In my 57-plus years on the planet, there have been just two people I consider to be genuine mentors to me. Both were teachers; the first was a man who nurtured my first love -- music -- for nine years during elementary school and high school. The second was Professor Connie Allen, and she nurtured my creativity as it related to all my life's loves -- all two of them: Music, and writing as it related to comedy, film, TV and, of course, radio. But Connie's role in my life was much more three-dimensional than that generalized description.
When I met Professor Allen, it was early fall, 1978. I had just started my sophomore year at Baldwin-Wallace (then) College, and I had also just made the major decision to renounce my Music Education major in percussion at the renowned B-W Conservatory of Music after it became clear as my freshman year drew to a close that I did not possess the temperament to teach. I loved B-W, and so I turned to something approximating my only other love -- "Speech and Communications with an emphasis on Broadcasting." But I went undeclared and attended part time in Fall Quarter '78, so I could weigh my career prep options and work full time, too. In other words, I was at my first life crossroad.
In my Careers in Communications class that fall, I took a tour of WBWC 88.3 fm across the street from the Art and Drama Center. And I was bitten and smitten. The humble little 10-watt radio station above the campus's gym was a beautiful, rough-edged sight and sound to my eyes and ears.
I can't recollect how the next step happened, but obviously I was informed that the station's Faculty Advisor was Professor. Constance Allen, and the next thing I knew, I was walking down the second-floor hall at the A&DC and into this woman's office. The first thing that struck me about Connie was that she was warm and inviting. She immediately put my 19-year-old self at ease. I told her my crossroad story, and what my creative loves were, and I'll never forget what she said next: "You know, when you first walked in, I thought, 'writer/director.'" I was a goner.
She made me feel valued. Unique. She renewed my purpose and gave me direction. She invited me to call her "Connie," which was so cool, but of course I didn't because I was 19 and where I come from teenagers don't call teachers by their first names no matter how cool they are.
She encouraged me to declare the aforementioned Speech major and return to full-time studenting in Winter Quarter. She became my Student Advisor. And, she told me of the wonderful creative opportunities at BW-88 across Bagley Road. This tiny woman's enthusiasm, warmth and intelligence were contagious.
So on the first Sunday in January 1979, I ventured to the station on official business and became the radio station's Assistant Music Director under MD Patti Pellegrino. The next quarter, I became MD as Patti was graduating.
That summer, again with Connie's encouragement, I got my on-air license, became a DJ and started hosting a weekly comedy show along with doing format rock shows in our brand new format we all collaborated on, "Rock Introductions."
I recall attending wonderful Christmas parties Connie and her husband graciously and generously hosted for WBWC directors in 1979 and 1980, and there was at least one end-of-the-school year summer barbecue at her place for the radio station staff that I wouldn't have missed.
In my senior year I became Program Director (even though Connie urged me to go for Station Manager -- the only time I remember us being at friendly odds). I then lingered at the station on a regular basis as a DJ after graduating in 1981 simply because I didn't want my time there to end. But ... life eventually took over, as it always does, in 1983 or so and WBWC, Connie and I drifted apart ... at least as a regular thing.
I cherish those four-plus years from late 1978 through early 1983. I cherish them for myriad reasons. But all those many reasons exist, and continue to inform my life, because of ONE reason: Connie Allen.
Connie fostered a learning and a LIVING environment at B-W and, especially for me, at WBWC that was vital, rich, rewarding, creative, fun and indispensable. The environment she fostered taught us (without "teaching" us) how to be adults, how to be responsible, how to be even more creative, how to collaborate and how to be passionate about every minute of it.
Throughout my college years, I worked to pay for my tuition and commuted from home. And, as I've said in other forums through the years, when I wasn't in class, working or sleeping (or at Denny's following a WBWC Directors meeting), I was at the radio station. I could not wait to get there, and STAY there. That era was one of the most joyful spans of time in my life, and certainly the most joyfully carefree.
And it all flowed from Connie Allen.
The environment she fostered resulted in friendships that I maintain and value and cherish to this day, 35 to 40 years later. The environment she fostered ended up making me be a professional writer/producer ... just as she devined back in 1978.
There is always sadness at times like this, but as I get older, I look for the joy when someone passes. The joy of a life well lived ... of a legacy worth celebrating. From my perspective, Connie's was a life that deserves an extended standing ovation. She made me a better, more fulfilled person. Not just career-wise, but human being-wise. And I suspect many of her former students feel the same way. I tried to impart all of the above to her, in far fewer words, the last time I saw her in May 2008 at WBWC's 50th anniversary celebration. I hope she knew then what she still means to me.
So don't be sadder than you are joyful -- about the life Connie lived and all the lives, like mine, that she touched and shaped. To paraphrase the great author and eternal child, Theodor Seuss Geisel, "Don't be sad that Connie's life is over, be happy that it happened."
Thank you, Professor Connie Allen, for happening ... to me, and to all of us. Brilliantly done.
See you on the next level, if we're worthy.
Russ Lindway
Class of 1981
11/30/16
