DAN O’DAY TALKS ABOUT RADIO

Jerry Felder was a songwriter. When he was six years old, he contracted polio, which required him to walk with crutches until he was 40…when an accident resulted in a wheelchair being his sole mode of mobility for the rest of his life.

As a teenager, he became a blues singer. Standing onstage with the support of crutches. Not wanting his parents to discover how he was spending his time, he adopted the stage name of “Doc Pomus.”

After years as a singer he took up songwriting, because he knew eventually he wanted to get married, and it seemed obvious that continuing as a blues singer wouldn’t support a family.

He went on to co-write (primarily as lyricist) a ton of hit records, many with his longtime collaborator, Mort Shuman.

You know a lot of his songs. Too many to list here. (Elvis recorded more than 20 Pomus-Shuman songs.)

Two memorable examples: Dion & the Belmonts’ “Teenager In Love” and the fragilely beautiful “This Magic Moment.”

But I Am Not Here To Talk About How Doc Pomus Overcame Adversity.

Yes, his story is inspirational, and according to everyone who knew him, he was a kind, wonderful person.

But I am hijacking Doc Pomus’ artistry to offer a lesson both to commercial copywriters and to radio personalities.

Far too many copywriters begin their writing by looking for a clever conceit, a funny situation, or an amusing character.

Almost all radio hosts’ “show prep” consists of keeping up to date with whatever “everyone” is talking about on any given day.

Possibly Doc Pomus’ most famous and most enduring song is “Save The Last Dance For Me.”

What did you think that song was about? A high school prom, perhaps?

Probably Pomus & Shuman were sitting in their Brill Building office, trying to “come up with a song that teenagers would like”?

No.

That song was about a painful aspect of the happiest day of his life .

He was writing about how he felt about, thanks to polio, not being able to dance with his bride at their wedding reception.

Wow, huh?

He Started With The Truth.

And you should, too.

Before you begin writing your advertising copy, ask: “What is the real message that I need to communicate to the targeted consumer?”

When you’ve truly figured out that “true thing” you want to say in your spot, usually the copy “writes itself.”

While preparing for your show, ask: “What do I really care about? How do I really feel about this song/news story/ controversy/information?”

No, I don’t suggest you turn your pop entertainment show into your own personal soapbox.

If your job is to play the hits, play the hits. If it’s to entertain listeners, entertain them.

But if you want to create something that actually affects people and perhaps even outlives you…

Start with the truth.

Thank you, Doc.

When I spent a week consulting Italy’s R101 radio, the morning show hosts (Paolo Cavallone, Christiano Militello, and Massimo Lopez) prevailed upon me to record a promo for them.

As I think you’ll see, I pretty much nailed it.

Oh, Paolo’s very last word in the video, “Poveretto”? 

I’m told it translates roughly to, “That man is a real professional.”

View this radio morning show video on YouTube.

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. As a radio personality, program director, and production director…

I am thankful that anyone hired me from the audition tape I made in radio school.

I am thankful that the Bill Wade School of Radio & Television had us memorize all possible 650 questions & answers so I could pass the exam for my First Class Radio Telephone Operator’s License.

I am thankful that my first program director didn’t fire me upon learning that although the Bill Wade School of Radio & Television taught me how to play carts, they hadn’t taught me how to record onto them.

I am thankful that after I moved across the country for my first radio job, I wrote “thank you for considering me” letters to three other stations that had offered me jobs (after I’d accepted the first offer)…

…because when the entire staff of my first radio station was laid off one month after I arrived, I called two of the three other stations and both of them offered me a job. (The guy who hired me for my second gig said, “You’re the only person who’s ever written to thank me even though he accepted a job with a different company.”)

I am thankful that after my first radio job, never again was I required to sell radio advertising in addition to doing an airshift.

I am thankful that I found a profession that didn’t require me to dress up for work.

I am thankful that apparently the only person who heard me accidentally swear on-air at my second job was another jock.

I am thankful that instinctively I knew it didn’t matter if the station engineer or one of the radio salespeople “didn’t think that bit of yours was funny.”

I am thankful for my listeners.

I am thankful for the radio pros in “the trades” from whom I (barely) learned production.

I am thankful for 100% cotton promotional t-shirts.

I am thankful that upon being promoted to Program Director at my third radio station, my compensation was enhanced with a $50 per week grocery trade.

I am thankful for the friends I’ve made at radio stations around the world.

I am thankful for the endless hours of “talking radio” with people who apparently didn’t have anything better to do, either.

I am thankful for having found a profession where there’s always plenty of room to improve.

I am thankful for having chosen a profession that made it impossible for me to “rest on my laurels” because it offers absolutely no job security.

I am thankful that somewhere along the way banks changed their minds and decided to allow disc jockeys to have credit cards.

I am thankful that convenience stores around the country decided to let people pay for their cheese & relish smothered hotdogs with credit cards.  

I am thankful for the radio people who’ve done extraordinary things on their radio stations, inspiring me to try, occasionally, to reach for something higher.

I am thankful to be part of a community where being “a radio person” means you share a deep bond with other real radio people.  

I am thankful for having chosen a profession that made me an expert on the best way to load a U-Haul trailer.

I am thankful I haven’t had to have a real job since the age of 21.

Last week I wrote about a clueless morning show at major market oldies radio station.

The same station (the same week) had a “Commercial Music Weekend,” spotlighting oldies that have been used in commercials.

Recorded, Booming Announcer Voice: “And now here’s a song that you just might remember from a certain TV commercial….”

The live DJ says, “You might remember this song from the Gap commercial,” and Carole King’s “So Far Away” begins.

Yes, in CONTEXTUAL PROGRAMMING I explain the value of creating an “artificial context,” which this station attempted to do.

But the context needs to have some sort of emotional resonance with the audience.

Remember, this is an oldies station.

When listeners hear the opening notes of “So Far Away,” they don’t think of the Gap commercial. They immediately connect to the associations they’ve already formed to that song.

Trying to convince them that it’s not about who and where they were in 1971, when the song was a hit, but instead about The Gap — Well, that’s foolish.

“But Dan, what about the younger listeners who weren’t even born in 1971 but who did see that Gap commercial?”

It’s an oldies station. Check their audience demographics. Those “younger listeners” aren’t listening to that station.