One of my favorite humans left us this past weekend. He was 43 years young. The Washington Post cites acute respiratory disorder as the cause of death. Other statements refer to "a long illness." It's not entirely clear.
Peter Deibler (Kane)'s morning show had a 14-year run in the DC area. He was syndicated in at least half a dozen markets. If you’ve ever lived Baltimore, Tampa, Harrisburg, Louisville, or Memphis you probably know his voice too.
I first reached out to Kane in the summer of 2008. I listened to the show religiously and heard he needed interns. Did I have any radio broadcasting experience? No. Had I ever thought of being on the radio? Not really, actually.
"Why do you want this internship?" he asked.
"I've always been curious about journalism?" I said.
"We're not journalists," he said.
But he liked the video clips I sent him from social media. I had "a little extra spunk," a car, and an alarm clock that would reliably wake me up at 3:30 in the morning.
I was hired.
I have such fond memories of that semester. Like many interns, I fetched a lot of coffee and answered a lot of phones. My job was to pre-screen callers before they went on air. The first thing I learned is we didn't have time for formalities. I had to answer the phone in a way that got straight to the point.
One morning, for example, I opened with: "Kane Show! Why does the sound of a revving motor turn you on?"
(Imagine my embarrassment when the first caller to respond just wanted to speak with someone in Sales.)
It's an open secret that morning radio thrives on stunts and staged segments. On my days off, I might wake up to an urgent phone call at 6:30 AM asking if I could pretend to be a gold- digging fiancée for a partner station in Detroit. Another time, Kane cast me in the role of an emo intern who sabotaged microphones before work. He openly "fired" me on air. It was an improv education I couldn't talk about outside the office.
I think it's valid to question the role this kind of entertainment plays in our culture and how it blurs the line between what's real and what's fake.
But I don’t feel like having that conversation right now.
All I know today is I miss the goofball radio host whose life had an impact on mine. It's easy to underestimate the emotional staying power of a voice. For years after I left those studios, whatever random adventures life took me on, Kane seemed to pop up. Like the time I'd rented a Ford F-150 to move out of my apartment, stopped for a sandwich at the Italian Store on Lee Highway and a local news crew approached me for an on-camera interview while I had lettuce in my teeth.
"Thank god no one will see that," I thought. But, of course, Kane did.
The Kane I knew was magnanimous. Somehow he knew when it was OK to push my buttons (tweeting out a photo of me with lettuce in my teeth to 250k+ followers) and when I needed a little grace and room to grow. When I listen back to the radio segments I saved from that semester at Hot 99.5, I can’t help but self-flagellate and critique. Why am I using uptalk? Why do I take such audible breaths? Can I cut out the high-pitched laughter?
Kane could have easily pointed out those shortcomings, but I think he knew it would hurt. He never did. Instead, his subtle validation and encouragement gave me confidence. He seemed to genuinely believe that if I just kept talking I’d eventually find my voice, too.
I think it's that same magnanimity that made Kane such a comfort to his listeners. Yeah, you might be having a sh*t day, you might be rambling awkwardly about it, but at least we could all laugh (with you). I don't know how many times I picked up that phone where the caller on the other end would say something to the effect of: "I'm going through a really hard time, but I still get myself out of bed in the morning thanks to you.”
I never really had a strong interest in traditional broadcasting. I think I gravitated to Kane’s show because I wanted to learn how to do -- to be -- *that*.
Ever since, whenever I've stepped onto a stage, or even just placed a well-timed remark at a cocktail party, a small part of Kane’s larger than-life storytelling training has played in my ear. "And we're live in 3, 2--"
I'd give a lot to be able to tell him, once more, how much that means.
Over and out,
Alicia
(Caught your re-share on IG) … Creative fun for 3:30am: I’m all about it. 🙌😎 🙌 You lucky lady! (would dearly dig Elvira’s contract🧘🏼♀️- or SNL for 4pm!) Sorry your friend and mentor of tuned in daily life is past this place. Adored sounds sticks through absence, and replays within a reach. CoCo’s bark returning was its own crisp SF dawn air. Better than rain! - I admit to recording his barks, so scared of losing place with him.
With my flappy large pet duck in the passenger seat, my mom’s AM school drop off route was my only radio listener time, aside from when my uncle was on air. He named me the blonde bomber, told a bit about my kiddie doings, and played music requested. (Though, he did not tell the story of when I was tossed from a Mardi Gras parade float; I wonder why.) Sounds like you endured a bit of on air humor, and you are such a brave woman! You went on a reality TV love hunt. Impressive, my friend. You can surely handle radio! - Hope you’re feeling above the weather these days. Cherish the moments. ☮️ … It’s so odd for someone to pass that young.