Still, the future of “Prairie Home Companion,” and public radio, without Mr. Jon McTaggart, chief executive of American Public Media Group, the parent of American Public Media, said that as much as “Prairie Home” contributed financially, he has faith in the allure of the new version of the show and that “this transition has been planned for a while.” And “Prairie Home” reruns will continue to air. After July, he will continue to have a small radio foothold, hosting “The Writer’s Almanac,” a stand-alone five-minute radio program he started in the early ’90s. But he insists it’s his other projects that compelled him to step away. Keillor has had health concerns, suffering a stroke in 2009, and, less than a week after the Minneapolis show, a seizure. The show itself, with its singing, quirky sidekicks, stealthily dark humor and fart jokes, forged a new path. Keillor also became one of public radio’s earliest celebrities, appearing on the cover of Time in 1985. That proved lucrative, as did sales of “Prairie Home Companion” recordings, books, clothes and tchotchkes. The live performances and touring built audiences and kept them connected and deeply loyal. He was a pioneering force and taught public radio valuable lessons, Mr. Keillor played an outsize role in shaping what public radio has become. (American Public Media distributes “Prairie Home” NPR member stations air programs from APM as well as from other distributors.) “The problem of ‘Prairie Home Companion’ is it’s part of public radio’s past, not their future,” Mr. “A lot of the conversation has been: ‘Did Garrison wait too long? Should Garrison have done this years ago?’” said Eric Nuzum, former vice president for programming at NPR. “Prairie Home” captured a time, before tweets and Facebook posts, when people talked more over fence posts and pots of coffee but nowadays feels increasingly removed from many listeners’ lives. While that does not include listeners on Sirius XM, or the show’s three million monthly digital requests, many stations have dropped their Sunday repeat broadcast of his show. His weekly radio audience peaked 10 years ago, at 4.1 million, and has since dropped to 3.2 million. Keillor’s people said - that he was thinking of abandoning ship then, too. In 2011, there were rumors - baseless, Mr. He has done this before, in 1987, though that retirement ended up being a sabbatical.

He had just spent hours rehearsing for the following night, May 21, when he hosted “A Prairie Home Companion,” at the State Theater in Minneapolis, before a packed, adoring crowd for the last time.Īfter more than four decades of hosting this homespun Americana musical variety program, which he created and which, in turn, created him, Mr.

Hitching a ride with a reporter from Minneapolis to his home here, he filled the yawning silences with a weird little singsong, “bomp, bomp, bomp, bomp.” His linen suit was appropriately rumpled - everything about this public radio legend suggests disregard for crisp lines - and his gangly legs were jacked up against the glove box, as he resisted suggestions to slide his seat back.

Garrison Keillor was riding shotgun in a rented Chevy, motoring east through the steamy Midwestern heat.

Garrison keillor