Remembering Jock Blaney’s Joyful Spirit In Local Broadcasting

For Jock Blaney

There are some voices you never forget.

Not because they’re loud…

Not because they demand attention…

But because they earn it.

Jock Blaney had one of those voices.

For many people across the country, his voice was a weekly companion, welcoming them into the kitchen, guiding them through another episode of America’s Test Kitchen on PBS.

Steady. Familiar. Trusted.

But for those of us here in Casper, and especially for those of us at K2 Radio, Jock was more than a voice. He was a craftsman.

And he learned from the very best. Early in his career, Jock enrolled in a voice over clinic with the extraordinarily talented Mel Blanc, the voice genius behind Bugs Bunny, Sylvester, and Elmer Fudd. You could hear that influence in Jock’s work, not in imitation, but in discipline, timing, and respect for the craft.

We worked side by side in the early 1980s, back when radio wasn’t just something you filled time with, it was something you built. Piece by piece. Word by word. Sound by sound.

Jock understood that better than anyone.

He could take an idea, a simple idea, and shape it into something memorable. Something that made people smile. Something that made people listen.

Together, we were fortunate enough to create work that reached beyond our little corner of Wyoming. Work that earned recognition we were proud of, including Clio Awards and honors from the Hollywood Radio and Television Society.

But if you asked Jock, I don’t think the awards mattered nearly as much as the work itself.

He loved the process.

He loved getting it right.

And he also knew how to enjoy life in between.

I remember one night, well past midnight, probably closer to 3AM, after a long day of work that turned into a long night of… let’s just call it recreation.

Some friends dropped us off at the K2 Radio parking lot so we could pick up our cars.

Now, that lot was big. And at that hour, completely empty, except for two cars.

His at one end.

Mine at the other.

Off we went.

Both of us backing up, probably a little tired, maybe a little less coordinated than usual.

And within seconds… a crash.

In an empty parking lot at 3 in the morning, with no one else around for miles,

Jock and I managed to run into each other.

Only Jock. Only us. And I can still hear it, the laughter that followed. Because that was Jock too.

Even in the most unlikely, ridiculous moments, he found the humor. And he shared it.

That story has stayed with me all these years, not because of the crash, but because of the joy that came right after it. And that was his gift. Connection.

Whether it was through a national broadcast, or a local commercial, or a moment like that in a quiet parking lot, he had a way of reaching people without ever needing to raise his voice.

And maybe that’s why this feels so hard.

Because for someone whose voice was heard by so many, his absence feels especially quiet. Too quiet.

He was found at home, after several days, when people who knew him, clients, colleagues, friends, began to wonder. That tells you something about him too.

He was still working. Still needed. Still part of people’s lives. And even now, his work is still out there. In the way a story is shaped. In the way a line is delivered. In the way a moment is brought to life through sound. Because Jock’s true talent was his editing skills and his voice over work. So unique. So creative.

He had an ear for timing, for tone, for knowing exactly what a piece needed, and just as importantly, what it didn’t. And that creativity reached beyond commercials and broadcasts. He was even part of producing the track Ponderous with 2NU, a piece that found its way onto the playlists of many radio stations across the country. Just another example of how Jock’s work had a way of traveling far beyond where it began.

That’s not something that fades quickly.

So today, we don’t just say goodbye to Jock Blaney. We say thank you. Thank you for the work. Thank you for the partnership. Thank you for the laughter, even in an empty parking lot at 3AM. And thank you for the voice. A voice that will continue to be heard, long after this moment.

Rest easy, my friend.
You earned it.