The soaring clarinet solo which opens George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” would waft through the speakers, the short musical clip flowing smoothly into a montage of songs by Tom Waits, Frank Sinatra, Hank Snow, the Dinning Sisters and others.
Then: “This is Stuart Meyers, welcoming you to “Plain Ol’ Horizons,” a variety show on WRFG, Atlanta.” The delivery was stately meets folksy and low-key, radiating his love and enthusiasm for a tremendous variety of music: traditional blues, jazz, R&B, a selection of crooners, big band stylings, a sprinkling of classical, even a dollop of rock ‘n’ roll.
On Sunday afternoon for nearly three decades, Meyers, who ran his own law practice on work days, held forth as a popular volunteer disc jockey on public radio station WRFG (89.3 FM). His considerable knowledge and ability to weave different musical genres into a tapestry endeared him to listeners. And he pulled much of that music from his own massive record collection, begun as a child.
“He was like an old-style entertainer,” says fellow WRFG host and longtime friend Steve Kilbride. “He tied it all together with his personality.” Associates say his show was one of the most popular on the station and always raised a healthy amount during fund drives.
Stuart Meyers of Dunwoody died from complications of Alzheimer’s disease Sept. 12. He is survived by his wife, Nancy, stepdaughters Shari Miller and Janna Landreth, their partners, and a number of grandchildren and nephews. A memorial gathering will be planned later.
Credit: Courtesy of family
Credit: Courtesy of family
Friends say his WRFG program reflected his nearly lifelong immersion in music — on which the needle dropped early.
“His father started a record collection for him when he was about eight years old,” says his wife Nancy. “And it just sort of grew from there. "
“He must have had about 100,000 records and CDs and 8-tracks and cassette tapes,” Nancy says. Music stacked up on shelves in their house stretching nearly to the ceiling. Vinyl, tape and CDs piled up in cupboards and closets and in the attic.
He explained his passion in a 1997 Atlanta Journal-Constitution interview.
“I’ve got a theory that whatever impresses people in their formative years has a place in their heart for the rest of their lives,” he said.
A proud Emory University School of Law graduate, he carved out his career as an attorney working in medical malpractice, personal injury and divorce cases.
But “essentially being a lawyer was something he did so he had enough money to indulge his real passion, which was music,” said Dave Aton, who hosts a Celtic show on WRFG.
Law-school buddy Larry Thomason recalls Meyers relating how at Grady High School, the 3 p.m. bell signaling the end of the school day would send students scattering to football practice, cheerleader practice and other destinations.
But not Stuart.
“He would run home and tune his radio to WAOK, which played nothing but Black music. A guy named Piano Red came on at 3, with lots of talk, jokes, laughter and fabulous music that nobody else was playing in Atlanta as far as I was aware,” Thompson said.
Meyers’ search for the fabulous drove him to haunt local record stores, to buy, sell and trade music, to embark on quests for rare recordings, and to listen voraciously to the radio. Then he would widen the musical horizons of his listeners, sharing finds during his Sunday voyage.
And whether the subject was music, issues of the day or anything else, he never hesitated to speak his mind.
“He had strong opinions on what was good and sounded beautiful,” said Nancy Meyers. “He would tell people he didn’t like the Beatles.”
He was equally committed to a number of social causes, including a group working to ban smoking in public, and given to dressing in his own style.
“He was very dapper,” says his fried Thomason. “But he would put together ‘costumes’ sometimes for lack of a better way to put it. Wild hats, wild ties, stripes with checks. He could get away with it. That was his personality.”
Friends say one of his favored ties featured a patriotic theme on the front — a Norman Rockwellian youngster toting the Stars and Stripes. When complemented about it, he would flip it to display the back side — a design featuring a buxom woman biting into a banana.
The WRFG gig — which began in 1980 — came to an end in 2018, says Nancy Meyers. But his passion remained lit.
He loved to spend time in their living room, in a comfortable recliner, surrounded by his towering stacks of music and lovingly cared for high-end audio gear.
Appropriately enough, she says of that room, “our granddaughter called it ‘the radio show.’”
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