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A piece I wrote about him in 1995. And he's still hangin' in there:

Still Biondi after all these years

Last weekend the Museum of Broadcast Communications hosted a Rock and Roll Reunion featuring Chicago disc jockeys from the past and present. Del Clark, Ron Riley and Art Roberts were there, as well as current on-air personalities Clark Weber, Bob Sirott and John Landecker.

Located in the Chicago Cultural Center, the Museum has loads of radio and television memorabilia. Garfield Goose is there, as are Jack Benny’s vault and Fibber McGee’s closet. The Channel Two camera used for the first Kennedy-Nixon debate is on display and the Museum boasts 70,000 radio and TV programs and commercials in its archives.

For me, the most fascinating thing Saturday night wasn’t seeing the Museum’s offerings. It was watching Dick Biondi in action as he broadcast his show from there.

On May 2, 1960, Biondi and six other disc jockeys took Chicago by storm when they kicked off the “new” WLS. The station, of course, had been on the air for decades, but in 1960 it switched to a rock format. It had a tremendous impact on me and all the other Chicagoland baby-boomers.

Can you remember the original seven on WLS? They were Mort Crowley, Jim Dunbar, Art Roberts, Sam Holman, Gene Taylor, Dick Biondi and Bob Hale.

Those were rock’s days of innocence and the British invasion hadn’t taken place yet. Bobby Vee, Dion, and the Everly brothers were teen idols. And their hits could be heard, seemingly incessantly, on our station, WLS.

I first met Dick Biondi in September of 1960. It was his birthday and my sister, Candy, made him a cake and then made me take her to the station to give it to him. He mentioned our names on his show and that earned us a couple of days of infamy at St. Margaret of Scotland. The good Sisters weren’t quite as plugged in to rock as we kiddies were.

I remember being impressed at how down to earth the man was. Here he was, a superstar in our young eyes, yet he took the time to talk, sign his autograph, and tell us to be careful going home.

Dick Biondi started in radio in 1950. Forty-five years in the business and he’s still going strong. Watching him in action the other night, it’s easy to understand why he’s maintained his incredible popularity.

For five hours people stood patiently in line, waiting to greet him or shake his hand or get his autograph. Most of them were baby boomers. Some had their kids with them. Others had their grandkids with them.

Despite the crowd, Dick took his time and spoke with everyone personally. He asked where they lived and where they worked and showed a real interest in them. He reminisced with those who’d seen him at sock hops three decades ago.

If they wanted a picture taken with him, he’d run around the table and pose for as many as they wanted. He gave brotherly kisses on the cheek to some of the women. His energy is exhilarating just to watch. He’s an incredibly humble and thoughtful man.

Some might say in the long term a disc jockey doesn’t have much impact on the people whose lives he touches. I don’t agree. Dick Biondi has been there while we grew up and went through the good and bad times, the triumphs and the tragedies every human experiences. He’s a constant.

He’s never been a shock jock -- unless you count his groaning to “On Top of a Pizza.” He’s doesn’t subject his audiences to his political views or ask them to embrace any pet crusade he may have. He is satisfied to be an entertainer, an excellent communicator. That is no small contribution to society.

The other evening when I said good-bye, he clasped my hand and softly said, “Be careful going home, Mike. Stay happy and healthy.” Thanks, Dick. I’ll try.

Thirty-five years ago Dick Biondi was extraordinarily popular throughout the Chicago area. He still is. I think I know why.