Not quite right in the head

There is something about working on the air in radio that permanently affects those of us who put on a pair of headphones and spun 45 RPM records. Yes – those of us who have headphone hair have a wicked sense of humor between the cans.

“Pray tell,” you say, “give us some examples.”

Left; One of those Top 40 lists, featuring Scotty. Well, I’ll start off with a story about Scotty Quick, rest his soul. Back in the day, each of us on air jocks had some other task at the station to “fill in” the difference between the time we were on the air and the standard forty hours for which we were paid. One of my extra tasks was to deliver the top 40 charts to about 10 or so record stores and other sponsor locations each week around the city.

So one afternoon, Scotty decided to keep me company as I drove around delivering those colored pieces of paper. We were driving south on Assembly Street one Friday afternoon when we spotted a telephone handset lying in the middle of the street. “Stop! Stop!” Scotty shouted, “I want that!” Traffic was light! I did say this was a long time ago. So I was able to stop in the middle of the lane with the handset just under the door on his side of my old green Plymouth.

The handset was perfect. It was one of the newer cream colors that the telephone company had just started making. Attached was a spiral curled cord with spade crimps ready for connecting to a tabletop phone body. For those of you who are saying “So what!” right now, remember this was back when the phone company owned all the telephone equipment, even the phone in your home. Finding one like this was really unusual, almost unheard of.

I suppose that the right thing to do was to turn the device in to the nearest phone company lineman, but as the title of this blog says, we were “Not quite right in the head.” I had just a few stops left on my route so we drove around and Scotty pretended to be talking on a mobile phone, yukking it up and flirting with the girls in the cars we passed. “Making an impression” he called it. But I was wondering what kind of impression two Radio DJs driving around in a green 1964 Pontiac with a mobile phone made.

As I was nearing the end of my weekly route, Scotty was beginning to tire of the game. We were back on Assembly Street, headed north this time approaching Taylor Street and my last stop of the day; The Taylor Street Pharmacy. As we waited for the traffic light to turn so I could turn right onto Taylor, there was this guy obviously trying to make points with the girl on the corner. It didn’t look like he was being successful. So Scotty handed him the handset through the open window and said “It’s for you” as the light changed and we roared off down the street.

The look on the guy’s face as we sped away was priceless. The look on the girl’s face was unforgettable. I could hardly drive I was laughing so hard. I wonder if our little intervention changed the dynamics of the conversation. Who knows, they could be an old married couple now.

It was a good thing that the on air and production studios of WCOS were in the northern wing of the Cornell Arms Apartments and the business offices were in the western wing. They were separated by the hallway. That kept us “crazies” away from the folks doing the serious business of sales, traffic, copywriting, accounting and management. I don’t know how they kept their sanity, being constantly under a humor barrage from the wild guys.

Even the news guys had to put up with us. Mike Rast has to be a saint today after all the stuff that we put him through while he trying to read the news. Funny faces through the control room glass and lighting the news copy on fire while he was reading it were just two of the things we did to torment him. I could list many more but this is a family oriented blog. All I will say to kind of set the scene is that one of us was named Dan Moon, who used the air name “Looney Mooney.” Do you get the picture?

Lest you think that Mike just sat there and took it from us. He had his moments. On Tuesday nights, he was responsible for recording two Jazz Shows done by our station owner, George H. Buck. On those nights he would place some news copy in the box I carried out to Doug Broome’s so I could read the news from out there those evenings. After a particularly harrowing day, Mike placed the news copy in my box as I headed out with a smile on his face. At 8:30 I played the news sounder cartridge and scooped the as yet unread news copy out of the box, only to discover that Mike had type the message, “Payback is hell!” on otherwise blank sheets of teletype paper. I’m sure the look on my face was priceless and I stammered and stuttered trying to adlib the news from memory.

Dan “Looney” Moonie escaped the WCOS mad house in 1966 to go down to Charleston and the one down at WTMA. That was a good move for him in that he eventually converted from Disk Jockey to talk show host and retired from there after a 50-year tenure. Congratulations Dan, but you’re still “Looney” to me.

So I sit here writing this all awash in fun memories. To Woody, Bob, Leo, Hunter, Eddie, April, Dan, Van, Bill, Rick, Jimmy and all the rest of the very funny, very creative guys and gals that make my memories rich and outrageous. Thank you so much! It’s probably a good thing for the statute of limitations. Oh MY!