Re “Broadcast legend ‘Tiger Tom’ Mitchell dies,” Free Press July 13-15 edition:

When my family moved to Richmond from up North in 1959, I was a somewhat naïve, pimply-faced kid at a segregated, all-white junior high school, with a budding affection for black music.

The love of soul music led me to surf the radio dial until one day I discovered WANT, a station that played only black music with disc jockeys that I could only assume were also African-American, one of whom was named Tom Mitchell.

But what I gradually discovered was even more fascinating than just the music. I discovered a vital, thriving community of doctors, dentists, lawyers, schools, churches, barbershops, retailers, musicians, night clubs and concert promoters — a major part of Richmond that few white people knew anything about!

As I digested radio commercials for cosmetic products, record stores, nightclubs and concerts, I became fascinated with this community. In lily-white suburban Richmond, that black community seemed like it could have been on Mars.

My curiosity rose as I learned that all the recording artists I enjoyed were performing regularly in Richmond at places called Market Inn, Gregory’s Ballroom, Clay Street Coliseum and Rendezvous East.

Through an unusual chain of events, several years later I got to know Mr. Mitchell and ended up as one of the WANT disc jockeys — the first, and only, white one. Hindsight tells me how controversial it must have been for Mr. Mitchell to sponsor my hiring.

Only later, after my excitement died down, did I accept that my job properly belonged to a young aspiring black broadcaster given the fact that mainstream media had absolutely no interest in hiring them. Still, for the better part of two years, I was privileged to be one of the voices heard in countless black households in Central Virginia.

Tom Mitchell taught me so much. He taught me that a black radio station in the segregated South was a one-stop headquarters for a community that was all but ignored by daily newspapers and mainstream radio and TV.

WANT broadcasted church services, live performances by gospel quartets, local community news, political information — so important in the twilight years of the 1960s Civil Rights Movement — school news, local sports and on and on. Anyone who wanted or needed to reach Richmond’s black community had to come through WANT.

My two years there were an education, an exposure to that side of Richmond that white people ignored, to their own loss.

Mr. Mitchell was a good broadcaster but he was a journalist at heart. A former newspaper reporter, he studied the daily papers like they were textbooks. And when the mainstream media ignored black news or got something wrong, Mr. Mitchell came running to make sure all of us on the air set the record straight.

I learned something new in nearly every conversation with Tom Mitchell. He never made me feel like an outsider. I later learned he had even quietly shielded me from those in the community who viewed me as an opportunistic carpetbagger.

He was also a concert promoter. He was the local rep for most of the R&B, gospel and jazz tours that came to Richmond. With that as my passion, he taught me the music business — everything from how to scale ticket prices and how to write advertisements, to the ins and outs of working with venues, artists and their managers.

Mr. Mitchell knew I loved James Brown. When Mr. Brown was scheduled for a one-nighter in Richmond during the summer of 1965, Mr. Mitchell asked him to visit WANT for an interview. Mr. Brown told Mr. Mitchell he had been on the road all night and was too tired. So Mr. Mitchell looked at me and asked, “You want to go meet James Brown?” He knew the answer.

I schlepped a tape recorder to Mr. Brown’s hotel room and made a new friend — one that would hire me for my first road gig in 1969.

I don’t know what Tom Mitchell told James Brown that morning, but he took a liking to me, spending an hour talking about music, the success of Motown, his own career plans, his views on civil rights and black radio’s responsibilities. I was a teenager, a radio novice, but Mr. Brown made me feel like I was Dick Clark.

I owe my career to Mr. Mitchell. But more importantly, I owe my opportunity to experience and learn about the black community and its rich diversity in a way seldom afforded white Americans in the 1960s. It wasn’t Mars. It wasn’t remote. It was right there in the heart of my city, all of our city, and I was blessed to be one of the very few people to properly experience all of Richmond in the 1960s.

To borrow a phrase from another dear friend, Tom Mitchell lives in my heart forever and pays no rent. RIP Tom Mitchell.

ALAN LEEDS

Minneapolis

The writer went on to become tour manager for Prince, D’Angelo and Chris Rock. He was named president of Prince’s Paisley Park Records in 1989. He won a Grammy Award in 1992 for Best Album Notes for the James Brown box set “Star Time.”