Oh, Danny Boy...

Before November 2nd, my dream was to work for BBC London.

This station has been my audio companion for over two years, schooling me about my future home before I moved here, initiating me into the lingo and ethos of the United Kingdom, and most importantly, introducing me to my first friends who presented shows that really engaged listeners and gave a human voice to the city which I was soon to call my own.  They kept me company during Will and Kate's wedding, made me cry with their shock and sadness at the sudden death of overnight presenter Big George, and even read out a couple of my emails live on air--a transcontinental thrill for an aspiring broadcaster, to be sure.

When I finally made the big move, my familiar on-air friends were welcome company through many challenging days.  I enjoyed Robert Elms' audio explorations of London, Jo Good's hilariously frank late night conversations, and most of all, Danny Baker's show from 3-5pm every weekday.

This was the epitome of live radio broadcast, as far as I was concerned.  The Treehouse, as it was sometimes called, was often the highlight of my day, and I frequently found myself scheduling around it.  There was something addictive about Danny's mixture of humor, sound effects, interaction with fellow presenters, and welcoming the audience to join in the craziness.  If ever I find that "perfect" broadcasting job, I told myself, it will be something like this.  Something that doesn't feel anything like work.

My love affair with BBC London took a big hit this month, though, when I learned that Danny's show had been cancelled.  A day late, I listened in disbelief to the replay of that Thursday show when my favorite presenter came into work with the announcement that he was giving his last broadcast.  It was an odd mixture of the show's signature humor, a bitterness about the turn of events, and an impromptu swan song that no one was prepared for.

I cried.  Not just for the death of the show, but for the end of a dream.  As far as I could see, I didn't want to work for a station managed by folks who would pull a show with such heart, charm, obvious entertainment value and audience support.  More than that, here is a man who has dedicated years of his life to the station, (having recently returned after successfully beating cancer) and won numerous awards, about to be inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame--being summarily dismissed in the most odd and impersonal way.  It didn't seem to bode well for the future of BBC London--let alone radio itself.  I felt a growing despair.

As Danny himself has asserted, he will survive and thrive elsewhere, despite the demise of the show, because that is who he is.  Indeed.  But concerning my ardent affection for the station which until now has been so faithful--for the moment, anyway, I think we should see other people...


---
ax lies at the root
as treehouse dwellers scatter
love and laughter lost