Tribute to radio’s early risers

You get up at 7 a.m. Hop! Head to the kitchen where you turn on your radio to listen to your favorite show. While preparing coffee, you respond out loud to the host or columnists. It’s normal, they live with you.

But how much do you know about their reality before they enter your home?

I wanted to pay tribute to the radio morning teams, because having experienced it for several years when I was at Radio-Canada, Ottawa-Gatineau, it is an absolutely unique, almost superhuman experience.

I’m doing it now, because I know that at this time of year, the hosts, columnists and members of the production team start counting the sleeps before enjoying a normal night and treating themselves to a dinner with friends without spending their time yawning.

There are several roles within a morning shift. Everyone has their own routine, their own schedule. In my case (I did the cultural column for six years before hosting the weekends), the day began with the painful sound of the alarm clock at 3:15 a.m. At the same time, the coffee maker (pre-programmed) started .

After a shower, we slip into clothes normally left in another room so as not to wake up the “other” who continues to sleep and of whom we are terribly jealous. Washing up is quick, because unlike those who do TV and who have to go through makeup and hair (the horror), radio people can do without hair gel or mascara.

Every morning, a taxi came to pick me up at 3:45 a.m. I always had the same driver, Edgar. He knew he shouldn’t talk to me too much, because I was taking advantage of the trip to sleep a little longer. But when he did, he liked to make reference to the stars still in the sky.

One morning, another driver showed up. “Edgar died yesterday,” he told me coldly. I cried.

Arriving at the station, everyone is on their own business. The host prepares his interviews, those that are scheduled and those that we are considering adding. A morning show is cast in liquid concrete.

The researchers are already checking whether they have the personal numbers of the guests who will be contacted at a decent time. Cell phone numbers are the key to researchers.

The person who does the press review (a very demanding task) is in his newspapers, on websites and on his tablet. Summarizing an article or column is an art that requires concentration and a good background.

This great seriousness does not prevent laughter. Because if there is something that characterizes a morning team, it is their great solidarity.

At 4:30 a.m., we are vulnerable, tired, as if in a daze. Feelings are heightened. This applies to funny things as well as difficult times that some colleagues may experience.

Allow me here to underline in broad strokes the reality of the person who writes the cultural chronicle. If other team members can go to bed at a reasonable time, this person should go out in the evening. Imagine, on a Tuesday in February, you have to rush into a freezing car (while the “other” sits comfortably in front of the TV with his plate) to go see a rock concert.

There, you realize that there is a first part. At 9:15 p.m., seeing that the star is slow to get on stage, you only want to go to her dressing room to get her out of there. Finally, you get home around 11:30 p.m. wondering if it’s worth going to bed.

I remember an evening organized by the French Embassy. I only went there to interview the “great” Ariane Mnouchkine. The “big one” made me languish until 10:30 p.m. The reality of a columnist is also that. We don’t always know.

When the red light finally comes on and the show starts, it looks like a train is speeding away. Strangely, for three hours, we forget what vegetative state we are in. We are carried. It’s a very strange feeling.

Then, at 9 a.m., everyone disperses. The core of the team takes a few minutes to come back to the show. But quickly, we talk about the one that will follow. And all the others to come.

Despite everything I have just told you, I am sure that any host who has been or is at the helm of a morning show will tell you that this experience is nirvana.

So, all of you who enter our kitchens in the morning with your duvet in the air and your words loud, know that you have exactly 45 sleeps left before being woken up at 6:30 a.m. by the last one. What a big life!

P.-S. While writing this column, I thought a lot about Paul Arcand who has been getting up in the middle of the night for around thirty years. Upon discovering that he will join the team of The Press over the coming months, I learned that he will continue to deliver his famous morning press review on the platforms of The Press and Cogeco.

I am prostrate, future colleague!

My worst radio moment

Radio hosts and columnists all have a collection of anecdotes about funny things they have experienced. At the top of my list is the time I hosted the Saturday morning show on Radio-Canada, Ottawa-Gatineau.

I had been on the air for two hours. Everything was fine. Weather, sports, cultural column, interviews, everything was rolling. Suddenly, director Nadia Peiellon says into my headphones, “Stop talking, we haven’t been on the air for two hours!” »

A choice presented itself to me: plunge into deep dismay or laugh until my guts twisted. I chose the second option.

We said to ourselves that it was impossible that no one had listened. “Go back on air and give away a book,” Nadia told me.

Normally, when you offer a prize in a draw, all the red lights on the phone light up. The nothing. Then, suddenly, a little light started flashing. “Hello, who are you and where are you calling us from?” »

“I’m Madeleine and I’m calling from Rouyn-Noranda! »

I would like to point out that radio was not broadcast on the web at that time. So how the hell could a single listener hear us? And Abitibi on top of that? The mystery remains complete even today.

Dear Madeleine, from Rouyn-Noranda, I have precious memories of this time when I hosted a show just for you. It was a privilege!