Remembering Gentleman Jim

He didn’t tell you about his bowel movements or tweetstorm his food at you.

He talked WITH you, ABOUT you.

When national talk radio legend Jim Bohannon died in a South Carolina hospice this weekend at 78, with him, I’m afraid, went a whole brand of radio that’s in short, and now shorter, supply.

Not to overlook the man himself.

An Army “brat” from Oregon who grew up in Missouri, Jim Bohannon served the country he loved, and later would broadcast to, in Vietmam. A stateside posting put him in the Washington, D.C. area, where his radio career took off, at stations like WTOP and WRC. Soon, he was a fixture on what was then known as the Mutual Broadcasting System, which was absorbed into a mega corporation called Westwood One.

Filling in for the famous Larry King, and later with his own signature broadcasts, he was on hundreds of radio stations in thousands of towns and in millions of hearts.

I could fill a page with industry honors and inductions, but plenty of hacks working in radio today have the hardware.

What Jim had was the decency of a humble man who had lived all over this country, and knew what it was like to be a stranger—so he never let anyone feel like one.

I’ll tell you two things I think you should know about Jim Bohannon. First, there are very few people in our business about whom NO ONE, no competitor, no rival, has anything negative to say. I can honestly think of three off the top of my head. Bohannon is one.

At countless broadcasting conferences and awards shows, in a room full of stars and talent, Jim Bohannon was time and time again the favorite choice for emcee or speaker. The kind of people who never shut up stopped and listened to him.

Second, personally, I first met him getting onto an elevator at a radio industry event in New York. He promptly introduced himself, although I knew who he was and said so.

When I told him my name, I joked that I was no one he would ever have heard of, which was not being humble, but just being true. To which he replied that he was glad that he now did know who I was, and proceeded to regale me with stories of San Antonio and stations we both knew and loved.

It was a moment that made me wish the elevator ride had a few more floors. And it was a microcosm of being a Jimbo listener—the conversation was earnest and directed out at you, not all about him. Our business has some folks who sounds like they’re talking into a mirror, not a microphone. Jim Bohannon was interested in you, not campaigning for you to be interested in him.

“Talkers” magazine publisher Michael Harrison has said “Jim Bohannon was one of the greatest radio broadcasters of all time, plain and simple.”

That alone made him famous.

What I will miss is that he and I love radio and the people who listen to it.