On The Record: Arroe Collins on Radio, Reinvention and the People Behind the Stories

Long before Arroe Collins became a familiar voice on Charlotte radio, he was a kid in Wyoming playing Monkees records on his cousin's turntable and pretending he had his own radio show. It was around 1974, and Collins had a problem. He only had one turntable, which meant every time a record ended, he needed something to say while he took it off and put another one on. So he talked, told stories and kept his imaginary show going.

“I had to rely on storytelling to buy me the time to quickly shift that 45 out and move forward with the show,” Collins recalled.

More than 50 years later, Collins is still telling stories. His career has taken him from radio stations in Montana to Charlotte, where he spent years working both on the air and behind the scenes. Along the way, he's written, produced, interviewed musicians and entertainers, and found new ways to reach people through podcasts and online content. Yet when asked what first attracted him to broadcasting, Collins admits he still doesn't have a good explanation.

“I’ve never been able to answer this question,” he said. “Radio and the art of it have endlessly consumed my journey.”

His love of writing actually started before those afternoons playing records. In second grade, a teacher named Mrs. Keefe noticed how much he enjoyed putting words on paper. She encouraged him by giving him subjects to research, knowing he would happily spend hours looking through encyclopedias for information. Years later, Becky Kent, another important influence in his life, helped him recognize something about himself that he wasn't quite ready to accept.

“You are a writer ahead of everything you do,” she told him.

That wasn't what Collins wanted to hear. He had dreams of becoming a radio personality like Cajun Ken Cooper of KFI in Los Angeles. He loved the excitement of radio and the personalities who could make listeners feel as though they were part of the show. He even borrowed sound effects and recorded clips from Charlotte broadcaster Chuck Boozer, hoping to develop that same kind of on-air presence. But Kent believed his greatest strength was writing, and looking back, Collins can see how much that observation influenced his career.

His early years in radio included time at KOOK in Billings, Montana, where he learned another lesson that would stay with him. One of the station's personalities, Dan Miller, seemed to be involved in just about everything happening around town. Whether it was a community event or some other local gathering, Collins remembers the station being there and Miller being part of it.

“Everywhere we went as kids, KOOK was there and Dan Miller was somehow mixed into the community event,” Collins said.

Watching Miller showed him that radio could be about much more than playing music and talking between songs. A good local broadcaster could become part of people's everyday lives, showing up at community events, getting to know listeners and making people feel noticed. When Collins came to Charlotte, he found someone else who understood that connection.

“Then to work with Chuck Boozer! Are you fricking kidding me?” he said.

Collins still gets a kick out of the pictures Boozer posts with people he meets. They might not be famous, but Boozer treats them as though they're rock stars. Collins believes that kind of attention is one reason people develop such strong relationships with local radio personalities. It's also something he's tried to carry throughout his own career.

“People are first in my heart,” he said.

Throughout his years in Charlotte radio, Collins worked with people who encouraged him, challenged him and sometimes told him things he didn't want to hear. He credits Bill Conway, Andrew Ashwood and Neal Sharpe with teaching him lessons about preparation and creativity that he still uses today. Some of those lessons came from opportunities he was given, while others came from opportunities he wanted but didn't get.

One experience that stands out happened at 99.7 The Fox, where Collins wanted to join the station's on-air staff. Jeff Kent wasn't willing to give him the role he wanted, and Collins remembers getting angry during their conversation and walking away. Before he got very far, though, Kent offered him something different.

“I’ll give you one minute a day. It’ll be a Rock Report but that’s it.”

One minute wasn't much, but Collins made something of it. He says that short daily feature eventually led to interviews with Yoko Ono, the Black Crowes and other major rock musicians. What started as a disappointment became an opportunity to develop the kind of interviews and storytelling that would later become a major part of his work.

Another important moment came during a lunch meeting at Concord Mills. Bruce Logan, who was working with iHeart, had gathered employees to talk about the opportunities available through radio station websites. Collins remembers Logan pointing out that radio personalities often complained about not having enough time to talk on the air. Now they had websites where they could share more stories, interviews and ideas, but many weren't taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Now that you have the web, you aren’t saying anything,” Logan told them.

Collins never forgot that conversation. “Changed my life forever,” he said. He also credits Nick Allen from 102.9 with helping him find room for his work online. Suddenly, he had opportunities that weren't limited to the few minutes he might get between songs. He could write more, record longer conversations and share material whenever he had something worth saying.

That freedom eventually became an important part of his podcasting career, although Collins is quick to point out that making good content takes a lot more work than some people realize. He spends considerable time preparing, editing and reworking what he produces. While podcasting allows him to make his own decisions, he still relies on lessons learned from the radio bosses who pushed him to improve. He doesn't believe someone can simply start a podcast, talk for an hour and expect an audience to show up.

“Stop trying to be everybody who inspires you and make your own sound and waves,” he said.

Collins has also learned that having more time to talk doesn't necessarily mean people want to listen longer. In fact, he says some of his biggest podcast episodes last only three and a half to seven minutes. That's quite a change for someone who spent decades in radio, where keeping listeners entertained was such an important part of the job. But Collins believes people will make time for something they find interesting, whether it lasts four minutes or an hour. The challenge is understanding what they want and being willing to adjust when something isn't working.

“Survival is based solely on doing your own research and making a lot of mistakes,” he said.

He calls the changes happening across radio and other media “The Great Radio Revolution.” With so many ways to listen to music, news and entertainment, Collins believes broadcasters need to recognize that their audiences haven't necessarily disappeared. People are simply spending their time in different places, and reaching them may require a different approach.

“The people are there. They just aren’t where your paycheck is coming from.”

He also knows that reaching those people isn't easy. Producing podcasts, writing, maintaining an online presence and keeping up with changing technology can become a full-time job of its own. Unlike a regular radio paycheck, a podcast doesn't automatically start making money just because someone puts it online. Collins believes anyone hoping to succeed has to be willing to experiment, learn from mistakes and develop something that sounds like them rather than trying to copy somebody else.

For all his enthusiasm about new ways of reaching people, Collins hasn't forgotten what first made radio special to him: the connection with listeners. These days, he finds that same connection somewhere that might surprise people who remember him from Charlotte radio. Collins works at Harris Teeter, and he talks about the grocery store with much of the same enthusiasm he brings to broadcasting.

“It’s live radio without a microphone and I get to see real people with real stories and real dreams and far-reaching ambitions,” he said.

He enjoys meeting customers, getting to know them and watching their lives change over time. Some are well-known business leaders, professional football coaches or actors. Others are people whose names might never appear in a newspaper or on television. To Collins, their stories are just as important, and he has a saying that sums up how he approaches those everyday encounters.

“Nobody is happy to see me. They’re happy I see them.”

It's a simple thought, but it explains a lot about what Collins values. People want to feel noticed. They want somebody to listen, remember them and take an interest in what's happening in their lives. It's the same connection he admired in Dan Miller back in Montana and later recognized in Chuck Boozer in Charlotte.

At Harris Teeter, Collins gets to experience it face to face. He watches children grow up, sees longtime customers get older and hears about the good and bad things happening in their lives. Those conversations often become inspiration for his writing, especially the journals he's kept for years to record thoughts, observations and experiences that might otherwise be forgotten.

Collins remembers seeing a picture Taylor Swift posted of herself with a large stack of journals. While plenty of people probably noticed Swift, Collins was interested in the handwritten pages and all the memories and stories they might contain. As someone who has spent much of his life writing, he understands how much can be preserved simply by taking the time to put an experience into words.

That same curiosity follows him to work every day. Whether he's talking with former Bank of America leader Hugh McColl, an NFL coach, an actor or an everyday customer, Collins enjoys learning about the people standing in front of him. He believes everyone has experiences worth sharing, even if they don't realize it themselves.

“I love the stories from those who have a legacy but don’t know it until this guy from radio asks the simplest questions.”

For Collins, working in a grocery store isn't some completely different chapter of his life. It's another place where he gets to do something he's always loved: meet people, listen to them and learn something about their lives. The conversations may not be recorded or broadcast, but he finds them just as meaningful.

“You can remove the radio guy from the studio but you can’t turn off this unbelievable calling to be with people,” he said.

After what he describes as 47 years as an on-air radio enthusiast, Collins has collected plenty of memories, interviews and experiences. He's worked with well-known broadcasters, talked with major entertainers and watched radio change in ways that would have been difficult to imagine when he was a kid playing records in Wyoming. But when asked how he hopes people remember him, he doesn't mention a particular radio station, interview or career accomplishment.

“I want to be known for being that guy that works at a grocery store,” he said. “He seems to know where everything is!”

It's a funny answer, especially coming from someone who has spent so much of his life in broadcasting. But the more Collins talks about the people he meets, the more it makes sense. He says he goes to work at Harris Teeter every day knowing it could be his last day there. He doesn't take the opportunity for granted, and he doesn't treat it as something he's simply doing to pass the time.

Collins once dreamed of being the kind of radio personality he grew up listening to. Instead, he discovered that writing and storytelling were what came most naturally to him. Radio gave him a place to use those talents, and podcasting opened new opportunities to share them. Today, some of the stories that mean the most to him come from conversations in a grocery store, far away from the studios where he spent so many years.

The places and technology have changed considerably since those afternoons in Wyoming, but Collins' interest in people hasn't. Whether he's talking with a famous musician, recording a podcast or helping somebody find something at Harris Teeter, he still enjoys hearing what people have to say and finding the stories worth remembering.

To explore more of Arroe Collins' writing, interviews and podcasts, visit Arroe.net.