I’ve been thinking about broadcasting a lot lately. A few weekends ago, TriLUG was at the Durham Hamfest, where amateur radio operators from the area gathered for a swapmeet. I was there to help explain Linux to hams, but my real goal was to put faces to the names I’ve been hearing on the air.
I don’t feel comfortable speaking to people I don’t know. Or more specifically, I don’t feel comfortable speaking without something specific to say. I’m a lurker on the ham repeaters where lots of hams will “ragchew” all day long, seemingly saying nothing at all. So the idea of speaking into a microphone with potentially thousands of listeners is a bit daunting.
Even so, I’ve had a lot of my friends tell me that I’ve got a radio voice. My answering machine message garners the most comments – and I admit I kinda ham it up there. But to consider doing voice work seriously is something I have never really considered.
Like a lot of kids fresh out of high school, I had no clue what I wanted to do for a living. It took me a while to even consider going in the military the way I eventually did. I knew, though, that broadcasting appealed to me. I was a big fan of the Greaseman, DC101‘s shock jock. I was such a fan that I recognized his wife when she visited the drug store where I worked. I also treasured the DC101 T-shirt I got autographed by the Grease. Oh yeah, I was into it big time.
Thinking of exploring radio as a career, I responded to an ad I heard for a local “radio school.” It was a vocational school located in Vienna, Virginia, near where I was living at the time. I followed the directions to a nondescript two-story building in one of the ubiquitous strip malls that litter the area. Stepping out of the rainy cold, I climbed the stairs to the second floor.
I walked into a room filled with aging sound boards. Countless cables snaked their way across the floor. A staff member talked with me a bit and pointed me towards a sound booth in the back of the room. Then I put on a pair of headphones and read a script from a piece of paper in front of me.
After a few minutes of talk, the staff member came back in and told me I had what it took. He told me the course would cost around $1500 and I could start immediately. I thanked him for his time and went home, not really convinced the $1500 would buy me anything I didn’t already have.
What it certainly wouldn’t buy me is an education in how most modern DJs were little more than a voice behind the microphone. The more I found out about the job (low pay, little creative control, dullness), the less it appealed to me. I put it on the back burner and rarely looked back.
At the recent hamfest, however, I ran into one gentleman I’d been hearing on the repeaters quite often. Bill “BJ” Jenkins has a voice made for radio. Even before I heard him mention his 30 years in broadcasting, I could tell from his voice that he knew what he was doing. I had to ask him about broadcasting when I saw him at the hamfest.
BJ is a wonderful guy and was more than happy to talk about his career. I mentioned to him that I had considered it once. He encouraged me to pursue it, saying that I had good diction. But he then said something else that changed my perception of the job.
BJ mentioned how local homeboy Rick Dees got started. Rick is now a radio superstar, hosting the “Weekly Top 40” program which is syndicated coast-to-coast. Rick also anchors the top-rated morning show in Los Angeles. In radio, he’s about as big as they come. At a recent radio gathering at local station WKIX, Rick told people how last year his show had 500 million dollars in billings.
I almost spit coffee out of my nose. The “Disco Duck” guy clocking half a billion dollars? No way! But that’s how BJ quoted him.
Clearly, my view of radio as a dead-end job wasn’t entirely accurate, to say the least.
After hearing this and about Doc Searls’ broadcasting days, I may just go audition for some voiceovers after all.