No Chance To Say Goodbye―Radio and Elsewhere

Years ago, when I was radio industry adjacent, it bothered me that most stations escorted their disc jockeys off the premises without warning after what would turn out to have been their last broadcast. It seemed unfair. Most jocks would have appreciated a chance to say goodbye to their audiences. Management always figured they’d go crazy and cause the FCC to revoke the station’s license.

Maybe some shock jocks would have done that, but the typical friendly music spinner of my acquaintance would just gently have faded out, providing a sense of closure to both performer and audience.

In most other professions, you do get to say goodbye. Maybe it’s your retirement. Maybe you’ve been laid off. Normal managers, as opposed to the thimblewits that run radio stations, do not frog-march you out under the supervision of security.

I might have enjoyed saying goodbye at my last concert after 23 years of announcing for the Danville Band. But my instincts on such occasions are not great. When I offered a eulogy for my mentor Dr. Patricia Swenson, I made it about me, and was deeply embarrassed to listen the other eulogies which were, appropriately, about her.

So, no goodbye at Danville was probably just as well. This way, I had a classy exit, rather than going out with “boo-hoo, look at me, being asked to move on after 24 years.” The audience will remember me as I was, a jolly narrator, not as a sad loser.