From the Desert to the Airwaves: 30 Years of Sunday Night Slow Jams™ and the Mentor Who Started It All

This year, we hit a milestone: 30 years of Sunday Night Slow Jams™. It all started back in ’94 at a scrappy little AM station in the Arizona desert. I was just a 16-year-old kid with a dream. Now, we’re broadcast on over 250 stations worldwide. Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about doing what I love—playing love songs and weaving connections through the airwaves. It’s more than a job; it’s a passion that rarely feels like work. There’s a unique magic in it.

I try to avoid getting too lost in nostalgia, but looking back over these three decades, I’m filled with gratitude for everyone who believed in me. Sure, I busted my ass—skipped prom, worked for pennies, moved to places I’d rather forget—just to stay on air. But it’s the mentors, the grizzled vets of the radio world, who really shaped me. To them, I say thank you.

Larry Watkins was the first to give me a shot. It was 1993 in Tucson, Arizona. I’d just taken this laid-back radio class at KXCI, a community station. The class was cool, but I had no clue how I’d actually get on air. Then I met Larry.

Larry was a fellow lover of Urban music, but unlike me, he was seasoned. He had just joined KXCI and turned the station into a 24-hour operation, taking the graveyard shift that no one wanted. He called his show Nyte Flyte and played Slow Jams™—my favorite. I’ve always been a romantic.

I don’t remember our first meeting exactly, but it felt destined. We bonded over our love for music, and Larry admitted he needed a night off. So, I watched and learned from him. After a few weeks, it was my turn.

My first night on air was a train wreck. My hands were shaking so much I could barely set the needle on the record. Larry called to yell at me, which didn’t help. But over time, I got better—or at least, I sucked less.

Larry was a drill sergeant—tough, loud, and at times, brutal. He made me want to quit more than once. But looking back, I see what an incredible teacher he was. No safe spaces, no participation trophies—just hardcore training. He tore me down to build me back up, instilling fundamentals that I still use today. One of his many pieces of advice I remember the most? To physically smile when you’re on the air – a big smile. Yeah, you might look dumb, but that smile comes through to the listener. And he was right. So, if you hear me on Sunday Night Slow Jams™ and think I sound like I’m smiling—it’s because I am. Thanks, Larry.

While cleaning out my closet, I found an old VHS tape and a high school report I did on Larry. I hope you’ll check it out.