He still takes to the airwaves from a Palm Springs studio six nights a week from 7 p.m. to midnight, hosting The Art Laboe Connection — a show broadcast on more than a dozen stations across California.

Watch a tribute to Art Laboe produced by videographer Bryan Mendez:



Laboe spends hours every day playing songs that are about the heart.

“Love is a powerful medicine, whether you’re falling in love, or out of love,” he says.

Connecting Loved Ones, In and Out of Prison

These days, many of those calling in with regular dedications have loved ones in prison.

"He's just an amazing DJ. I would listen to him until my last breath," says longtime listener Rosie Morales, of Sylmar.

She calls in every single day with a dedication to her husband Scrappy, who's serving a life sentence in Kern Valley State Prison in Delano. She can't call her husband directly right now, because he's in solitary confinement. But she can hear Laboe smooch kisses sent by her husband into his microphone.

"He's able to communicate to our loved ones when we can't," Morales says. "He brings that spark into relationships."

“They’re there, man and wife, every night, man and wife, doing it to each other, dedications," Laboe laughs. "Conjugal, but not conjugal."

Some prisoners send in a week's worth of dedications to their spouses or lovers, with a different love song for each day of the week.

"Art’s so concerned about the prisoners, because for every person that's inside there can be 10 or 20 family members on the outside affected by that person being in jail," says his longtime audio engineer, Joanna Morones, who answers phones to take dedications.

"He really caters to that family dynamic, you know, and connecting them. We're told every night, ‘I can't go visit him. I won't be able to go see him for two weeks, but I can talk to him on the radio.’ The guys in prison sit there and wait to hear their wives’ voice on the radio," Morones says.

Getting His Start — Thanks to the WWII Draft

Laboe's obsession with radio started when he was eight years old, when his sister sent his parents what he called "this box that talked." He set up a ham radio station in his bedroom at age 14, broadcasting to his neighbors.

When he was 18, he walked into radio station KSAN in San Francisco and asked for a job.

He had no real experience, and he hadn’t yet honed his rich baritone. But he did have one thing: a radio operator’s license.

The station had lost its engineers to the draft — this was World War II. The manager offered him a job on the spot. As long as he changed his last name, which the manager thought sounded "too ethnic" for the airwaves in 1943.

So Art Egnoian — the son of Armenian immigrants — took the name of the station’s receptionist and became Art Laboe.

But his music, and his fan base, have never been whitewashed. Laboe has built a huge fan base, starting with the teenagers who attended his live concerts or dances back in the 1950s. He made a name for himself hosting rock 'n' roll concerts in the Los Angeles suburb of El Monte, pioneering racially integrated, all-ages dance parties with live bands.

"I can do some nice talking in Armenian. But I can do almost that good in Spanish, too," Laboe smiles. "I’m happy that [our concerts and shows appeal to] everybody. If you come to one of our concerts, you’ll see a mixture, a complete mixture of what we have in California."

At 94, Laboe is still hosting live shows across California and the west, wearing his signature bedazzled track suit and a sparkly bowler hat.

Laboe says he knows people his age always say this kind of thing, but he is nostalgic for the old days — a time when people used to have a little more kindness for each other.

“It would be good if we had a little bit more of what we used to have in the world," Laboe says. "Nevertheless, people are people and they still have the same basic wants and needs. Everyone is capable of love and affection, if they could just have a little bit more of it for each other."