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While most folks’ memories of J.R. Carroll include the phrase “First and 10, Bulldogs,” mine stretch back to 1981. That’s when I got the best job a teenage boy with rock ’n’ roll dreams could ever get – working as a radio station disc jockey.
My stepfather at the time – Brian Hallgren, known as Roger Scott on the air – was working afternoons as a DJ at WCVP-AM 600 when the need arose for someone to man the weekend desk. Somehow this junior at Murphy High School was able to talk Dennis and the late-great Elvia Blakemore into giving me a shot. And that’s how, to the best of my knowledge, the first AC/DC songs ever got on the airwaves in Cherokee County.
On my first weekend, I was trained by the morning DJ, a fellow named J.R. Carroll who was only five years older than me. Friendly and always equipped with a smile, J.R. showed me the ropes, including how to use the Cart Machine, set up reel-to-reel audio tapes and patch in people live from phone calls, which made a lot of my friends temporarily famous.
He and I got along so well that he asked me to spot for him on Friday nights during live broadcasts of Murphy High football games. Once I got my Federal Communications Commission card, which was required in those days, I also became the Bulldogs’ color commentator. This was in the pre-David Gentry era, when wins were like gold in Murphy, but it was still a heckuva lot of fun, and J.R. was a big reason for that.
After graduating and moving on, I caught up with J.R. at the new Walmart a few years later. He was still calling games on the air but also had started writing sports at the Cherokee Scout. As a sports editor at the time, I approved.
Several more years down the line, I spotted J.R. again, this time at the new Walmart Supercenter, which is where everyone went to be seen in the 1990s. He was using his voice to sell cars, noticed I was driving a Chevrolet and approved.
He also had started announcing at Murphy High football games, which he seemed to think was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. That smile seemed permanently attached to his face.
In December 2023, J.R. came to me, said he was retiring from the car business and wanted to write about local sports again. I couldn’t get him a byline fast enough, as I knew he would be great to have around the Scout. And he was.
His smile stayed intact through Jan. 9, 2025, when J.R. entered eternity at the too-young age of 64. His unique style and love of Bulldogs were remembered Sunday afternoon at a Celebration of Life in the Murphy High gym.
While listening to stories that brought smiles to the somber occasion, it occurred to me that I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like J.R. (well, maybe some fans of other teams might not have been crazy about his catch phrase, which got louder as the game went on). In fact, I’m not sure I’d like anyone who didn’t like J.R. He was as likable a guy as you could meet, who would take the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it more.
We heard about how J.R. miraculously survived a heart murmur as an infant and was spoiled rotten afterward. We heard about his favorite outfit to wear at home (a T-shirt, underwear and cigarette). We learned about the time he caught Payton McCracken, who was leading the celebration Sunday, pouring cereal and milk on his front porch while J.R.’s son, Tweety (Ray Carroll), drove the getaway car.
Mostly, though, we learned that there will never be another J.R. Carroll. We all benefitted that he was a part of our community. And we all hurt that he’s gone.
David Brown is publisher of the Cherokee Scout. Call him at 828-837-5122 or email dbrown@cherokeescout.com.