Farewell JT

I am so sad to hear that the BBC Radio Bristol broadcasting great John Turner has died suddenly at the age of 71. Turner was, for many years, the voice of Radio Bristol. If there was a major event, his was the voice you would hear. For those of us who love the radio, the passing of Turner is hard to bear.

I knew him a little bit, enough to say hello and pass the time of day. He was exactly the same off air as he was on it. Smart, intelligent, funny; he always managed to engage the listener, whether that was on the radio or in his local pub, the Lion in Cliftonwood.

For many years, he presented the station’s mid morning show, which would always begin with a phone-in. He was as fine a devil’s advocate as you could get, always ready with an answer or a quip. And that voice, oh that voice. An unapologetic Bristolian voice, darkly honed on a glass or two of red. When John Turner spoke, people listened. They might not all like him, but they listened. He was good.

In 2007, he ‘retired’ from Radio Bristol not long after the new managing editor Tim Pemberton took an axe to the schedules and took Turner from his mid morning show to host the breakfast show. He never lost the gift of the gab but the high octane early morning show was never right for him. It was only a matter of time before he walked and Pemberton filled the schedules with drab, generic presenters who were often former C lister TV presenters. The giants of Radio Bristol, the likes of Turner and Keith Warmington, retired, and, tragically, Roger Bennett and Trevor Fry died. Through a combination of bad luck and incompetence, Radio Bristol started on the long decline from which it has never recovered and probably never will.

I am sure this generation of presenters are all very nice people. Doubtless, they are all highly professional. Sadly, they are mainly bland and uninteresting jobbing presenters. Only the likes of Ali Vowles and Geoff Twentyman remain from the old days when broadcasters had personalities and knew their area when they joined the station.

When Concorde landed at Filton for the very last time back in 2003, John Turner’s voice boomed around the airfield, describing what was happening, keeping us up to date and, where he could, educating us. I am quite certain no one could have done what he did that day. He was not just Mr Radio Bristol, he was Mr Bristol.

These days, I rarely listen to Radio Bristol. Gone are the days I would make sure I heard the phone-in, particularly the Friday free for all, as JT called it. Tim Pemberton’s ruinous time in charge saw the end of so many brilliant careers and I’m afraid his successor has only accelerated the decline. Virtually, unlistenable these days, it is hard to imagine Broadcasting House on Whiteladies Road was the home to proper legends of the airwaves. But it was.

Part of me hoped that one day JT might return to the airwaves, perhaps to host a weekend chat and music show, but for whatever reason it was not to be. Instead, I would have make do with our very occasional and always accidental meetings in the pub.

They broke the mould after JT came along. And those of us who just loved to hear his voice have just the memory.

Sleep well, John. You made me laugh and you made me cry and you made it all seem so easy. And only the best broadcasters can do that.