The day I had my first on-air shift it was mid February and it was cold, real cold. I hadn’t been awake at 5am on a Saturday morning for any reason, job, girl, or bender (let me reiterate that- for ANY reason), so I was very aware that either a) I was committed to what I was about to do, or b) I must have lost my damn mind.
This may be a good time to fill in some details crucial to the story-line- on the day that I interviewed for the (part-time) radio job that I couldn’t wait to have, I was 35 years old. I had sold cars and gym memberships, run a pallet jack on a loading dock for a candy company and been a mgr. for JCPenney… all the while wanting to be in a studio behind a mic. I had become the very person that I had once made fun of- an older, lost, gypsy-esque, piece of career driftwood… I would’ve laughed at me if I hadn’t actually been me.

But as the following 14 years past I began to realize that I was what all radio people are- a loser. The broadcast radio world is a breeding ground rife with vagabonds and wannabees, that’s why we love it. As professions go there is no field that has a cult of people that could sound so Gottdam good while talking about almost anything, yet still be easily capable to go totally unnoticed during a random visit to the Cantina Bar on Tatooine! Losers.
Now you must understand that most people start in radio when they are very young, teenagers sometimes, and I was on my way into a studio to relieve one of them from an un-glamorous 12a-6a shift. Her name was Leanne and she was the type of person who was pissed off all the time. I (being the new guy) eagerly burst into the studio with a fever pitch, like a teenage pep-rally organizer, that only served to elevate her level of being pissed off more than her usual level of misery would maintain. She barely spoke to or had eye contact with me, she maneuvered around the room so as to steer clear of me (like I was contagious) and basically had a large amount of “go f— yourself” feelings for me (odd since we’d never met before this). Yet, as she left she said “If you need anything fell free to call me” and pointed at her number on the list of station employees, then the door slammed and I was all alone.
My heart was pounding as the first talk-break came closer and closer… the songs rolled up and the station sweepers with them. Finally came the first block in grey and red that was labeled “jock talk” that meant you’re on cuz! In my memory it was awful, but in reality it was no worse (or better) than any first timer… and it got easier. By the time the shift was over I’d done around a dozen breaks ranging anywhere from 3- 60 seconds and I felt strangely accomplished.
I left the station that morning in the capable hands of Dave Stewart, another long time NEPA radio name, and as I drove home weary from both a lack of sleep and the jitters of “first day stress”, I couldn’t help but feel like I was finally in a good place in my work life… little did I know what the following years would hold both good (at first) and then very, very bad.