Art Bell photographed preparing for his comeback at his home studio on Sept. 1, 2013 in Pahrump, Nev.
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That's what Sirius XM was after. Satellite radio's business model relies on hosts with fans passionate enough to pay for a subscription. The company had been hunting for an "Art Bell type," says Jeremy Coleman, Sirius XM's boss of talk programming. "Then I had one of those 'Duh' moments. What about actual Art Bell?" Coleman got to "stalking" Bell on social media, eventually paying to send him a priority message on Facebook. Coleman's pitch: "I told him that the show would work only if he actually spoke the truth ... We want one thing from Art Bell, and it's Art Bell."
Bell, who had resisted comeback offers from smaller syndicators, was sold. "I'm on extraterrestrial radio now," he says, relishing the turn of phrase.
Though the deal was modest by his standards--Bell says he'll earn $75,000 annually, plus half of the show's profits for three years--he was drawn by the freedom it offered: few commercial breaks, total creative control and the chance to prove that his brand of weird still has a following among America's overworked and underslept.
The audience for conspiracies and antigovernment screeds is vast, but Bell says he doesn't want them. "George can keep them," Bell says with a smile. He's after a different demographic: "The sane fringe."
On a recent August day, bell seems in better shape than he was the last time he was on the air regularly. He traded his Marlboro Lights for electronic cigarettes, and his 29-year-old fourth wife Airyn and their 6-year-old daughter Asia keep him spry. He looks like a droopier version of his 1990s self--not a bad outcome given the hours he keeps. (Bell never goes to bed before 2 a.m.) He says his time abroad rejuvenated him too. He moved to Manila to marry Airyn in 2006, three months after his wife's unexpected death from an asthma attack.
Night has long since fallen over the Kingdom of Nye, as Bell called his home county in the old Coast intro. The sky is pitch black; just a few stars are bright enough to slice through the inky pall. Normally you can see the Milky Way, but the unseasonable humidity, Bell says, has ruined the view.
"You know," he says, "I wish you had come on another night, to see it for yourself. It's really something." But it's not an option. I'll just have to take Art Bell's word for it.