Clap For The Wolfman

7/14/1995.

The Good Lord called Charlie Minor into his office last week.

“Charlie,” God said with a frown, “you’re doing a great job getting all of our records on Clear Channel, but the people of Heaven aren’t buying any at our superstores.”

“Hey, buddy,” Charlie answered, motioning his entourage of angels toward the juice bar, “I can only do so much.  That Clear Channel 1 might reach everyone forever, but it’s boring.  We need to add some pop…some sizzle…something to get the listeners excited about the music.  Now, it just sounds like Muzak.  We need somebody to sell the music.”

God stroked his beard.  “Who do you suggest?”

Charlie waved his hands in the air.  “there’s only one person.  Wolfman Jack.”

God frowned again and the heavens crackled with lightning and thunder.  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Charlie’s smile lit up the room as he headed for the door, three angles on each arm.  “Hey, buddy, that’s what you’ve got me for.

I don’t remember how old I was when I first heard Wolfman Jack on the radio.  Having been born and raised in a tiny town in Mississippi, it was hard to get any station after the sun went down, much less any station that played the kind of music I wanted to hear. I was into R&B long before I knew what it was.  I only knew that my father didn’t want that kind of music played in the house.  And that make it important.

All day long, I would listen to Hank Williams, Roy Acuff and the like, but at night, I desperately needed a fix of Rhythm & Blues.  I would get a bottle and a date (in that order), drive to the highest point in the county and start twisting the dial.  The girls weren’t nearly as excited as I was (still aren’t), but went along because they thought I was fun and kind of dangerous (still do).

I had already discovered Big John R on WLAC out of Tennessee, but he was only on for two hours and it wasn’t enough.  So I kept searching the dial, keeping the needle down on the low numbers where the big stations were broadcasting, trying to get a fix.

Suddenly, a howling wolf cry cut through the static.  You cannot imagine the chill that went up my spine when I heard the top-of-the-hour ID.

“Are you wit’ me?  I’m askin’ are you wit’ me?  Aw, come on, babies, put your hand on the radio and feel the luuvv vibrations.  This is Wolfman Jack on XERB Del Rio, Texas!”

A jingle followed sung by Johnny Rivers and a host of other singers.  “Here comes the Wolfman…he understands.”

Then “Ya Ya” by Lee Dorsey.

My life changed at that instant.  I had never heard anything like it in my life.  Sissy Sue was playing with my hair and whispering her best Southern come-on in my ear.  I didn’t care.  This Wolfman Jack from some mysterious place in Texas had transported me into a special world…a world I would never leave.  Sissy Sue, a few years short of becoming Columbia High’s homecoming queen (and already displaying a couple of attributes that would later make her a lock on the crown), may as well have been a figment of my imagination.  I didn’t care.  I was waiting for the Wolfman’s next break.

“That was `Ya Ya,”’ Wolfman yelled, “by Lee Dorsey.  How you like the Wolfman so far baby?”  His voice dropped into a now familiar purr.  “Have mercy, baby!  Who’s this on the Wolfman’s telephone?”  Then he yelled again.  “Are you nekkid?”

Sissy Sue never got it, but I did.  She married well, has four or five kids she’s hoping to get into Ole Miss on scholarships.  I’ve been hooked on the drug I got from Wolfman Jack the first time I heard him selling music and “…Holy Water blessed by the saints of Jerusalem.”  When Sissy Sue heard about Wolfman’s passing, she called.  She finally got it.  Her husband didn’t understand.  He vaguely remembered a husky, bearded dude that hosted The Midnight Special.  Me?  I lost a friend.  And something much more.

A part of radio left with Wolfman Jack, but the loss will be felt outside of radio.  We lost an important part of Americana.  We lost a bit of our youth.  We lost a lot of our audio excitement.  For millions of teenagers in California who heard him nightly on XERF and millions in the Southwest tuning in XERB, Woflman Jack was radio.  And man, could he move records.  If the Wolfman played it, you wanted to go right out and buy it.

Radio passed Wolfman Jack a long time ago.  It’s not something we should be proud of.  We are too often accused of sounding boring…identical…automated.  Wolfman Jack was none of these.  Cookie-cutting programmers are too quick to copy rather than strive to be unique.  Instead of finding a place for Wolfman Jack, we cut him out.  In doing so, we’ve created a huge void.  Not so much for Wolfman.  He always did all right.  But for the next Wolfman.

I was lucky.  I got to meet Robert Weston Smith, a.k.a.  Wolfman Jack, long before his debut in American Graffitti.  I was afraid that meeting him would destroy forever the image I had painted in my mind of that magical person who helped change my life.  I shouldn’t have worried.  Wolfman Jack in the flesh was everything and more that he was coming through those three-inch speakers in the ‘60s.

I hired Wolfman to do nights on KHJ in Los Angeles.  We had the deal all worked out.  I even managed to stretch the restrictive RKO format to allow him the latitude to be himself, but restrictions still applied.  The day before the promos were due to hit the air, Wolfman came to see me.  In his famous gravelly voice, he told me he couldn’t take the job.  He had done his act so long, he was afraid he just couldn’t come close enough to the format to make us both happy.

“Baby,” he said, “I would rather turn down this job than jeopardize our friendship.”

In the end, it all turned out for the best.  Wolfman syndicated a weekend show and we ran it on KHJ.  He eventually made 10 times what I would have paid him…and we remained friends

So Wolfman Jack got the gig on the big station in the sky where he can dictate the format.  It was just a matter of time.  The Wolfman was only on the air once a week.

Heaven needed to hear him a lot more often that that.  Let’s all give one last clap for the Wolfman.

KFRC Playbook

7/12/1995

Many of you have asked the “secret” of the success of KFRC while I was the program director. There was no one “thing” that made KFRC as success. It was a combination of talent, signal, promotions and music. But the biggest element that made KFRC successful was the consistency of the sound. Now matter what time you tuned in, you knew it was KFRC. A big part of the consistency of KFRC was derived from everyone playing by the same book…the KFRC Playbook…a part of which I share with you this week. It is a combination of everything I learned about radio programming. These are my thoughts, combined with the special people I worked with along the way: Paul Drew and Buzz Bennett to name the most important. It’s part of the recipe for the “Gumbo” that made KFRC what it was. Enjoy:

The following information is provided to help you understand the basics of the KFRC format.  The easiest thing to do is read the material once and never pick it up again.  It is to your benefit, however, to read this book once each week…every week…so the basics will become a part of your on-air procedure.

This information covers all the essentials of the KFRC format.  You won’t find a formal ending.  The evolution of and changes to the format will necessitate additions to the playbook.

The playbook is broken into two parts: philosophy and mechanics.  The mechanics and philosophy are interwoven.  One without the other is worthless.  Understanding the philosophy behind the mechanics will make the format succeed because it is the sum of all of the parts that will spell success for you and KFRC.  It is important for you to understand the philosophy.  It is imperative that you take care of each formatical rule.  Knowing where your final destination is won’t get you there unless you take the right road and make all the correct turns.  Knowing that San Francisco is in Northern California is useless unless you know how to get there.  We must know where we’re going and what we have to do to get to our final destination.  We must understand the philosophy and apply the mechanics to make the philosophical idea a practical reality.

The format makes the sound smooth and consistent.  The audience doesn’t know our rules and restrictions.  However, the audience can feel our total impact.  The philosophy behind KFRC should translate into a feeling…a feeling we must have and share with our listeners.  We call this feeling “the X factor.”

The key to attaining the X factor lies in how we apply the mechanics of the format in relation to the philosophy.  We can’t just follow the rules.  That would be automation.  We must reach and maintain the X factor by combining our own personalities within the framework of the format.  Humanism is the key.  Humanism must created within the basics of the format.  If your individual feelings transcend the format, we fail.  If your individual feelings mesh with the format, the, and only then, will you be able to rise above the mechanics of the format to attain success.  Being creative and individualistic within the format is the mark of a true professional.  Only you can do it!

The basic philosophy of KFRC is to interface humanism with the format to achieve the feeling that motivates our listeners to be proud that KFRC is their favorite station.

On the subject of humanism, we get into the problem of defining what it is and what it isn’t.  We must evaluate and re-define that word as it directly relates to the job we are trying to do.  In order to understand it properly, we must break it down into different verbalizations.

The term “humanism” isn’t quite enough.  We must go further and emit the feeling of positive humanism as opposed to negative humanism.  When you are on the air, you must create a little bit more than just humanism…it must be positive humanism.  If a jock was terminally ill and went on the air and slowly died, it would be realistic, but it would also be a total negative and would not produce a positive feeling (that in turn would produce positive ratings).  Are you getting the picture?

One of the primary points of humanism is authenticity.  Authenticity must be combined with honesty, warmth and openness without losing the spark and momentum necessary to create the quarter-hour maintenance based on the feeling that something is coming.

There is a strong significance of listening.  In turn, there is s strong significance of feeling and thinking, rather than just speaking.  Feeling and thinking is necessary in our day when hypotheses about what might be are more interesting than what is or what has been.  In a world of continuous change, the past becomes less relevant to current problems.  Cultural shifts are obvious, so we as leaders must constantly change.  Social order must be conceived of in terms of process, rather than structure.  This requires functional individuals to be general in their quest rather than specific subject-matter specialists.  Since we have continuous change, our organization will be set be up in the same way.

We must have goals, but we must have communicating members whose help is needed and utilized to reach those goals.  We, as leaders (that means all of us), must constantly be open to feedback, especially from our subordinates or our peers. We must negotiate and arrive at mutually acceptable goals, understood by all, creating an informal organization led by human realtors thinking over their specific areas.  This we must do to create, because creativity is the bringing together of unlike elements joining into a new event.

Real people are listening to you.  You must communicate with them.  The “boss Jock” syndrome seems to have influenced the great majority of modern radio personalities to talk down to people, talk at people, to enunciate and just not be themselves.  The one-on-one relationship is essential to furnish the feeling our potential listeners are seeking.  They are seeking to relate, to know that there is someone else like them.  The fact is: We’re always talking to somebody.  We are not reading, not shouting memorized lines.  We’re talking to important people. Whatever is said must be meant.  The time, a liner, your name…everything…and particularly the most important message of all: KFRC.

Now that you have the general philosophy, it is important that you carry out each segment of the format.  To succeed, we must color each square, fill every hole and touch all the bases so we can get to the top quicker and stay there.  Anyone can do the big things.  It takes a dedicated professional to cover all the little incidentals every day to achieve a degree of consistency that cannot be matched.  Remember where you are and what got you here.  Until you became a part of KFRC, you were working to get here.

You did extra things at smaller stations so you could move on to a bigger and better situation.  Now that you’ve made it here, the motivation you had for doing the extra things may diminish.  You need to constantly analyze your position and establish a new motivation for your continued consistent actions.

There are six main objectives that we must accomplish to establish a cohesive merging of the philosophy and format mechanics.  These are he keys to the kingdom: Desire, Discipline, Excitement, Energy, Realism and Consistency.  They are all basic and equally important.  One without the other may produce a quick inflation, but a quicker deflation.  To achieve these basics, we must break each one down, identify it and determine what we must do to achieve it.

DESIRE

All of us have the desire to be the best or we wouldn’t be here.  However, wanting something badly doesn’t mean you’ll get it.  We must maintain our desire and combine it with the other factors to turn our desire into reality.

Each team in the National Football League begins training camp with a playbook that outlines the team objectives.  No team sets out to be a loser.  Each is dedicated to winning and going to the Super Bowl.  The playbooks define the goal and put forth a plan of action.  Yet after the season, the majority of the teams fall short of their goals.  They didn’t begin the season with the objective of losing.  In the beginning, they all had the desire to be winners but somewhere along the line, they failed in their quest.

Did they lose their desire? I don’t think so.  They failed to combine their desire with a daily intensity necessary to make their desire a reality.

We must never lose our desire and we must maintain a daily intensity on the little things that will get us to Super Bowl.

DISCIPLINE

It’s easy to do a great show when everything is going right and you’re feeling good.  It’s tough when you feel terrible and everything is going wrong.  You must discipline yourself to achieve the goal of a great show, no matter the circumstances.  It takes discipline to push the positives and overcome any negative feelings that might make your show less than it should be.  You’re part of one of the best staffs in the country.  Consequently, you must discipline yourself to achieve a maximum effort every time you’re on the air

We depend on each other for our total success.  Our audience judges all of us.  If we have one weak link, we all suffer.

You must make yourself do all of the little things that by themselves might mean very little, but when added together, make you and KFRC the best.  Discipline yourself to come in early, take the extra time to make a spot sound better, make yourself read over each piece of live copy before going on the air so you’ll get it perfect, re-write the liners and PSAs, prepare your show to make sure you have the proper music balance.

In short, discipline consists of making yourself do all of the little things that we sometimes think we’re too good to do.  Don’t forget that doing the little things to make yourself better is what got you here in the first place.

Discipline yourself to achieve your best, because on KFRC, the worst you should ever sound is great!

EXCITEMENT AND ENERY

The two are closely related.  Excitement causes a burst of energy.  Energy creates excitement.  Think of it this way: Excitement is scoring a touchdown; energy is lining up, waiting for the snap, knowing you’re going to score.

We must generate a feeling of excitement by being excited ourselves.  Our listeners don’t hear excitement; they feel it.  You cannot be excited all of the time, but you can maintain a high energy level that will enable the audience to get a positive charge from you.

Each of us must maintain the energy level in our own way.  We all react differently.  It’s up to you to involve yourself in KFRC in such a way that the feeling of energy is passed on to the audience.

It is important that you maintain a positive energy level on the air.  It is equally important that you maintain a positive energy level off the air.  If you push positive feelings, those around you will be positively charged.  Negative feelings will be similarly passed along.  So work toward charging the on-air sound, the people around you, the rooms and halls of KFRC!

REALISM

We must all strive to be individuals on the air, within the boundaries of the format.  The era of the “boss Jock” has been over for quite some time.  People are listening to you to hear what you have to offer.  If the format was the only key to success, KFRC would be automated.  It takes real people talking to real people to achieve that realism that will allow you and KFRC to rise above the mathematics of the format and attain total success.  We know what realism is, but again, it’s important to redefine the term as it relates directly to our jobs.

On KFRC, realism is being yourself with an “air” of carny.

When you’re talking with one person, you tend to lay back, talk softly and emphasize very few words because you don’t need to be animated.  The person you’re talking with is listening to you and will miss very little of what you say.  You are the center of attention.  Do this on KFRC and you die.  But if you over-emphasize some things, enunciate more distinctly and talk louder, you’re not being real, right:   Wrong!  When you’re talking with a group of people in your living room, you talk louder, over-emphasize some things and, in general, try and express yourself in a more dominating way because you’re trying to hold the attention of several people.  You’re still being real; you’re a little more animated.

That’s the feeling we must strive for on the air: realism, with a bit of animation.  It’s a fine line, but we must find it.  When you make a statement, your listeners won’t believe it unless you do.  Convince yourself!  When you’ve convinced yourself, your listeners will believe it… because it is the truth!

When you walk through a carnival, you hear the barkers shouting, “Hurry, hurry, hurry!  You can’t lose.  Step right up and win a prize!”  You might step right up, but you know you’re going to be ripped off because the barker has already told you so.  Not by his words, but by the way he said them.  We must find the line of realism with excitement and every…not the carnival rip off.

CONSISTENCY

Consistency is the combination of all of the above on a daily basis.  It’s covering all of the basics, all of the time.  Doing this makes the basics become automatic, giving us the freedom to develop ourselves in greater ways.  By covering the basics every day, they become good habits.  Once they become habits, you don’t have to consciously make yourself cover the basics, because you habitually do them.

Remember, at KFRC, it is not enough to just be consistent.  You must be consistently great.

Now that you have the total picture, go over this playbook every week.  Understand the importance of each particular fact.  Dedicate yourself to perfecting every part of the format and philosophy so we can have a dynamic station made up of dynamic individuals.

Understand that I expect each of you to be aware of every one of the following formatic rules.  And understand one other thing:  I have the desire, the discipline, the consistency, the realism, the excitement and the energy to make sure you carry them out!

Heroes And Villains

7/7/1995.

I was at the Bobby Poe convention.  Aren’t I always?  Bobby has managed a convention through thick and thin for the past 24 years.  Next year’s Silver Anniversary will mark the swan song of the most remarkable string of conventions this business has ever known.  Twenty four straight years…through good times and bad…through high times and low times.  You can say whatever you want about the Poe Cat, but two things remain constant: He’s still passionate about our business and he’s consistent.

Who else could single-handedly do it for 24 years in a row?

Nobody.

As is always the case, there were heroes and villains at this convention, though nothing as controversial as in some past years.

Hero: WPLJ’s Scott Shannon, whose keynote address was truly exceptional. Scott spoke from the heart about his love of the business…a love we all share but are all too often afraid or embarrassed to verbalize.  One of the most inspiring thoughts he touched on was a sense of sharing what we all owe to others in our business.  We are mainly too busy or impressed with ourselves to spend the time sharing our thoughts and beliefs with those who are new to our business.  It isn’t about textbooks and seminars.  In our industry, especially radio, we learn from others who are doing what we are doing.  If there were more Scott Shannons who would share their knowledge and experiences with those who are attempting to find their way, the path would be much wider.  The only problem with Scott’s speech was that there weren’t enough radio people in the audience to appreciate it.

Villains: Those in our business (and in the halls and lobby at the convention center) who were too busy putting down others instead of trying to gain a positive experience.  Why some must be quick to criticize is beyond me.  Our business is so difficult that we should stand and applaud anybody who is doing well.  Those who gossip and back-bite will feed on their own negative thoughts and voices and, fortunately for the rest of us, remain in the halls and lobbies and will never make it inside the ballrooms of success.

Heroes: Andrea Ganis, Danny Buch, Monte Lipman and the rest of the Atlantic staff who put together a miracle.  Who would have thought anyone could convince the majority of those attending the convention that a bus ride would be the “in” thing to do? But there we all were, lined up like a bunch of 12-year-olds, ready, if not anxious, to go to “Camp Hootie.”  Through no fault of their own (terrible weather, a jack-knifed trailer truck on the interstate, etc.), the 45-munute bus ride turned into two hours and 15 minutes.  Why worry? Would you rather be in the lobby dodging people you didn’t want to talk with anyhow?  We’re out of beer! No problem.  Monte is off the bus at an intersection, dodging through traffic to make it to the 7-11.  Before the light changes, he’s back with six cold cases.  And even after all of the delays and rain, the members of Hootie & The Blowfish spent a leisurely hour talking, signing autographs and taking pictures with all who wanted. We even sang camp songs on the ride back!

Villains:  The members of Congress who were given VIP seating to see for themselves exactly what the record business was all about.  For the most part, they were no-shows.  I guess they compared the concert with a vote on some legislation and chose to abstain.  Maybe we can cut them some slack.  The weather was dreadful and they weren’t invited on the bus.

Hero:  Eddie Money, who withstood the rigors of a cocktail party in his honor.  He managed to smile and shake hands and pretend to be interested in every person who walked through the door.  And since I know Eddie, I know he wasn’t pretending.  He’s a trooper.  And a friend to radio.  Is there a program director out there who hasn’t asked Eddie for something and had him not come through?  If you aren’t playing his record, you should be ashamed.  He’s one we owe.  Pay him back.

Hero: Columbia’s Jerry Blair, who guided three cows through the lobby and to the pool to promote Buckshot LeFonque.  Is there anyone but Blair who could have pulled it off with such panache?  Is it true that there was a party later with the herd in his suite:  Is there a Page 6 picture floating around somewhere?

Villains:  The security guards and hotel manager who went apoplectic.  At least they didn’t shoot anybody.

Hero:  The Poe Cat himself.  For 24 years, Bobby has been sponsoring a golf tournament, but he never played.  Bobby began taking lessons last summer and for the first time, entered his own tournament.  I had the “privilege” of playing with him in the first group.  Things were going well until the 18th hole.  It’s a little dog-leg left with a four-lane highway running beside it Bobby’s first shot was right down the middle, but his second got away from him.  It was a mighty slice that cut over the trees, bounced in the middle of the road, through an Exxon station on the other side and finally came to rest in the flower bed.  I must admit, there was a bit of money riding on the outcome and our hopes looked slim.  Bobby said, “we concede nothing,” then took off across the highway, a five-wood in his hand.  Our partners protested, but Poe accurately pointed out that there were no out-of-bounds stakes next to the road and he would “by God” play the damned ball with no penalty.  He took and arrogant stance, roses tugging at his knees, bit his lower lip and loosed a terrific swing.  From a cloud of dirt and shreds of flowers, the ball took off.  It was low.  Headed right for the Corvette with the big guy pumping gas.  At the last second, it curved upward, just missing the pumps.  It continued to soar over the four lanes of traffic. Clipped the top of the trees lining the fairway and dropped down a mere 100 yards from the green.

Unfortunately, by the time Bobby finished putting, he had wasted a few more strokes.  He evidently needed a bigger challenge than just some sand traps.  When he finally holed out, he looked at me, winked and said, “That was a hell of an eight!”

No doubt about it, Bobby.  It was the best I’ve ever seen.

And so was the convention.

Press!

6/23/1995

I was in trouble early.  And I knew it.  I had journeyed to Nashville to play golf with my good friends Wynn Jackson and James Stroud.  I use the word “friends” advisedly.  When you’re deep in the heart of Dixie and playing golf for cash money, your friends are more apt to chop you up than your enemies.  Down here, everyone carries a razor.

Our other two playing companions were Dirt and Herky. Now the first rule of golf is:  “Never play for money against strangers with nicknames.”  I never gave it a thought.  I was in Nashville to have a good time.  Besides, I was with friends.

I drove the first ball of the morning right down the center of the fairway.  I was posing like TV Tommy when I heard Dirt say, “Damn, boy, that’s stouter than a bay mule.”

I reach for my wallet, but it was too late. If I hadn’t known it already…I’d been had.

I told Stroud I wanted to play for an ad in the Country Network and he said that was fine and, of course, we would press on the fly.

Press on the fly?  I had never heard this one, but I didn’t want to sound too ignorant so I agreed.  I figured I would find out what it meant soon enough.  I figured right.

I was feeling pretty good about the drive, but the second shot left a lot to be desired.  Short and left.  I had a bad case of the pull hooks and I know I’d have to hunker down or I would be on the way to the cash machine in a hurry.  As the ball spun toward a lake that my partner had “forgotten” to tell me about, Stroud said, “Press.”

“You can’t press on the first hole,” I protested as my ball headed for splash-down.

Stroud smiled, “Press on the fly.  Anytime your opponent’s ball is in the air, you can press.  It doubles the bet.”

I bogeyed the first two holes and the Nashville contingency was grinnin’ like mules eatin’ briars.  Herky got on his cellular phone and a couple of holes later, two more people had driven out to join us.  Evidently the news was traveling fast.  There was a “suspect” in from Hollywood with a pocketful of cash and a shaky game.

I was introduced to Booger and Juice.  Since Booger had the first finger of his left hand buried in his nose halfway to his cerebellum, I knew how he got his nickname.  Juice I wasn’t sure about.

“Gerry’s in all the usual games,” Stroud said.  “He especially likes to press on the fly.”

Booger and Juice couldn’t have been happier.

Around hole number seven, the sun finally broke through the humidity and it started to really heat up.  Dirt allowed how he was “sweatin’ like a hillbilly at a spellin’ bee.”

I pulled another one dead left off the tee.

“Press,” everybody said.

I was struggling and they were loving it.  And the truth was, so was I.  It was a beautiful day.  I was playing golf. I was in the South.  Hell, I was home.

Juice had stuck a wad of chewing tobacco the size of a softball into his left cheek a while back and I now knew where he got his nickname. Along with the chewing habit, Juice also had a rather large stomach.  When he spit his ruminations, most of it got on the front of his shirt.

Wonderful.

Juice explained his colorful golf shirts.  If you get a stain on your shirt, there is a guy who paints the shirt, incorporating the stain into the design.

The painter must do a helluva business in Nashville.

By the time we made it to the 10th tee, I was down $1,200.  I figured I had these boys just where I wanted them.  A double-shot of Jack Daniels at the turn had solved the hook.  The boys fell all over themselves when I doubled the bet.

Fools.  They forgot I was born in Mississippi.

About four holes into the back side, they were quiet.  Herky was mumbling to Dirt, Juice and Booger were arguing about what club to hit and Stroud had cancelled his business with Wynn for inviting me.

I kept yelling, “Press!”

By the time we got to 18, it was dead even.  I teed it up and quacked it dead left in the tall weeds by the edge of a small creek.  Nobody even whispered the “P” word.  I’d been playing so well, they didn’t want to take a chance.

I waded into the weeds, searching for my ball.

“Watch out for them cottonmouths,” Booger grinned.  “They’ll sting you if they get a chance.”

I was ankle-deep in branch water, searching for the lost Titlist, when I saw the snake cutting through the water like a speedboat, mouth gaping, heading right for my ball.

Without thinking, I swung the 4-iron.  There was a mighty splash and the snake flew out of the creek, straight toward Stroud.  It was the only shot I didn’t hook all day.

“Press!” Booger hollered

Stroud stood rooted in his tracks, eyes as wide as the moccasin’s mouth.  The snake wrapped around his neck, then slid down inside the back of his shirt.

He did a quick two-step, spun into a stomp then fell into a sand trap and broke into a full Watusi.  He was on his back, legs and arms flailing, screaming for all he was worth.

“Help me, somebody help me,” he wailed.  “The snake bit me!  I’m gonna die…I’m gonna die!”

Dirt, who had witnessed the entire episode, ran over.  “Stop acting like a baby, Jimmy James,” he snapped.  “You ain’t gonna die.  I’ll just suck out the poison.  Where’d you get bit?”

“On my ass,” James cried.

Dirt shook his head.  “Boy, you’re gonna die.”  He walked slowly back to the cart.

Stroud didn’t die.  The snake was dead before it left my club.  When it slid down James’ back, he freaked out and jumped around so much, the money-clip in his back pocket slipped off the big wad of cash he was carrying around and pinched him on the butt.

When it was all said and done, no money changed hands.  There was a big argument about whether or not I should be assessed a stroke because I played the snake out of a hazard.  It was decided that I wouldn’t be penalized since Stroud wasn’t disqualified for hitting my ball.  That was when he beat the lifeless snake after it slid out of his pants.

The moral of this story?  If you ever go to Nashville to play golf with anyone in the “music bidness,” take a fishing pole.

There are a lot of barracudas down there.

If The Shoe Fits

6/30/1995

“What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

Forgive me for using a line from one of my favorite movies, Cool Hand Luke. I watched it this past weekend. I didn’t know why until today when I found out about the “latest” changes in R&R.

R&R is a lot like Cool Hand Luke. Old and outdated. But at least the movie has some great lines. R&R, on the other hand, has some good lies. I guess if you leave out a letter or a word here and there, a comparison can be made between the two. With R&R, what we have here is a failure.

Unfortunately, the truth is a lot more complicated and dangerous.

This week, in their infinite wisdom, R&R decided to cut the number of reporting stations. Some 28 programmers were told they would no longer be a part of the R&R panel. (Sorry, guys, we’ve used you long enough. We got what we wanted and we don’t need you any more.) About half of these reporters were just added less than three months ago. They were good enough in the spring, but not in the summer? Even new sitcoms get a longer run on NBC.

So, why do I care?

From its inception, Network 40 has solicited and accepted, gladly accepted, playlists from any and every station wanting to be a part of our reporting panel. We are all radio programmers here. We are intimately familiar with the problems programmers face because we’ve been there, done that. We are dedicated to providing our subscribers with any and all information they need to help make their jobs easier.

R&R selects the panel of reporters based on an ever-changing, secret formula that best meets its needs, no the needs of the industry they pretend to service. Does R&R ever ask programmers what’s best for radio? Does R&R ever ask programmers what station should be included in the panel?

Does R&R ever ask anybody anything?

Nope. They just dictate. Whatever is best for R&R on any given day is what the R&R policy is…for that day. If the powers that be wake up in a different mood the next day, the policy changes.

So, what’s the problem? Shouldn’t R&R be able to do whatever it wants? Absolutely. If (and this is a big if) R&R’s policy didn’t affect the lives and well-being of the programmers and radio stations they pretend to serve. The sad fact is that for small radio stations, R&R status means promotional dollars. Many record companies still pay independent promoters based on whether or not a radio station is an R&R reporter.

Why? Good question, one most record company executives are asking themselves almost daily. More and more record companies are revising their deals with independent promoters. Already, record companies are relying on monitored airplay and retail record sales to determine radio stations that are important. Independent promoters should work with the record companies to decide what stations are important, then use Network 40 to track the airplay. Network 40’s panel includes all stations. Those interested may pick the ones important to them, not the stations a trade magazine deems important.

In the not-too-distant future, a radio station’s promotional support will be based upon the station’s ability to deliver exposure and sales to new product. When that time comes, R&R reporting status will be meaningless.

In the short term, however, for smaller stations, R&R means income through promotional considerations supplied by independents, who bill back their expenditures through agreements with record companies. When a station becomes an R&R reporter, the rewards are greater than merely status and recognition. The difference can be measured by the bottom line. So when a station manager projects his expenditures and income based on projections for promotional support, then loses the reporting status, the difference in the bottom line figures can be drastic.

Jobs and careers are threatened.

When will R&R’s stranglehold on radio end? When record companies refuse to pay independents based on the R&R panel. When will that begin? It already has. When will it be complete? Shortly.

Again, why does Network 40 care? Because we care about the future of radio and programmers. Judging by their latest move, those at R&R only care about stations and programmers in large markets. If you’re in a market that serves less than 150,000 people or so, you don’t exist. Did any of us start out in markets of that size?

Network 40 includes all programmers and stations that want to participate. This is our criteria. You want to join the party? The door is wide open. That’s great. The Monitor lists airplay based on its ability to monitor airplay in markets. It’s based on economics. That’s fair. At least, as a programmer, you know the criteria. R&R includes stations based on its own secret, constantly changing formula. That’s bullshit.

Independent promoters work small radio stations. They know that programmers move up. And relations move with them. Shouldn’t record companies reward radio stations that expose their product and sell records, regardless of size? Isn’t that what it’s all about? How is a station not important in February, becomes suddenly important in March, then drops back into oblivion in June because of the whims of a trade magazine? It’s beyond the pale.

Those in power at R&R have proven that they are not futuristic. Their only strength is that record companies still…reluctantly…use the R&R panel for independent promotion. That strength is ebbing quickly. When that policy ends, and the finish line is just around the corner, R&R will be finished as well. R&R has few friends in radio.

The best move R&R made was hiring Tony Novia. Tony is a radio guy. He’s trying hard. Record companies are supporting him because most believe he’ll wind up back in radio somewhere. So do we. Unfortunately, that isn’t reason enough to continue to support R&R’s archaic policies. Get a real job in a hurry, Tony. But make sure it’s in a market of over 150,000 people. Otherwise, nobody will care

Unless you report to Network 40.

Cagle For Congress

6/16/1995

In the past two weeks, I’ve had more political discussions that when I ran for Congress. For better or worse, those of us in the radio and record industries have been dragged kicking and screaming into the political arena. And judging from the majority of those involved in these discussions, most in our business are extremely limited in our knowledge of the real power that affects our everyday lives.

It’s time to go to school.

There is no required reading, except for these Editorials. The nature of our business is that most don’t (or don’t have time to) read. However, before you engage in a political dialogue and risk embarrassing yourself, you should prepare.

Tonight, rent three videos and watch them in this order: The Candidate, starring Robert Redford; Blaze, with Paul Newman; and Clear And Present Danger starring Harrison Ford.

You’ll glean an important overview from this group, but the real truth is summed up in one scene; When an official is asked what the administration wants, he answers, “This administration wants what every new administration wants…to get reelected.”

The most important fact you need to grasp is that politics is big business. The biggest. Forget Forbes 500. Politics is the real king. Always has been. Always will be. If you look at political posturing as merely posturing, you miss the big picture.

In the beginning, it’s about morals and beliefs. I believe very few get into politics to make money. Their reasons are varied, but most begin the trek with lofty intentions. Is there one who doesn’t start out wanting to right wrongs, correct injustices and make the ultimate difference in the lives of others? I think not. But somewhere along the way, it gets twisted.

Running for office changes a person. As a record person, you can almost relate. When a PD tells you he doesn’t like your record, it’s a blot, but it’s not personal. You’re promoting a product. As a candidate, you ask people to vote for you. When they say no, because they don’t like you, it’s personal. Very personal. And it hurts. Trust me. I speak from experience.

Magnify that by an opponent who is saying nasty things about you. You’re accused of being the worst in the world…a liar, a cheat, a totally worthless person.

Somewhere in the middle of the campaign, a candidate changes. It becomes less about loft ideals and more about winning the race. You can’t implement your grandiose plans unless you’re elected. It turns into ego and power. You’re better than your opponents. You want to beat the others. It’s eat or be eaten.

And if you’re elected, the twist becomes a full-scale, supersonic, Bell helicopter spin. As a PD, you think you have pressure from record promoters? Get real. A U.S. Senator gets wined, dined and pressured by the heads of the largest companies in the nation, by the richest men in the world, by presidents of foreign countries. Compare “please play this record because we really believe in this artist” with “if you don’t vote for this foreign aid package, a million people in my country will die of starvation.” Or, “If you play this record, we’ll send two of your winners to a concert,” with “Vote for this bill and my company will open a factory in your district and employ 10,000 people. On second thought, don’t try. There is no comparison.

Politics isn’t about business…it is the business. And the money spent on directing the business is obscene. The record industry spends a fortune on promotion. It’s not even a drop in the Congressional lobbying budget Money spent lobbying Congress makes the profits of the entire record industry look like a modest tip.

To run a successful political campaign, you have to have a message, an organization and cash. Not in that order. Your message means nothing unless the voters hear it and hear it enough to believe it. And hear it one more time to stimulate them to vote. How much money? As much as it takes. And sometimes that isn’t enough.

Do you wonder why politicians pay attention to special interest groups? They get out the vote. They help politicians get elected. They make contributions. Definitely not in that order.

Are you getting the picture?

With all due respect to our elected officials, nobody draws a crowd like a record star. Isn’t it time we got off our collective butts and let our voices and choices be heard? If the record and radio industries came together, we would have the most effective lobbying group in history.

Radio stations should have voter registration concerts. A person need only register to vote to attend. Every record sold should have a voter registration card attached. Every concert should have voter registration booths. Radio stations should promote and recording artists perform free at events where all money raised goes to a political action committee to lobby for our rights.

Can you imagine what would happen if we all united together to promote better government? A united effort on the part of the music world…those who write and perform it, and those who enjoy it, could make the fringe groups obsolete. In our democracy, majority rules, yet because of the political system, small minorities are capable of making an impact because they do something.

We’ve got a message, but that’s not enough. Our elected officials need to hear it. I suggest we start a political action committee to promote our beliefs. Let’s unite to support politicians who reflect our perspectives. Let’s vote. Let’s help them get elected. Let’s make contributions.

Since I’m the big-mouth who came up with this idea, I’ll get off my butt and make the first move. I’ll head the group. I’ll motivate the members. I’ll file the papers. I’ll even name it: the Totally United Political Action Committee.

TUPAC.

Are you with me?

On The Dole

6/9/1995

There’s a chill wind blowing through the entertainment industry, fueled by the cold front that’s building up in Washington, D.C. Politicians by the dozens are lining up for a run at the top spot and they’re doing whatever it takes to get a nod and some votes. The movie, record and radio industries should get ready to hunker low in the bunkers until this one blows over. But you better stack some rations, bud. This won’t be a summer squall. We could be sheltered in the basement surrounding the wood-burning stove for more than a year. Get fat now because there are some lean times ahead.

The symbiotic relationship between the radio and record industries is a hot house that provides the perfect environment for subterfuge, manipulation, back-stabbing and outright lies. Egos can run completely out of control.

Temptations lead easily to abuses. It’s understandable that the public might think, “Everything…all the time” is more than just a song lyric. To them, it could be our motto.

Because we’re in the spotlight, the average Joe thinks we toss money about like leaves falling from a large oak tree in autumn. The publicity we constantly seek sometimes backfires. We make an easy target.

To most of America, we’re all about lyrics and limos and baubles and beads…endless champagne and people who please…escargot from France and caviar by the pails… diamonds and glitter and fake fingernails.

We work in a wild business where only the strongest survive. It’s intense pressure on an hourly basis, a fast lane to success and excess that leaves lots of bodies bruised and buried in the ditch.

But as wild and crazy as our business seems, we can’t hold a candle to the carnival barkers who occupy the hallowed halls of Congress. The worst day in our industry would seem like a Sunday school picnic when compared to a normal evening on the banks of the Potomac.

Kansas statesman and Senate Majority Leader Robert Dole fired the first full frontal assault on our industry this past week while speaking in Los Angeles. Although Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich has been rattling his saber for months, it was Dole who, in a cheap (and successful) attempt to steal the headlines for a few brief moments it time, unsheathed the blade.

Reaching out for the lunatics on the fringe of the Republican Party, Dole blamed the moral decay of America totally on the movie and recording industries. Listening to Dole’s speech, one could believe that we are the cause of whatever is wrong with our country.

Let’s step up to the plate and accept our responsibility once and for all. He’s right. It was all of those John Wayne movies that caused Presidents of both parties and the House and Senate to escalate the war in Vietnam and split the nation in two. It had to be “Disco Inferno” that caused riots and arson. I’m sure the Village People were responsible for Iran taking American hostages…it couldn’t have been our foreign policy. Were the movies the reason we invaded Panama and Grenada? Dole might have us there. It was his good friend, fellow Republican and former screen star Ronald Regan, who was getting top billing at the time. And I know for a fact that Guns & Roses inspired the Gulf War.

Where is this guy coming from? He’s the top gun in the Senate where, until a few months ago, its members were not held to the same standards of non-discrimination that he voted for the rest of the country. Here’s a man who accuses the record and radio industries of fostering violence, yet is leading a movement to repeal the ban on assault weapons.

It’s all about power, pure and simple. Why else would two people in California spend over $30 million in a race for a job that pays $80,000 a year?

Go figure.

The entertainment industry is a reflection of our times, not a dictator of human actions. Do we promote violence and sexual abuse as Dole claims? I think not. Do we document human behavior? Absolutely. It’s easy to pick on the excesses, but for every “Cop Killer,” there’s “God Bless The USA.” For every “Natural Born Killer” there’s a “Schindler’s List.” Unlike Dole, we cover the entire spectrum.

And don’t think that this is just about national posturing. You are going to have to deal with it at your radio station. You can bet that certain records will be singled out by one coalition or another and you’ll be hearing from them. It’s not whether you play the records or not, but how you respond to the pressure you will receive. Now is the time to come up with a game plan.

With all of Dole’s recent rhetoric (which he tried to downplay the next day) against the entertainment industry and our righteous indignation in reaction, who should really shoulder the blame? We should. We are quick to call press conferences in defense, attend fund-raisers and write a check for our favorite candidate…we’re all about blowing hot air.

What we should do is vote.

Dole can’t be condemned because he panders to the fanatical fringes of his constituency. They are small in number…but they vote. They have weight. It has nothing to do with his beliefs. He’s just trying to get elected. He shouts to the right that he’ll be their champion, while whispering to the rest of us not to worry.

We should all be ashamed…the politicians for snooping to the lowest common denominator and the rest of us for making them. If the majority of us marshaled our resources, we could easily become an entity that could take on the NRA or those other powerful Washington lobbyists with a backward sweep of our left hand. We reach more people in a day than they do in a year. If half the people we reach actually voted, we would be a force.

The election is over a year away, but it’s not too early to begin our campaign. The politicians have already started. If all of us, regardless of party affiliation, work toward bringing political posturing back to the middle, those running for office could focus on the real problems of America and develop solutions. We need to champion the Mainstream.

That’s what Network 40 is all about.

Summer’s Coming

6/5/1995

Okay, I know its June and maybe this column is a month or two late, but if you’ve been following along for the past couple of weeks, you know it’s been strange in Los Angeles. And that includes the weather. It was Memorial Day Weekend before the thermometer broke 85 Dees-grees and the plain truth is that our environment more closely resembles that of San Francisco than hot, sunny Southern California. So forgive me if summer came a little late to L.A. and I have been a little slow to react to this latest Heat Wave. We are all products of our environment and I’ve been too bundled u against those freezing 60-Dees-grees winds to work on my tan…or on an Editorial about summer programming.

It is a fact that summer changes everything. You can have joy, you can have fun, you can have Seasons In The Sun, but be careful that you don’t turn this summer into a Season Of The Witch. You get Hot Blooded (check it and see) and it will Make You Sweat. No other season is more anticipated than summer. Except for those who are completely whacked out of the brains anticipating the winter so they can snow ski (and I’ve never trusted anyone who looks forward to frostbite and the possibility of broken bones), everyone looks forward to summer.

It is necessary to adjust the programming of your radio station to a sound more compatible with the changes in the lifestyles of your audience. School’s Out For Summer. People are spending more time outside. Swimming, hiking, picnics and such are the norm. So you’ve got to match your radio station to the mood. That’s the reason for this Editorial, to suggest some changes that might be helpful.

So the baseball strike dulled the expectations a little, but who cares? Most of the people I know use the games as an excuse to sit in a seat, drink a lot of beer, yell at the top of their lungs for no good reason and soak up a little sun. When The Heat Is On, standings don’t mean a thing until the World Series. By then, it’s almost winter, so in reality, the strike didn’t have that much effect.

Summertime And The Living Is Easy (fish are jumping and the cotton is high). I love that song, though I never understood how the cotton being high worked for or against who or what I would be doing for the long, hot months ahead. The living is definitely easier. You want to move slower in the summer…have to move slower. If not, you might burn yourself right out…fry yourself to a crisp…spontaneously combust in front of company. I don’t really know if the fish are jumping or not. It seems like those large-mouthed bass would be hugging the bottom, looking for a cool spring to chill their gills. Maybe the lyrics are referring to the late evening hours when those same bass might take a jump or two at low-flying insects. I could buy that in a stretch, but cotton being high?

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of picking cotton, let me assure you that although the actual labor might be a touch easier if the plants are larger, there is nothing pleasant about the actual picking, be it high or low.

It is a lead-pipe cinch that you can extend yourself forever, have an Endless Summer or go full-tilt boogie All Summer Long. Just Don’t Let The Sun Catch You Crying. Of course, you should have been preparing when it was Almost Summer, but remember, it’s never too late to catch up.

Whether or not you program on the far West Coast and have a Palisades Park or a Sausalito Summer Night, it’s always important to have Hot Fun In The Summertime on those Sunny Afternoons. You can have all the Boys Of Summer making a Bus Top to check out the California Girls in different station promotions. The bikini, Hot Legs and wet T-shirt contest might be old, but they aren’t broke, so there’s no need to fix them.

If your mind is a little hazy, all you have to do is take yourself back to Suddenly Last Summer and you’ll remember the promotions and Things We Did Last Summer to help you out. If there’s nothing else, you can always fall back on a Summer Of Love. Just don’t get too far off in dreamland and let your ego blow the lid off. It’s good to remember When You’re Hot, You’re Hot (and when you’re not, you’re not).

When it gets Too Hot, don’t forget that it’s Summer In The City. A free concert could work to cool things off. If you plan it down to the last detail, you can have everyone Dancing In The Streets. You just never know whether this season will be as famous as the Summer of ’42 or the Summer of ’69 until we’re into it.

Just because it’s cooking in the daylight hours, don’t forget those Summer Nights. There are plenty of Night Moves to be made, especially on those Hot Summer Nights. You could turn those slow, lazy evenings into Endless Summer Nights. When the Summer Wind comes rolling in, it’s amazing what can happen in the House Of The Rising Sun. An after-dark contest Up On The Roof could be very nice, especially if it’s Sealed With A Kiss.

Make sure your programming is upbeat and happy or you could be blamed for a Cruel Summer. And no matter how nice it is, don’t forget that things could get ugly. Every doctor will tell you that there ain’t no cure for the Summertime Blues.

I could spend this entire column commenting (try saying that fast 10 times in a row) on internal changes you should make…like adjusting your clocks. Maybe it’s time to give those worn stopsets a break and schedule them in other parts of the hour. Give the audience a subliminal change as their habits change so they’ll start Groovin’ (on a Sunday afternoon). I urge you to be extremely careful with your air talent. When the Blackhole Sun burns down, everyone gets a little bit crazy and if your staff is good, they’re all teetering on the brink anyhow. When the thermometer hits the high notes, it might be just little thing to make them snap. Now is the time to give your hardest workers n extra day or two off. Buy them some Cheap Sunglasses. It will keep them fresher and might stop them from taking your head off with an AK47. Take the curtains down from the control room windows and Let The Sunshine In.

I was going to suggest some song titles you should program this summer, but I’ve run out of room. I guess I’ll See You In September, just Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me.

Get It

5/26/1995

It’s been a strange week in L.A. And trust me, bud, when it’s a strange week in Los Angeles, it’s got to be totally out of whack everywhere else. Because here in never-never land, we thrive on strange, but this week, we could be setting a new curve.

Maybe it’s because I bought a house today, a house located in a restricted zip code (meaning it doesn’t qualify for home insurance because it’s right on the fault line). I did that after reading the headline in the L.A. Times that said housing in Southern California hadn’t rebounded as expected and was now expected to fall to a new, all-time low. But I’ve lived my life betting against the house and it seemed fitting to continue to buck the odds…by betting on one.

I mean, anyone can play it safe, but it takes a true rebel to cut against the grain…every time out. Why take the chalk at this late date?

It started with a  conversation this morning with one of the most important women in our business. She called me to help her construct a quote for a magazine that is doing a story on the success of women in our industry. Why me? It wasn’t sol long ago that this same person was crucifying me for running unflattering pictures of half-naked women on Page 6. She was instrumental in forever banning said pictures, much to the dismay of the swine among our subscription base who foraged for my home number and continue to call me at all hours of the night demanding more skin. Yet she asked for, no, demanded my help in preparing a quote for her article.

When I questioned her about my qualifications, based on her earlier castigations of my editorial acumen, she mumbled some vague yet poignant comment about how she really knew the real me and was positive my true beliefs outshadowed my cheap attempts at gaining new, albeit low-life, subscribers. (It is possible that I am not really who I pretend to be, but live in the eyes of those who can actually see through the shoddy veneer with which I’ve covered my real personality so I can run one day for public office? Nope. I’ve already done that.) So I helped her and discounted the brief ripple in the force as a one-in-a-blue-moon long shot.

Shortly thereafter, I was approached by one of the format editors of Network 40 who asked permission to run a picture in her section featuring a nearly naked man. This editor was one of the most vocal about the aforementioned pictures of semi-nude women on Page 6. When I questioned the dichotomy of her actions, I found myself on the opposite side of the argument she had so vigorously pursued only a few months ago. The difference, she explained so eloquently, between the pictures of naked men and named women, was a matter of class.

So I was faced with a dilemma. If I run a picture of naked men, will my phones be ringing off the hook from the male readers who will tell me that I’m using naked men in a demeaning manner to further the success of the magazine?

It’s a question for the ages…one that I am neither able, nor willing, to answer in this century. Whether or not the picture runs, I feel, will be more a matter of the will of the editor rather than being based on some momentous, philosophical decision on my part. Arguing with a woman who is more intelligent than you is Chinese water torture at best and bamboo shoots under the fingernails at worst, and when it comes down to the short strokes, I know I’ll lose this one…if for all the wrong reasons.

So I excused myself from the argument, put off the inevitable and retired to the dark recesses of a local bar to have a few cocktails with my second-favorite person in the record business. Who’s number one? Everybody else. Okay, it’s a lame joke, but I’ve ridden it this far and the finish line is drawing closer so I’ll just keep beating it.

One of the reasons this guy is really one of my favorite people is that he recognized that he is one of the smarter people in the room, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. We talked about the out-of-control egos that dominate our business and laughed about those who believe in the hype when they are only setting themselves up for the big fall.

Of course, we were quick to assure each other that we were not part of this pack of dogs, that we know who we are and can avoid the pitfalls and traps set for the others. Neither of us noticed the distinct “clank” as the cage shut.

I like this person because he boils everything down into one expression: “You get it.” It’s really that simple, yet totally unexplainable. We can talk for hours and he sums up the entire conversation with this phrase. The words get in the way because both of us “get it.”

It reminds me of the years I spent working with the absolute, positive best general manger in the history of radio: the late Pat Norman, who captained the legendary KFRC San Francisco through the likes of Hal Martin, Les Garland and yours truly. Pat loved to have a cocktail or two and, as all of us do, tended to pontificate about almost anything and everything under the warmth from the golden hue of the nectar of the vine.

Pat talked in what I like to call “strobe talk.” He seldom completed a thought and never quite ended a sentence. I would sit and act as if I knew exactly what he was saying. He always ended these rambling with the phrase, “Do you get it?”

Not wanting to expose my complete ignorance or embarrass him, I always answered in the positive.

After working with the man for nearly five years, we went out for a night of celebration and since I was feeling more confident than usual, I actually drank more “intelligent” medicine than he did. I was primed and ready when he ended one of his philosophical lectures with his usual hypothetical question: “Do you get it?”

I gathered myself, took a deep breath (and another shot of courage) and said, “I’ve been working with you for five years. Nearly every day, you asked me if I got it and I always answered affirmative. I must tell you that not only tonight, but never have I answered truthfully. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, nor have I ever. I do not get it.”

A long, yet not uncomfortable silence followed. I bit my lip and held his gaze, positive that I had made a grave error, totally unaware that I had made a major breakthrough. He stared at me across the table for a few moments, smiled and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Then you get it,” he said quietly.

And I did. The question is: Do you?

Tubing It

5/19/1995

It is that time of year when everyone is fighting to be #1. The good news is that someone will be in the top spot. The bad news? Everyone else won’t be.

I’m not talking about the NBA playoffs where 12 multi-millionaires will try and hide their grief when they lose the playoffs and drive into the sunset in their custom cars. I’ll save any feelings of remorse for programmers when the down book hits their desks with an awful thud.

I programmed more than my share of great radio stations, and those of you familiar with my career know I was lucky to have more than my share of success, but I can say, without reservation, no other emotion can come close to the empty feeling of a down book.

Programming is weird science at best. Let’s face it…none of us really knows what we’re doing. It’s a complex crapshoot with the odds favoring the house. Although we all like to brag and pretend we know it all when the book goes up, the truth is, everyone breathes a sigh of relief when the numbers jump. With the possible exception of Steve Smith (who might actually know what he’s doing), can anyone say they haven’t experienced a down book?

Three Dog Night sang, “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do,” and they were right. If you ever pull a “one” in the book, you will be the loneliest person in the station. It won’t last long because you’ll soon be out on the street, but for a brief, frozen moment in time, you’ll find depressing fascination in total isolation.

I speak from experience. I am the genius who tubed WAPP New York down to that magic number and managed to live to tell about it. (Actually, it was a 1.7, but when it starts with a “one,” it doesn’t really matter what comes after the decimal point.) I couldn’t find anyone who would look me in the eye. My secretary went home sick, the jocks came in just minutes before their airshifts, the sales staff holed up in the local bar and the general manager refused to take my calls. I phoned my girlfriend for solace. She left a message on the answering machine that she was moving out…she got a job at Z100 answering Scott Shannon’s request lines.

You’ll only get comfort (for a while) from record company promotion people. The good ones will call immediately to tell you not to believe Arbitron, that everyone they know listens to your station. They close by hitting you up for an add, hoping they’ll get one more shot before you get blown out.

So, what do you do when you tube it? Conventional wisdom tells you to straighten your back and find the silver lining in that otherwise dark cloud. As much as we curse Arbitron, we can be thankful for the tonnage of data the company provides. Look closely and find those demos that show promise. Bolster the air staff. They’re as scared as you and need you to be strong in the face of imminent danger. March into the general manager’s office and provide an instant game plan to turn the ratings around. Accept the responsibility and take it like a champion.

Of course, that’s all conversation. It’s the right thing to do…probably the most professional way to approach it…but it won’t matter.

As a veteran of many down books, I had the time and talent to develop a strategy to face the beast and breathe fire in its face. I call it, “The 10 Tenents of Tubing.”

#1:       Blame it on a bad drop. Arbitron is famous for seeking out the exact households that hate your station. For this book, they managed to find them all. They have a personal vendetta to make sure you fail. Blame it on them.

#2:       It’s all of those terrible sales promotions you had to run. If it weren’t for the clutter, you would have been in double-digits.

#3:       Your competition out-spent you 10-to-one. If you had the budget they had, you would have gone up. Absolutely.

#4:       Demand a trip to Beltsville to personally study the diaries. You’ve heard at least three other stations had diaries and those entries tainted the results of the entire sample. All you need is three days and you’ll have the whole book recalled. (If you’re lucky, by the time you return, the bad news will have blown over and you can slink back into your office and avoid the bullet to the brain.)

#5:       It was the consultant’s fault. (My personal favorite.) Say this with a great degree of animosity and self-confidence. Blame everything on the consultant, from the music to the promotions to the format. But make sure you do this quickly. Rest assured the consultant will do the same to you. Strike quickly before you’re hamstrung.

#6:       Tearfully blame it on your evil, twin personality. Explain that there are two people inside of you…the good one and the bad one. Unfortunately, the bad one took control at the start of the book, but promise it will never happen again.

#7:       Don’t mention the book. Do, however, bring up the young thing the manager has been seeing on the sly. Explain that you would never share your knowledge with the GM’s spouse.

#8:       Leave on an extended vacation, the thought being that if they can’t find you, they can’t fire you. If you take this action, clean your personal effects from your office. They might not find you, but they can find your replacement. Six of them are already sitting in the lobby.

#9:       Immediately enter a drug and alcohol rehabilitation clinic. It doesn’t matter whether you need to, but it buys you at least 30 days, the company has to pay the bills and they can’t fire you until the treatment is complete.

#10:     Quit. Be loud and be proud about it. Accept no blame or responsibility. Say the station is screwed up, the business sucks and you’re leaving to spend more time with your family. Then take the first job that is available.

If none of these work, you’re on your own. It is healthy, however, to remember we work in a business of intangibles. Much of our success depends on particulars out of our control. Don’t take too much credit when you’re doing well or you’ll get an equal amount of blame when it all goes to hell. Also, another book and another chance to succeed is only three months away.

It might be in your best interest to remember the old axiom: “There’s never a horse that couldn’t be rode and never a rider that couldn’t be throwed.” You aren’t a genius until you win the Nobel Prize.

Even with it, you’re going to be in trouble after a down book. Ask Jimmy Carter.