Tales of a teenage DJ

Having started as a broadcaster at 16, my career has now spanned a few generations. It doesn’t seem that long ago, when people would come up to me and say, “I grew up listening to you on the radio.” A few years passed, and I would hear, “My parents used to listen to you on the radio.” Now it’s getting scary. “Excuse me sir, but my ancestors heard you on something called a radio.”

I can’t tell you how many times people have said, “Why don’t you share some stories of your early days as a teenage disc jockey? I can’t tell you, because it hasn’t happened. But if it had, I’d start with this one.

I had done the Sunday afternoon show at WEPG in South Pittsburg for a few weeks. The show that preceded mine was in an adjoining studio, where church groups performed. Through the glass, I could see the preacher, the pianist, and the singer, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was picking out songs by the Stones, the Who, and Lynyrd Skynyrd to start my show. I would use that church time to gulp down the bologna sandwich my mom had packed for my six-hour show. At the same time, I was reading the sports page.

As the church group was winding down, the preacher began his goodbyes. “Brothers and sisters, before we leave, I just want to say something about that young man in the next studio. Brother David Carroll is just sixteen years old, but he helps us with the microphones, and then helps us carry out our equipment. I’d like to honor him, by letting him deliver our closing prayer.”

I almost choked on my sandwich. “You want me to do WHAT?” I didn’t say it out loud, but I’m sure my fear-stricken face reflected that emotion. After about five seconds of silence, (it seemed like a minute), he repeated his request. “Go ahead son, give thanks to the Lord.” Let me be clear: I had never prayed publicly. Still, I was on live radio. There is nothing worse than dead air. So, summoning all my courage, and my best recollection of what people said in church, I mumbled “Father, we thank you for this food…um, that sure was a good service, and we thank you for that, and uh, have a good day and Amen.” Now I don’t know if that’s exactly what I said, but I’m sure it wasn’t any better than that.

It was not my best moment as a broadcaster, but it taught me a lesson: be ready for anything. Ever since then, I’ve tried to make sure that I’m never caught by surprise, when I’m on the air. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but my prayer “blooper” was a blessing in disguise.

A few years later, I was on WFLI in Chattanooga. One day I met some cheerleaders at a restaurant. I was doing a remote broadcast, giving away albums, when they invited me to their pep rally later that week. “It would mean so much to us if you help get everybody fired up, and give away some albums,” they said. I gladly accepted the invitation.

I loaded up some albums and headed for the school. The cheerleaders escorted me to the gym, where I marched on stage. As the students were being seated, a lady tapped me on the shoulder. “The principal would like to see you,” she said.

The pep rally was still a few minutes away, so I headed to the principal’s office. I figured he was going to thank me for visiting his school, spreading joy and love.

I was greeted by the menacing glare of an angry man. “What do you think you’re doing here?” he demanded. I stuttered, “Excuse me?” It looked like smoke was coming out of his ears, and the veins on his neck were about to pop. “Do you think you can just come in here and take over my school?” he shouted. I said, “Well, I just came to give away some, uh, you know the cheerleaders invited me to…”

“Well nobody told me about it!” he yelled. “You need to get out of