Caleb Bond: Love him or hate him, Bob Francis embodied much of Adelaide’s culture

LOVE him or hate him, late-night talkback host Bob Francis embodied much of Adelaide’s culture, writes Caleb Bond.

LOVE him or hate him, Bob Francis embodied much of Adelaide’s culture.

Brash, showy, conservative and argumentative. And that’s just how we liked him.

His days as a trailblazing disc jokey were long before I appeared on this earth, but the story of him bringing the Beatles to town is imprinted in my mind as an example of just how powerful and important radio is.

One man collected 80,000 signatures in a matter of days just because he opened his mouth and a city listened. That is power.

They continued to listen. He moved from Top 40 to talkback, pioneering the genre in this state to become one of the best-rating radio formats.

His shows were compulsive listening. It was entertaining, boundary-pushing radio that often landed him in hot water.

He worked his magic behind the microphone and at one point in his career had more than a quarter of Adelaide listening on any given night.

Now radio is awash with mediocre reality TV stars.

I first heard Bob Francis when I was a small child. He was one of the first people to pique my interest in radio and the media more broadly.

Bob Francis broadcasts from his hospital bed at the Burnside War Memorial Hospital after injuring his backt.

I can trace it back to spending nights with my Nan who was an avid listener.

She would always switch the radio on to FIVEaa with the bombastic Bob Francis and his notoriously short fuse.

A myriad of wacky listeners would call in to air their equally peculiar opinions, only to be subjected to a tirade of shouted expletives, some of which Bob invented himself.

“Dickbrain” and “wankeroonie” were among his favourites.

As a young lad, this was the height of naughty behaviour. Staying up well past my bedtime, hearing words I shouldn’t.

I often found myself in fits of laughter. It even made my normally swearing-averse Nan laugh.

So entertained was I by this comedy that I would complain if too many sensible callers went to air.

Talkback radio host Bob Francis on 5AA in 1994.

It was because of this I adopted a habit I still continue — sleeping with the radio on. After mum and dad had tucked me in, the transistor radio I had hidden under the bed would come out and I’d lie there listening to the outrageous words of Bob Francis until I nodded off.

Now I get to bed in time to hear overnight talkback or the BBC World Service, though the language is slightly more civil.

Not many people of my age could say the same, but Bob’s was a voice I grew up with.

Behind the public persona was a caring, kind-hearted man. A man who, out of his own pocket, gave cars and Christmas gifts to listeners who couldn’t afford them. A man who raised millions of dollars for charity.

And to many of his listeners, he was a companion. Someone the lonely could connect with and have a laugh with.

Bob Francis on air during his first day as morning announcer at 5AA in October 1985.

They mightn’t have had anyone to talk to during the day, but Bob was there every night to have a laugh and a chat if they felt like it. Women would often call up to say they were going to bed with him.

Callers to his old station were in tears on Saturday night. Such is the connection that we make with media personalities. We might never meet them, but we invite them into our homes and cars.

Fittingly, the last song he ever played on air was Barbra Streisand’s People.

I regrettably never met Bob, but in my years of listening I learnt a lot from him.

Most important was to be fearlessly honest. Say what you think and say it with conviction. You can deal with the fallout later.

Even if people don’t agree, most will respect you for your honesty.

Bob didn’t care. He just went on his merry way.

Now he’ll be riding his gopher through the Central Markets in the sky and telling St Peter who’s boss.