The Lonely Radio Presenter

This week, I am beginning my fourth week of social distancing as we weather the Covid-19 pandemic. Like most of you, I’ve been spending way too much time on social media. But that is not all bad; several Facebook pages aimed at old school radio on the air DJs have really been popping and some of the most frequent memes talk about social distancing not being such a strange thing to old school radio presenters.

The trend of many live radio shows these days is to have a team. You know: “The Morning Team on Rockin’-100” or “The Afternoon Billy Bob and Benny Show.” My apologies if there is really a team with either of these names. But back in the day, teams were a rarity. The norm was a single soul, alone in the control room surrounded by records, cart machines, telephones, microphones and equipment that did gosh knows what. Except for the few of us who were lucky enough to have remote shows from the local drive in restaurant, that is what our lives were like.

Here is the place where your faithful blogger gives the perfect example; Take the movie “American Graffiti.” In the movie, Richard Dreyfuss as Curt Henderson and Ron Howard as Steve Bolander spot a blond in a white T-Bird played by Suzanne Somers. Not unexpectedly Curt decides that he needs to hook up with The Blonde and he employs the social media of the day. According to the plot in Wikipedia: “Curt drives to the radio station to ask the disc jockey "Wolfman Jack", who is omnipresent on the car radios, to read an on air message for her. Inside the station, Curt encounters an employee manning a console of record and cassette players, who tells him The Wolfman doesn't work at the station, and that the shows are pre-taped for replay at multiple stations. The employee accepts the message from Curt and promises to try to have The Wolfman air it. As he's leaving the station, Curt sees the employee talking into the microphone and hears the voice of The Wolfman on the air, so Curt realizes that despite the employee's earlier denials, he really is The Wolfman.” That sense of isolation of the most connected character in the film is what it was like for the average radio DJ. That scene hits home for us Old School guys. We’ve been socially distancing all of our careers.

That is probably why most of us lived for the studio request line. Yes, we talked to thousands of listeners every show but the only real time feedback we got back then was when listeners called. Those connections often grew into lifetime friendships.

But don’t feel bad for the voice alone in the night. Where else could you get paid for playing records and talking to people? This was the life and I for one enjoy looking back and enjoying the memories. When I play a song on the radio today my memory is flooded by young faces and voices from the past. No – I don’t live in the past but I am grateful for the rich memories.

So, I was searching my memory for the time that matches the current situation the closest. The one that sticks out is the curfew that was imposed on most southern cities after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. on April 4, 1968 in Memphis Tennessee.

I was doing the Doug Broome’s Nightbeat Show on WCOS-AM from a cinder block radio booth in the parking lot of Doug’s Drive in Restaurant on Two Notch Road near Beltline. The news broke about his being shot just as the show began at 8 PM and then during the 8:30 news, Mike Rast announced that Dr King had died. We didn’t have cell phones back in the day but I noticed a line forming at the pay phone on the brick wall of the restaurant near the door where the car hops skated out of the kitchen with trays laden with hamburgers, fries and chocolate shakes.

The crowd at the teletrays quickly thinned out and by 9 PM, all who were left were the few die hard customers that were there every night. By 10 PM even they were gone. At 11 PM the manager closed the restaurant and I was left as the only one left on the property, indeed aside from the street and traffic lights, mine was the only light shining within sight. And that, my friends, was the loneliest time on the air in my entire career.

The next day I was called into the station early for a meeting with the station management and Doug Broome. The decision was made to move the show back to the studios in The Cornell Arms Building. But since the relationship was a cash and carry one, I was to drive up to the location of Doug’s on Main and Confederate Streets and bring back the nightly fee for the show and place it under the door of our accountant. Around that time, the Mayor of Columbia declared a 10 PM to 6 AM curfew.

That meant that in addition to driving from my apartment to and from the station, I also needed to drive the couple of miles to and from Doug’s . Concerned about the curfew, we called the police chief to make sure that we would not be stopped in our daily rounds. The solution was two-fold; we were told to make ID Cards from station letterhead and we were to put magnetic signs on our cars that said “WCOS News” on them. Fortunately I carried one of those signs in the back seat of my car already to assist when we covered news on the fly.

Driving the deserted streets of Columbia was downright spooky. There was almost no other traffic on the streets. Once or twice I’d spot a pair of headlights blocks away and sure enough a police car would rush up to mine to investigate. That always resulted in a short conversation and a good night from the local constabulary. After the first couple of nights, when the beat cops got to recognize my car at a distance they would flash their lights and wave. Those were different days indeed.

So during these days of social isolation, I’m doing all my shows from my home studios. In some cases, the shows are online instead of being on air. Like the curfew days of the 60s the main uncertainty is how long will this isolation continue. Until then like the old DJ patter went; “I’ll be keepin’ on keepin’ on!” Be safe everyone. Oh MY!