(Part 2)
Last week’s Gazette presented the first part of my recollections of some of the funnier things that happened in local radio broadcasting during the past 35 years. This week’s continuation deals with a few scofflaws, what can happen to an announcer when his mind is on other things, a contest that went awry, and some personal comments on the status of local radio.
A few announcers in my recollection experienced bouts with the law.
One such instance happened in 1964, when WSPT announcer Terry Walker lived in Wisconsin Rapids. On a winter morning, he was driving a little too fast as he left Rapids and headed to work via county trunk P. A squad car in pursuit couldn’t keep up with him. The highway was ice-covered and extremely slippery, but this character - in a heavy, old Cadillac - managed to stay on the pavement and outrun the law. What Walker didn’t count on was a train blocking his entrance to Stevens Point on West Clark Street. As he waited for the train to pass, the officer caught up with him, arrested him and hauled him back to Wisconsin Rapids.
A few minutes past 6:00 am, as I was covering for Walker in the studio, the telephone rang and the Wisconsin Rapids officer identified himself and said, "Mr. Walker will not be in for work this morning." I didn’t know the circumstances, but worked his shift on along with mine.
In those years, Howard Clark, the photographer, had his studio right next to the radio station, and he was our local news hound. Each day, he checked with the police and sheriff’s departments for news, and in calling the Wisconsin Rapids police that day, learned all about Mr. Walker’s episode. So he wrote up a lengthy store, detailing the whole affair.
It was a Friday morning, and I had plans to visit my parents in Milwaukee that afternoon. About 11:00, Walker showed up at the station after posting bond. I told him he had to read the noon news because I was leaving. Walker, of course, was the subject of the top story. The guy didn’t flinch one bit. He went on the air, and read the story of his chase and arrest, word for word.
Not all announcers can qualify to be brain surgeons.
Brant Bergeron, who spent five years in our newsroom, reminded me of another guy who worked the all-night shift at WSPT in the mid 1980s. I don’t recall why this fellow lost his driver’s license, but he did. That made it very difficult for him to go back and forth to work from his home in Wisconsin Rapids.
Following his shift, which ended at 6:00 am, he got in his car to drive home. It happened that a police officer was suspicious and had staked him out. No sooner than he had pulled out of the parking lot, the officer pulled him over and arrested him for driving after revocation. The officer followed him to headquarters, where this fellow parked his car, and went inside for paperwork processing. After that was finished and the all-night DJ posted bond, he went outside, got into his car and began to drive home to Wisconsin Rapids. The incredulous officers followed him, and arrested him again as he crossed the Clark Street Bridge. When they approached him, and asked why he was driving again, the announcer said, "How else can I get home?"
Shortly thereafter, we made a decision that allowed the guy to find work elsewhere.
Bergeron was a real trooper. Gary Wescott recalls that one day while reading news, a fly flew into Brant’s mouth. He coughed and sputtered, but pushed forward and finished the newscast.
Bergeron also recalled one news reporter who absolutely could not ad lib, and had to write everything down, including each word in the introduction to his newscast. Wescott decided to trick him, and got hold of his introductory copy and made a few changes. Here’s what listeners heard that noon: "It’s 12 noon, time for the noon news brought to you by ---. Hey-de-hay, Hi-de-hi, Howdy do, I’m Bob Jansen and I’ve got new for you."
When the Milwaukee Journal still had a "Green Sheet," I recall seeing a brief article that explained two Proctor and Gamble employees from Cincinnati were trying to get an Oscar for Miss Piggy. I called one of the fellows, and he told me they were circulating petitions in Southern Ohio so that Hollywood might give the Henson Muppet her due.
We decided it would be fun to do around here, too, so we printed and circulated hundreds of petitions and asked listeners to sign. More than 8,000 did, including then-Governor Lee Sherman Dreyfus.
At the same time, a school petition of some sort was making the rounds in Stevens Point, and the best it could do was just over 3,000 signatories. The school petition didn’t have the pizzazz associated with Miss Piggy. Gene Mueller prepared a story for United Press International, and it hit the national wire. The station won a IJPI award for it later that year. After the story went national, WSPT received many calls from radio station news departments all over the country, asking us to voice reports specifically for them.
Although the next incident happened before my time, it always gave me a chuckle. Early in WSPT’s history, the studios were at the transmitter site. One Sunday afternoon, one of the announcers was in an amorous mood and had his girlfriend in the small studio with him. He cued up a long transcription and began playing it on the air. With his mind on other things, he turned off the speakers and began making whoopee. The couple lost track of time, and the transcription ended. People who’ve been around a while know that when a record ends, the needle just stays in the final groove, making a "pshhh, pshhh" sound.
As the story was related to me, after several minutes of dead air, another announcer rushed to the studio to find the couple on the floor, otherwise occupied.
Here’s a story on how NOT to run a contest. Jim Buck, the Toyota dealer in Wisconsin Rapids at the time, teamed up with us at WSPT on a promotion to give away a new car, Listeners registered at business places, and after collecting the entries each week, we chose qualifiers — 312 to be exact. On the appointed day, about 700 people gathered at Jim’s lot on 8th Street South. We exchanged their qualifier postcards for keys which each would use in turn to try to start the car. There was just one winning key in the batch.
The qualifiers lined up, and tried to start the car with his or her key. After an hour or so, we were getting to the end of the line and the anticipation was building. Then it happened - the last one in line screamed, thinking she had the winning key. But it didn’t start the car.
So there we were - on a stage - without a winner, and trying to think quickly about how to resolve the predicament. Many people had already left after their key didn’t work, and to get them all to come back would be impossible. Jim and I settled on drawing a name from the box containing all the qualifier cards, since that would give each entrant a fair chance. Lucky for us, the person whose name we drew was still at the site, and happily took possession of the car.
What we learned from that experience was that we needed someone to sit in the passenger seat, to make sure the contestant put the key in the ignition switch correctly. We also began using coloring to hide the gray hair we developed that day.
Knowing the potential pitfalls of such a contest, I made appropriate changes and resurrected it in 1989 when I managed a station in the Fox Valley. The qualifiers all showed up one Saturday morning, and chose a key from a fishbowl. The contest had just begun, when the ninth qualifier started the car and won it. We quickly lost all the suspense we’d hoped for - the contest was over in 10 minutes and everyone went home. I never ran that contest again.
As I reminisce with former WSPT staff members from the early 1960s to the late 1980s, each has a few more stories to tell. If I hear more good ones, I promise to write a sequel to this piece!
Broadcasting has always been an unusual business, attracting many unusual people. What makes it so peculiar (and fun) is that some people involved in it never considered it a "business" in the classic sense, or didn’t even think it was real work. But it’s much more a business today than it was a few decades ago. Now, many stations are part of large conglomerate broadcasting companies and are under heavy pressure to produce profits. In earlier days, individuals owned most stations and they were satisfied with whatever profits they made. The people who built radio broadcasting saw it as a service to their local communities, and invested proceeds to strengthen the bonds between themselves and their community of license.
We’ve lost much of that today. Radio is now a commodity without much local identity. I call it "vanilla radio" - plain, ordinary programming that has little real local flavor. One station sounds just like another, with little to distinguish it except for a frequent recitation of the call letters or frequency.
There may be some ominous signs for terrestrial radio lurking on the horizon. Satellite radio has arrived, giving listeners the opportunity to tune in one signal in Maine and drive all the way to San Diego without ever changing the dial. The music programming sounds much the same as what most of us now receive on our FM radios - plenty of music without much local news and flavor - except there are no commercials.
At this point, the high cost of receivers and the $9.95 monthly service fee doesn’t exactly present a big threat to existing land-based stations. But if more people decide spending $10 a month is worth a crystal-clear signal and not having to listen to too many commercials, the satellite stations may grow in popularity.
My view is that the best way for terrestrial station operators to provide for their future is to review history and see what made radio prosper. We can’t make satellite radio go away, but land-based stations might insure a healthy future for themselves by reintroducing real local service. Radio has always been a local medium, and plenty of people would love to see it return to its roots.