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"Xtreme"
Chapter Ten of a novel
by Claude Hall
She was deliberating whether to hit him with her
purse, which had that heavy knife in it, or just walk
by, ignoring him, her head high, and not say a word.
However, he grinned at her and ran a hand through his
hair as if to comb it with his fingers. The familiar
gesture froze her in her tracks.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
"An hour or so," Bill Ferguson said. "I heard you
typing and didn't want to disturb your muse."
"Wasn't any muse involved," Susan said. "Nothing but
work."
"Just trying to be friendly," Bill said, smiling
again. "I bought your gun back. With a permit."
She was flabbergasted.
"How could you get a permit for my gun?"
"I have a few friends," he explained. "Not many, I'll
admit, but my mother said you were quite upset and
planned to kill me and I was thinking that if I had to
die, I'd probably prefer to go in one great atomic
bomb blast. But maybe being shot by a pretty woman
wouldn't be all that bad. As a second choice, you
understand."
"I told you, I don't like that kind of nonsense."
"Would you feel better if I said an ugly old hag?"
"Probably not."
"I thought as much."
"So, where's my gun?"
"At dinner. I mean, I'll give it back to you if
you'll have dinner with me. No dinner, no gun.
Sorry, but my mother says you think I'm pushy and I've
decided to really push. A man who's about to get shot
by a woman who wants to be called an ugly old hag
might as well be pushy."
She was surprised to see Zeus McRae, the publisher and
editor-in-chief of Songdust News, come out of his
office across the lobby. He glanced around, expecting
to see someone, noticed them, and darted quickly back
inside his office.
"Who's that?" Bill asked.
"Zeus McRae, the editor," she said.
"I would like to meet him," Bill said.
"No, you wouldn't," she said.
Zeus stuck his head out of his office door.
"Who wouldn't?"
"Mr. McRae, I would like to introduce Mr. Bill
Ferguson," Susan said before Zeus could retreat once
again out of view.
Bill quickly leaped to his feet and advance on Zeus,
who stood there motionless without his pipe for
defense.
"Glad to meet you," Bill said. He stuck out his hand.
Susan wondered if Zeus would take it, but he did,
shaking hands in a soft, jerky movement that was over
almost before it started. She'd shook hands with Zeus
when she first got the job; she didn't want to do it
again; he hand was very weak and she was afraid she
would hurt him if she applied even the slightest
pressure.
"What radio station do you work at, Mr. Ferguson?"
"None," said Bill. "I'm just a friend."
"Oh," said Zeus, as if that ended even a pretense at
polite conversation. "Well, good to meet you, Mr.
Ferguson. Please excuse me. Work, you know."
"Sure," said Bill, but he still had hold of Zeus' hand
and Zeus found it difficult to get away. "So you're
the editor of Songdust."
"And publisher," Zeus said. He tried to wring his
hand free without being too obviously about it.
Bill was smiling at him.
"Well, good," Bill said.
With a jerk virtually born of desperation, Zeus broke
free. His head also jerked, as if in farewell. He
went back inside his office and closed the door.
"A real nice fellow," Bill said. But the tone of his
voice expressed some doubt.
"I'm sure," said Susan, almost, but not quite
laughing. That was the funniest scene! She took Bill
by the hand and led him to the elevator. "Just what
kind of dinner are we talking about?"
"Fishy," he said.
"You mean fish."
"Sure. That's what I mean," he said.
The elevator door opened and they stepped inside.
Susan pushed the button for the rooftop parking area.
"We'll take my car this time," Susan said. "That way,
you'll be the one who has to take a taxi after dinner
when things go screwy."
"You're assuming that you're going to get mad at me
again."
"Now why would I assume something like that?" she
remarked, leading the way to her MG and pulling the
Mexican blanket from over the seats and folding it and
placing it behind the seat.
"Sorry about the other night," Bill said.
"Well, you should be. That gun was a special gift
from my uncle."
"Not about taking the gun away. About scaring you so
bad you ran off somewhere and slept in this damned
rowboat."
"This is not a rowboat. It's a very special vehicle
created by Motor Garage of England. A sports car bred
of racing machines. Your mother tell you everything we
talked about yesterday?"
"That's what mothers are for," he said. "But, just
for your information, she chewed me out royally. Said
I scared the hell out of you and you drove up the
coast and parked and slept the night in your car and
that I was definitely a meanie, which has been her
favorite description of me for many years. And that
you were still stiff and sore when you got home last
night. I think I also noticed a slight limp as we
walked to your car."
"I do not limp," Susan said as she searched for her
car key in her purse.
"Okay. It wasn't a limp that I noticed. I don't know
what it was, but it was not a limp."
"Get in," she said. "And buckle up."
"I'll drive," he said, holding out his hand for the
key.
"No, you won't," she replied.
He went around to the other side and got into the
passenger seat.
"Where's this seafood place located?"
"Why should I tell you? You won't let me drive.
She glared at him as she buckled her own seatbelt.
"The Sea Lion," he said. "Out toward Malibu."
She started the MG and enjoyed its quiet thunder as
the engine warmed a few seconds. Then she backed out
of her slot and, speeding forward, shifted quickly
from first to second gear and, hesitating slightly at
the street, shifted back to first again when she
noticed the traffic was clear, sped through the
changing light at the corner of Doheny, and sped out
Sunset Boulevard. If someone had been waiting to
shoot at her, they would have had a most difficult
target. She didn't slow down until she was more than
a mile down Sunset.
"I hope you have a driver's license for racing within
the city limits," Bill said as they passed under the
San Diego Freeway and continued down the winding road.
In a moment, they were passing the Riviera Country
Club where Kathryn Grayson, the singer and movie star,
had made a fortune. Susan had interviewed her once.
Grayson had bought land when the Riviera was just
starting construction. She was later able to sell all
of the lots except where she lived for a tidy profit.
A very smart lady.
Then they passed the Will Rogers State Park where the
man himself had played polo and where there were still
polo matches on occasion and, tires squealing, came
around a hairpin curve and soon were at the traffic
light for the Pacific Coast Highway, one of the most
scenic highways in the world. The Sea Lion was
actually a good distance closer than Malibu where
Linda Ronstadt, according to Rolling Stone, had a
beach house. These houses, of course, were not mere
beach houses, per se; some were ornate mansions
fronting beach property that the owners tried to
preserve as theirs, but to which, legally, they had to
provide public access.
She wheeled the MG into the parking lot of the Sea
Lion and parked.
"Are we there yet? Can I open my eyes now?" asked
Bill.
"Silly."
"Hey, Sterling Moss would have been proud of you," he
said. "That hairpin curve back on Sunset
Boulevard...I saw my whole life flash before my eyes."
"A short subject, no doubt, featuring Bugs Bunny,"
said Susan as she opened the door and stepped out.
She took her Mexican blanket and spread it over the
seats. She'd been here before. Ocean spray could
make the seats damp and icky if you didn't cover them.
"You're definitely limping," Bill said, as he held
open the door of the restaurant.
"You want to walk home?"
"I didn't see a thing," Bill said, laughing.
A great majority of the booths and tables in the Sea
Lion are by the window and when the tide is high and
there's a storm off the coast, the waves come crashing
in below. At night, broad swathes of light are flung
onto the sand and when waves crash in, the effect is
like that of some mad world in a science fiction film.
But the food is usually fresh and good and for those
who like both good seafood and the sea itself, the Sea
Lion is a magic place.
She ordered a large bowl of New England Clam Chowder,
fish and chips. The waiter frowned at her. Bill told
the waiter that chips meant French fries. Susan also
wanted some milk.
"Milk is good for a limp," she told Bill.
"I knew that," he said, combing his hair with his
right hand in that habitual manner that he had.
She handed her menu to the waiter. "So, where's my
gun?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Not here in the restaurant,
for god's sake! Someone will think you're robbing the
place."
"It's just a pistol," she said.
"In Texas, it may have been just a pistol. In
California, it's a weapon. How you escaped getting
arrested in New York City, I'll never know."
"How did you know about New York City?"
"I guess you mentioned it at some point."
"Not me."
"Well, to be honest with you...."
"For a change."
"...For a change, people who carry weapons have a
tendency to get checked out."
"I see."
"Do we have to discuss business?" he demanded. "Can't
we talk about something else? For a change."
"For a change, what?"
"Tell me about this guy Zeus McRae. He really seems
to be a character."
"He is. I don't think he always was. But lately he's
a character. Before, he was just a colorful editor
and that's perfectly okay. A lot of editors of a lot
of magazines are quite colorful. Comes with the turf,
as they say. You should have met one of the editors
for whom I worked in New York. A headline was off two
ems once from where he wanted it and he called a
meeting of the entire staff and yelled at us for four
hours."
"McRae ever do something like that?"
"I don't think he knows what an em is. No, I take
that back. He does know. He just doesn't care at the
moment."
"For the record, what's an em?"
"It's the width of the capital M in that particular
font, whatever it is. Thus, some ems are larger than
other ems. Depends on the font, the family of type.
An em in the Helvetica font is smaller than the em in
Times Roman. An en is half the width of a em."
"You don't mind talking about McRae? You're generally
pretty shutmouth."
"No. Why should I mind? I don't even like the guy."
"He doesn't seem very likable, I have to admit. Does
he have any friends? Close friends that is."
"I don't even think his wife likes him," Susan said.
"Well, why work for a guy you don't appreciate?"
"Do you know how many really good jobs there are in
journalism? The number is few. Dan Rather, Peter
Jennings...they make a lot more money than I do, but
they're no longer on the front line of the news.
They're not Lowell Thomas, they are not out there
where the news is. They sit behind a desk; they're
actors reading the news. You can see their boredom in
their eyes. Me? I'm with the guys every day who're
making the news. Interesting people. Some of the
most talented, most intelligent people in the world.
You ever heard of Lou Dorren?"
"Afraid not."
"His IQ would knock your socks off. He has helped
invent a new form of broadcasting. Four-channel
radio. The sound surrounds you. Three hundred and
sixty degrees. You're literally playing guitar in the
band. Bob Pittman, a program director, another
genius, who has just launched MTV, a music thing on
television. Felix Papparlardi who produced the Cream
masterpieces and now has a band called Mountain,
another genius. Jerry Wexler, the producer who did
Aretha Franklin and Bob Dylan? Another genius. I
never have a dull day. I'll bet Dan Rather is often
bored to hell."
"How did you get the job?"
"Zeus McRae wanted someone with hard news experience.
I interviewed for the position of just a news writer
and turned it down. Then I got back to the small
college where I was doing media stuff and realized I
just didn't want to do that the rest of my life, so I
accepted the job with Songdust. Within a few weeks, I
was named radio-TV editor. The magazine does have its
problems, but I've never regretted working for
Songdust. Not one day."
"What kind of problems would a magazine like Songdust
have? Seems strange that a magazine as well-known, as
well-respected in the industry would have problems."
"They're not on the surface."
"Tell me about them."
She wondered if she should. Then decided that
personal problems ought to be kept personal. And the
problems of the magazine, at least the problems of
which she was aware, should also be private. Perhaps
she still believed in miracles. Not the miracles
promised you in a church service, but the little
miracles that happen every day in real life. All of
the troubles with the charts--and with Zeus,
too--could suddenly vanish. The record industry could
go kaput or the record industry could sudden skyrocket
with profits even higher than now and the trade
magazine of today could be the silliness of tomorrow.
Mostly, however, she felt she should solve her own
problems. And, at the moment, her problems included
those of the magazine. She didn't know how she was
going to fix things, but her father and her uncle had
taught her that fixing things was something necessary
about not just for yourself, but for the rest of the
world.
"I didn't come here to talk business," she said, "I
came here to eat fish."
"Fish, then," Bill said. "But I'm not very good at
small talk. It's a strange world to me."
"Who said you had to talk?" she said.
The sun was just setting on the rim of the world
beyond the window and way out there clouds painted the
horizon an orange that was both pretty and mysterious.
Bits and pieces of sunlight still danced on the small
waves off shore. Seafood here was good, of course,
but the view was even better.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bill said.
"Thought you said you weren't very good at small
talk?"
"I always wanted to be a sailor. As a boy, every time
I saw the ocean or even a river...even a small fish
pond...I thought about running away to the sea. Are
you familiar with that poem by John Masefield. 'I
must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and
the sky...and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to
steer her by'? I always thought of those words.
Great words. And I always yearned to be somewhere out
there, somewhere far away in the dark of the sea
listening to the creak of old wooden timbers in an
ancient ship."
She was quite surprised at this .
"Really?"
"Yes, of course," he said, "but, of course, you
probably don't think that I'm the type."
"No, why not? I've always wanted to go climb the
Great Wall of China and walk it from one end to the
other."
"Pretty long," he said.
"What does that matter?"
"Right. Distance doesn't matter at all. Take an
extra pair of Reeboks with you just in case."
"Silly!"
"I confess. I think I always get a bit silly when I'm
around you."
"I told you. None of that nonsense."
"Right. Back to my sailing adventures."
"You've never sailed."
"True. Just in dreams. But in dreams I've swung the
broad sword at numerous pirates and fought countless
battles on sea and on shore by the bay and won them
all. I was quite good with a sword and a good seaman,
I'll grant you, when it came to heaving to and simply
heaving when I was seasick."
"How can I enjoy my clam chowder if you're always sea
sick?"
"I was well most of the time. Especially when I
plundered gold and jewels down deep in the Caribbean
and hid chests and chests of the trinkets on Padre
Island off Corpus Christi."
"You've never been to Corpus Christi."
"In dreams, I have. Many times, in fact."
"It's a beautiful city," she told him. "There's a
winding switchback road from the hill down to the
lower city by the water, palm trees, fronds, flowers
of every color in the rainbow."
"My Corpus Christi is much prettier than your mere
city," Bill insisted. "The things that exist in
dreams and in the imagination are always more
beautiful than whatever you stumble across in real
life."
"I'm finished with my soup," she said. "You'd better
hurry."
"Bah, woman! You concern yourself with soup when I'm
involved with pirates and treasure chests?"
"And heaving," she pointed out.
"One must not forget the heaving," he admitted
quietly, moving his eyes from her back to the window
where the sun now had disappeared beyond the distant
waves.
He was silent for a moment as he dipped pieces of fish
into some tartar sauce and dashed on much too much
pepper before eating it. She wondered how he could
stand all of that pepper. And now that he was quiet,
she almost wished he would say something just to break
the silence. His "chips," French fries, he soaked in
Ketchup. So much Ketchup she wondered if he could
even taste the potato.
"You don't eat much fish, do you?" she commented.
"I probably should eat more. They say it's good for
you. I don't know why they say that nor do I know why
I don't eat more fish. I've probably got a lot of bad
habits that need to be fixed. You have any bad
habits?"
"No," she said.
"Besides carrying a gun, I mean. And a knife in your
purse."
"No," she said, looking him directly in the eyes.
"Your mother told you about the knife?"
"She said you were wearing one when you came home last
night and told me that a gun would probably be better
than a knife if someone attacks you again. Are you
very good with a knife?"
"Not very good," she said. "I can probably hit at
what I chunk maybe five to seven yards."
"What about hand-to-hand with a knife?"
"I'd have to get very lucky," she said.
He shook his head, remained quiet for a
moment...remained quiet until the silence filled with
tension.
"They raise some very strange girls down in Texas," he
said.
He paid the check and left a tip and as they walked
back to her car, he took the .22 caliber special and
handed it to her.
"Please shoot only bad guys," he said. "You shoot
someone good, I'm going to be in a lot of trouble."
"Promise," she said.
"And don't use the knife against about everyone.
Knives are for cutting oranges in half in California.
That's all. Oranges."
"Okay," she said.
The drive back to the Songdust parking lot where he'd
left his car was mostly in silence, though he pointed
out sharply that she taken one of the curves on Sunset
Boulevard much too fast and she pointed out just as
tartly that they were in an MG, for god's sake, and it
could handle just about any curve in Los Angeles.
"No wonder you're limping," he said, crawling out of
the MG and shaking himself. "That thing is too small
for humans."
"I never limp," she said. "And the problem is not
with my car, but with you. You're much too big."
He walked around to her side of the car.
"Lunch tomorrow?"
"No."
"I'll shrink some."
"Still no."
"What's wrong with Songdust magazine?"
"Nothing."
He grinned.
"Yes, there is," he said.
Without warning, he placed a hand on the back of her
head and leaned down and kissed her. The sudden kiss
surprised her. She was stunned.
Then he turned, walked quickly to his car, got in and
started it and, before she could react or do anything,
had disappeared in his car down the ramp to the
street.
(continued next week)
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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May 10, 2004
Commentary
by
Claude Hall
The funniest radio personality I've ever known
is Joey
Reynolds, currently doing overnight on WOR in New York
City and carried via satellite on radio stations
coast-to-coast. He is spontaneous. He is witty. In
the old days, he was sarcastic in his approach to
humor. Today, his humor is more warm. He laughs with
you rather than at you. Where his humor came from, I
do not know. I met his mother and father and at least
one of his sisters (I think he has two). The sister
that I met was quite bright. But his relatives (his
father, a hard-working ordinary human being like my
own father, passed away several years ago) probably
didn't understand Joey. Nor his work. Of course, the
same could be said for quite a few general managers of
radio stations in the old days of Top 40. Yet, at one
time Joey had an entourage of radio people who
followed him around as if he were some fabulous
bullfighter; he was that popular. Maybe these
followers even worshipped him to some extent. I used
to play basketball with some people on Sunday
mornings. One of these was Gary Owens. He would drop
one-liners up and down the court. Always on stage, so
to speak. There were--and probably still are--lots of
radio personalities who can do humor. And do it well.
But these two men seem to be naturally funny to me.
Humor is part of their psyche.
The best early disc jockey? Hard to say because you
had people around like Alan Freed, Bill Randle, Joe
Smith, Howard Miller, Jack the Bellboy, Paul Berlin.
I've been fortunate to have known quite a few
excellent personalities. Overall, I would say Bill
Randle. Hands down. But one man who impressed the
hell out of me the one and only time I heard him on
the air was Frank Ward. Already at the general
manager level in his career, he sat in one or two
nights on WNEW-AM in New York City. What a superb
show! The music was tasteful. Blended well. Frank's
production was absolutely phenomenal, for this was his
forte, so to speak, during his Top 40 days in Buffalo,
NY, when he garnered half of the people listening to
radio. One guy that I listened to a lot in my
pre-Billboard days was Eddie Hill. He was colorful.
He was off-the-cuff. And, of course, he had some of
the greatest names in country music each and every
night on WSM, Nashville, as his guests. Believe it or
not, I heard Elvis Presley as a disc jockey at least
once or twice on KWKH, Shreveport, LA. Fair. There's
a syrup commercial he cut which was aired on several
radio stations in Louisiana. If I worked on one of
those stations, I'd do some hunting about. Might be
worth some loot.
When it comes to country music after I got to
Billboard, I guess I'd give the nod to Larry Scott.
He knew the music. He was a good, solid jock at KLAC,
Los Angeles. Now this statement could be contested,
because there were a lot of very excellent country
personalities about. Bet Larry Scott could even name
a few. Bill Mack became extremely well known. Maybe
it comes down to a matter of the city and your
personal taste. However, I always thought Larry was
great.
Wildest progressive radio personality? Sans doute it
was Jimmy Rabbitt at KMET-FM, Los Angeles. Yeah, I
know he got fired for playing Kitty Wells on a
progressive rock radio station, but I always thought
Jimmy did a very entertaining show. Hard to turn him
off! Otherwise, I'd give the nod to Murray the K
Kaufman at WOR-FM, New York City. Always wondered
what would have happened if Bill Drake had left that
station alone. Murray the K, Bill "Rosko" Mercer,
Scott Muni...wow! Great team.
Most knowledgeable disc jockey when it comes to music?
Jim LaBarbara, WLW, Cincinnati. Someone might argue
with me on this. I heard Ted Atkins and Mike Curb try
to top each other one night and both men impressed the
devil out of me. Color of labels that went to disc
jockies? Numbers on the labels? Of course, Dr.
Demento has to be mentioned in this regard. I tried
to top Dr. Demento one night in the backyard (a party)
of the home then owned by Norm Pattiz with "Toolpusher
From Snyder." Barry Hansen not only knew that Slim
Willet ("Don't Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes" wrote
and cut the song, but had two copies of the single in
his personal collection! I have always thought that
Barry was from a different planet.
Bet Barry doesn't have a copy, though, of "Baggage Car
Ahead." Someone sent me a tape of that song on reel
once. Lost it somewhere along the way. Pity. I also
lost of a copy of that first run-through of "Blue Moon
of Kentucky" by Elvis Presley, his first commercial
release. This was the song they were selling brittle
snippets of the tape the other day. I know why. I
and Knox Phillips had copies. My secretary in NYC
tossed mine into the trash. Guess it would be worth
about a million dollars at the moment. The only guy
who might still have a copy is Jack Clement. But I
don't know this for a fact. He would deny it in any
case. Me, too.
Hardest working disc jockey? Charlie Tuna. Dan
Ingram. Gary Owens. Maybe Gary Stevens. Used to
think Jack Gale worked pretty hard, but he was/is so
gifted that much of his radio shows might have come
easy for him. Really talented human being.
Guys with whom I had the greatest empathy? In no
particular order: Jack Thayer, Don Imus, Ernie
Farrell, Jay Blackburn, Bruce Miller Earle, Joey
Reynolds, Pat O'Day, Rick Skar, L. David Moorhead,
George Wilson, Harvey Glascock, Frank Ward, Jan
Basham, Lou Dorren, Jim Gabbert, Tom Campbell, Bill
Randle, Chuck Blore, Ron Jacobs, Gordon McLendon,
Woody Roberts, Harry O'Connor, Gary Owens...lord, the
list grows long! And, of course, I'm leaving out a
few that I'll remember just as soon as this goes to
net. How's that for a phrase, "Goes to net." We used
to say, "Goes to press." Well, things change.
Most knowledgeable overall? Scotty Brink. He once
told me in detail of a couple of incidents at a radio
conference. I'd forgotten some of the details. He
remembered everything! And the incidents had happened
to me. How he knew about everything, quien sabe?
Scotty knows radio and knows people in both music and
radio. The compleat radio person. Without doubt.
Classiest disc jockey? William B. Williams, WNEW-AM,
New York City. Regardless of what you may have heard
or may yet hear, Willie had more power at WNEW-AM than
anyone with the exception of John Kluge. I loved
Harvey Glascock and a lot of other people associated
with WNEW-AM, but they called Willie the chairman of
the board for a reason. However, I believe he wielded
his power with dignity. Gertie Katzman, music
director of WNEW-AM, once told me that she could get
the best seat in the restaurant by just mentioning
Willie's name. Power! Especially in Manhattan where
your seating was prestige!
Oddest general manager? Art Simmers, WTRY, Troy, NY.
Of course, Howard Kester, KYA, San Francisco, has be
include in the same breath. I once heard Howard
Kester talk four hours on oranges. Barry Fidell was
there. Rick Sklar, too. A few others I can't recall
at the moment. Four hours!
Greatest promotion people in radio during the heyday
of Top 40? Todd Storz, owner KOWH, Omaha, NE; Gordon
McLendon, owner, KLIF, Dallas; Chuck Blore, program
director at KFWB, Los Angeles; Jack McCoy (for "The
Last Contest"); Steve Bellinger, general manager of
WDZ, Decatur, IL. I'm going to also mention Dick
Starr, although I don't think Dick was in the category
of the others. But in the early days of Top 40, Dick
certainly was involved in some outlandish radio
station promotions. Worked hard. Knew radio. Cancer
early. What a pity.
Smartest (I.Q.) program directors? In no particular
order: Ron Jacobs, Chuck Blore, Jack McCoy, Buzz
Bennett, Bob Pittman, Jay Blackburn.
Best program director? Lord! I started listing
program directors and had to pause after somewhere
around a hundred. Too many that I thought were
really, really good. Barbara, my beautiful bride of
40-plus years, said to let you decide. If you'd like
to suggest someone, good. You can't select yourself,
though. Just incidentally, I've known some damned
good program directors who failed on some stations for
one reason or another. But this doesn't mean that
they weren't outstanding program directors. Sometimes
the situation just wasn't right...like when Terrell
Methney went to WMCA in New York City. And I was
lucky enough to know some guys who were extremely
well-thought-of at the time. How many of you remember
Pat McMahon? No. 1 Top 40 program director in Phoenix
for years even though he was doing a kiddie show on
television every day! I wouldn't say Pat was the
best, but he was awfully good. J. Robert Woods?
Probably the best Canadian program director for many,
many years and a person who would have fared extremely
well at almost any radio station in the United States.
I think I'll mention Rod Muir of Australia here,
too...just for the hell of it because we'll never know
how well Rod might have done in the states. But, of
course, there were many, many, many. And I'm probably
going to irritate the hell out of someone by
mentioning the names above instead of others.
OTHER MATTERS
An old friend, David Carren,
DBCarren@aol.com, is
teaming up with Jack Rhodes Productions, Austin, TX,
on a horror/thriller movie titled "Mr. Hell." Shooting
begins in Houston in June. Like Rhodes, Carren is a
teasipper. Carren will work on the script and produce
along with Jolene McMaster and Rob McKinnon, the
project's director. McMaster, with partner Rob
McKinnon, have Houston production company Pure Horror
Films, Inc. Carren, a native of Dallas, has been a
professional screenwriter for three decades. He has
written, directed and/or produced more than 200 major
TV shows, and his credits include such definitive
series as "Star Trek: The Next Generation," "Stargate
SG-1," "Battlestar Galactica," "Knightrider," "Murder
She Wrote," and "Walker, Texas Ranger." One of his
stories for the Pacific Comics anthology Alien Worlds
was produced as the "She Dies" episode of "The New
Twilight Zone." His work on the CBS series "Capitol"
earned him a Writer's Guild Award nomination.
John Hall,
johnalexhall@hotmail.com: "I went to the
Pasadena Swapmeet and picked up a Murray the K
aircheck from 1967. It is three hours long and he had
as his guest the head of Elektra Records who was there
to promote an LP that put astrology to rock music. It
includes the music and commercials. What a blast.
Funny is years into a bland substance, nostalgia for
the DJs of the 60s and 70s continues to grow.
Anyway, I also picked up a Johnny Cash boot that has
some of the duets that he did for his TV show such as
with Roy Orbinson, Stevie Wonder and Linda Ronstaldt.
I am listening to it right now. Cash is having fun
singing with Roy, 'Pretty Woman'. By the way, I loved
your piece in the current Vox Box. The news that the
US was torturing Iraqi prisoners is the final straw.
There is no hope for sucess in Iraq without nuking the
place. We should leave now. Due to the torture,
there will be no support for us in Iraq. Even the
ones that were grateful to us for getting rid of
Saddam will now hate us."
Phil Mackesy, pmackesy@shaw.ca,
wrote to ask if a
letter by Warren Cosford printed in last week's
Commentary could be reprinted on
www.redrobinson.com/reditorial.htm. You might wish to
check into Red's website. Talks about radio a bit.
James Rose,
rosekkkj@earthlink.net: "Yes, times,
people and places do change, but what has happened to
RADIO is not a metamorphosis. We DJs picked and chose
tunes, within a given format, to be played on our
shows. This was another portion of our PERSONALITIES
that listeners tuned in to Radio for. Sometimes we
played tunes fitting a certain mood or what was
topical. We worked hard to pick and choose songs to
be aired on our DJ shows. This was just a part of
what made Radio exciting and fun. The beginnings of
what we now have in Radio, sprouted its roots when
'personality' was being phased out and all the music
began to be pre-chosen when and where to be played.
Yes, if one plays tunes back to back with someone
merely reading prepared short liner scripts in
between, a certain group of listeners will tune in.
That was just another approach to Radio's uniqueness,
plus it slimmed operation costs without having to
concentrate on hiring seasoned Broadcasters who knew
how to communicate. But, when all the Radio Stations
began to lean toward 'More Music, Less Talk', all that
was needed was flip card reading button pushers. 'More
Expenses Cut, More Dollars'! Total Radio listenership
dropped, leaving a smaller audience to be divided
among the Stations. Great heed was not being paid to
this early warning. I often wonder about constantly
hearing something like 'Less Talk, More Music'. Do
listeners have to be told there's less talk, and more
music? If that be the case, why not just play music
and say absolutely nothing on the air? That would mean
'No Talk, Even More Music'. If 'More Music, Less
Talk' is the way to go...why, then, is so much leeway
and expense given to AM Drive personalities today to
say and play what they feel is appropriate? This is
NOT EVOLUTION! It is a turning away of true
PERSONALITY RADIO, thus taking away the STAR treatment of DJs! A
new opportunity to cut huge expenses to the
detriment of DJs! Listeners want to hear personality
Radio from COMMUNICATORS who have something to say and play what
they feel is appropriate. The Radio audience
tunes in for specific PERSONALITIES who each play
their choice of music within a given format. If Radio
quickly steps back, takes a proper perspective and
corrects these mistakes of the recent past, there is
still a chance to save it. Otherwise, listeners will
pay to hear what they are not getting on today's Radio
Stations. Remember what many said not too long ago:
'Nobody will pay money to watch a television show,
when it's free'."
This letter from Mariko Hirai, NHK Enterprises
America, Santa Monica, CA,
hirai@nepamerica.com, sort
of explains itself. I hope that someone out there can
help her out, although, to be sure, it's rather late
in the game for many of us. I wrote her that,
unfortunately, Billboard kept no "morgue" of stories
or photos and that I, myself, did not join the
magazine until March 1964. "We hope you are well. We
are NHK Enterprises America and we do research and
produce programs for NHK, the only PBS,
non-commercial, non profit television network in
Japan. To make a long story short: my good friend,
Paul Drew (former DJ who traveled with the Beatles in
US), mentioned that I should contact Chuck Blore and
Mr. Blore was kind enough to give me your email
address. Also Gary Owens told me to contact you
regarding this matter. NHK is planning a special
program to highlight the career of the late singer Kyu
Sakamoto, whose hit song, SUKIYAKI/ 'Ue Wo Muite
Arukou' was number one in 1963-1964 and he received
the Golden Record Award from Capitol Records on May
14, 1964, presented by the late Glenn Wallichs at the
Hotel Okura in Japan. We have done some research and
found that Mr. and Mrs. Wallichs have since passed
away. Tragically, Kyu Sakamoto passed away in a plane
crash in Japan in August 12,1985. The NHK program will
air in August this year and the Japanese crew will
plan to come to the U.S. in June/July to meet and
interview the individuals who met him. He sold
millions of records and to this day his song, SUKIYAKI
is being played around the world to newer fans. Back
in August 13-16, 1963, the late Japanese singer, KYU
SAKAMOTO came to the US (Los Angeles) and stayed at
the Beverly Hills Hilton Hotel.There are photographs
of Sakamoto at poolside greeting fans, signing
autographs, etc., that were in Japanese magazines and
newspapers at that time. We are hoping that you had
the chance to meet with him during his LA visit. This
was his schedule: August 13, 1963--Arrived in Los
Angeles Airport greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Glenn
Wallichs, Helen Funai, along with thousands of fans;
August 14, 1963--moved by helicopter to Beverly Hilton
Hotel...Gave message from Governor of Tokyo to the
Mayor of Los Angeles...Rehearsal for "Steve Allen
Show" 12:00-14:30...Break time at poolside
14:30-...Press conference, many press were
present...17:30 Cocktail party at poolside, host was
Capitol Records president, GlennWallichs; August 15,
1963--Phone interviews...Lunch at Italian restaurant
14:30...went to do "Steve Allen Show" with manager and
daughter of Capitol Records executive Barbara
Birkenhead (spelling not sure?); August 16,
1963--Disneyland...Left Los Angeles for Hawaii. We
are looking for individuals who met Kyu Sakamoto,
photographs, any memorabilia, film footage that was
taken at that time. I understand that you were working
at Billboard Magazine and we would like to know who we
should contact if there were any articles and
photographs taken at that time. We would greatly
appreciate any information and we look forward to
hearing from you at your earliest convenience. Thank
you very much for your kind attention and assistance
on this matter."
Dick Carr, DCarrCNY@aol.com:
"Dick Carr's Big Bands
Ballads & Blues," a deejay show adult standards and
traditional jazz.carried by each week on 48 radio
stations, has added WOR 710 in New York City beginning
July 3 and will be expanded to four hours in length.
Already heard on WVNJ, WRTN, and WVOX, the addition of
WOR 710, gives it the the largest adult
standard/straight ahead jazz audience in the NY area.
Another note from James Rose,
rosekkkj@earthlink.net,
Houston, who seems to be writing Commentary this week.
But good on you, James! This is good stuff! "During
the past 40 years, I have DJ'd on some of Texas'
biggest Radio Stations, worked with many of Texas'
legendary Radio pioneers, met and interviewed some of
the top recording artists and movie stars. Treasured
memories. My friend, LARRY SHANNON, director of the
Texas Radio Hall of Fame, sent me a CD of a recent
ceremony the other day...while listening to it, a
revelation saddens me as I become aware that HORACE
LOGAN is no longer physically with us! I remember
HORACE when he was a week-end record spinning DJ at
KPCN AM 730 the same period I was DJ'ing noon-3p in
the summer of 1967! BILL MACK was AM Drive DJ!
HORACE, as you well know, was a big part of the
Louisiana Hayride in Shreveport! HORACE was a real
pleasure to work with! Will never forget what HORACE
told me in August 1967! He said 'Most of WILLIE
NELSON's famous songs were written while they were
laying carpet in Dallas!' KBOX switched to Country
that summer! KPCN followed with an all-request
week-end! Remember those? This was my first, having
just recently moved out of the boondocks! What a song
title that would make! Where's JOE SOUTH? KPCN hired
some University of Texas-Arlington students to take
care of the phones. BOY!...what a tremendous amount
of continuous phone requests streaming in! The U-T-A
students rushed into the control room with requests
scribbled on large legal-size pad sheets! LORETTA
LYNN was by far the MOST-REQUESTED artist on my show
that day! A couple of years later, when I was Program
Director of KBUC FM-AM in San Antonio, looking out the
huge control room window in front of me...there was
LORETTA LYNN's massive bus pulling up to park right in
front of KBUC's Studios on Commerce Street near
downtown San Antonio! What was going on here?
LORETTA ran into the control room looking absolutely
gorgeous! LORETTA LYNN is a gracious lady who did not
want to sit on the tall interview stool...said it was
too impersonal. LORETTA wanted to sit right beside me
at the control board! At no time did I ever dream this
would be possible! Never had so much fun in all my
life! LORETTA LYNN has the most witty and warm
personality! It was almost like we were
boyfriend-girlfriend! LORETTA's drummer sat on the
interview stool. Between 1968 and 1971, top recording
artists and movie stars visited my KBUC Radio DJ Show
in the HEMISFAIR CITY! Two of the most memorable were
GLEN CAMPBELL and LOU RAWLS! GLEN was riding high with every
tune written by JIM WEBB rising to #1, plus
GLEN's top-rated CBS TV Show! GLEN was just like he
was on his TV Show...very charming! As we peered out
the control room window, Commerce Street was jammed
with cars full of fans, wanting a glimpse of GLEN
CAMPBELL! GLEN had trouble trying to leave the
control room! The hall was loaded with female
admirers! Quite an experience! At another time, LOU
RAWLS arrived with a contingent of good-looking women
and bodyguards! VERY INTRIGUING! Similar to maybe a
Chicago mobster hitting the streets of San Antonio!
Did not know what to expect! LOU and I hit it off
like old buddies! LOU was a refreshing gentleman who
made the whole process extremely enjoyable! Those
were the days, my friend."
Bobby Vee, RVelline@aol.com:
"With all the sadness and
trauma going on in the world at the moment it is worth
reflecting on the death of a very important person
which almost went unnoticed last week. Larry La Prise,
the man who wrote 'The Hokey Pokey', died peacefully
at age 93. The most traumatic part for his family was
getting him in the coffin. They put his left leg in,
and then the trouble started."
e-mail claude@claudehallonline.com
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