FINDING MY VOICE

A long time ago, in an artistic landscape far, far away, the life of a successful radio personality could be summed up with those resounding words, “If you love your job, you'll never work a day in your life.” There was a secret ingredient, however, when it came to reaching that level of broadcasting nirvana that we all hoped to attain. Actually, it was no secret. It was a simple as finding ones own voice and hoping that it was unique enough to appeal to the most listeners you possibly could. Ideally, more than whatever “voice” was coming from your competition. That was an era when radio stations were not controlled by major corporations that originate all of their programming out of one studio for hundreds of outlets around the country. It was a time when a local station would hire what they perceived to be the best talent in town only to have the other stations in the area try to top them with bigger and better talent to “knock the king off the mountain.” These were radio legends who inspired those of us who followed as we valiantly, but not always successfully, attempted to be them. It was only when we understood that we had to find our own voices that any semblance of success was attainable. I was fortunate to have made my entree into “the biz” when these giants ruled the airwaves. The thought of becoming like them was burrowing through the minds of all of my peers as we emulated our heroes, not always understanding that we couldn't just turn on a microphone and be them. One of my early influences was Ted Brown who broadcast for more than 40 years on the New York City radio stations WMGM, WNEW and WNBC. I was doing one of my very first radio shows on WRYM in Newington, Ct. and Ted Brown was on WNEW. I would listen to his show, study his delivery and go on the air the following day, doing his material. People would say, “If you missed Ted Brown on Tuesday, listen to Leonard on Wednesday. You'll get the same show.” That's exactly what it was only nowhere near as good. I was learning and had no inkling of who I was. I was most certainly not Ted Brown. I knocked around a bit before I landed in my very first “major market.” It was Philadelphia and I had been hired to be the first “morning man” on a brand new format called “Magic.” The station was WMGK and I was hired on the basis of a somewhat pleasant voice and the ability to read. The pay was insulting and I was told that it was all I would ever make there. It wasn't until I moved across town to station WYSP that I began to find the beginnings of “my voice.” I teamed with an innovative programmer named Sonny Fox who taught be how to entertain. I was no longer doing someone elses show or just reading, I was doing material that we created as the comedy morning team of “Fox & Leonard” and presented to those who chose to tune in every morning. They were almost never sorry about their choice and we enjoyed a pretty good run with a very large following. We did jokes, characters and “bits” designed to amuse and sometimes jar the audience into each new day. It was experimental and great fun while it lasted, but when I moved on as a solo act, I realized that I was no more than “& Leonard” and had no voice of my own. I was now in Chicago, at the time the #2 market in the country and I was trying to get by as one person doing a two man show. It didn't work out so well. Then one day, shortly after I arrived in the Windy City to work at radio giant WLS, I stepped into an elevator and I met the man who showed me just what it meant to have one's own voice. “This is our new FM morning man, Bob Leonard,” said my program director to the third guy in the car for the trip up to the 4th and 5th floors respectively, “Bob, meet our AM morning man, Larry Lujack.” Larry referred to himself as “Superjock” and sported a world-weary and sarcastic style unlike anything I had heard prior. The key to his success, I realized, was that he wasn't trying to be someone else. He was real and he remained true to his own outlook. He opened himself up on the air and, thus, became vulnerable. A trait that average listeners could relate to. He saw things the way he did and never strayed or hesitated to let it be known. His curmudgeonly attitude influenced many radio personalities from coast to coast and through the years. His style helped change the face of personality radio. Larry's work ethic was second to none. He was at the radio station hours before and hours after his daily show......always prepared. He was the crotchety old uncle that, deep down, everybody adored. He was “charming and delightful ole Uncle Lar,” and, here I was, working in the same building with this giant, seeing him and talking with him on a daily basis. Who he was on the air was who he was off the air. At the end of that first chance meeting in the elevator of the Stone Container Building on the corner of Michigan and Wacker, when he found out that I would be on the FM while he was on the AM, he shook my hand and said, “Well, I wish you moderate success.” Once I was able to chisel away the wall that I had surrounded myself with and became real and vulnerable, I found that I too had a bit of an attitude and was kind of curmudgeonly and that, as long as I was truthful, people would listen and enjoy what they heard. That was the attitude that I brought with me to my ¼ century with the ABC radio network. That and, one basic rule - “It's easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.” In other words, if you have material that you think will work......go for it. I began to emulate Larry Lujack without compromising my own persona. His work ethic inspired me and I found myself creating a lot of material that, although based loosely on what I heard him do, eventually became uniquely me. It was real. Over the course of my time at the network, I was taken to task for sounding “too big city” for our small affiliates with what one program director called, “too much of a New York attitude,” when, in reality, I was merely being me and opening up and sharing myself with the listeners. When I was diagnosed with diabetes, I would test my blood sugar on the air and give prizes to whoever made the closest guess and I would talk about issues that we all had, good and bad, as I experienced them. I had found my radio voice. A voice that took me on the best ride I could possible have imagined my life would take. Radio lost one of it's most influential voices when Larry Lujack passed away in 2013. His unique style became the prototype for a generation of radio personalities to follow and he is sorely missed, but his presence is still evident all these years later. It may seem trite to say and it certainly doesn't seem adequate but.......Thanks, Uncle Lar.