Radio boss who's out to change the face of Scottish radio

On first impressions over coffee, the former Radio Clyde presenter is measured and mannered, as quietly comfortable in his own skin as he is his cosy jumper and snug black jeans. It’s no real surprise to learn Cameron’s tandem career sees him work as a commercial pilot; he has the calm and cleverness for the job.

But after ten minutes of conversation you discover the forty-six year-old has the personality of a Battle of Britain fighter pilot, with a determination to gun down the enemy which makes Douglas Bader seem subdued.

Who is the enemy? It’s the radio competition, particularly in the form of Radio Clyde.

Cameron, you learn, endured three years of legal battling with Clyde’s German parent company Bauer Media after he was sacked. He won his claim for unfair dismissal and was compensated, but revenge is not his motivation for taking on his old station. Cameron has long believed that local radio stations such as Clyde and their Scottish competitors Heart, Smooth and Capital have lost their localness.

He became convinced the move to network shows and buying in syndicated programmes from London was killing off the Scottish voice. And so he decided to set up his own station, broadcasting at first in digital but with an FM application in the pipeline.

But does Cameron have the ammunition, in terms of experience and resources, to shoot down some of the opposition? He recalls growing up on Loch Lomondside, worshipping Radio Clyde presenters such as Tiger Tim (Stevens) and practising at being a DJ with two record players in his bedroom.

Aged sixteen, Cameron, having learned his craft in hospital radio, then landed work at Clyde as a gofer. “I could have gone to university but Clyde offered me work. I thought ‘I could learn from people who haven’t made it onto radio or those who were in radio.’ It was an easy choice for me.”

Cameron loved Clyde. “I’d avoid Alex Dickson a lot,” he says, grinning of the station boss. “I worked on the football programme Superscoreboard, but I knew nothing about football. Alex would grab me and ask me questions I knew I couldn’t answer.

“He was Old School, tough, but fair. This was a regime that expected the very best from everyone and Alex was right to do so.”

Cameron watched and learned from the likes of Stevens, Ross King and Paul Coia. “These guys had personality and I wanted to be a personality presenter, to follow in the footsteps of the likes of Steve Wright and Simon Mayo at Radio One. But when the Nineties arrived radio became slick. Now, it was all about the music, and commercial radio became so bland as a result.”

Yet Cameron was determined to be heard. And so he moved around the Scottish networks, working behind the scenes at Radio Forth and Clyde simultaneously, going back and forward from Glasgow to Edinburgh every day.”

He moved on, to West Sound in Ayr and then to Q96 in Paisley as the breakfast jock for seven years. While at Q96, Cameron began to realise another ambition. “My father was ill at the time,” he says, his voice breaking as he recalls his late dad. “And I think I needed a distraction. I had long been interested in planes, and I got my private pilot’s license. It was expensive, but I worked hard and saved up.”

His next career move saw him fly the Atlantic. Cameron had sent hundreds of hopeful demo tapes to radio stations across America and it paid off. He landed a job on breakfasts with rock station WJSE in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

However, the Scots import was as connected to rock music as he was to Gregorian chant. “I wasn’t a fan,” he says, grinning. “I was a fan of living near the ocean and driving to work along the beach front watching the sun come up. But the music didn’t matter. I just made the most of the chance to communicate with the listeners. And it worked.”

His listener numbers continually moved upwards but Cameron admits it was a real challenge. “Because we were an alternative radio station we played new music. As soon as a song charted, we dropped it.

“You had to keep moving on and I was always out of my comfort zone. But that was great in that I had to keep learning how to stay ahead, make the show interesting.”

Cameron, who is single and now lives in Paisley, loved his time in the States but he knew he had played his last Metallica record when his visa ran out. Undaunted, he returned to t Clyde. And meanwhile had earned his commercial pilot’s license (“It cost me upwards of fifty thousand before I even flicked a switch”), with a view to becoming the Eye In The Sky, flying over Glasgow and relaying traffic info, while also presenting night time shows.

“Sadly, Clyde dropped the Eye In The Sky soon after I got my license but I got daytime work as a commercial pilot, while still presenting.”

This new career adventure highlight's Cameron's pluck. “Early on I had to fly a piston plane, an eight/ten seater to a buyer in Kuala Lumpur but I got food poisoning on the way, in Egypt, and was really ill.

“Another time I was flying alone over Pakistan air space, and had just crossed from Oman, and was told by air traffic controllers an American war ship was operating in the area. Suddenly, up popped an American F15 military jet. I thought ‘That’s cool’ and began taking photos. But then the fuel gauge went into a spin and the plane began to shake and rattle. I panicked, not knowing at all what was going on. Then I realised one of the engines had shut down.”

Cameron’s calm recall belies the fear he felt at the time. “I didn’t know what to do. Land in the Emirates? Oman? Or try and land on the aircraft carrier. It was scary. It took me a few minutes before I realised that in reaching for the camera on the seat next to me I’d flicked a switch behind my own seat that cut off the fuel supply.”

In the years to come, Cameron continued to fly and work on radio, mostly at nights. But then he was axed by Clyde, along with others, the debate being about whether he was freelance, and could be let go.

“It was brutal,” he says of the legal battle. “They (Bauer) threw a fair amount of resources into fighting me but at the end it all comes down to what's right - and they weren't right. I proved I was an employee."

What’s pertinent about the story is it reveals his perseverance, his sheer doggedness which it seems has been distilled into the effort to ‘bring back local radio’, and perhaps to avenge the presenters who are losing out to the networking and syndication schemes.

“I had a meeting with the Culture Secretary Fiona Hyslop last week,” he offers. “We talked about the irony, that while there are more radio stations, there are far fewer jobs in the industry, far less local broadcasting."

His voice becomes even more serious. “Look, I’m not knocking the business models of the likes of Bauer (which owns Clyde, Forth West Sound etc) or Global (which owns Heart, Capital and Smooth). They clearly want to be a national brand. But that’s not what listeners were sold in the early seventies.”

Cameron clearly has the experience and the know-how to take on the big boys, but does he have the backing?

His state-of-the-art studio in Glasgow’s St Enoch Centre cost a six figure sum to set up. Cameron admits he has put his hand into his own pocket, as has business partner Spencer Pryor, and he has investment backers.

“We can do it. advertising revenue is out there.”

But his real currency, you suspect, is his pluck. “We’ll do 24 hour local live radio from Glasgow, about Glasgow,” he maintains. “We will be successful.”

GO Radio has already attracted star names in form of former Clyde presenters Suzie McGuire and Tim Stevens, and Steve McKenna from Real Radio. Sports veteran Jim Delahunt has also joined the (still growing) team of twenty.

“Back in 1973, Scotland’s commercial stations gave the country a local voice but that’s been disappearing. I want to bring it back. And with GO we plan to do just that.”

You just know this is a man who will do whatever it takes to succeed. And who’d bet against this seemingly benign face changing the face of commercial radio in Scotland?

• GO Radio broadcasts on DAB digital radio .