One last hug for Dancin’ Dorothy

First impressions are so important, especially for businesses.  The appearance of your building, the way your customers are greeted.  One of my old employers, WGOW/KZ-106 was blessed for many years to have a face and voice that made a great first impression.  This was the beautiful lady who answered the phone, greeted you in the lobby, and handed over your prizes.

Dorothy Oliver was a longtime receptionist at the radio stations, who kept us smiling.  Keeping up with a kennel full of wayward disc jockeys and ambitious salespeople would bring most folks down, but not Dorothy.  She had the loudest laugh in the building and more than a little streak of mischief.  She and my then-girlfriend (and future bride) Cindy seemed to have their own outrageous inside jokes, and it’s probably best I was kept out of that loop.  A lot of us came and went back in the 70s, 80s and 90s, but we all have Dorothy in common.  She kept things running well, even though it was a bit of a zoo.  Which brings us to:

The Zoo.  Dorothy had this nice habit of saying good morning to the various AM/FM troops just before she opened the switchboard at 8:30 a.m.  She’d open the control room door, tell us we were sounding good, and give us a hug.  That lady could hug, and sometimes after taking the 30th request of the day for “Free Bird,” a disc jockey could use a good hug.  I know I never complained.  After making the rounds, she would head to the lobby and start spreading sunshine to all who called or visited.  One day in 1985, she entered the gates of the KZ-106 Morning Zoo, just as David Hughes and Jammer Scott were preparing for a mundane, but necessary task.  Amid the music, jokes and pranks, the guys were obligated to read some public service announcements each day.  You know, the car washes, bake sales and PTA meetings.  Pretty dry stuff.  David and Jammer hated to interrupt the flow of chaos, and would often dump the chore on their producer Randy Ross.  That day, even the easygoing Randy wasn’t in the mood to serve the public, and in walked Dorothy.  “Let her do it,” they all chimed in unison, and Dorothy said, “Sure!  Do what?”

They handed her a list of announcements, and according to Jammer, “She absolutely butchered them.  We put her on the spot, she hadn’t read through them, so she was mispronouncing words, mangling names, and laughing like crazy.  Of course we were laughing even louder, and it was one of the funniest things we’d ever done.  Needless to say, we asked her to do it the next day and she was even funnier.  Then we came up with the idea of putting James Brown music in the background, and Dancin’ Dorothy was born.”

Within weeks, “she was a rock star,” Jammer said.  “When we went out on remotes, people starting asking for Dancin’ Dorothy, so we figured we’d better start bringing her along.”  Adding some spice and soul to the Morning Zoo mix, Dancin’ Dorothy was only on the air about five minutes a day, for the better part of a decade.  But she made her mark, and had thousands of fans.  “She’d answer the phone with that smooth voice,” Jammer said, “and people would say, wait, I called to talk to my advertising rep, but you’re Dancin’ Dorothy, aren’t you?  She would get a huge kick out of that.”

In a few years, the Zoo guys would go their separate ways, and illness forced Dorothy into early retirement.  She had some personal setbacks, including a house fire and several strokes, but never stopped smiling.  When I was collecting old radio and TV photographs for my book, I visited Dorothy at her home.  Her voice was a little softer and her speech was a bit slower, but otherwise time had stood still.  We had fun going through her photo albums, and found several great shots that made it to the book.  When it was published, I made sure she got one of the first copies.  She was proud to be in it, and I was prouder to have her in it.  Before I left that day, I got one more awesome hug, and I remember thinking that might be the last one I’d ever get from Dorothy.  We didn’t see each other often, and although she wasn’t complaining (“Honey child, I’m blessed to be here, I’m better than ever,” she’d say), I knew she wasn’t her old self.

In August KZ-106 celebrated its 35th anniversary, and the surviving Zoo members reunited.  David Hughes died in 2004, but Greg Schaeffer, Jammer and Randy Ross (standing) posed with Mary Dabney, Jim Reynolds and Dorothy (seated) for a group photo.  On the air, the gang swapped stories and shared funny memories, and of course, Dorothy read some announcements in her own Dancin’ style.  Jammer said, “When she entered the lobby that day, everything just stopped for a couple of hours, because everybody in the building had to come and get their hugs.”  There was plenty of laughter, of course. It followed Dorothy everywhere she went.

Early Friday morning we learned that Dorothy had passed away at the age of 61.  She had suffered another massive stroke, and this time it was too much to overcome.  Radio aircheck tapes, photos, and YouTube videos like the one above will keep Dancin’ Dorothy alive online, and will introduce her to those who didn’t know her.  But for those of us who did, her voice, her laughs and her smile will always be in our hearts.  As another great radio lady, Kelly McCoy said on KZ-106 Friday, “God has his hands full now.”  And I’ll bet he’s lovin’ every minute of it.