Embarrassing today but filled with pride while it was happening…KOOK radio listeners in Billings, Montana heard these words, “My name is Arroe Collins…and I’ve chosen this day to be my final in what I will forever call the greatest city on earth. I openly admit my personal dreams are extremely large, in fact they might be too big…but I need to find out for myself. That’s why I’m leaving KOOK to participate with a new dream that’s taking me to Charlotte, South Carolina. I will miss you very much…I’ll carry with me every moment we’ve had together. It’s time to reach out and try to grab a different ring and I believe Charlotte, South Carolina is the perfect place for that new beginning.”
I was 23 and naive! Obviously! I had no clue where Charlotte truly was. I just knew I had to get there in three days for the March 11, 1985 debut. 7-Midnight in market number 37. I made it to Top 50 radio with every ounce of my dreams set on making it to Los Angeles by twenty five. All that money dumped into 45’s and 8-track tapes was finally paying off.
The most difficult part of the journey wasn’t leaving Montana but rather trying to get across the extremely wide Tennessee. Even today, that state doesn’t end! You go and go and right before you feel like you’re about to be dumped off the planet the sign reads, “Welcome to North Carolina!”
I remember thinking, “If I can get to North Carolina…Charlotte, South Carolina wasn’t far.”
The giant peach in Gaffney scared the ba-jee-bee’s out of me. After 59 ½ hours of driving with a boa constrictor in the back seat with an Alaskan Malamute peacefully laying next to him, the sight of something that looked like an oversized butt reached out and woke up my 1 AM.
It wasn’t until I hit Gastonia that I realized Charlotte isn’t in South Carolina. I wanted to turn around and go back to Billings. I couldn’t believe my final break on KOOK was a major mistake. I needed to return to apologize.
This story today isn’t about me…it’s about you.
There’s no way any broadcaster can stay in a single market for twenty five years without having the love and support of the community he or she performs in daily. If you hadn’t welcomed me onto your path, this page would be blank.
Several times I had the opportunity to turn my back like I did in Billings and walk away—but my good friend Todd Midgett couldn’t have said it better, “This city, county and state has allowed you to become part of their lives. You’ve planted your roots deep into this market and leaving would mean tearing down a mountain.”
I can’t thank you enough for letting me be part of your journey.
The friendliest people on earth live in the south. As weird as my thoughts can be on-air or blinking through computer screens, you’ve got a way of saying nice things about insanity and I think it starts with, “Well bless your heart.”
You didn’t yell at me when I called Biltmore Estate…Baltimore. You did react when I spoke about plugging your car in to keep it warm in the morning. Totally a northern thing. You didn’t seem upset when I called it Mun-row instead of Mawn-roe. Lan-caster instead of Lankester. And I’ve always had Concord correct…it’s never been Con-kerd. I’ve always tripped over my tongue when saying Rutherfordton, giggle a real laugh when talking about the monkeys in Asheboro and Columbia and wow do I ever love Asheville and Charleston.
I want to thank our local schools and non-profit organizations that didn’t have to invite me over. I can still see the eyes of every child who was forced to listen to one of my 362 DARE Graduation speeches. How could a non-drug person tell people not to take drugs? What the heck did I bring to the table? Then I realized…my drug is radio. So I used my addiction to it to help evolve a shy person into someone willing to become more open with their community.
Gastonia was the first city to let me display my art on canvas. My first parade was in Waxhaw followed by Rock Hill, froze during the Christmas parade in Kannapolis and sweat like a buffalo on the hills of Montana during July 4th celebrations downtown. I got to sit with the Medicine Man from the Catawba Nation…wow! Not because I was the dude on the radio but the friendliness found in this part of the world invites visitors to do exactly what the south is known for, “Ya’ll come back.” And I did and did and today is my 25th year of doing so.
I can’t thank you enough for letting me be part of your day and night.
You stood out brighter than bright when I laid in the hospital this past July…the phones were flooded with calls and the hospital hallways were blanketed with people trying to figure out the secret password that was going to get you beyond security. You made my heart better. You make dreams come true. You are the reason why today is my 25th year and these fingertips that write everyday can’t seem to figure out the best way to say thank you.
Maybe I should write a letter to the Mayor of Los Angeles and tell him the truth: Dear Sir… as bad as I wanted to bring my way, way out there style of broadcasting to your town to compete against Ryan Seacrest…I’m sorry Sir, that isn’t going to happen. You might have the big city lights with Hollywood scraped across the hillside but there’s no better feeling than waking up in a place blessed with endless amounts of heart and soul. This is where real music begins…the rest of you are just listening.
Thank you so much for 25 years! I love the way you communicate! It paints a picture for radio people to share...but the only way to see it is to get to know you and your open door has made these 25 years really dang fun!
Thank you!!!!!!!!!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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