It happened again it late November. Eric, one of the guys I work with, was driving a car-full to a social function in Scranton. His passengers were his wife, Dawn; another guy we work with, Jim; and me. Jim and Eric had worked together previously in Scranton, and began commenting on how much it had changed as we drove into the city. Dawn turned to me and, quite out of the blue, went back a little further with her question than just "Where did you work last?" She asked me where I was born.
"Los Angeles, California," I answered truthfully. To tell the absolute truth, a lot of times I dodge that question, because I usually get the reaction I got that night from Dawn: "What the heck are you doing out here in the cold and snow? Usually, people want to go the other way."
Radio is what happened. When I graduated from Loyola Marymount University, I had lived my entire life in California, minus a few weeks spent on vacation. But all I wanted to do when I got my BA in Communications was play records on the radio, and after awhile a station in Hagerstown, Maryland, extended an employment opportunity, and I took it. So I reversed Horace Greeley's famous admonition and went east. I did escape to Kansas, Florida and Georgia in my radio career, but I kept returning to the Northeast when those jobs were over. By now, I've actually spend more of my life in snow and cold than I did basking in California sunshine.
But I'll be honest with you one more time: when record-cold temperatures and snow and ice have me skidding while I shovel my driveway wrapped in every coat and scarf I own, I ask myself Dawn's question over and over. "Usually, people want to go the other way," she said. Days like these I agree with her.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
New Year! Happy....?
It didn't occur to me until the last week of last year, when my cousin Kevin called from San Diego. He had seen a news report about Harrisburg, Pennsylvania -- where I live -- and had to call and ask me about it. Every year, Harrisburg drops a giant strawberry down a pole attached to the Hilton hotel downtown to celebrate the New Year. Officials are always vague when I ask, "Why a strawberry? Does it mean anything special to Harrisburg? Was Harrisburg at one time the strawberry capital of the world? Is it mythical -- did a bumper strawberry crop come in back in the 1800s that saved the city from financial ruin, or something like that?" The best anyone can figure is that an area of the city was once named Strawberry Court -- it's now an office/shopping complex called Strawberry Square -- and that's why they use a strawberry. Anyway, this year, during a practice run, the cable snapped and the strawberry fell three stories and cracked. So the Hilton spent a couple of days building a new ten-foot steel-framed strawberry, and New Year's was saved. (It does look kinda chintzy, but, really, it's not all that bad when you think of how it was thrown together on short notice.)
Anyway, my cousin went on to tell me about some major health problems he and his wife encountered in 2013, and how happy he was that a New Year was on the way, because the old one was soooo crappy! And, of course, because these discussions always wind up becoming Can-You-Top-This, I countered with all the surprise health problems that hit my family, and my wife's, just during the last two months of the year -- including a cancer death and an unexpected heart attack. And the fact that my son was laid off from his job just two weeks before Christmas.
And that's when it hit me -- we all just lived through 2013! The year that ended in the unluckiest number of all -- 13!!! No wonder the last two months were crammed with bad stuff! So I'm right with my cousin on this one -- bring on 2014! 14 is 2 times 7, and 7 is a lucky number, so maybe we'll all have double the good luck!
Anyway, my cousin went on to tell me about some major health problems he and his wife encountered in 2013, and how happy he was that a New Year was on the way, because the old one was soooo crappy! And, of course, because these discussions always wind up becoming Can-You-Top-This, I countered with all the surprise health problems that hit my family, and my wife's, just during the last two months of the year -- including a cancer death and an unexpected heart attack. And the fact that my son was laid off from his job just two weeks before Christmas.
And that's when it hit me -- we all just lived through 2013! The year that ended in the unluckiest number of all -- 13!!! No wonder the last two months were crammed with bad stuff! So I'm right with my cousin on this one -- bring on 2014! 14 is 2 times 7, and 7 is a lucky number, so maybe we'll all have double the good luck!
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Not Just A Job, An Adventure
"I was dreaming when I wrote this
So sue me if I go too fast."
Prince, 1999
I was talking with a co-worker the other day about my early days in radio as a disc jockey. This discussion happened while we drove the long and winding Pennsylvania Turnpike, listening to big-city radio stations one minute and small-city stations the next. Mostly, all were disappointments that were easy to tune out. We were in a rented cargo van and the only source of entertainment besides the radio was conversation. We turned off the radio and chose conversation. Which, in the end, is probably for the better. Human contact, an exchange of ideas, and all that.
I told him about a time when radio was fun for everyone -- the listener and the jocks. Radio needs listeners, because -- then, now and for always -- radio lives on advertising dollars. The best way to sell advertising are ratings that prove to a potential sponsor that people listen. Even the music is a sales job, because airplay drives kids to the store or the internet to buy the latest hits. When all the stations play the same hits, your station's edge becomes the jocks that talk between the hits.
And make no mistake, back then, being a jock was a profession. Some of it, like talking over the 12 or 15 second intros of songs and managing the flow of a show, just came with repetition, until it was second nature. The next level was figuring out what to say, and there was a lot of help available. Some jocks made a lucrative side business as joke writers, charging subscriptions for weekly sheets of paper with 25 liners tied in to the songs and political foibles of the day (I'm looking at you, Dan O'Day). Those of us who didn't have the money for subscriptions made a big deal about saying how the jokes were lame and we'd be better off writing our own jokes for free. But I admit, I stole from the sheets, and most of the jokes I wrote were just as lame (but they were my lame jokes, dammit!). The level after that was figuring out how you'd tell the jokes, establishing a personality. A snarling cynic? A friendly voice after (or during) a tough day at the office? A pal to all the kids? Someone who was just having a damn good time playing records? All of the above? Kids, sometimes adults, called with requests, and you added another layer to the show by putting these encounters on the air. A great station was one where all the jocks fed off one another, trying to out-do each other with liners and the production values in the commercials. The whipped cream and cherry on the sundae was when you had station management willing and able to finance fun and rewarding contests. Stations that had all that were usually winners with big ratings.
For me, it was fun putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. In the small-town stations I was usually paid next-to-nothing, but if the station had all of the above, I gladly starved. Really, it was remarkably similar to being a starving actor. You had to audition for every single job. You sent a tape to the station where you wanted to work. Most often a rejection letter followed. But occasionally you were invited to interview. You'd spend a day going through the process, getting your hopes up, then getting a call from the program director who says "you're a great talent, but we're going with the other guy."
On the Turnpike, I was able to compare radio then to now. I remember looking everywhere and reading everything back then, looking for material, and spending half an hour putting it all together for the show. I remember jocks who walked in twenty seconds before airtime and had it all in their heads right then and there. Whatever the approach, you were a personality putting on a show, six days a week, trying your damnedest to make it so that people would make it a habit to tune in to your show and your station.
But this is all like the days of three or four TV networks and no cable. And no mp3 players. It just ain't coming back. Stations I heard along the Turnpike in markets large and small are now owned by corporations large and small. Now, back in the day, big-city stations were owned by RKO or ABC or Westinghouse. But these new corporations are focused on advertising dollars in a different way. They own six or seven stations, instead of one or two. Each station can focus on its small slice of the demographic pie. Those small slices add up to the whole pie for the corporation that owns the pie. So the stations don't have to compete. And they don't. The music and personalities sound flat. They sound like they're not trying because they don't have to. Some stations brag that they play whatever they want, but it sounds suspiciously like what everyone else is playing -- and they do it without jocks. Ironically, the same business conservatives who will tell you free-market competition brings out the best in everything own these radio monopolies.
But I digress into politics, which is getting natural for me these days. I work for state government in Pennsylvania. Basically it's an extension of what I've been doing all my life, sticking a microphone or video camera in the face of a state senator and then turning around and feeding that sound and those pictures to waiting radio and TV outlets.
Lately, though,I've been caught reminiscing, thinking fondly about the times when I only paid attention to state senators when I needed a punchline.
So sue me if I go too fast."
Prince, 1999
I was talking with a co-worker the other day about my early days in radio as a disc jockey. This discussion happened while we drove the long and winding Pennsylvania Turnpike, listening to big-city radio stations one minute and small-city stations the next. Mostly, all were disappointments that were easy to tune out. We were in a rented cargo van and the only source of entertainment besides the radio was conversation. We turned off the radio and chose conversation. Which, in the end, is probably for the better. Human contact, an exchange of ideas, and all that.
I told him about a time when radio was fun for everyone -- the listener and the jocks. Radio needs listeners, because -- then, now and for always -- radio lives on advertising dollars. The best way to sell advertising are ratings that prove to a potential sponsor that people listen. Even the music is a sales job, because airplay drives kids to the store or the internet to buy the latest hits. When all the stations play the same hits, your station's edge becomes the jocks that talk between the hits.
And make no mistake, back then, being a jock was a profession. Some of it, like talking over the 12 or 15 second intros of songs and managing the flow of a show, just came with repetition, until it was second nature. The next level was figuring out what to say, and there was a lot of help available. Some jocks made a lucrative side business as joke writers, charging subscriptions for weekly sheets of paper with 25 liners tied in to the songs and political foibles of the day (I'm looking at you, Dan O'Day). Those of us who didn't have the money for subscriptions made a big deal about saying how the jokes were lame and we'd be better off writing our own jokes for free. But I admit, I stole from the sheets, and most of the jokes I wrote were just as lame (but they were my lame jokes, dammit!). The level after that was figuring out how you'd tell the jokes, establishing a personality. A snarling cynic? A friendly voice after (or during) a tough day at the office? A pal to all the kids? Someone who was just having a damn good time playing records? All of the above? Kids, sometimes adults, called with requests, and you added another layer to the show by putting these encounters on the air. A great station was one where all the jocks fed off one another, trying to out-do each other with liners and the production values in the commercials. The whipped cream and cherry on the sundae was when you had station management willing and able to finance fun and rewarding contests. Stations that had all that were usually winners with big ratings.
For me, it was fun putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. In the small-town stations I was usually paid next-to-nothing, but if the station had all of the above, I gladly starved. Really, it was remarkably similar to being a starving actor. You had to audition for every single job. You sent a tape to the station where you wanted to work. Most often a rejection letter followed. But occasionally you were invited to interview. You'd spend a day going through the process, getting your hopes up, then getting a call from the program director who says "you're a great talent, but we're going with the other guy."
On the Turnpike, I was able to compare radio then to now. I remember looking everywhere and reading everything back then, looking for material, and spending half an hour putting it all together for the show. I remember jocks who walked in twenty seconds before airtime and had it all in their heads right then and there. Whatever the approach, you were a personality putting on a show, six days a week, trying your damnedest to make it so that people would make it a habit to tune in to your show and your station.
But this is all like the days of three or four TV networks and no cable. And no mp3 players. It just ain't coming back. Stations I heard along the Turnpike in markets large and small are now owned by corporations large and small. Now, back in the day, big-city stations were owned by RKO or ABC or Westinghouse. But these new corporations are focused on advertising dollars in a different way. They own six or seven stations, instead of one or two. Each station can focus on its small slice of the demographic pie. Those small slices add up to the whole pie for the corporation that owns the pie. So the stations don't have to compete. And they don't. The music and personalities sound flat. They sound like they're not trying because they don't have to. Some stations brag that they play whatever they want, but it sounds suspiciously like what everyone else is playing -- and they do it without jocks. Ironically, the same business conservatives who will tell you free-market competition brings out the best in everything own these radio monopolies.
But I digress into politics, which is getting natural for me these days. I work for state government in Pennsylvania. Basically it's an extension of what I've been doing all my life, sticking a microphone or video camera in the face of a state senator and then turning around and feeding that sound and those pictures to waiting radio and TV outlets.
Lately, though,I've been caught reminiscing, thinking fondly about the times when I only paid attention to state senators when I needed a punchline.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
That's What The World Is Today
It all started with Murphy Brown.
Knowing that I had worked in television, a friend of mine -- who had also worked in television -- presented me with a copy of the first season of Murphy Brown, the TV sitcom starring Candice Bergen as a strong-willed TV journalist. (I guess it didn't sell that well, because only the first season is out on DVD. C'mon, guys, the show ran for TEN YEARS! Doesn't that warrant a few more DVDs?) As my wife and I watched shows written and broadcast in 1988, we noticed they seemed to be talking about things my wife and I had been discussing just last week. Murphy and her colleagues on FYI were constantly battling the network to keep their news magazine about news and information instead of fluff; a private memo Murphy wrote criticizing her fellow anchors was leaked; in the biggest meta-joke, Connie Chung shows up to scold Murphy for appearing on a sitcom (you remember Connie Chung, don't you?). Murphy might as well have been working for CNN in 2013.
It continued in my car.
I punched the satellite radio button to 70s on 7 and listened as the Temptations sang Ball of Confusion (That's What the World Is Today). The great Norman Whitfield co-wrote that song with Barrett Strong (Barrett's big hit was Money (That's What I Want)) when Motown didn't want the Temps recording his song War, which became a hit for Edwin Starr, because it was too strident. Still, aside from a reference to "the Beatles new record," these lyrics written 43 years ago can be applied almost word-for-word to the problems we're facing today. Which is why it's been covered by Anthrax, Love and Rockets, Tina Turner, Widespread panic -- hell, even Whoopi Goldberg sung it in Sister Act 2.
Racism, sexism, guns, poverty, war...as kids growing up in the 60s and 70s, my wife and I thought we'd fought all these battles and won some victories. But, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Damn.
Ball of Confusion (That's What the World Is Today)
People moving out, people moving in
Why? Because of the color of their skin
Run, run, run but you sure can't hide
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth
Vote for me and I'll set you free
Rap on, brother, rap on
Well, the only person talking about love thy brother is the preacher
And it seems nobody's interested in learning but the teacher
Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration
Aggravation, humiliation, obligation to my nation
Ball of confusion
Oh yeah, that's what the world is today
The sale of pills are at an all time high
Young folks walking round with their heads in the sky
The cities ablaze in the summer time
And oh, the beat goes on
Evolution, revolution, gun control, sound of soul
Shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon
Politicians say more taxes will solve everything
And the band played on
So, round and around and around we go
Where the world's headed, said nobody knows
Oh, great Googamooga
Can't you hear me talking to you?
Just a ball of confusion
Oh yeah, that's what the world is today
Fear in the air, tension everywhere
Unemployment rising fast, the Beatles new record's a gas
And the only safe place to live is on an Indian reservation
And the band played on
Eve of destruction, tax deduction, city inspectors, bill collectors
Mod clothes in demand, population out of hand, suicide, too many bills
Hippies moving to the hills, people all over the world are shouting
'End the war' and the band played on
Knowing that I had worked in television, a friend of mine -- who had also worked in television -- presented me with a copy of the first season of Murphy Brown, the TV sitcom starring Candice Bergen as a strong-willed TV journalist. (I guess it didn't sell that well, because only the first season is out on DVD. C'mon, guys, the show ran for TEN YEARS! Doesn't that warrant a few more DVDs?) As my wife and I watched shows written and broadcast in 1988, we noticed they seemed to be talking about things my wife and I had been discussing just last week. Murphy and her colleagues on FYI were constantly battling the network to keep their news magazine about news and information instead of fluff; a private memo Murphy wrote criticizing her fellow anchors was leaked; in the biggest meta-joke, Connie Chung shows up to scold Murphy for appearing on a sitcom (you remember Connie Chung, don't you?). Murphy might as well have been working for CNN in 2013.
It continued in my car.
I punched the satellite radio button to 70s on 7 and listened as the Temptations sang Ball of Confusion (That's What the World Is Today). The great Norman Whitfield co-wrote that song with Barrett Strong (Barrett's big hit was Money (That's What I Want)) when Motown didn't want the Temps recording his song War, which became a hit for Edwin Starr, because it was too strident. Still, aside from a reference to "the Beatles new record," these lyrics written 43 years ago can be applied almost word-for-word to the problems we're facing today. Which is why it's been covered by Anthrax, Love and Rockets, Tina Turner, Widespread panic -- hell, even Whoopi Goldberg sung it in Sister Act 2.
Racism, sexism, guns, poverty, war...as kids growing up in the 60s and 70s, my wife and I thought we'd fought all these battles and won some victories. But, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Damn.
Ball of Confusion (That's What the World Is Today)
People moving out, people moving in
Why? Because of the color of their skin
Run, run, run but you sure can't hide
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth
Vote for me and I'll set you free
Rap on, brother, rap on
Well, the only person talking about love thy brother is the preacher
And it seems nobody's interested in learning but the teacher
Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration
Aggravation, humiliation, obligation to my nation
Ball of confusion
Oh yeah, that's what the world is today
The sale of pills are at an all time high
Young folks walking round with their heads in the sky
The cities ablaze in the summer time
And oh, the beat goes on
Evolution, revolution, gun control, sound of soul
Shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon
Politicians say more taxes will solve everything
And the band played on
So, round and around and around we go
Where the world's headed, said nobody knows
Oh, great Googamooga
Can't you hear me talking to you?
Just a ball of confusion
Oh yeah, that's what the world is today
Fear in the air, tension everywhere
Unemployment rising fast, the Beatles new record's a gas
And the only safe place to live is on an Indian reservation
And the band played on
Eve of destruction, tax deduction, city inspectors, bill collectors
Mod clothes in demand, population out of hand, suicide, too many bills
Hippies moving to the hills, people all over the world are shouting
'End the war' and the band played on
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah
It's a trend I've noticed recently on Facebook, one I'm sure will get a good workout on Father's Day:
People giving a shout out to their deceased Dad or Mom on Facebook on a special occasion,like a birthday or anniversary. Not just a "let's all remember Dad on his birthday, he would have been 89," but more like, "Hey, Dad,thinking of you on your birthday, miss you, wish you were still with us." So I expect Facebook will be full of such greetings on Father's Day.
I had no idea there were Facebook accounts in Heaven.
(Also, I'd be just a bit scared if Dad answered...)
People giving a shout out to their deceased Dad or Mom on Facebook on a special occasion,like a birthday or anniversary. Not just a "let's all remember Dad on his birthday, he would have been 89," but more like, "Hey, Dad,thinking of you on your birthday, miss you, wish you were still with us." So I expect Facebook will be full of such greetings on Father's Day.
I had no idea there were Facebook accounts in Heaven.
(Also, I'd be just a bit scared if Dad answered...)
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Those Are The Days
In remembering the late Jean Stapleton, naturally we all got to thinking about All In The Family. Ken Levine (the blogger, TV writer, baseball broadcaster and disc jockey -- not the video game guy) had an interesting take on Edith Bunker:
There would be no ALL IN THE FAMILY without Jean Stapleton.... Archie Bunker – played so masterfully by Caroll O’Connor – was the most bigoted, crude character television comedy had ever seen (up until that time). Forget how funny he was. The audience needs some cue to know it’s okay to laugh. Otherwise, they just hate him and that’s that.... He was a man panicked because the only world he knew was changing and he had no idea what his place in it would be...So why did we accept Archie Bunker? Because Edith loved him. Because the person with the kindest heart on the planet knew he wasn’t really hateful, he was just railing. We loved her and if she loved him then he couldn’t be so bad after all.
Then I had a thought about Archie Bunker: Bigoted, hateful, blaming those he disliked and/or feared for all the wrongs he suffered, feeling like the white man was being squeezed out in favor of those with different coloring or sexual orientation. In the 1970s, he was a figure of comic relief. In 2013, he'd be elected to Congress.
There would be no ALL IN THE FAMILY without Jean Stapleton.... Archie Bunker – played so masterfully by Caroll O’Connor – was the most bigoted, crude character television comedy had ever seen (up until that time). Forget how funny he was. The audience needs some cue to know it’s okay to laugh. Otherwise, they just hate him and that’s that.... He was a man panicked because the only world he knew was changing and he had no idea what his place in it would be...So why did we accept Archie Bunker? Because Edith loved him. Because the person with the kindest heart on the planet knew he wasn’t really hateful, he was just railing. We loved her and if she loved him then he couldn’t be so bad after all.
Then I had a thought about Archie Bunker: Bigoted, hateful, blaming those he disliked and/or feared for all the wrongs he suffered, feeling like the white man was being squeezed out in favor of those with different coloring or sexual orientation. In the 1970s, he was a figure of comic relief. In 2013, he'd be elected to Congress.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Arresting Developments
One of the
added bonuses (bonii?) that comes from watching the new episodes of Arrested
Development on Netflix is that we once more get to hear their their jazzy end theme.
It's music you likely didn't hear
when the series ran on Fox almost a decade ago because the network's standard
procedure was to box out the end credits in order to promote an upcoming show.
I didn't get a chance to hear the end credits theme until I got the DVDs.
But you can be happy in the
knowledge that all is not well in Netflix land. It seems Netflix is
"out-Foxing" us with the new Arrested, thanks to their new
practice of starting the next episode in a new box before the old one
(minimized in a much smaller box) has finished playing. If you want to hear the
full end theme, and see the full end credits, you have to click on the smaller
box playing the credits -- it will then finish playing out the current episode
in full screen and allow you to select the next episode you want to watch, or
select a different show all together....
...you know, choice,
the reason I pay for Netflix in the first place.
Hulu does this now, too, with a
variation -- they start playing an episode of a similar TV show before
the credits are done on the old one. Just because I watched the latest episode
of New Girl does NOT mean I want to watch the latest episode of The
Mindy Project. I DO NOT WATCH The Mindy Project, even when I'm
watching actual, real-time, un-time-shifted network TV. Or finishing the newest
Modern Family doesn't mean I'm ready for the newest The Middle. I
DO NOT watch The Middle.
Call me crazy, but I kind of like to
watch the programs I WANT to watch WHEN I want to watch them. Which, I thought,
is kind of why Hulu and Netflix exist.
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