For many years, I thought of Rush Limbaugh as the satirical version of a radical conservative. I assumed it was all a joke because that\u2019s how his media rise began.<\/p>\n
I know, because I was there working at a control board at an AM station in Central California.<\/p>\n
Today, it\u2019s hard to argue that talk radio didn\u2019t contribute to the partisan divides in our country. The hosts who followed Rush to national syndication were increasingly worse for discourse. The list of toxic talk radio hosts is long.<\/p>\n
Living in California, I heard the left-wing version of Limbaugh, too. They weren\u2019t as entertaining and they didn\u2019t really connect well to audiences. There\u2019s a reason few hosts achieve national prominence.<\/p>\n
Critics and many scholars misunderstand why Limbaugh was so effective and popular. They assume he was leading his listeners, via some special skills or mythical charisma. Though Limbaugh himself mocked his critics for not understanding what a \u201cDittohead\u201d was, people still don\u2019t recognize the trick Rush employed.<\/p>\n
Rush did not lead his audience\u2026 he carefully followed them, saying what they wanted to hear.<\/strong><\/p>\n Talk radio station managers track the books. They know ratings and rating trends better than many television executives. The tiniest move in ratings can cause euphoria or panic.<\/p>\n When callers started to tell Rush \u201cDittos to everything you just said!\u201d they were thanking him for expressing their values. And rating rose because Rush also tracked the ratings. He knew when something worked and when that same material was starting to fade.<\/p>\n I\u2019d argue Limbaugh was an amateur data scientist of radio ratings.<\/p>\n When parody songs worked, he played them over and over. As the value faded, he cut back on the parodies. From \u201ccaller abortions\u201d to \u201cHomeless Update\u201d segments, Rush knew when to pull the plug on a routine.<\/p>\n These final years, he was no longer funny. He was angry. He was still channeling his audience, though.<\/p>\n What scared me most was knowing that Rush, like every talk show host I\u2019ve met, followed the praise, the ratings, and the advertisers. He didn\u2019t create a tone \u2014 he reflected it back at the audience.<\/p>\n Scholars would do well to remember that Limbaugh measured everything and followed trends.<\/strong><\/p>\n It\u2019s tempting to claim the rise of \u201cconservative\u201d talk radio was inevitable. Yet, even media insiders were caught by surprise by the popularity of a format presumed to be dead.<\/p>\n Limbaugh was the \u201cfun\u201d host on stations that covered state and local news. These were the stations of morning ag reports and evening local sports. Rush Limbaugh was just the absurdity filling a few hours on AM radio when everyone was at work listening to FM stations playing adult contemporary music.<\/p>\n His little niche was thought of as a corner in the shadows, the place where old-time radio remained popular alongside the \u201cMusic of Your Life\u201d playlist of Big Bands and Rat Pack mono tracks.<\/p>\n During the summer of 1988, I interned at a news-talk radio station in Tulare, California. The owner dreamed of rivaling Fresno\u2019s famed KMJ, a station old enough to have a three-letter call sign. Our little station was a local ABC affiliate, which allowed me to experience radio history.<\/p>\n I prepared morning copy from the wire service, placed the commercial \u201ccarts\u201d into their rack, and made sure everything was ready for our morning duo.<\/p>\n Back then, the news wire was a Teletype Model 33, a device resembling a typewriter yet several times noisier. It was stored in a small soundproofed room. You had to dart in when a commercial started, tear off the wire copy, and rush out before anyone was on air again.<\/p>\n About midway through the summer, I was asked to stick around and \u201cboard op\u201d for a new program. It was going to change radio, the manager assured everyone. Yes, it meant replacing local programming with a nationally syndicated show. However, this host was going to bring listeners back to AM radio.<\/p>\n And so, one summer morning in 1988, I sat at the controls and heard Rush Limbaugh for the first time.<\/p>\n Over \u201cMy City Was Gone\u201d by the Pretenders, a booming and confident voice introduced the \u201cExcellence in Broadcasting\u201d network, which was just a few hundred ABC affiliates experimenting with syndication.<\/p>\n Before Rush, there was Larry King. Sally Jesse Raphael. I had grown up listening to KMJ, KNX, and KGO. Radio shows interviewed authors, gave relationship advice, and told people to invest cautiously.<\/p>\n Rush was different. No guests. Very few on-air callers. His sidekicks weren\u2019t part of the on-air shtick. It was Rush, and only Rush, for several hours a day. Most stations replayed the shows at night, too. He did the national spots. Rush also recorded a lot of local\u00a0commercials to build loyalty.<\/p>\n I came to dread hearing Rush, Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Michael Savage, and others.<\/p>\n Talk radio was a lot like what we\u2019ve experienced with the Internet. The syndicated shows let a few people scattered across the nation feel connected to each other. Listening together at the same time, the tribes of talk radio increasingly represented an \u201cus versus them\u201d mentality, with the hosts leading from behind.<\/p>\n Remember, that\u2019s the trick: lead from behind in talk radio.<\/p>\n When Donald Trump rose from joke to possible presidential nominee, the likes of Hannity and Rush followed along. These white male college drop-outs were speaking for the Trump base, embracing someone who appealed to their audiences.<\/p>\n It isn\u2019t another Rush Limbaugh that concerns me, but that there\u2019s an audience demand that will create something even worse. Much worse, judging by the last five or six years.<\/p>\n