The “on-air” sign lights up outside Mike Arlo’s Chesapeake studio as he emerges from Pink Floyd’s “Money.”
“Arlo on your radio—welcome to the Electric Lunch!” he says, his signature handlebar mustache nearly touching the mic. Today, like most, he’s wearing one of his 28 Mayflower Marathon Food Drive T-shirts. The food drive is one of his favorite community partnerships.
Arlo picks up the blinking request line.
“Hey, it’s the Fox!” he says, “What’s your name, and where are you calling from?”
“Love listening to your show, man,” says Brian from Virginia Beach. “Just got off work, buddy, how about some Rolling Stones’ 'Waiting on a Friend?' ”
You got it.
When Arlo started in broadcast 50 years ago, he had to dig through stacks of vinyls to find a song, but now his vast archives are a sleek computer where each track is ready at the click of a button.
While so much has changed in the business, much has stayed the same in the booth Arlo commands each midday on 106.9 The Fox. Over his five decades with the same company, Arlo has created countless stories — hanging with the Van Halen crew, flying a helicopter onto a Navy combat vessel and wrestling a 650-pound Alaska brown bear (though, he admits, only because TV cameras were rolling).
However, one of his best stories is how he went from being a failing fire alarm salesman to one of the most recognized and beloved voices in local radio.
Arlo grew up in Virginia Beach, watching hot new artists such as Ricky Nelson, Elvis Presley and the Beatles in glorious black and white. He and his mom tuned in to the “Ed Sullivan Show,” and his dad would pass by and quip about those boys needing a haircut.
“I was raised around the same time rock ‘n’ roll was,” Arlo said. “It was a magical time musically to grow up in. I got to hear it all happen.”
Even when Arlo’s family moved to France for his father’s Navy assignment, the 15-year-old was saving to buy records from the Navy Exchange to play at school dances. After returning to Virginia, he spent evenings spinning records at the local teen club.
By the mid-1970s, Arlo had developed an extensive knowledge of what he calls “the interconnected world of rock ‘n’ roll,” where he would uncover details about major artists, such as Jimi Hendrix doing session work with other groups before making it big on his own.
“I was into albums and reading liner notes,” Arlo said, “just anything I could find.”
After his Navy stint and then a couple of businesses that failed to take off (Arlo did NOT get rich selling fire alarms door-to-door, as he’d been led to believe), his guerrilla knowledge of music landed him a gig at a restaurant. The owner told Arlo to bring his records and play some of that “new stuff,” which, at the time, was Yes and Crosby, Stills & Nash.
“I would do little stories about the bands and play the music,” Arlo said, “and he would wipe out my bar tab for the week.”
A couple of jocks heard his shift one night and told him, “you know the music; we’re doing this new thing called album-oriented rock. We got these Top 40 jocks that don’t know anything about the music.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about radio,” Arlo told them.
They replied: “We can teach a monkey how to run the board.”
The studio looked like the Starship Enterprise from “Star Trek,” filled with switches, knobs and sliders. For a little more than $2 an hour, Arlo took the grunt shift—Sunday midnight to Monday 6 a.m. Within months, he went from sixth-string part-timer to a full-time overnight DJ.
“To me,” Arlo reasoned, “You could be on the radio! Why would you not want to do that, regardless of the time?”
For a year, Arlo ended his shift and ran down the hallway to record political bits and funny sound bites with Mike Deeson for the WNOR morning show, "Deeson in the Morning." Then, he would run home, shower, and work a full day at the rental car company.
It was difficult, but it was also heaven.
“I think after miserably failing in business,” Arlo said, “it’s kind of like a near-death experience.” But in radio, he found a way to combine his love of music with his desire to make connections.
Tim Parker, the morning Fox jock, has worked with Arlo for 30 years. During Parker’s first few weeks in Virginia, Arlo ushered him into his home for Thanksgiving, knowing Parker didn’t know anyone in the area.
“He’s genuinely one of the nicest people in the world. There’s no act there,” Parker said, “And it comes across on the radio.”
Arlo is known for his participation in events such as the Mayflower Marathon, the Polar Plunge and the Rock' n Roll up Your Sleeve blood drive. But he said that making a difference is as simple as having a good attitude and trying to help others do the same.
Listeners often comment that Arlo’s smile shines through the speakers.
“In broadcasting, you have to not only please your immediate supervisor and his supervisor, but you gotta please the audience too. If the ratings aren’t there, you won’t be either,” Arlo said. “I cannot tell you what the secret to getting good ratings is. I can say that I’ve been fortunate enough to be on a great team,” Arlo said.
And every day at 3, Arlo ends his shift the same way.
“Bye-cicle!” he says, to make listeners laugh. But he says the most important part of that message is what comes next:
“Make it a great day!"
