It was a quiet Wednesday morning when the familiar voice of Pierre Robert, the man whose radio-show greeting “Greetings, Citizens” became a ritual in Philadelphia, went silent. At age 70, Robert was found deceased in his home before his usual afternoon shift at WMMR (93.3 FM), marking the end of an extraordinary 44-year run with the station. No cause of death has been made public, and authorities say no foul play is suspected.
From his arrival in Philadelphia in 1981—after leaving a radio job in San Francisco and arriving with little more than a Volkswagen van and a dream—Robert built more than just a radio show. He crafted a connection. He started in the WMMR music library and eventually moved on-air—his voice becoming one of the region’s most recognizable. His midday slot brought listeners everything from classic rock to local gems, delivered with warmth, honesty and genuine enthusiasm.
The station’s parent company, Beasley Media Group, captured it well: Robert was “the heart and soul of WMMR,” CEO Caroline Beasley said. “Pierre’s unwavering love for music and his deep connection with listeners made him one of radio’s most enduring and beloved voices. He will be greatly missed.”
Listeners remember more than the music. They remember the empathy behind it. Through his signature ‘Greetings, Citizens’ and his unfiltered responses to life’s highs and lows, Robert didn’t just broadcast music—he shared a feeling of belonging. One friend and collaborator, The Hooters drummer David Uosikkinen, summed it up: “He was such a thoughtful human being… he knew how much I loved that film” — recalling a boat ride the two took where Robert pointed out a scene-setting moment from The Godfather II.
On the air, Robert’s features—“Noontime Workforce Blocks,” “Pierre’s Vinyl Cut,” and his annual marathon of Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant”—became beloved rituals. He championed local artists, brought new voices into the rotation, and transcended generational divides. Off-air, his charitable work—such as on behalf of the AIDS Walk and the hunger-relief project MANNA’s Pie in the Sky—revealed a man grounded in community as much as culture.
As news of his death spread, tributes poured in. On Instagram, WMMR hosts Preston Elliot and Steve Morrison wrote, “He preached the gospel of rock n’ roll, and gave us all common ground to dance on… in good times his optimism was infectious, and on tough days his words offered familiar comfort to every Good Citizen.” Meanwhile, rock stars who had passed through his studio—among them Jon Bon Jovi—echoed his impact, noting how he loved music, musicians and the act of listening itself.
That Robert left no successor named and that WMMR suspended programming in his honor tells you something about the space he occupied: not just as a DJ, but as a fixture of the city’s cultural beat. For decades, whether you were stuck in traffic or sipping coffee at lunchtime, the voice of Pierre Robert spelled “that’s Philly”—warm, unpretentious, real.
In the end, his departure feels less like an end and more like the fade-out on a perfect set list. The songs keep playing—but with a pause, a moment of silence for the man who made them feel like part of our lives. Farewell, Citizen.
