(By Deborah Parenti) The memories of April 3, 1974 are seared in my mind. It was the day of the Xenia tornado, which claimed 32 lives and destroyed a significant part of that charming little city, located about 15 miles east of Dayton.
I remember the eerie silence on a ride with fellow station employees over a state route on the way to an event that afternoon, when the sales manager, who was driving, slammed on the brakes and shouted “oh, my God” as a roof, still intact, whirled in the gray sky above us.
I remember the listeners who came to our downtown studio front door later that evening – and the next – and the next – hands extended and holding a check or cash, a donation to our “Xenia Tornado Relief Fund.” They represented a melting pot of humanity, all wanting to reach out and help others. As “their” radio station, we were the connection point, a lifeline to the rest of their community family. We encouraged them to write a note or leave a name along with their donations so we could recognize them and their thoughts on the air. I will never forget the man who came to the door around midnight, very 70’s in his attire, replete with cape and walking stick. He handed me 5 one hundred dollar bills with the admonition, “Don’t say I was here.” I don’t know who he was but I sure wasn’t about to ask!
But most of all, I remember the steady stream of tornado victims, all with a heartbreaking story and all in need of at least some temporary assistance – assistance that would bypass the typical (at least at the time) red tape. The man whose house and all possessions had been rudely swept away in an instance is someone I will never forget. Tears in his eyes, pride swallowed as he spoke and explained that his children suddenly had no school clothes, only their pajamas, and the local bank had been destroyed so it would be a few days before he could get funds. His and his wife’s family lived in another state. This was before ATM’s and the internet. He needed help and he needed it now.
And his was just one of many stories of “radio to the rescue” at that time. I think if there was any doubt up to then as to my pride in the industry, that love affair was sealed over those days as I sat counting over $50,000 in donations – and that was just the first night – and the faces and gratitude of those we served in the days following the tragedy – not to mention the warmth that could be felt from those who found connecting to their station a way to give back and pay it forward.
Fast forward to this past Monday and what was probably the second most horrific series of tornadoes to ever hit the Dayton market. This time, huddled in my basement, I was a listener – not an active participant. This time, rather than being part of the media outreach (and the urge to run to the station, any station, is never far from my mind:), I sat and listened as a consumer. But with full disclosure that I know and have worked with many of the voices I heard on the radio – and faces that flashed across the TV screen, I was reminded again of how much “legacy” media contributes to society, how far reaching and important its role, and why we need to preserve and expand its recognition and status as the integral communications platform it is. As Bob Pittman said in an interview on CBS “Sunday Morning” a couple of weeks ago, “I think if we weren’t listening to the radio we’d feel isolated. We love other people, and we can’t be away from people too long. Radio keeps us connected.”
Sitting in the dark late Monday evening, it was radio that kept the isolation at bay, as it kept the information, life-saving information for many, coming. My hat is off – and gratitude extended – to the radio teams – and television crews, also “legacy” communicators – for the outstanding job they did, especially those at WHIO. They kept listeners on top with all the storm details and they showed a caring, human side – cautioning people to go to a “safe place” and where and how to get help if necessary.
But there was also one humorous – if telling, in today’s world of social media – moment. One of the on air personalities fielding listener calls yesterday afternoon had to admit that he, a veteran broadcaster, had been remiss in one critical area. In explaining to his audience potential cell phone inadequacies in times of crises, he had to sheepishly admit that he did not have a battery powered RADIO to turn to when the cell went down. As a result, and with only a cell phone in hand, he was temporarily out of touch. At a time like this, that could have resulted in far more serious consequences than a chuckle of embarrassment on the air.
But his admission raises a good point. If the importance of having a radio – and batteries – in case of emergency – has been lost in the absorption by even those in radio of fancy, new technology – the communities we serve can’t be expected to be much better. Maybe it’s time for a national campaign reminding people not only that radio, the medium is important, but “a” radio, while low tech in many views, is still important, just as much as other emergency supplies. And maybe it’s a campaign in which we could inspire a battery company to “keep going” with us on it.
Deborah Parenti is EVP/Publisher of Radio Ink Magazine and can be reached by e-mail at [email protected]
