Dionne Warwick "That's What Friends Are For"

So I’d gotten a job on the radio.  Now what?

Like a dog that finally caught the car he was chasing, I suddenly terrified by the idea that I was going to be on the air.

Just days earlier, I had been interviewed by the owners of WABN about their open position---as host of the nightly “Request Radio” program.  For two hours each evening, the phone lines were open, and literally, if you asked for it and we had it, we’d play it.

Whitney Houston?  Yes.

Followed by Ozzy Osbourne?  Yes.

“That’s What Friends Are For”?  Yes.

Into Rage Against The Machine.  Yes.

If we had it, we played. 

And we would read a dedication for every song.  Anything you wanted us to say.

Want to ask someone out?  We’d say it.

Want to break up with someone on the radio?  We’d say it for you.

Inside joke between your friends?  We’ll announce it.

Want to tell the world that you are lonely?  We’ll say it.

This is in the days before Facebook, so any bit of minutiae that you felt compelled to share with the world, we’d share it via Request Radio.

Like many of the kids listening to the show, I had spent many a night in my room, imagining I was the DJ.

But reality was hitting.  I was about to go on the air for the first time.  There was no practice airshift.  No warm-up.  No air-check critique.  I sat in the studio with Craig, one of the station owners, who had been temporarily hosting the show.  I watched him for an hour, and then he said, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, you’re ready.  Sit here.”

He was repeating the simple instructions---flip this slider to turn on the microphone, say the name of the station and the name of the last song, say the name of the next song, and gently press “play” on the CD player---but I wasn’t listening.

I had glazed over.

I was giving myself a mental pep talk.  I had been nervous before.  I played sports.  I had been terrified to walk out on a basketball court in front on my entire school and face an intimidating opposing team.  But I also had learned how to set that fear aside, turn it inside out and create the energy and intensity necessary to not only overcome my fear but perform at the top of my game.

I was focused.  I was ready.

The song ended.  I flipped on the microphone.  I followed the instructions.

I said the name of the last song.  I said the name of the next song.  I pressed “play” on the CD player.

The last instruction I did not follow to the letter.  I did not press it “gently.”

Instead, with a burst of adrenaline, I pressed the “play” button so hard that my finger was now inside the machine all the way up past my fingernail.

The good news was that the CD was playing.  The bad news was that it was one of only two CD players in the studio.  Crippling it was going to make it hard to do the rest of the show.

But professional radio folks are nothing if not calm in the face of live mishaps.  Once the next song was underway on the 2nd CD player, Craig got a screwdriver and managed to pry out the button that had become lodged inside the machine.

He set the player right, gave me back the air chair and said:

“Okay, let’s try it again.  Gently.”

And thus, a career began . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.