Radio

by Frank M. Roberts

March 2016

I was looking - aghast! - at my 86-year-old self in a mirror which was, obviously, distorting my facial features. A moment later I was looking at a picture of my 20-some-years-odd self, taken in the music library at a radio station in Rome, N. Y. where I was semi-renowned as The Timekeeper, a name I inherited when I took over the ayem show where I was accompanied by a small xylophone known as Timmy the Time Tone. Gad - how corny can you get?

Anyway, I was a happy dude - young, easygoing, maybe slightly like dwarf number seven. WKAL, like just about all of radio in those days was an AM station. Back then, that's all there was. FM entered the scene many moons later with its longer reach knocking AM for a loop. Note - AM is making a very slight comeback.

Ah - but revenge is sweet. Along came cable, computers, little gadgets all, in turn, knocking FM for a loop or three. It all began, ostensibly, in 1873 when a cat named James Clerk (cq) Maxwell was messing around with electromagnetic energy, and continued when Guglielmo Marconi actually developed radio, between meals of 'Marconi' and cheese. Lee de Forest came up with the vacuum tube, and things really began jumping. Skipping a few years, FR arrived at 'KAL.

More power to me when I became a Texan and worked in Corpus Christi at KWBU. (The KW, of course, stood for kilowatts, and the BU stood for the owners - Baylor University). We were upstairs from a Buick dealership. It was the only time I got the job with the help of someone.

Wife number one, Beverly (I called her Beverly Buggirl - can't remember why) was the daughter of divorced parents. Momma, a real mensch (German for you-can-imagine) lived in Brooklyn, daddy became somewhat famous for introducing seltzer water to the previously deprived citizens of Corpus.

He wanted his daughter with him, and he knew the folks who ran the station - and he knew I was in radio - so he asked them to find a place for me. At the time, the station advertised itself as the most powerful AM station in the U. S. A. I was even getting mail from Canada.

I've written before about some of my radio experiences. My teevee experiences were with NBC stations in Washington. (That sounds so impressive until I add the initials - N. C.). Before that, I had hied my tail to KWWL-TV in Waterloo. (That sounds impressively Napoleonic until I add the initials IA).

On the side, I was a semi successful free-lance writer until greed took over. A newspaper editor in Jacksonville, N. C. heard my features on the Washington station and kept offering me $5 more - $5 more - $5 more until it became ridiculous to turn down those juicy offers. (P.S. Jim B., the editor who hired me was fired during my first day of work. For the umpteenth time he came to work d.o.a. - drunk on arrival).

No problem-o. I loved it there. I covered a lot of activities at Camp Lejeune (a huge Marine base as you probably know) and I watched those rugged rascals run through their routines. I was thanking God I had joined the Army.

In those days, newspapering, radio-ing, and television-ing were, for the most part, all white male affairs. In Jacksonville, a lovely lady named Helen labored in the newsroom, but was relegated to news and features about women's clubs, tea parties, etc., etc.

Nowadays, radio, teevee, newspapers are quite democratic, thank you. All are welcome - IF you can do what you say you can do, decently.

I recently watched a night newscast on WAVY with a young fellow who looks like he just graduated ---- from junior high. This guy had a '40s-'50s haircut (you could see his ears and you could not see a ponytail). He reminded me - of a much earlier me.

Out of the past and into the present. Back to the mirror - and the 86-year-old face. I would give my eyeteeth to turn back the clock and start all over again but, I was told, it doesn't work that way. I never worked a job where I was counting the years until I could quit working and collect my pension.

I keep my sanity thanks to this newspaper exhibiting excellent taste and accepting my humble (?) efforts and I am still running my mouth. (Call up RCH103. Plug-plug).

Speaking of age, I quote from James Thurber: "I'm 65, but if there were 15 months in every year, I'd only be 48." And, speaking of age, check this tombstone: "Here lies Johnny Yeast. Pardon me for not rising." Speaking of tombstones, check this: "Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake; Stepped on the gas pedal, instead of the brake."

Now, I'll give you a break and bid bye-bye ---- for now.