities. Radio stations will raise tens of millions of dollars for amazing charities. No one gets to do these things like people on the radio.
Sure, there are people like MrBeast or GoFundMe initiatives that do good work. MrBeast is likely not at the grocery store with a crying mom thanking you for helping her child get the cancer treatment that her family couldn’t afford.
I may be living in some sort of fantasyland that I frequently rail about in these columns. I don’t believe that these special moments are unusual or examples of confirmation bias. This is real life. Radio makes very special moments.
Meeting Listeners’ Expectations
It is preached in books or speeches by motivational speakers about visualizing success. I am a dude. My former spouse and girlfriends have all visualized moments in their lives.
Men can relate that their beloved seeks a certain and specific response to a special moment. I can assure you that I have never met that expectation. It is not because I am that much of a jerk, but because I am not as clued into her needs as I should have been. Well, radio’s expectations are fairly well defined.
There are moments in our communities, nation, and world where we are the lone voice that listeners depend on. We often miss those expectations. We need to make sure that we hit them as often as possible.
The Audio We Lost
Yes, that woman who called my station wanting a very specific moment where her grandfather played the guitar in 1965 is connected to a very special moment in her life. Sadly, I had to tell this nice lady that I didn’t have that audio.
She wanted to know if I knew who may have had that audio. I told her that the host of the segment, or the family of the program director who is likely dead, could have it. She wanted to know how to contact those people, but my answer is that I had no idea who they were. I didn’t even know their names.
A special moment from 61 years ago was likely lost. Your moments will be remembered for decades. Your repurposed podcast moments may last on the cloud forever, or until the sweet meteor of death erases our existence.
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