Tourists on double-decker buses, dog walkers, parents and nannies with children, in and out of strollers, pass the entrance of Riverside Church and the curbside limos, gawking curiously, wondering as a capacity crowd entered the landmark institution to celebrate the life of legendary radio personality Vaughn Harper, midday Saturday, July 8.
Harper, 70, who’d recently been ill, surprisingly passed away last Saturday morning, July 9, from complications of diabetes.
“We’d planned to visit him on Monday or Tuesday,” said Fred Buggs, a longtime friend and colleague of Harper’s, and radio personality of WBLS-FM here in New York City, where Harper got his start and gained his notoriety.
“We were going to check on him, cheer him up, joke around, not expecting that this was the end,” Buggs said.
Ken “Spider” Webb, one of the legendary New York radio personalities there to pay his respect, spoke to me about how he’d visited Harper Friday, the day before his passing. “He was frail and tired,” Webb said, eerily. “He didn’t talk much, but when I was leaving, he held on to my arm as if it was the last time.”
Until 2008, Harper was the nighttime voice of WBLS, 107.5., on their “Quiet Storm” program, one of the highest rated programs in radio history.
For you to fully understand the impact and importance of Harper, his history and all that goes with it, the word “legendary” must be applied multiple times, because, to reiterate, Harper and Webb are legendary, as well as WBLS and his “Quiet Storm” program. Even the story of how Harper got his job is legendary.
Frankie Crocker, a gifted and masterful urban radio broadcaster from Buffalo, acknowledged as one of the greatest of all of the legendary radio personalities, programmers and music directors, heard Harper on the mic at Levitticus, a legendary Black-owned, Midtown Manhattan discotheque.
Crocker had assembled and tutored, when necessary, an incredible array of on-air personalities, DJs. He put Harper on, like the others, to accompany his 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. afternoon/evening weekday air shift. Several, like Harper, had no radio experience at all.
WBLS, owned by legendary Harlem attorney/politician, Percy Sutton, the head of Inner City Broadcasting, allowed Crocker to build the station in his own image. It became the Number 1 radio station in New York, and at times, the country.
Harper’s mellow, deep, Barry White kind of voice was perfect for the “Quiet Storm” format, a mix of classic old and new “grind her up slow jams” that fit a soulful four-hour format.
Started in Washington, D.C., at WHUR, the Howard University station, and first hosted by Melvin Lindsay, another legendary story, the show’s name was taken from Motown singer Smokey Robinson’s hit single.
The “Quiet Storm” format was immensely popular there. Arbitron, an industry ratings/survey company, estimated that an average of 225,000-plus listeners tuned in to the D.C. program each night less than a year into the format. But in time, Harper became synonymous with it. His voice became the voice of the “Quiet Storm” format. It was that distinctive.
His depth, warmth and tone, and the “to the pointness” of Harper’s voice is what caught on. It became his signature, the foundation.
The music has changed somewhat, as have the personnel and demographics. But the “Quiet Storm” format hasn’t changed. It’s been consistent, the one constant. Harper was part of that.
G. Keith Alexander, another WBLS alumnus from its heyday, described the strength and amplitude of Harper’s voice during the celebration from Riverside’s pulpit. Alexander recalled a conversation about Harper with a female station listener, She’d said to him, “When I wash my hair, I stand in front of the speakers, and his voice blow dries my hair.” He recounted the conversation to huge laughter and applause, with a look of amazement still, after all these years.
Harper, 6-foot-4, born March 1, 1946, in Harlem, went to Boys High in Brooklyn and was a highly respected New York City basketball player. He was also a Syracuse University All-American who was drafted by the Detroit Pistons.
Gifted in his own right, Harper enhanced and reinforced Crocker’s and WBLS’ street credibility. Harper was an uptown guy, and all that came with it—straight up R&B. He got that kind of respect.
His toy drives and community service made him endearing. It was part of his appeal.
He married Sandra Ross in 1988, with whom he lived in Teaneck, N.J. He is survived by her and his three daughters, Dionnee, Brieanna and Melanie.
In a conversation over the weekend, singer/actress Miki Howard stated, “I loved going up to BLS at night just to see Vaughn. It was intimate and laid-back. He was so nice, cool. Those times are memorable. God bless him.”