CHARLOTTE— You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little sad to be writing this one.
The Charlotte-based radio program The John Boy and Billy Big Show recently announced it will end on December 31, 2025 after a more than 40-year run.
If you’re a 90s kid who grew up with a father who had a pickup truck, you know how impactful this is.
I’m not joking. I don’t have the statistics to back this up, I feel it played in 79% of trucks from the hours of 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. from 1985 to at least 2011.
And if you didn’t grow up hearing it, well, you’ve still got time.
The Big Show was and is a staple of morning commutes throughout the Southeast. Most often broadcast on classic rock stations, the show was made up of music, interviews, and skits.
It leans heavily into Southern humor, at times that humor can be immature and dumb, but the kind that is most often harmless. And it often portrays Isley as a buffoon, but really, the creativity and writing belied an intelligence and self-awareness that should be studied. You can be proud to be Southern and also be able to laugh at yourself too.
One of the trademarks of the show is the different characters that appeared over the years; preachers, curmudgeons, simpletons, portrayed by Isley or James or one of the other talented staff of the show. This tapestry of oddball characters created a little town of sorts, and speaks to the creativity of the staff. Is it Shakespeare? No. But it’s good for a laugh and it never took itself seriously.
Maybe that’s what made The Big Show so appealing: it never tried to be more than a fun time in the morning. Other shows got super political (and never played music), even more are too edgy, and anything else is a national show that has to try and reach too broadly to connect with a Southern audience. And while some of the skits and jokes pushed the envelope and some were not in the best taste, most often there was a line that The Big Show wouldn’t cross that others would. On the flip side, other shows preached to its audience; The Big Show alluded to matters of faith, with a cornerstone being its annual drive for Samaritan’s Purse’s Operation Christmas Child.
And it was a powerhouse for a while. The Big Show also rode the wave of growth experienced by NASCAR throughout the 90s; while other shows would be reluctant to give stock car racing any air time, John Boy and Billy not only discussed it but embraced the drivers and team members as the ordinary people doing extraordinary things they were. Being in Charlotte only helped.
Sure, the show hasn’t hit quite the same level the last few years. Losing the great Robert D. Raiford and Terry Hanson retiring were big hits. I moved to a place that didn’t offer the show, and would try to tune in when I could, but I often wondered how much longer it would go—especially when it was announced it would not be broadcast in Charlotte anymore. It’s kind of sad, because you know the end is coming one day, you just don’t know when. And then you get your answer, and something that became part of your daily routine becomes a memory.
I always said if I ever got the opportunity, I’d thank everyone involved at The Big Show for helping me out in a tough time. The summer between undergrad and grad school, I was in a season of change and uncertainty. My relationship had ended, I had left an organization that I had been a part of during all of undergrad, and I had graduated and was unsure of what I was going back to once the new year started. I retreated home.
All I had was a paid internship at The Clanton Advertiser, and that was to be my summer job. And because Clanton is 45 minutes away from Montgomery, I had a lot of time on my hands on the way to work.
So, trying to fill the long silence, I went back to a show my dad occasionally tuned into. The Big Show. And every morning, I could count on John Boy, Billy, Marci, Jackie, Terry, Randy, Robert D. Raiford, and Pillars to crack me up and get me to laugh a little more each day. And I appreciated that more than any of them will ever know.
And it may sound silly, but all those skits and characters and silliness helped get me back to a better place. After all, laughter is the best medicine.
And I’ve been grateful to them ever since.
So while nothing lasts forever, I’ll always remember that summer fondly, and I hope that everyone at The Big Show enjoys the next phase of their lives.
May they get a return on the time they spent making others laugh.
The Kudzu 