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RADIO ICON After three decades of giving legions of loyal fans their wake-up calls, WFLS radio personality is ready to sleep in

December 15, 2007 12:36 am

Loyal radio listeners couldn't tell, but Brian Strobel was nervous.

It didn't matter that he's been the voice of WFLS' morning show for 30 years, or that his day had begun in entirely normal fashion. He was feeling just fine and he'd already had his orange juice, vitamin pill and glass of Carnation Instant Breakfast.

He'd arrived at the station at 4 a.m. as usual, gone on the air at 5, and done his famous "Dooby Doo" wakeup song at 6:05. He had a mug of Taster's Choice instant coffee by his side.

The routine was the same as every other weekday since 1977. But Friday, Dec. 7, was different.

At 6:20 a.m., as he stood in the studio overlooking the still-dark world along Washington Avenue, Strobel took a deep breath for strength and leaned into the microphone.

"I have decided to leave the morning show," he announced to his audience.

His voice wavered but Strobel plugged on. "I want to thank you for listening to me over the years. But you just come to a point in your life when you say it's time to pass the torch I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do, except that I'm going to spend the first week in January doing the leaves in my yard."

Off-air, he wiped away a tear and breathed a long, relieved sigh. "Whew," he said. "I'm such a wimp."

Longtime career

Yes, it's true. Brian Strobel is a wimp when it comes to the community he loves, and he does love the nice folks who start their days listening to him on the radio.

But he is far from wimpy in terms of the mark he has made on his adopted hometown.

Strobel will retire from the radio station on Dec. 31, wrapping up a 40-year broadcasting career that has earned him a special place in the hearts of devoted fans, to whom he is a friend, not just a familiar voice.

"Oh, Brian, tell me it isn't true!" demanded one of the many listeners who called in that morning to express their shock, their love and their best wishes.

"Put that Brian on the phone," commanded another. "I know you're 60, but you're not old enough to retire," she said.

"When Brian leaves the world's gonna stop," said another. "Who's gonna wake us up?"

Strobel, who turned 60 on Dec. 6, says he wants to see what it's like to sleep in for a change, then do something different with the rest of his life.

"Thirty years of getting up at 3 a.m. takes a toll on you," he said. "Still, this was a difficult decision to make, but I wanted to go out while I still had passion. I didn't want to stay so long I was just going through the motions. I wanted to go out on a high note."

Shoe-Fund legacy

The high note refers to more than his on-air popularity, even though he does enjoy a faithful following of nearly 100,000 listeners a day within a 50-mile radius.

He's also referring to the Salvation Army Shoe Fund, a holiday charity he's been handling since the radio station began sponsoring it in the 1980s. Station manager Bill Poole suggested the idea and asked Brian to take it on.

Strobel has promoted the project both on and off the air with such energy and enthusiasm that proceeds have risen from $6,800 in the first year's simple mail campaign to a projected goal for this year of $81,000.

If that goal is reached, Strobel's efforts over the years will have resulted in donations of $1 million to provide shoes for the area's needy children.

That's really the high note he wants to hit.

"The Shoe Fund has made my job so meaningful," he said. "Being on the radio gives you a platform to help people, and it's such a good feeling to know you can help needy kids. If you reach outside yourself and help others, it makes you a happy person."

Kim Mitchell of Fredericksburg, who heads up the Shoe Fund for the Salvation Army Auxiliary, has worked with Strobel each Christmas since the start.

"He's been at every single event since the beginning," she said. "Not only is he 'the voice' of the Shoe Fund, he is the Shoe Fund."

She said Strobel has dreamed up and planned a remarkable variety of ways to raise money over the years, making the Shoe Fund the highly successful venture it is today.

"Donation cans, benefit concerts, auctions, a 5-k run, the annual luncheon, penny drives at schools, huge corporate donations, you name it," she said. "He gets more money from businesses--no one ever says no to him because he's so sweet."

Mitchell and Brian chuckle over the old "Coke Jails" he used to stage as fundraisers in shopping center and gas station parking-lots. He built walls out of cases of Coca-Cola, barricaded himself and other volunteers inside, and begged passersby to buy Cokes to "get us out of jail."

Fifty cents from each case sold would go into the Shoe Fund, he said.

One time Sheila Quinn, Strobel's cohort on the morning show for many years, was helping him at a Coke Jail on an extremely cold morning in a Giant Food parking lot.

Quinn stepped into a nearby tractor-trailer to get warm by a kerosene heater, but she stood too close to the heat.

"Her foot started to smoke because her boot was on fire," Strobel said. "She didn't even know it until we started yelling. That was just hilarious."

Thanks to Strobel, donations have come to the Shoe Fund in many forms, from large checks to small sacks of coins. On visits to area schools, Strobel engaged area children in collecting for the Shoe Fund and shared his belief in the importance of helping others.

Great quantities of coins have been personally delivered to him at the radio station.

"They always want to bring their money in and give it directly to me," he said. "I think it's great and I'm happy to accept it. But one year someone brought in $700 in coins. I almost got a hernia taking it out to my car."

This year's Shoe Fund Luncheon at Cheeseburger in Paradise, orchestrated and run by Strobel, brought in a record $4,000.

Strobel will turn the Shoe Fund job over to others at the radio station after this year, but Mitchell said his legacy will live on. Two years ago, the Salvation Army renamed its prestigious volunteer award after Strobel to honor him for his tireless efforts over the years.

"His passion for helping other people is apparent in everything he does. And everything he does, he does with joy," Mitchell said.

Early interest in radio

Strobel dreamed of a career in radio even before his voice changed into the deep, well-modulated one that's become so familiar.

Blessed with a gift for gab, he broadcast a morning radio show from the attic of his boyhood home in Hornell, N.Y., when he was 8 years old. With a microphone, a record player, and two speakers set up in the windows, he entertained neighbors in the cul-de-sac with music and talk for about an hour every morning.

"Good morning, neighbors, this is Brian Strobel again," he'd announce.

"They were very good sports," he says.

During high school, Strobel got a job at the local radio station, WLEA, a 1,000-watt AM station where he did everything from sweeping the halls and emptying wastebaskets to playing records and delivering news and commercials.

After graduation, he went to Syracuse University and earned a dual degree in television and radio and communications and advertising.

It was during his five-year stint at WFIR, an AM oldies station in Roanoke, that someone showed him an ad for a job at WFLS in Fredericksburg.

"The job was for an announcer for the morning show," he said. "I'd never even heard of Fredericksburg, but the pay was better, the benefits were better and you got weekends off. I came for an interview and the rest is history."

Strobel also found a bride here a few years later, thanks to the radio station's ownership by The Free Lance-Star. Passing by the paper's newsroom regularly, he liked what he saw of young reporter Jennifer Miller, particularly her long blond hair.

But even though he got paid to talk on the radio, he was too shy to introduce himself. So Gwen Woolf, now editor of Town and County magazine, provided a much-welcomed introduction, which led to a double-date with Woolf and her husband, Lee, the paper's former sports editor.

Strobel's friendship with Jenny blossomed, followed by romance and an occasional kiss in the hall when they thought no one was watching.

They have been married now for 26 years and have two sons, 21-year-old Nathan and 14-year-old Noah.

Nathan is a junior English major at the University of Mary Washington and he works three nights a week as a sports assistant for the newspaper. Jenny still works part time for the newspaper and she also teaches Noah at home.

Brian said he has had other appealing job opportunities over the years, including one near New York City that would have put him closer to his childhood home.

But he and Jenny made a the decision to stay in Fredericksburg, where she grew up and where they are active in their church, Christ Lutheran.

Strobel said he has been perfectly content to be a "big fish in a little pond."

"It's never been about the money for me," he said. "Job security isn't always there elsewhere and it certainly has been here for me with this company. Plus, I feel as if I've been able to really make a mark in this area. When I walk out the door I'll never have a single regret that I've stayed here."

Jenny no longer hears him when he gets up at 3 a.m. and steals out of the house to go to work. "I've learned to be extremely quiet," he said.

Trademark ditty

Mention Brian Strobel's name and the chances are pretty darned good someone will sing "dooby dooby doo."

Those three nonsense words form the refrain of Strobel's trademark, a corny little jingle he sings each weekday morning at 6:05 a.m. to wake up the entire Fredericksburg area, every hamlet, crossroads, wide space in the road, every dot on the map.

"Good morning, Frog Level, good morning Passapatanzy, good morning Hartwood and Haymarket, too," he sings out randomly. He calls out cheerfully to places big and small, filling in now and then with "dooby dooby doo."

Some folks set their clocks so the first sound they hear in the mornings is Strobel singing "dooby dooby doo."

Brian says he doesn't know what he was thinking the first morning he sang the jingle on the air, making it up as he went along.

"It was about a year or so after I'd come here, back in the old days when the format wasn't so programmed and you were freer to play different music," he said. "I pulled out an old RCA country album and played Floyd Cramer doing "Sugarfoot Rag."

"I honestly don't know what made me do it, but I just started singing along."

He said some listeners called in and liked it, suggesting he do it every day.

And a tradition was born.

He jokes about putting the song on a CD to sell at Wawa convenience stores once he's gone.

Fun on the air

Strobel came down with a sore throat one day and didn't go to work. That was 12 or 15 years ago, he said.

Once or twice, he didn't feel too well when he got up, but he went to work anyway. "I just don't get sick," he said.

One day he was a little late because of a severe ice storm, another day he was delayed because of heavy snow. Once or twice, he's overslept.

But otherwise, he has arrived at the station at 4 a.m. and gone on the air by 5 a.m. every scheduled day for 30 years.

Strobel stands up in the studio for most of the five-hour show, sipping on Taster's Choice instant coffee and consuming three apples and a banana during the course of the morning. He favors a wardrobe of tennis shoes, black jeans, denim shirts, and V-neck sweaters.

Positioned on opposite sides of a control desk, he and Jessica Cash follow a program format that is computerized but open-ended enough to allow time for chat about the Redskins, the weather and whatever comes up.

Strobel's laid-back demeanor has always set a relaxed mood for the morning show that has made it listener friendly to folks from all walks of life. He has continued to announce daily birthdays even though consultants consider it too small-town. Early-risers feel free to call the show to tell about traffic snarls or accidents.

A number of Strobel's fans joined him for a WFLS-sponsored Caribbean cruise this summer. He also has taken listeners to Branson, Mo.

Cash, who will continue her role in the morning show after Brian leaves (WFLS is advertising for a co-host) said she looks forward to maintaining the same kind of rapport with listeners.

"I've been at the station exactly one year," she said, "and it has been such a pleasure for me and so much fun to be introduced to the community by Brian. He knows absolutely everybody in this community."

Listeners have gotten to know all of Strobel's pets, especially Goldie, his beloved basset hound who died in 1985.

"One time I was taking Goldie for a walk when this cab screeched up to a halt beside me," Strobel said. "I didn't know the cabbie but he leaned out the win-dow and said, "Is that GOLDIE?!'"

Atlee-Elmont, his bulldog, who was named for an Interstate 95 exit, also was a familiar name to listeners.

Penny Wack, who did the morning show with Brian for eight years, said working with Strobel was a hoot. They were friends as well as co-workers, giving the show a conversational tone with a lot of hilarity.

They talked about spouses, children, pets, vacations, happenings at home and whatever was going on in their lives.

"We just made each other laugh," she said.

Wack said the one word that always comes up in her mind when she thinks of Strobel is "genuine."

"You have to be 'up' when you're on the air, but he's that way even off the air," she said.

Strobel's genuine honesty makes him a little gullible, Wack said, so he was an easy target for practical jokes.

Once at a remote broadcast in Colonial Beach, "we told him a dog had come up and taken his microphone. He fell for it completely," she said.

It got even funnier when Strobel started telling listeners on the radio all about the dog and his microphone. "It just didn't even occur to Brian not to believe us," she said.

Lots of times a staffer would call Strobel and pretend to be someone else, and Strobel would always fall for it, to the delight of everyone listening.

"But he always took it well," she said.

John Allen also worked with Strobel for many years, and sometimes Strobel filled in for Allen on "Swap Shop" and "Party Line," two listener call-in shows that remained popular way past the time when consultants said they were too old-fashioned.

Allen remembers one morning when he walked into Strobel's studio a little before 10 a.m., the time that Strobel's show ended and "Party Line" began. Allen was carrying his box of alphabetized index cards containing thousands of household hints that he constantly referred to on the show.

Allen dropped the box just as Strobel was getting ready to introduce a newscast. The index cards--1,000 or more of them--hit the floor. "They went everywhere," Allen said, "and Brian just lost it. He started laughing so hard he couldn't even talk. He was doubled over laughing and finally just got up and left the studio."

Allen also remembers a funny moment when Strobel forgot about the 9 o'clock news, back in the day before computers took over the job. Strobel was supposed to have joined the network right at 9 a.m. to catch the broadcast, not a minute before or a minute after.

About 9:03 a.m., Charles Rowe, former editor of The Free Lance-Star and a former owner of the company, walked into Strobel's studio and asked, "Aren't we having the 9 o'clock news?"

Strobel glanced at the clock, hesitated a second, then said, "Well, not today."

Interest in community

Strobel's platform is the radio, but his on-air personality is only a small part of who he is.

Off the air, Strobel is always helping somebody, both at work and in his personal life. He willingly helps out with voice-overs and he takes a real interest in young people interning at the radio station. Recently he helped a college student with a project by doing the narrative for a film.

Beside the Shoe Fund, he's been a crisis-center counselor, a hotline volunteer, and a big brother with Rappahannock Area Big Brothers and Big Sisters. He also is involved in volunteer work at church.

His hobby is helping, so he knows, absolutely knows, that his future will involve service to others. "Once I get the darned leaves out of my yard," said Strobel, who lives in Spotsylvania County.

He doesn't have any plans yet, but he's thinking, praying and looking into options. At some point, he believes he'd like to go overseas and "do something meaningful."

He's excited about what's coming next, but he's nervous, too. The past 30 years have been fulfilling ones for him, and it's tough to imagine a life without the structure and rewards of his job.

There have been times when the radio station was a refuge, most especially following Jenny's breast-cancer diagnosis in early 2003.

"She's doing great now, but that was a devastating time," he said. "During all of the aftermath and her treatment, I could come into the studio and feel almost normal. I'm not sure how I'd have gotten through that period without the radio."

So for many reasons, it's tough for Strobel to say goodbye.

The morning he announced he was leaving the station, listeners couldn't see how he struggled for composure, how moved he was by their calls and comments.

The call that touched him most was from a woman who said that years ago, after just having moved to the Fredericksburg area, she was getting dressed for work one morning when she heard him sing the "Dooby Doo" song for the very first time.

"I thought that was just the cutest thing I'd ever heard," she said, "and I thought to myself, 'I'm home--this is the kind of place where I want to raise my kids.'"

She said she had raised her children here and now they were raising their children here.

"Brian, I just want to thank you for helping to make this a place to raise my kids," she told him. "Thank you for making it home."

But Brian Strobel--a man who talks for a living--couldn't find his voice. Seconds went by before he could speak, and then he could choke out only two words.

"Thank you," he said. Then he buried his face in his hands.