Above the law

I'm the first to admit I have a lead foot, and the speeding tickets to prove it. Today, however, reinforced my theory that people who enforce the law don't feel they have to obey it.
I live in Central NH, and the stretch of I93 from Tilton to Concord is one of the most-patrolled roads I've ever seen. I'm driving to Concord today and saw 3 (yes, 3!) police cruisers speed past me all at seperate times. Really flying too. I was doing about 70 and 2 of them passed me like I was standing still. Two were unmarked and one was a Belknap County (Laconia area) sheriff. Now if they're on a call that's one thing...but when people see cruisers without the blue lights on ignoring the law it just makes their admittedly difficult job harder. Police already have a major lack of respect problem in our society..and it appears the feeling is mutual.
Maybe our limited police resources should focus on drunk driving and crime prevention instead of being used as both an ATM and guarantee of employment by the state employees tying up our court system with speeding tickets and ruining the life of some poor bastard over a quarter ounce of pot.
Speed doesn't kill...bad driving kills. Alcohol's cost to society is already staggering but filling our jails and clogging our courts with harmless recreational drug users just increases the cost and solves nothing.

Part 3...before the storm.

January 1990 couldn’t have been better except for the Allison thing. Turned out she decided that my friend Tom was more her style. Problem was, no one told ME until long after they hooked up. The beginning of February brought more bad news.
My phone rang about 7am. After thinking the usual "who the hell is calling me at this hour?", I found it was a Bellows Falls police officer! There's a special kind of awake that you only feel when you hear things on the other end of a phone like "I'm from the IRS" and "Officer Whoever from the Anytown Police". The kind that turns whatever you ate last night to liquid and then threatens to find the quickest escape route south of the border. I'm now that kind of awake. He told me the station had never signed on this morning (how he had my unlisted phone I’ll never know) and the reason was Mike was in an accident. Seems his car wouldn’t start so he was walking to work, and while walking he was hit by a snowplow and killed. To make things worse, his wife Marge was 7 months pregnant with their first child. We organized an on-air benefit that weekend and raised about 7000 dollars for the baby girl named Michaela who was born in early April 1990. (As I update this in late 2008, Michaela is in TN, graduated high school with honors and will be starting college.)
Mike’s death forced me to find another morning guy. After sorting through 14 million more demo tapes I hired John from the small town of Red Wing, MN. I don’t know how it happened, but I hired two of the nuttiest people I’ve ever run across in an industry known for strange people. John was not only extremely private, it turned out he was a serious drinker. I don’t know if he was gay or not, but I watched multiple attractive young women practically throw themselves at him and get nowhere. I think the worst part was when I was doing a live broadcast at a local supermarket and he showed up...more than a bit drunk and very obnoxious. Why I didn’t fire him I can’t remember, especially after he got Kayla so upset one morning she quit on the spot. Probably because I just can't get used to being happy and peppy at 5AM.
Neither he nor Neil had a drivers license. Every so often you find someone without one, but what are the odds of finding 2 people in the same small business without them? John’s may have had his revoked due to alcohol but all I knew from Neil is he had no wish to drive. Both had really weird quirks. John would arrive early every morning and clean the studio. I mean CLEAN. Vacuum, counters, everything. Neil had his routine of eating the exact same thing for breakfast at the same time every day, he even scheduled his....restroom visits at the same time each day.
Neil lived above me in the same apartment building so we’d hang out occasionally, but his thing for routine and wrestling was...disconcerting.
Despit eall the drama, there was something incredible about the way I felt then. Every time I’d flip the radio on I’d think "this is mine". I was responsible for everything that came out of the speakers. It felt great, but the bad part was I had never lived alone and it was taking some getting used to. It wasn’t long before that changed in a hurry. Thats what I mean by "the best of times, the worst of times".
I had a very good relationship with a local nightclub and frequently had special concerts or other events there, and of course we gave away tickets on air. At one show a young woman came up to me and thanked me for the tickets she had won. Love at first sight exists, my friends...make no mistake about it.

How I got into radio, Part 2

So where were we? Oh yes...Bellows Falls VT. I referred in the first part to it being the best of times and the worst of times. It was.
I started the job December 15th 1989. Why do I remember it so well? Not only did I have to build a radio station from scratch to launch in 2 weeks (and we made it with just a couple of hours to go) I had to solve the staff problem. They had to go.
So I get there, fresh from my 2 ½ hour drive to meet the staff , whom I then had to fire. It’s all too common in radio for this type of housecleaning and it’s almost never personal, but that didn’t make it easier...especially since the only 2 people who knew about the format change was the owner and myself.
I did keep one jock...his name was Mike. He had a fascinating life, including a period of time as a carny. But he knew quite a bit about rock and roll and his wife was pregnant with their first child. That becomes relevant later on. Boy, does it become relevant.
So here we are, with me still literally sleeping in my office as I didn’t want to waste valuable sleeping time driving to Lawrence MA where my apartment was. I was working 18 hour days anyway. Hell, I was 26 and loving the whole experience. I was going to launch the new format at the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve, ushering in 1990 with a mission to show these hicks what a real rock station sounded like. Yes, that’s how I thought at the time. Ah youth, thy name is arrogance.
During the final 2 weeks of December, Mike, Brad (the owner) and myself kept the country format on the air while I waded through literally piles of resumes and demo tapes to find a decent airstaff, create program clocks, categorize music, write imaging pieces, sign syndication agreements and all 4 gazillion other things it takes to launch a format. I’ll never forget the resume that came handwritten (in pencil!) on notebook paper. I should’ve saved that.
After listening to what felt like the 2986th demo tape, Neil agreed to come up from Florida and be my night guy. OK, we had Mike in AM drive, a honey-voiced girl with the killer airname of Kayla Christie from Rutland doing mid-days, me in PM drive, and Neil at night. We signed off at midnight as an overnight jock was an expense we couldn’t afford and reliable automation was still 6 or 7 years off.
During all of this I had to find an apartment, especially as the 100+ mile commute sucked and my fiancee and I were breaking up. Allison was supposed to come with me to VT but due to reasons that don’t matter anymore she decided I wasn’t the right person to spend her life with. Little did I know why...yet. Thanks to friends I moved into a new place right before Christmas.
The last week of December passed in a blur. Then came New Years Eve. The plan was to air the "American Country Countdown best of the 80's" show from 5pm til midnight, where I would play our new kick-ass Legal ID and hit our first song, "Spirit of Radio" by Rush. During that evening we played an announcement recorded by the owner basically saying we were changing formats but not saying which one or when. That last couple of hours felt like forever. I had never attended the birth of a radio station before but the only thing better than that was the birth of my daughter. At the stroke of midnight I unveiled the new "B107" playing "real rock and roll". I spun until about 3AM, signed off and went home feeling great. The phones were ringing and most people liked the new format.

Justice? We don't need no stinkin' justice!

I'm working this morning, playing the "best variety of yesterday and today." That's another post.
Anyway I had a couple minutes so I picked up this weeks Time magazine. There it was. In black and white. On the Verbatim page.
Before I tell you what it was, allow me a tangent about the Justice department. The name strikes me in the Orwellian sense as it now stands for the exact opposite. From Ashcroft to Gonzales to Mukasey the neo-con Attorneys General have played fast and loose with the Constituition. Vote Libertarian. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
The quote is from Michael Mukasey and it reads "Not every wrong, or even every violation of the law is a crime." (italics mine). WTF????? Oh, thats right...it's only against the law if Justice says it is. Obviously the reverse is true also, regardless of what the law is.
If you think "well, maybe you're taking it out of context" consider this...how else could this be interpreted?? It used to be the boogeyman in Washington was the IRS. Justice makes those guys look like Santa's elves. I've always thought of "1984" as a book everyone should read, but to the Justice department it's more like a blueprint. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

How I got into Radio, Part 1

Many people ask how I got into the radio business. It's actually a bunch of coincidences that came together at exactly the right time. On the off chance you really want to hear it, here it is.

It really started at age 5, when my grandfather (who was part-owner of a station in the early 50's-way before I was born... and lost a ton of money on it I'm told) bought me a Radio Shack Flavorradio as a present for learning to read. If you've never seen one, it was a 6 dollar pocket AM radio that came in different colors and sounded, well, like a 6 dollar AM radio. I wore out dozens of 9 volt batteries listening to the AM's of the early 70's-1510 WMEX, 680 WRKO, and full service AM's 850 WHDH and 1030 WBZ, which wasn't Top 40 but had the great Dave Maynard and still played music. It was also the Boston affiliate for American Top 40 with the incredible Casey Kasem. My 2002 interview with him was a highlight of my career.
The radio fascinated me, as did the music, the jingles, and most of all, the DJ's. Even the seriously deep voice of late newsman John Masters on WRKO filled me with wonder (and envy). About a year or so later I got a record player. It was from Sears, a Silvertone with a polka dot vinyl covering, 7 inch platter, a small 4 or 5 inch speaker, and a plastic handle and tonearm. When the needle got dull I'd put a nickel on it to get a few more plays (!) before bugging my father to make yet another trip to Sears to buy another needle. Why he never bought more than one at a time I'll never know-they were only a dollar or 2. I played it so much the tonearm snapped because the plastic had fatigued. My Dad melted the 2 ends together with a soldering iron. Ugly, but it worked. Then it happened. I bought a cassette player and small AM transmitter kit at Radio Shack. Now, to my 9 or 10 year old mind, I had everything a radio station does. I did hundreds of radio shows in my room, hoping I'd be a DJ someday. I doubt anyone heard them since the transmitter had about a 30 foot range, but I was on the air, and that's what mattered.
Coincidence number one was when I joined the Boy Scouts. My first Scoutmaster's name was Dean French-and he worked for, if memory serves, WHUE-FM Boston. He took me to work with him one day. I remember a large building (possibly the Prudential Building for you Bostonians, but my memory is hazy) and a bunch of glass- walled studios. One jock was swigging from a quart carton of OJ. I clearly remember asking myself "Wow, that's a lot of OJ! Wonder why he's so thirsty". Anyone who has ever spent time behind a mic knows the answer. That visit set my resolve to grow up to be on the radio.

In roughly 1976 (age 11), I bought a portable AM/FM radio from Sears and discovered the then-new FM Rock formats as well as the Boston AM's and now the big New York station 66 WNNNNNNNNNBC at night. Many a night I woke up to dead batteries because I fell asleep with the earphone in my ear and the radio on. A very large part of my allowance and odd job money went to Radio Shack and Sears electronic departments for batteries, tape, and styli. Some kids build models-I built electronic project kits. Later, I had a "real" stereo system (with detachable speakers!), with a cassette deck and turntable (with real diamond stylus!) Seriously, that's what the box said. I kept doing my radio shows to an audience of no one and kept dreaming.

Coincidence number two happened at age 15 (1980).
For what reason I can't recall I called in to the Larry Glick show on WBZ. He was a talk host then, who also was a DJ/hypnotist at parties. He told me I sounded young and asked how I old I was . I told him, and to his credit seemed interested, asking me what I wanted to do when I got older. I blurted out "I want your job". Now, for those who don't know, WBZ is a 50 thousand watt blowtorch, and can be heard in 38 states at night. Hundreds of thousands of people heard me make a complete idiot of myself that night. He was amused, and asked me to hold on and talk to his producer Joy. Here it gets funny. Not funny funny, but you have to wonder how all the right cosmic things aligned the way they did.

Joy Berger, when not working for WBZ, hosted a weekly ethnic Jewish show on 1600 WUNR in Boston. She asked me if I'd like to come see the show being done. There are very few moments of pure exultation in life...and this was a biggie. I was going to see a radio station! The show aired Tuesday nights from 9 to 10 or 1030pm and was called the Ruach Hour. Ruach is a Yiddish word meaning joy. Get it?

A minute here to digress about my father Cyril. Here was a man struggling to keep his airline job during the deregulation era, and I'm sure he worried a lot. Airlines were shrinking drastically, and layoffs were common, forcing him to take jobs I'm sure he hated. My father had a job, a wife, a mortgage, 3 kids to feed, and was also in night school learning another career. Worst of all, he actually drove what may be the worst-built car on the planet, a very rusty 1973 Pinto. None of that stopped him from carting my teenage butt into Boston every week and sitting in the lobby, tired and bored, racking up parking tickets, while his oldest son lived his dream. We also made a habit of stopping on the way home at this little donut shop in Everett. They made the best (read: greasiest) fries I've ever had. I'd order some, and my dad would have coffee or something and we'd just hang out together. I'll forever treasure those nights, and will always be grateful to him for the time and sleep he gave up to feed my obsession. In return, I totalled his Pinto on the way to the station one night about a year later, having had my license all of 5 or 6 weeks. He was in the car with me and thankfully wasn't hurt, and I sometimes think he was secretly grateful he needed a new car....which I totaled a few months after he bought it. My beloved Dad died a few months back but without him the story may have ended here. Now back to the story.

The Ruach Hour was a show for Orthodox Jews, and done in Yiddish, Hebrew, and even some English. The studios were on North Washington street in Boston, and both WUNR and sister FM WBOS were on the 6th floor. As the weeks progressed, I found the show to be rather boring, and decided to talk to the engineer on duty- the incredibly kind and smart Norm Ruby. He sat for hours patiently answering what, to him, must have been stupid questions, and telling war stories of his long career in Boston radio. It was from him I learned about transmitters, signal processing, FCC rules and the imposing-looking electronic things with blinking lights and meters all mounted in tall racks everywhere I looked. His teaching was invaluable, and has always been helpful to me getting work in the industry.

Sometimes I'd go peek in at the FM studio and talk to the DJ. Eventually, (because I was there at least once a week), I'd do little jobs like pulling records (yes, records) and answering the request line. WBOS had just become a Rock station, thus becoming a large Eric-magnet, especially as a lot of kids in my high school listened to it. I'd watch the guys cue up records and run the board, even getting the occasional thrill of doing a segue or 2 on the air myself when the jock was in the bathroom. Some would refer to me on the air sometimes, having me read the the weather or something. Not much, you think, but I was totally thrilled just be in the studio, and doing something people could hear was, to me, a dream come true.

The demands of high school, work, a breakdown-prone 1976 Cougar and girls put a stop to my nights in Boston. About a year later, another incredible set of coincidences came together.
I started college in Haverhill Mass, passing up a much closer campus because this one had a radio station. Not only did I meet lifelong friends, but I met my best friend Bill there. He worked for a radio station in Lawrence as a part-time DJ. I spent more time at the station than in class, with a GPA fit for a Delta House member, but learned a ton about radio. One day a class I was in took a field trip to the local radio station in Haverhill, which was then 1490 WHAV and 92.5 WLYT. As we walked past the AM studio, the DJ (the incredibly talented and beautiful Liz Solar-I had a crush on her for years) mentioned the station needed a new overnight person. I couldn't wait to get out of school and head back there. I was shown in the Program Director's office and, with a confidence I didn't feel, told him I was his new overnighter. After telling him my "experience", he hired me. I found out later the work at WUNR/WBOS is what got me the job...which paid the huge sum of $3.50 an hour. The job was so menial, the janitor was higher up on the ladder than I was. It went like this...

At the top of the hour, I'd bring up the network news for 5 minutes, play a commercial, read the weather, bring up the talk network, then do nothing for 55 minutes except make sure the music tapes didn't run out in the FM studio. It gave me time to study the FCC rules when I should've been studying English Comp. At 5am, though, it got good. After the news, I would have my own radio show until 6am! I played records and generally did some very bad radio. I went through a series of bosses, but one stands out. His name is Michael B. and he's still on the air at WMJX Boston. Michael taught me everything he could, even taking me on some of his private party gigs, where I learned a little about working weddings, bar mitzvahs, etc. He came on at 6am, but would often "oversleep" so I could be on the air longer, and during morning drive! His boss hated when he'd do it, and he took some heat, but he always did it again. Thanks, Mike.

My friend Bill had snagged the overnight job in Lawrence, and we'd talk for hours during our shifts, bragging about our latest accomplishments and talking shop and girls-mostly shop.

Unfortunately, I learned early about the bad side of working in radio. The station's management treated employees very poorly and Ieft after about a year and a half after being repeatedly being passed over for promotion. I got a weekend gig playing music at 980 WCAP in Lowell, but was justifiably fired after about 6 months. Simply put, I sucked. Being fired in this business is fairly common, and frequently for no other reason than the ownership/management/format changes. In fact, there is an old expression in radio, "You haven't paid your dues until you've been fired a few times". It's true, and it wasn't the last time I got canned. That didn't make this first one any easier. It was the winter of 1985, and bowing to the constant parental chorus of "get a real job", I did-collecting overdue credit cards for Sears and later car loans and mortgages for a large New England bank. For a while, I thought I'd made the right decision...I had enough money to get my own apartment, a fiancee and a new car (a gremlin-filled 1986 Camaro). I resisted the siren call of broadcasting...for a while.

My friend Bill tipped me off that a weekend shift was opening up at WCCM where he worked. He convinced the Program Director, Bruce Arnold, to give it to me. It was the very end of the full-service radio era, and I worked from noon until sign-off (which changed every month due to FCC rules and the way AM travels at night) playing music and even airing the race results from nearby Rockingham Park. Bruce continues to be one of the best people I've ever worked for in what is now 25 years of radio.
Like most AM's at the time, WCCM had a sister FM, then WCGY-which had more issues than the Desperate Housewives with both employees and management. Most of the FM jocks had seen better days career-wise, but almost all were happy to help a couple of idealistic young kids (Bill and I) with advice, great war stories, and critiques. I'll always be grateful to many people who passed through that building, including Bruce Arnold (still on the air at WCCM as I update this in late 2008), Ben Mevorach (now News Director at 1010 WINS in New York), John "Spider" Spence (now at WMLL Manchester NH), Harvey Wharfield, Mike Morin (now at WZID Manchester), Jerry "Duke of Madness" Goodwin (teaching at NE Institute of Art), Julie Devereaux (WROR), and John Bassett. I also learned what NOT to do from certain people who I won't name, but one of them was the owner's son. I did everything from on-air work to news…even changing transmitter tubes one Christmas morning. You couldn't ask for better on-the-job training. Then, a phone call changed everything forever.

Then as now, Radio and Records magazine is a must-read for radio people regardless of job or format. Long before the Internet, their Job Openings and Jobs Wanted pages were the first ones most jocks looked at-much like some people check the Sports or Obits first when they pick up a paper. I had placed an ad there looking for full-time work. I should've been careful what I wished for.

I got a call from Brad Weeks, owner of a small station in Bellows Falls, VT. Brad knew the current Country format wasn't working and he was looking for someone to change the format and put the station on the map. I said I'd be up that weekend to talk about it. It sounded like the chance of a lifetime.

Let's move back a minute here. I grew up in suburban Boston, and spent lots of time in the city. I had never even seen a town as small as Bellows Falls, and the way of life in places like that was unlike anything I had ever imagined. Driving up to the studios for the first time, I felt like I had stepped off the Earth onto a strange planet complete with dirt roads and funny accents.

I met with Brad and we seemed to communicate well. He needed someone to shake up the station and was thinking of some kind of rock format. I had worked in a few rock stations so naturally I thought I knew everything there was to know about it. I got the job-my first programming gig.

To quote the old book “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. We did indeed go to 1st place in our target audience in less than 6 months but the recession and lack of good salespeople doomed us to financial failure.
I never felt comfortable in the little village of Bellows Falls, and they weren’t too happy with me and most of my staff being from “away” as they called it. Oh yes, my staff…that’s a story for another post.

Res Ipsa Loquitor

It's a legal term meaning "it speaks for itself".

Will Walmart respect you in the morning? Hardly. Another WTF moment.

A previous post took GM to task for trying to spin a cut in the Saab warranty length as a way to "better compete with our competitors".
Now Walmart's done the "doublespeak shuffle". In a story from consumerist.com they've laid off 3000 Sam's Club managers. Why? "To improve customer service"(!!!!) Yes, that's a quote. How can laying off 3000 people improve service from a company known for poor service and staffing stores at sub-skeleton levels?
All I know is this. Walmart has always had a healthy contempt for their customers, and to actually claim that 3000 fewer people could improve service is beyond galling. The only things improved are their bottom line and my utter disgust at this company.
Why do I hate them? Not for the reasons you'd think. I have no issue with their pay scales, benefits and such...they're fairly competitive. My problem is no one in any store I've ever been in seems to know anything about anything. The answer to everything is "let me get a manager" or "I don't know". They call for a manager and no one comes. Quick story...I went into the Tilton NH store to buy a LCD computer monitor. They had an open box model on their clearance shelf. It had 3 different price labels on it. 3 different people couldn't tell me what the right price was or even why there were different prices on it. Not even the so-called manager had enough brains to figure out this conundrum. I left and haven't been back...about 2 1/2 years now. There are more than enough fucking idiots in the world without me having to subsidize them.