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"Murder
at the Busted Bird Cafe"
by Claude Hall
Chapter 23
Long before dawn, I eased my pickup through the
meandering streets of that part of Beverly Hills,
passed by Hugh Hefner's home away home when he's not
in Chicago, which is more and more seldom, and got on
the San Diego Freeway, which has become increasing the
home away from home of commuters.
Sawyer was waiting for me when I got there. Together,
we walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell of a
very pleasant stucco house in a very pleasant
neighborhood in Chatsworth.
At one time, these houses had been relatively
inexpensive. These days, they were out of financial
reach of most people, including, more than likely,
program directors of radio stations.
Virginia Daniels answered the door.
"Buddy!"
"I'm here for my eggs benedict," I said.
"You dirty villain!" she said. "That was days ago.
Poor Dude ate all he could and I had to trash the
rest. Eggs benedict make horrible leftovers."
"I'm sorry about that morning. Something came up...or
came down...I haven't figured out which yet. This is
a friend of mine, Jesus Sawyer. We would talk to talk
with Dude, if that's all right."
"Sure," she said. "Come on in the living room.
He
was just about to shave."
"Tell him he would look great with a beard," I said.
Sawyer and I only had to wait a few moments. Dude
walked into the living room, still rubbing shaving
cream off his face with a towel.
He stopped when he saw Sawyer. He threw a questioning
glance in my direction.
"You been introduced to Sawyer yet?" I asked.
"I don't think so," said Dude.
Instinctively, Dude knew who Sawyer was and what he
did.
"We'd like to talk with you a few minutes," I said.
"In private."
"Of course," Dude said. "Let me just tell Virginia
that we're walking the dog."
He was gone only a few seconds. When he returned, he
was leading a cute little toy poodle on a leash. The
dog looked as if she had a pedigree quite a lot longer
than mine.
The sun was already coming up above the tree tops.
San Fernando Valley can be very hot in the summer, but
is usually very pleasant the rest of the year.
Several other men were walking dogs.
"First," I said, "I'm resigning as music director and
quasi-disc jockey at K-Oldies."
"Should I ask the reason?"
"I think you know the reason."
He was silent a moment.
"I suppose I'm under arrest then."
"No," I said. "I'll set your mind at ease.
You're
getting off scot free. Consider it a present. I only
brought Sawyer here along as...well, let's just say as
a witness or something."
"I've...."
"Don't bother to lie, Dude. Not necessary. And you
might say something wrong and Sawyer would be forced
to arrest you."
He was quiet for several yards, before saying, "I
see."
"You didn't realize it, of course, but I had the tape
deck running that day you helped me out on the
air...that day you claimed I was targeted by a Mafia
hit man. I was pretty drunk and my mind was screwed
up. I thought the call was from Jo. But she had
called the day before...Friday, the day that I spent
either passed out or in a blackout. Didn't even think
about the tape for a couple of days. But when I went
back, it was still on the reel-to-reel. I listened to
it and heard the conversation between you and Bird.
And I've given the tape to the police just for future
reference. So the, uh, business arrangement between
you and Bird is kaput. And the rest of the so-called
network. You understand me?"
"Yes," said Dude. "I can see that."
"I guess Bird was involved promoting several other
artists. Does that include Air Supply?"
"I like Air Supply," he said.
"A redeeming factor," I said.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I also like the
Sherbert stuff."
"I could have forgiven you that sort of thing, I
guess," I said. "But it's all part of the program.
For instance, you told Bird about Jo...maybe even her
real name. That resulted, eventually, in the killings
at the Busted Bird, the killing of the Mexican kid in
the explosion that wrecked my pickup, the kidnapping
of Jo and the killing of her neighbor, the raid last
night."
"I...."
"Careful," I said. "You could be implicated in
everything. I don't think Virginia would appreciate a
husband serving time. The kids would still write you,
of course."
"I didn't have anything to do with the murders. I
swear."
"But you told Bird about Jo. He's the one who spread
the word to the Mafia in New York and eventually to
Tricia Rizzo. He even lined up a, quote, record
contract with a label no one in this world ever heard
of in order to find out all about her. Set her up.
Then, as a cover up, he spread the word after the
shootings at the Busted Bird that it was all a drug
thing. He was the bird dog for Tricia Rizzo."
We reached the end of the block and turned back.
"I don't know any Tricia Rizzo," said Dude.
"No. No, you wouldn't. Technically, legally, your
hands are probably clean about the murders. Morally,
I'm not so sure. I could never work for you because
of that. And there's still the matter of the flat
tire on my pickup. It happened the day that I showed
up drunk at the radio station and you sent me home.
How'd that happen?"
He didn't comment, just kept his eyes straight ahead
as if nervous about stepping on a crack. Finally, he
asked: "Should I know about this Tricia Rizzo?"
"You can read about her in the newspapers," I said.
"It won't be the real truth, but it may be close."
We stopped in front of his house.
"Hard to believe someone would pay someone else to
push records by a guy like Sherbert."
"We already owned this house," Dude said.
"But I'll bet the payments are pretty steep and I'll
bet you were probably behind and probably you're now
caught up, if not ahead. Or maybe it was just to keep
Matilda in fertilizer. The whole situation was just a
bunch of crap anyway."
Dude didn't say anything.
"Good-bye, Dude. You'll pardon me if we don't shake
hands, but I would be grateful if you'd say good-bye
to Todd for me."
He nodded, stared at me without expression for a
couple of seconds, then turned and walked up the
sidewalk and went into the house.
I walked Sawyer over to his car.
"I don't mind Dude there being a little bit crooked,
even if he inadvertently caused everything that
happened," I said. "But I hate the idea of Wesley
Bird getting off free."
"That's not going to happen," said Sawyer who, as
requested, had kept silent during my teté a teté with
Dude.
"He stumbled and broke a leg?"
"Something like that. As Tricia Rizzo was being
processed, she pleaded for leniency because she's HIV
positive. The medics checked her out. She's on file
back in New York. Freddie at Martoni's may have been
perhaps a little wrong about Bird's sexual
preferences. We're going to send a uniform out this
morning to tell your friend Bird all about it."
"Couldn't happen to a nicer creep," I said.
He got in his car and started the engine.
"You still got the cellular phone?"
"Yeah."
"I'll keep in touch."
"Next year's soon enough," I said. "Better yet,
call
me tomorrow and I'll treat you to a beer. And if he
won't sell me a beer, a bottle of Perrier."
"At Martoni's?"
"Why not? Maybe Freddie has some new rumors by now
that would be fun to hear."
He left and I left and I returned to a castle in the
heart of Beverly Hills not far from Hugh Hefner's even
larger castle.
Jo wasn't really that unhappy when I told her I'd quit
my job at K-Oldies.
"I suspect you groupies," I said, "are all
alike--fickle--and our engagement is now off."
"I don't recall us ever being engaged," she said.
She was wearing a blue print dress. Blondes go great
in blue and even if she was just a dishpan blonde, at
least it was the real stuff. She looked lovely.
Her dog, bandaged, but mobile, sprawled on the game
room floor beside her chair. He bared his teeth at
me, but I think it was more of a welcoming grin than a
"get lost, Buddy" snarl.
"Anyway," I said, "I've been thinking that it's about
time you graduated from being a rock'n'roll groupie."
"I thought we settled all that. I told you: I'm not
a groupie, I'm a fucking rock star."
"Sure. I mean, hell, sing if you want to. We'll
scout around and see if we can get you a better record
label deal."
"I'm glad we've got that settled," she said.
"So, it's probably time for us to get married," I
said.
"What!"
"You know, get hitched, tie the knot. A disc jockey
is supposed to have an ex-wife in every major market."
"Just how many do you have already?"
"None. You'd be my first. I'm just starting out."
"Okay," she said.
"Don't I have to ask your father for your hand in
marriage or something chivalrous and noble like that?"
"He said it was okay. I asked him about a month ago."
"Shouldn't you have at least mentioned the idea to me
first?"
"Why?"
"I don't know why. It's just that I'm old fashioned
enough to think a potential bridegroom ought to be
warned he's about to become a bridegroom. Seems
fitting."
"So he can have time to escape? Not on your jerky
seque."
"I've never jerked a seque in my life," I said.
Secretly, I wondered if I was going to spend the rest
of my life being manipulated. Maybe that's what
marriage was really all about--a woman trying to
manipulate the husband and him spending 75 percent of
his time avoiding manipulation. It probably wasn't as
much a battle of the sexes as a battle for pecking
order.
On the other hand, I no longer could visualize life
without a cute little groupie hanging around...make
that a cute little fucking rock star.
And I needed someone, I suppose, to keep my dirty
laundry off the floor. If I could persuade her to do
it. I'd wait until the wedding ceremony, then pitch
that idea to her. She wouldn't be able to say no.
Maybe no about shirts, but I'd settle for the socks.
"You want to hear the good news or the bad news
first?" I asked.
"The good news, of course. I don't want any bad news
today."
"I've decided to go back to college and finish up that
Ph.D."
She took that rather well.
"Chuck and I love Austin, Texas," she said. "Dad
and
I flew down there two weeks ago to look it over. We
bought a house along the river. What's the bad news?"
"The dog goes with the deal. I'm not about to marry a
woman who doesn't have a monster for a pet."
So help me, the dog barked. But since I don't talk
dog all that much, I still haven't figured out what he
said.
- 30 -
Coming soon, a light fantasy called "Hurt."
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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Commentary
by
Claude Hall
October
13, 2003
As soon as we got to Laughlin Sunday, Oct. 5, and
checked into the Ramada Express, Barbara and I got in
bathing suits and headed for the swimming pool. But I
never had a chance to even dampen my big toe because
George Wilson came into view and I recognized him and
he recognized me in spite of the two dozen years and
everything else that had gone down since we last met.
His hair was grey and I guess he was a little
overweight, but heck aren't we all? Still there was a
lot of that charisma he always had, the charisma that
could stop a room full of people cold. He introduced
us to his wife Jackie. What a pleasant person! Then
his cell phone rang and he said he was at the swimming
pool to someone and a moment or two later Ed and
Charla Strange showed up. We soon had one side of the
swimming pool messed up with chairs. You would really
like Ed and Charla. They own the Krazy Kat record
store at 9012 Central SE, Albuquerque, NM, and next
time you go through Albuquerque stop and tell them
you're a friend of George and me, would you? I
listened while they talked of doing a promotion not
too long ago with George when he was on the air just
to honor Kitty Kallen and I thought: What a nice thing
to do. And it was.
I don't quite know how to put everything into
perspective because we were all talking--George said
he hadn't talked radio like that in more than five
years--and I got to find out about Jack McCoy, who
worked for George way back when. It was Jack who
walked into KCBQ in San Diego and ordered a cot
brought into the program director's office and
announced he was going to sleep there until the
station was No. 1 and he did and it was. Just
incidentally, Jack and a friend of his named Doug were
the first to analyze ARBs with a computer. Very few
program directors understood them in those days, but
they damned well knew what they were doing and blazed
the way for programers yet to come. Jack also
developed "The Last Contest," the greatest radio
promotion I've ever known. It was so successful, that
stations tried everything to get it and if they didn't
get it tried everything to keep it out of the market.
>From George, I learned that Bartell sold Jack the
company's interest in his division for a dollar and
later Jack sold it for several million dollars and now
lives on a million-dollar boat in San Diego. Always
wondered what happened to Jack. One of the brightest
radio people I knew. Along with Lou Dorren.
You've got to understand. George Wilson and I go back
to around 1965. He called up one day and wanted me to
write a story about him for Billboard magazine,
figuring the publicity would help him win the Bill
Gavin award as program director of the year. I walked
several blocks to where he was at the time, did the
interview, wrote the story. Don't know if he won the
award or not, but that was my first meeting with
George. One day at a convention or something in
Philadelphia, he was sitting with some people at a
table and I joined them and there was a black
songwriter at the table. He'd given up the publishing
on a song that Elvis had recorded, something that was
fairly common in those days, and I asked him if he
ever regretted losing all that money. He said, no;
purely because Elvis had recorded it, he had been able
to put four kids through college on his earnings as a
writer. I remembered his name as Claude like my first
name. George believes it was the legendary Claude
Otis.
I hope you don't feel that I toss the word "legendary"
around like a sack of potatoes. I try not to. But,
of course, when you're talking about George Wilson
there aren't a whole lot of other words that will do
to describe him.
We talked also of Jack Gale and George lamented not
hiring him as morning personality at K100 in Los
Angeles. "I didn't think of it. He would have
wiped
out the market." Gale helped George in his early
radio days and is the godfather of George's daughter.
In fact, when George landed his first major job as
morning personality in Greenville, SC, he persuaded
Jack to do some voice tracks and had the studio
curtained for his show and used those tracks. No one
knew.
We talked of Ernie Farrell, we talked about an ocean
venture on Jim Gabbert's yacht one evening out of Los
Angeles (Jim in those days lived on a 100-foot yacht
with gold-leafed ceilings, gold ornaments in the
heads, etc.; he constructed K101 in San Francisco and
sold it to buy a TV station there), we talked about
Marti Neirbass and Rochelle Staub, George's two girl
Fridays. One of them (I can't remember which one) now
works for Warner Bros. studios and is quite
successful. A rich outpouring of names like Chuck
Blore, Buzz Bennett, Morris Levy, L. David Moorhead
(the time Moorhead borrowed George's Thunderbird and
wrecked it), Morris Diamond, Snuffy Garrett, Juggy
Gales flow past me. Meanwhile, Bobby Vee has finished
watching his baseball game, seeing his Minnesota Twins
get beaten, and he joins us at the swimming pool. We
talk of Scotty Brink moving to Oklahoma City. The
conversation zooms and flies for more than two hours
about disc jockeys and program directors and general
managers. Ancient gossip. Isn't it amazing how
everyone knows everyone else?
One of the greatest Top 40 radio stations in America
when you consider longevity as a market leader, image,
earnings, etc., was WOKY in Milwaukee. George, of
course, is remembered for many No. 1 stations that he
either programmed or people under him programmed. But
the unique thing about WOKY which cements it firmly in
the annuals of radio history is that it was still No.
1 in the market long after he left. Not just months.
Years. From that station, George rose to become
president of all of Bartell Broadcasting.
I couldn't say it any better than what Jay Blackburn,
a veteran disc jockey, program director, general
manager now retired in Texas states about George
Wilson after a comment about radio needing passion:
"We learned a lot from Artie (Holt), Ron Jacobs,
Gordon (McLendon) and Geoge Wilson. I never met Mr.
Wilson, but I knew his pupils. Learned from Jack
McCoy and Buzzy (Bennett). Maybe the most important
thing we learned from George was to teach. When all
of your troops have the big picture and are cross
trained in all aspects of the operation, generally
speaking.you win. George Wilson has the passion."
Our minor convention ended shortly after Bobby Vee had
to leave to prepare for his evening concert. All of
us were at the show, of course. All of us hung around
after the show for an hour or so, me and Barbara,
George and Jackie, Ed and Charla and when we all gave
into fatigue and left to go to bed, Bobby was still
talking to fans. Great day, great show, great time.
One last thing: All of you who sent emails regarding
Bobby, I printed them out and/or emailed them to him.
Read some aloud by the swimming pool. When he read
the one from Jack Gale, Bobby said that he was
performing in Charlotte when Jack, then morning
personality and program director of WAYS, told him
that "Take Care of My Baby" was getting great reaction
and selling in the market. That was the first Bobby
knew about the record beginning to happen. He called
a distributor and a radio station up in Michigan.
"But it was Jack Gale who first told me I had a hit."
OTHER MATTERS
Pete Battistini, AT40@aol.com,
is finishing up a book
on the syndicated radio program "American Top 40"
hosted by Casey Kasem. The show, as I recall, was the
hardwork and sweat of Tom Rounds and Ron Jacobs. "It
contains summaries of nearly 500 AT40 programs from
1970-1979, an alphabetized list of every radio station
affiliated with AT40 during the 1970s, and my
experiences as an AT40 listener," said Battistini.
Jay Blackburn, radiojdb@satx.rr.com,
in a series of
three emails: "Well Claude...I do believe you have
done a great service for those that don't or can't
think. The Sept. 29 commentary was a jewel. Being
from that part of the Hill Country where the limestone
meets the granite, a yellow dog democrat and a 6th
generation Texican, I truly dislike the fakes. I was
surprised you did not mention Tom DeLay and that
Lebonese yahoo that represented Cleburn. Chance thanks
you as well. Although The Queen was born in upstate
New York she claims she is a Texan by injection and by
god I believe her. As Chance and I were just settling
in the library with our first cups of coffee to watch
the Sunday morning talking heads (we do this every
Sunday so that we have plenty of ammo with which to
rant and rave the following week). Just as MEET THE
PRESS comes on, the phone rings. At that time of the
morning it can only be one person and, yes, it is
Bruce. He informs the Queenly one that he's in his
study with his feet up wiggling his toes and smoking a
macanudo. That means his wifemate is at the Laredo
place and he has the Wimberly ranch to himself. It's
Monday afternoon now. The morning started as usual.
By 5:20am the cats were fed, Chance and I were in the
library with our coffee catching CNN. By 7:20 C.B. was
packed and ready to go. The dawn had come grey and the
wind was up. My nieghbor's willow tree was scattering
leaves all over my swimming pool. A Texas thunder
boomer was brewing in the north. You couldn't see it
from the north balcony, but you could smell it. We
always get up early. We were both morning jocks and
just never got over it. I always get lonely when
Chance travels. She is V.P. Advertising Time-Warner
Southwest. The pobahs in New York think the southwest
starts in Jackson, Miss. and ends in California. For
the next three days she's showing the flag at several
of her Texas systems. I want to thank you for those
kind words you wrote about me in the email to BME.
Well, thats how Bruce would say it. Me being me full
time, I would say "certainly that turkey couldn't
shine my shoes. I've beaten him, Pittman, Mike Joseph
and any number of so called P.D.s that worked for
ABC." BME (Bruce Miller Earle) was not just an
engineer nor was I just a progammer. We collaberated
on everything. The only part that Bruce refused to
deal with were budgets, accounting and the sales
staff. In my family there are only three real
professions: the military, lawyering or teacher. My
folks expected me to be career military. After all
military school, four other years in the Navy and 18
months of that time in other countries. I didn't have
the passion. I wanted to be a jock and a P.D. They
were apalled."
Rollye Cornell, ROLLYE@rollye.net:
"I've been
thoroughly enjoying 'Murder at the Busted Bird Cafe',
Claude. Every now and then I'll miss a week and
retrieve that chapter on my next visit. But no matter
what I do, I can't seem to find chapter 21. I printed
out 22, but I don't want to read it until I've seen
21...so is this the real mystery...finding chapter 21?
If so, I'm afraid I've got to cheat and ask for the
answer...so fess up: where is it? Thanks for a great
read.
Rollye, nothing more appreciated by a writer than
flatterly. I immediately forwarded your note to a
couple of my sons and Joey Reynolds with the
statement: "See, I told you guys I was a great
writer." The missing chapter included herein. I
hope.
Rollye came back with: "I hope you won't mind me
asking for Chapter 7...which seems to be missing in
action. In printing out everything, the chapter under
Chapter 6 (that starts with "She dragged me out of
Martoni's") is repeated under Chapter 7, and then
Chapter 8 picks up where it should. It's the
strangest thing--the column along side Chapter 6 is
June 16 and the column along side Chapter 7 is June
23, but for some reason the chapter itself is
repeated...turns out there are more mysteries in your
mystery than anyone thought! (Am I the only person
printing this out and saving it? What a waste if so!
My husband is starting to read it now and already he's
hooked.) Real nice effect of weaving actual tales
into the story by the way. Thanks again!"
Joey Reynolds, G1boney@aol.com:
"Myra Chanin (the
original chicken soup author) thinks you are a very
good writer. I have forwarded your pieces to her. How
is Tom Quigley? We are having the Cap Cities reunion
tonight with Tom Murphy, Jim Quello and many of the
people you know. I will mention you to some. Did I
tell you Rod Roddy is in serious condition from colon
cancer in Century City Medical (LA)? Jim Hilliard has
a new 50,000-watt am station in S. Florida that covers
all three east coast markets--Miami, Ft. Lauderdale,
Palm Beach. We started there last night on LIve 85,
it is all news except for late night. I am
privileged. Bob Crze came out of retiement to
program it and he was consulted by Chuck Blore.
Interesting how Blore encouraged edgy personalities
just like KFWB."
Chuck Blore, BloreGroup@aol.com:
"Thanks Claude. I
really enjoy your communications. Oh by the way, it
was an 'Itsy Bitsy, Teeny Weeny YELLOW Polka Dot
Bikini' about which you've probably been reminded ten
times already. Sounds like you had a spectacular
time. Good to hear that George Wilson is still
kickin' around. Can you send me his email address?
I'd like to say Hi."
Gee, now I've got to apologize to Brian Hyland again!
FYI, Chuck Blore will soon have a website. Don't know
how he's going to get the word out about the address,
but if I were you I'd try to check it out from day
one.
Gary Allyn, gallyn@adelphia.net:
"Sounds like a great
evening, Claude. Wish I could have been there as
well. Bobby Vee a real great guy. I remember having
him on a 10-day event in San Antonio in 1964 called
The Teen Fair of Texas. There was different talent
booked through-out the affair. In addition to Bobby,
we had Leslie Gore, Diane Renay, Billy J. Kramer,
George Jones (yes, THE country George Jones who drew
the biggest crowds), and we booked the Rolling
Stones...their first U.S. concert. The Stones were
barely known as they only had "Not Fade Away" at about
No. 30 on the Billboard charts at the time. By far,
Bobby was the 'class' of them all. Now-a-days, I work
in guest developement at PALA Casino Resort & Spa here
in San Diego's North County, www.palacasino.com,
one
of the area's biggest Indian casinos. Would love to
see Bobby play here. Wonder if you could get his agent
to contact our director of entertainment, Michael
Thyne, for a future booking here? He can be reached
at: mthyne@palacasino.com.
We've already had such
Oldies & Goodies artists as Little Anthony, the
Turtles, Jan & Dean, David Cassidy, Davey Jones, the
Doobie Bros. We have a new 507-room Hotel...so come
on over sometime. You can check out more online.
There's nine casinos in San Diego at this time...five
up here in North County. Harrah's Rincon, and soon
Caesar's Pauma will be added...getting our own Little
Las Vegas Strip going. Haven't talked to George W. in
awhile...how's he doing? Keep up the fine writing,
and all the best to you and yours. Your pal.
J. Robert Wood, jrwood@netcom.ca:
"Great item, Claude.
Please give my best regards to Bobby Vee when you
next see him. I met him in the CHUM library in the
late 60s when he was in the station promoting one of
his concerts or a late 60s hit. He has a photographic
memory, so I wouldn't be surprised if he remembers the
name. Hope all is well with you. By the way, I bought
an XM Radio boom box a few months ago. The diversity
of music on the 50s and 60s channels is greater than
what local oldies stations provide, so I find it
refreshing (and the absence of commercials is
refreshing, too)!"
Cleveland Wheeler, director of programming, XM
Satellite Radio, Cleveland.Wheeler@xmradio.com:
"Good
to get these newsletters from you BTW--I own the
domain www.voxjox.com.
Not using it but something
nostalgic and warm about having it--Like an old lamp.
Hope you are well. Sounds like Laughlin was a blast.
I've been trying to get Vee to do an XM performance.
Peter Noone is in this Friday to do live for us.
Happenings were in last week."
Cleveland, you son of a gun! Hope you do something
one day with that domain. Glad you got it! Me and
Jerry Wexler and Joe Carlton spend a lot of years
enmeshed somewhere therein back when it was a paper
thing.
Al Smith, alsmith@cbs.com:
"What a flashback you just
supplied...and what appeared to be a 'great' evening.
I wonder if the next generation of broadcasters will
be able to experience these kinds of memories. I tend
to believe we came up in a special time. Maybe all
old people say that...but I am not sure. I think we
were blessed with a unique era to be a part of.
Thanks...for sharing it with me."
Pat O'Day, patoday@interisland.net:
"Thanks for
sharing your Bobby Vee/Chris Montez story with me.
As you may know, I wrote a book about those days and
it became a bestseller in Seattle. We are now in our
second edition coming out November. I tell you this
because I find an insatiable thirst amoung the 40 to
60-year-old set to re-experiance those days. This is a
growing thirst, as I now am in demand for more
speaking engagements than I can handle. I attribute
this to the vacumn that now exists as fundamental,
broadly understood, rock and roll is no longer
produced. Broad-appeal music has nearly vanished in a
world of target markets and demographics. Our music of
the 50s, 60s and 70s was a unifying force that brought
a sense of community. Now, it is fractionalized to the
point of dis-unity. There is no reason to pray for the
good old days. Change has taken place, as change
always does, and we experianced a time and place that
will never be repeated. I guess, like your evening
with Bobby Vee, we just be thankful that we were there
and for you and I, doubly thankful that we were able
to play a role! Again, thanks for sharing your
evening with me!"
Kent Burkhart, RADIOKENT@aol.com:
"Claude. Just got
news that George W. 'Bud' Armstrong died at 76
yesterday (Oct. 6, 2003). As you know he was the GM of
WTIX when Storz owned it and coined the phrase TOP 40.
He then became GM of WHB, and then Exec. VP for Storz
until they sold all their stations. Thought you would
like to know."
Dick Summer, Dick.summer@att.net:
"Ken Lamb send me
your address, wondering if I remembered Vox Jox. Oh
yesss, I remember. You were the one guy in the world
who could be depended upon to supply a common thread,
and some common sense, to the absolute mania of
jocking. Your name hangs on my office wall, on a
plaque dated 1972...a Billboard award for 'Syndicated
Shows'. I'm glad to see you are still
writing...novels now. What's left of jocking could
sure use somebody who would pick up where you left
off. Just wanted to say hello, and let you know that
you counted in my life."
Don Whittemore, donwhittemore@yahoo.com:
"Thank you
for keeping emailed w/your activities after our
Billboard days. I always loved your energetic
interest (passion is over-used) for the business of
communicating. And for keeping us informed about your
kids and the Vee gang...my son, an ass't recording
engineer, just returned from Paris, France, not TX,
where he assisted Dexter Simmons, the engineer, for 19
days working on a project for an artist named,
'Mongoo'. Hope the SP is correct. Also, while
you're in Laughlin, I'll be in Akron, Ohio, with Chuck
& Kendall Dunaway, as he's inducted into the R-TV
Broadcasters Hall of Fame. It's fun being around
just to be able to reminisce. Talk to you one of
these daze when the election/s are past. Please
continue."
Jack Gale, jackgale@adelphia.net:
"You're writing
about the big show made me feel like I was there.
Terrific description. Bobby Vee, my favorite, Brian
Hyland, another favorite, etc. We all long for those
days. It's a wonder George Wilson appearance didn't
kill the entire crowd. I miss George most of all.
Haven't seen him since I went to BIG WAYS in Charlotte
in May 1965. Do talk with him once in a while and we
commute via email. By the way, on another subject, we
talked once about how hard it is to get a publisher to
front the money for a book. I have found one. If you
like, I'll put you in touch with him, and you can
discuss your latest stuff. P.S. When you talk to
George again, tell him I have him listed in my
roll-a-dex under U for unimportant people."
Next week: More about the mesquite tree from some who
have been pricked by the thorns.
Claude Hall
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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