Dave was a truly talented teacher, innovative broadcaster, and remarkable human. 28 years ago, he took up the task of building a radio station out of thin air, simply because he took seriously his students’ desire to have a voice on the airwaves. He worked tirelessly and persistently to bring this vision to fruition, despite eight years of challenges before being able to broadcast. He secured studio space and filled it with state-of-the art equipment to use as a hands-on teaching tool on campus. He shepherded over 2,000 students through their time at WSUM and into their desired post-grad pursuits.

Dave was the kind of person who always saw the bigger picture, and with clarity and certainty could guide others to see it, too. When I was a student, Dave bolstered my confidence (and gently badgered me) until I agreed to take on the role of Program Director – a job without which the rest of my career would not have been possible. After I graduated, he became my most dependable mentor, always available for shop or pep talks when needed. When I approached him this summer about a crackpot idea I had to launch my own station, his response was: “if anyone could do it, it would be you. But I’m also retiring soon and think you should consider applying for my job.” I initially declined Dave’s suggestion, but many of us are familiar with the way that Dave’s persistent encouragement had a tendency to take root...

Since stepping into the role in September, Dave has been a consistent and reassuring presence in my working life. For the first two months, he generously spent hours with me on web calls every single day to train me up and guide me through a steep learning curve. Even after his official retirement, he made himself available to me whenever I needed. In fact, I went to him for advice as recently as a few days ago. We ended that call the same way we always did, with him saying: “I am certain the station is in the best hands, but I’m always here if you need me. I love to help.”

I know from speaking with so many people from the WSUM community that my experience with Dave, while treasured, was not unique. When I moved into his office, I found a handwritten note pinned to the corkboard behind the desk that said: “there will be people in this life who will need you. It is your job to be there for them.” I imagine this was somewhat of a mission statement for Dave, and we are all testament to the fact that he lived up to it each and every day. He was there for so many of us in so many ways, and that impact will be felt for years to come.