My Letter From Al

1978. A great year. In fact, I still have that hairstyle. Nary a Saturday night went by without whatever plans I had scheduled grinding to a halt while we all gathered at someone's house to watch SNL. My friend Steve and I were especially glued to the show. These people were living out our dreams ... comedians. What a life. And our two biggest heroes were Franken and Davis. Because they were from "the next town over" and shining examples that people truly could flee the tundra and go on to great things.

We envisioned ourselves as proteges of the duo. We even wrote comedy sketches and skipped classes to go and perform them at talent "calls." Unfortunately, like most great teams, we fell apart over artistic differences. (I wanted it to be "Nienaber and Bonello" and he fought for "Bonello and Nienaber." Thirty years later he has a big-ass house in Edina with 2.3 children [poor little Levi, born without a torso], country club membership and a paycheck that could choke a horse. I, on the other hand, have a horse, live in squalor on a farm and am in my 14th year of an internship with New World Communications. I showed him! Not going to budge on my artistic integrity, no sir.)

And then, yesterday, I got an e-mail from Al Franken. It was not some belated apology for fucking up my life. He was trolling for campaign contributions. Actually, not even him. Some staffer with a database blindly sending out solicits. I'm a fan. Still. It went into the Delete bin with the letter from the Nigerian banker and the ad from the herbal supplement that will help Mr. Winky. (How'd they know? Is my doctor selling my file?)

Radio is kind of like Al. We're running for election. Up to four times a year. But while Al hasn't lost sight of the personal touch, and will be at every freaking gathering of more then eight people, we've forgotten that it's the little stuff -- the handing of a balloon, the delivering of a cup of coffee, the shaking hands at a movie screening -- that truly moves the needle.

I had a GM when I worked with Emmis who referred to it as "The Dog Shit Theory Of Marketing." The radio station should be like a Minnesota backyard on the first day after the Spring thaw -- a minefield of mounds, such that you have to be careful where you step. It's pretty hard to beat a station that's everywhere.

I've begun to see more and more stations that, for lack of a better term, have pulled the goalie. Have pulled off the streets. And are marketing themselves impersonally and one dimensionally through e-mail and outdoor.

Side note: My niece lives "out west." Her favorite (if a 16 year-old can have a favorite anymore) station was doing a pretty cool promotion. I asked about it when we were on the phone. She replied "I didn't play. They made you sign up for stuff and I really want more spam." (Exaggerated 16-year-old sarcasm is implied.)

Radio has always done a terrific job of embracing new technologies. It's part of being contemporary. And we should. But each new "thing" is just another part of the arsenal. It's not THE arsenal.

Case-in-point: Someone who goes back a long ways with me -- Jo Jo Wright from KIIS in L.A. Phenomenally talented. Phenomenally nice. And phenomenally smart. Every new gimmick that comes along becomes just another facet in his juggernaut to win the world. Ain't no one going to beat the guy. When pagers came out, like every jock between Medford and Maine, he got one. But he USED it. Came in an hour early each day and returned pages. That creates the kind of loyalty that money (contesting) can't buy.

I was at the hotel pool on my last visit to Cox in Honolulu and chatting with the bartender, who was wearing a KIIS shirt. She brought up, totally unbidden, that the best DJ in the world works there, blah blah blah, she'd texted him for something, they traded texts, etc. et al, ad nauseum. Yep. Jo Jo. She sent him a text to enter her sister for something, he texted back, treated her like an actual live human being, bing-bang-boom. End of story. "Greatest DJ in the world" was her term.

I'm not saying that we ignore the 8,000,000 opportunities that the Internet provides. (Though, I'm still on the fence; seems like a fad to me). But it should be a wedge in the pie -- part of the scheme ... not the whole scheme.

When in doubt, ask yourself, W.W.S.D.? What would Strom do? Yep, venerable race-baiting Strom Thurmond, Senator from the great state of South Carolina for about a bajillion years. If he were still alive and running for election in late October, 2007, what would the Stromster do? First, he'd try to segregate the toilets. And then he'd be down at the factory greeting the second-shifters.

Strom won over and over and over because he never lost sight of the personal touch. He understood the power of a personal connection. He was historic for sending personal, handwritten notes to high school graduates. You come home from having a baby and there'd be a card waiting from him. How can you beat a guy who everyone in the state has a two-degree-of-separation relationship with?

Great example: Back when people actually were fans of radio stations, the old bit was to have the jocks sit around and get a case of beer and spend a late afternoon signing and mailing Christmas cards to all your winners from that year. Now, a database automatically updates and mails these things.

Which one goes up on the wall in a cube or on the frig ... and which one ends up with the Cialis spam?

This is politics. And fewer Radio People get it. Could you imagine (insert name of local politician in a tight battle) saying "That DARE block party on Saturday morning? Can't make it. I mean, seriously, I have two club gigs and a remote this week!"

One of the clients was in the midst of hiring a new morning show. Down to three contenders. I suggested asking them to explain the "Radio Is Politics" metaphor. One didn't "get it." One understood but also said, "That's why we have interns." And one whipped out a photo album of them at literally a hundred community events. You don't have to be a Mensa candidate to figure out who they hired.

Radio used to have fans. Now we're lucky to have listeners. You don't get fans from a TV spot or The Incredible Free Money Birthday Game or a positioning statement on a billboard. You get them the old-fashioned way: one handshake at a time.