I found out yesterday from a man, Jeff Miller, that WREB radio in Holyoke went on the air in Holyoke in 1950, so I guess it is conceivable that there are still a few former announcers still out there who broadcast on the 930 AM frequency. I am aware of eight of them..
It would be fantastic to find out if some of the first broadcasts exist somewhere, or who the first people on the air were. I know of one who was there, Bob Berger. He was the sales manager of WSPR for a while, I worked with him, and just recently found out he was at WREB at the beginning. Bob passed recently, and with him went all of that information. I never got to ask him about it because I didn't know he was even there.
I don't know what the first format was, but I imagine it was 1950 music, town news, and special features, geared to the people of Holyoke.
In those days, every town or city had their own station, geared to the news of that particular town, so if you wanted to hear the local news, you tuned in your local station, and the news guy would expound on the fender bender at the corner of High and Dwight Streets, or the Mayor dedicating a fern at the local park.
I had heard that at some point in WREB's history, the station played country music. I don't know when, but it seems an odd format choice. In the early sixties, they played rock and roll, and one show I listened to there was hosted by an area D.J. named Dick Robinson. Dick started a little enterprise several years back and called it The Connecticut School of Broadcasting. The school is going strong still, and Dick lives in Palm Beach, Florida when he's not doing his weekly radio show, American Standards By The Sea, on his yacht, heard around the planet . Dick did OK for a WREB kid. I spoke with him about a year and a half ago, on the air, and I honestly have to say, he's still a nut case.
Sometime in the late 60's or early 70's, Joe Alfano bought the station, and it went to a talk format. I missed most of those years as I had to go play war in Vietnam.. When I finally got involved in the station, I was doing a couple of segments on a program called Odyssee, a childrens show airing Saturday nights on WWLP TV in Springfield. This was 1979, and I was looking for area people to talk with for the show. I thought of Willard Womack doing talk on REB, so I contacted him, but it never came to fruition for some reason.Willard had me as a guest a couple of times to talk about the TV show, and had me fill in for him one day when he was sick, and I was kind of in the door. I also listened to Barbara Heissler. She had a "theme" show on every Friday, and all it was , was trivia. Trivia back then was golden on the radio. Everybody listened to see how smart they were. I once recorded sound bytes from a bunch of old albums I still have, brought them into Barbaras show, and thus was born the first "audio" trivia show on the airwaves.
Shortly thereafter, I found myself doing the afternoon slot there, and with longer summer hours, someone was needed for those extra three hours or so, so Richard did the 5 o'clock addition to the 12:30 extention of the 8:05 news, and I was volunteered, by Joe, to close the place down. No extra pay, just more time on the air. Thanks, Joe.
The first week was a disaster. When people get used to changing the dial at 4:45 PM when we signed off in the winter, they continue to change the station when we are still on the air in Spring and Summer. Nobody called. By Wednesday of that week I had told my whole life story. Thursday I said I would give away a free album to the first person to identify the artist. I played the song. It was Frank Sinatra. Nobody called. I thought this might be a problem....HHMMM..AHA! How about theme shows? Something for everyone. It's an audience limiter, but any port in a storm.
Theme shows never work that well. If it's a cooking show, and you couldn't care less about cooking, you're turning the dial. Due to the disasterous first week, I decided to have Linda come in with me for some of these. Mondays: Helpful hints. We all need them.. Could be for anything. Call now....lines are open. Helpful hints....Nothing. Swell.
Tuesdays: ASK Linda & George. We'll talk about anything, with anybody, just Ask Linda & George. Nothing. I might add here that these two shows did pick up later in the Summer, but not by much.
Wednesday: The Tradeo Show. Buy, sell, swap and/ or trade. Call now....lines are open..just pick up the phone...nobody wanted to buy sell or trade anything. When they did call, it was for wierd things. One woman had a big pile of rocks. No charge. Free rocks, just come get them.. Another woman had a washing machine she wanted to sell. I thought, finally, this is good. She then said the following: "hardly ever used, because it hardly ever worked." I still have her voice on tape saying that. A regular caller, Joe Golen, better known as Joe from Chicopee, tried for weeks to sell a social security metal stamper to make metal cards. I think he still owns that thing. Joe always bailed me out on these theme shows. When the phones were dead, he'd call. He spent a LOT of time on the air with me.
I don't even remember what was on Thursdays, might have been trivia, but then came Friday night. Management thought the first four shows were ok to waste time on the air, but when I informed them I was going to do a talent show on the radio, they retired to Sweeney's Cafe for the duration. A talent show?? Are you nuts?
Friday : Talent Show, you're on the air. The phones lit up. This was bizzare. I would take as many calls as I could, and when time was running out, I would open the phones up to vote for your favorite of the evening. That days winner went into the finals at the end of the summer. Every week, the winner received a WREB Double R Record. What they didn't know was that the Double R stood for really rotten. Albums in the back room like the greatest hits of Charlie Weaver, or Margaret Whiting sings Tex Ritter songs. Not real popular, but the show was.
This thing took off like a rocket. With everything from jokes, songs, impressions, and poems to a lady who put the phone on her kitchen floor and tap danced to Hello Dolly. She had no music, so I sang the song while she danced. I wonder, to this day, if her husband had come home from work at that time, around supper, and saw her with the pasta cooking on the stove, the phone on the floor, and her in the tap shoes she hasn't had on for 20 years, tapping away with no music. He would have joined the others at Sweeney's cafe.
This show was so stupid, but Lordy it was so funny. I looked forward to this night all week . I shut the studio lights off, lit the place with candles and let the phones ring. I taped all of this stuff, of course, and the final show was all the weekly winners from the shows run back to back, and the audience voted. Joe from Chicopee won the season, doing, of all things, a heartfelt reading of something he wrote about his grandmother. There wasn't a dry eye in Hampden County. He was the first, and only WREB Idol, and for his efforts I amassed the most rediculous prizes from the station, including 10 records from the Double R archives, the actual plans for a parking lot that was to be built somewhere in Holyoke. I found them in the record room.. He also got a trophy I picked out, inscribed with his name, and talent of the year. It was the back end of a horse.
During the following winter months, I was pushed up to the morning show, so I never did late afternoons again, and I never did a theme show again.
Most times it's like a dream that I was involved with doing things like that on the air. At times I listen to those days on my old tube type Akai tape recorder and wonder how it changed from those days of wacked out radio to the same old things every day on radio. Todays talk radio is actually one big theme show. Proof of that was Anna Nicole Smith. A couple of years ago, Michael Jackson. Monica Lewinski. One world wide theme show at a time, so very little to laugh about, so far away from, "Talent Show, You're On The Air!"
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
A Day At Mountain Park
One of the benefits of being on the air is that you have the ability to help people in your area far and above what other outlets can do. On occasion, a situation would arise during my 25+ years on the airwaves that made me try to help people who's luck seemed non existant.
The first time I did this was in the summer of 1980, but it was not for a person. It was for a statue. Yup, I was trying to help a statue.
There is a park in Holyoke that once was called Hampden Park. I remember that name because I once worked next to that park at the Hampden Park Atlantic station. George Taloumis owned it, Pete Parenteau was the mechanic, Lester Holubecki and I pumped gas there, and generally ran the place into the ground as none of us, except Pete ,had a clue as to what we were doing. A great example of this was the night I backed a Transcript Telegram truck into the lift that I forgot to put down. George was so mad at that the next day, he whipped the Holyoke Provision truck around the gas island and accidentally ripped down the lights over the island. It was a wierd place. Back to the statue.
The park was completely refurbished by the city of Holyoke in 1980, and the only thing left to do was clean the statue, but alas, there was no more money to do this. What are the odds?
I started wondering how I, a little talk show host at WREB, could raise the needed funds needed to have said statue cleaned and made wonderful again.
The park looked spiffy, and after months of deliberation, the name Hampden Park went into the dumpster, and the name Veterans Park was instituted.
Now it was up to me to raise the funds to have the statue de-pidgeonized after 100 years or so. I recalled one of my radio heros from when I was a kid. There was Phill Dee, Jack Diamond, Al Gates, and the nut of the airwaves on WHYN, Bud Stone. Bud did nutty things for no reason really. Once somebody had him sit in a camper for as long as he could, and live there, do his show, and people would talk about it. Sounds easy enough, but for one thing. The camper was suspended by a crane about 60 feet in the air, over an asphalt parking lot. I think he lasted 6 days. Another thing he did was see how long he could ride the roller coaster at Mountain Park. I don't recall how long he stayed on it, but that was the original idea I was going to steal to raise statue money. So I went on the air, contacted all the principles for this feat, and had anybody that wanted to pledge any amount per trip around the old wooden circuit that was The Mountain Park Rollercoaster. Anybody that wanted to ride around once next to me had to pay a buck per ride.
That Saturday came and the old WREB sign went up at the base of the coaster With the determination of a mountain climber, I climbed aboard this thing, hoping to do at least 50 trips all to help an old statue in a rejuvinated park.,
The first trip of the day had 2 guys in the front car, me in the middle, and the park hadn't even opened yet. Off we went. I had been on the old coaster a few times in my life, and in all of my trips, the coaster never got stuck. This time it did. On the far end at the peak of the turn...nothing. The guys in the front got out, opened up a little box on the walkway, and proceeded to paint grease or oil on the rails in front of the ole' Cyclone. Then they started to push it, running along side. It started moving and they jumped in for the return back to the gate. I thought, " This is not going to be a good day."
Seems that every day they do this routine because over night, dew would rust over the remains of the rails and the thing always got stuck on that corner.
A lot of people showed up that day, and every loop was another six or seven bucks for the statue fund. Fifty times around, and I was still going strong. The Holyoke police had security there, and at one point, my wife Linda, who had done about fifteen rides with me, said she was through. The cop said she wasn't going to give up so easily, so he hadcuffed her to the car she was in for another ten rides. The mayor showed up, took one ride with me and told me to bill him..
So here it is, late afternoon, and I have surpassed the 100 mark. Updates for my progress were being broadcast hourly on WREB and some folks were getting pretty nervous, as they had pledged a buck a ride, never thinking this nut job on the radio would do more than thirty circuits.
Early evening came, and WREB, a daytimer, signed off for the day at sunset, as I was finishing about 135. Some listeners were writing their will. I had yet to get off of this thing, no breaks, no stretching, and amazingly, no need for the little boys room.. It was dark, and I was ridin' for the statue .
The park closed for the day at 11 PM, and as the last trek of the creaky old Cyclone came to a halt, the locking hand rails went up and I departed the monster that had carried me around its loop one hundred and seventy four times. One HUNDRED and seventy four times. I never got off the thing all day. I could barely walk. I've never been hit by a truck, but I could now identify with folks who had been. I hurt for weeks, literally. I never wanted to be on a roller coaster again, and I never had been. The old, heavyset gentleman who ran the Cyclone had been doing so for over 30 years at that time, told me what I did, no one ever did before. One guy once did 100, but had to get off. It might have been Bud Stone, but he couldn't remember. The following weeks saw checks roll into the station, but not as many as I had hoped. Some folks just couldn't afford 174 bucks, and the guy who offered 5 bucks a ride probably moved and changed his phone number.
It came to about twelve hundred dollars I had raised, all of it going to the Parks & Rec Department in Holyoke, in a special fund called the statue fund.
Within a year I was gone from WREB, and subsequentle forgot about the statue fund untill about a month ago. It seems there is a girl in the area who is trying to raise funds to get the statue cleaned. Today, the cost is about the same as a new Ferrari. Back then it was about two grand I think..
I have contacted her and let her know about the now 27 year old statue fund that was never used. If it's still there, and if it is an interest bearing account, she might be able to buy the park itself. Time will tell.
This radio fundraiser was the only sort of frivolous undertakings I started. The others were pretty serious, and I'll tell you about them in another post.
If you remember Mountain Park or the Casino in the Park, my old friend Dave Fraser produced a fabulous retrospective of the park in 2002. You can find it by going to www.wgby.org . When you get there, click local programs and look for Mountain Park Memories. You'll even get to take a trip, through the program, on the old cyclone, and if you ever rode it for real, you won't belive the feeling you get going over that first hill. I know, I did it 174 times one day. I was also fortunate enough to be part of the program, and I speak about what you just read here. It was no big deal in retrospect. It was just another day at Mountain Park..
The first time I did this was in the summer of 1980, but it was not for a person. It was for a statue. Yup, I was trying to help a statue.
There is a park in Holyoke that once was called Hampden Park. I remember that name because I once worked next to that park at the Hampden Park Atlantic station. George Taloumis owned it, Pete Parenteau was the mechanic, Lester Holubecki and I pumped gas there, and generally ran the place into the ground as none of us, except Pete ,had a clue as to what we were doing. A great example of this was the night I backed a Transcript Telegram truck into the lift that I forgot to put down. George was so mad at that the next day, he whipped the Holyoke Provision truck around the gas island and accidentally ripped down the lights over the island. It was a wierd place. Back to the statue.
The park was completely refurbished by the city of Holyoke in 1980, and the only thing left to do was clean the statue, but alas, there was no more money to do this. What are the odds?
I started wondering how I, a little talk show host at WREB, could raise the needed funds needed to have said statue cleaned and made wonderful again.
The park looked spiffy, and after months of deliberation, the name Hampden Park went into the dumpster, and the name Veterans Park was instituted.
Now it was up to me to raise the funds to have the statue de-pidgeonized after 100 years or so. I recalled one of my radio heros from when I was a kid. There was Phill Dee, Jack Diamond, Al Gates, and the nut of the airwaves on WHYN, Bud Stone. Bud did nutty things for no reason really. Once somebody had him sit in a camper for as long as he could, and live there, do his show, and people would talk about it. Sounds easy enough, but for one thing. The camper was suspended by a crane about 60 feet in the air, over an asphalt parking lot. I think he lasted 6 days. Another thing he did was see how long he could ride the roller coaster at Mountain Park. I don't recall how long he stayed on it, but that was the original idea I was going to steal to raise statue money. So I went on the air, contacted all the principles for this feat, and had anybody that wanted to pledge any amount per trip around the old wooden circuit that was The Mountain Park Rollercoaster. Anybody that wanted to ride around once next to me had to pay a buck per ride.
That Saturday came and the old WREB sign went up at the base of the coaster With the determination of a mountain climber, I climbed aboard this thing, hoping to do at least 50 trips all to help an old statue in a rejuvinated park.,
The first trip of the day had 2 guys in the front car, me in the middle, and the park hadn't even opened yet. Off we went. I had been on the old coaster a few times in my life, and in all of my trips, the coaster never got stuck. This time it did. On the far end at the peak of the turn...nothing. The guys in the front got out, opened up a little box on the walkway, and proceeded to paint grease or oil on the rails in front of the ole' Cyclone. Then they started to push it, running along side. It started moving and they jumped in for the return back to the gate. I thought, " This is not going to be a good day."
Seems that every day they do this routine because over night, dew would rust over the remains of the rails and the thing always got stuck on that corner.
A lot of people showed up that day, and every loop was another six or seven bucks for the statue fund. Fifty times around, and I was still going strong. The Holyoke police had security there, and at one point, my wife Linda, who had done about fifteen rides with me, said she was through. The cop said she wasn't going to give up so easily, so he hadcuffed her to the car she was in for another ten rides. The mayor showed up, took one ride with me and told me to bill him..
So here it is, late afternoon, and I have surpassed the 100 mark. Updates for my progress were being broadcast hourly on WREB and some folks were getting pretty nervous, as they had pledged a buck a ride, never thinking this nut job on the radio would do more than thirty circuits.
Early evening came, and WREB, a daytimer, signed off for the day at sunset, as I was finishing about 135. Some listeners were writing their will. I had yet to get off of this thing, no breaks, no stretching, and amazingly, no need for the little boys room.. It was dark, and I was ridin' for the statue .
The park closed for the day at 11 PM, and as the last trek of the creaky old Cyclone came to a halt, the locking hand rails went up and I departed the monster that had carried me around its loop one hundred and seventy four times. One HUNDRED and seventy four times. I never got off the thing all day. I could barely walk. I've never been hit by a truck, but I could now identify with folks who had been. I hurt for weeks, literally. I never wanted to be on a roller coaster again, and I never had been. The old, heavyset gentleman who ran the Cyclone had been doing so for over 30 years at that time, told me what I did, no one ever did before. One guy once did 100, but had to get off. It might have been Bud Stone, but he couldn't remember. The following weeks saw checks roll into the station, but not as many as I had hoped. Some folks just couldn't afford 174 bucks, and the guy who offered 5 bucks a ride probably moved and changed his phone number.
It came to about twelve hundred dollars I had raised, all of it going to the Parks & Rec Department in Holyoke, in a special fund called the statue fund.
Within a year I was gone from WREB, and subsequentle forgot about the statue fund untill about a month ago. It seems there is a girl in the area who is trying to raise funds to get the statue cleaned. Today, the cost is about the same as a new Ferrari. Back then it was about two grand I think..
I have contacted her and let her know about the now 27 year old statue fund that was never used. If it's still there, and if it is an interest bearing account, she might be able to buy the park itself. Time will tell.
This radio fundraiser was the only sort of frivolous undertakings I started. The others were pretty serious, and I'll tell you about them in another post.
If you remember Mountain Park or the Casino in the Park, my old friend Dave Fraser produced a fabulous retrospective of the park in 2002. You can find it by going to www.wgby.org . When you get there, click local programs and look for Mountain Park Memories. You'll even get to take a trip, through the program, on the old cyclone, and if you ever rode it for real, you won't belive the feeling you get going over that first hill. I know, I did it 174 times one day. I was also fortunate enough to be part of the program, and I speak about what you just read here. It was no big deal in retrospect. It was just another day at Mountain Park..
Monday, March 26, 2007
Tallulah and Me
Tony Grillo has a site about this strange woman. It's a little early in this blog to get into the people I crossed paths with at the Mt. Tom Playhouse, or as it was known then as the Casino in the park, but this was a unique experience I had trying to impress some big movie star on a hot Sunday morning so I could save the day. If you're a fan, here's Tonys site http://home.earthlink.net/~tgrillo/index.html I sent him the following in 1999, and it's still on his site.
July 1964, and I was 16 years old. I had always loved the theater and having begged a Mr. Carlton Guild several times for the chance, I was granted permission to work as an apprentice for the summer at the Mt. Tom Playhouse in Holyoke, Mass. My father was rather upset that I had had to pay $30.00 (union fees) to work there, but after much ballyhoo, I convinced him that I would be in a learning place and not out somewhere on the town. Some shows had come and gone already that season, and as we headed into the month of July, great anticipation was prevalent as the Queen herself was on the way. My Gawd, ...Tallulah Bankhead!!..., coming to Holyoke.
That week arrived and naturally all shows were sold out; the sets were up and ready. The producer, a Mr. Hugh Fordin, was nervous, having heard that Ms. Bankhead was somewhat difficult. Everything must be as perfect as possible. She arrived at Holyoke on a Sunday, and went directly to her lodgings, a mere cabin hidden in the woods of Mt. Tom. It was en route to this cabin that my one on one with Bankhead transpired.
Mid-afternoon on Monday, July 13th, a limousine pulled up next to the theater. The driver got out and stood to the right rear of the car. I was watching from the outside rear of the theater...as he just stood there in the July heat. We watched and waited for about 15 minutes; another car pulled up, some people got out, went to the limo with the driver, and they all just stood there together. Finally, the driver opened the door... . And there she was!, dressed in a long flimsy/frilly sort of gown/lingerie looking thing, flowered if I remember correctly. My first impression was that she hadn't slept in two days or had been taking the Holy Water for most of that day. She had a sharp temper, and at times swore like a sailor, but she was Tallulah and she could and would do as she wished, when and how she wished it. Hugh Fordin warned us that whatever she needed, whenever she needed it... we were to "JUST GET IT!"
The show that week was "Glad Tidings," a comedy written by Edward Mabley, and although I watched it eight times, I cannot, for the life of me remember anything about it. The only other actor I remember in the production was Evelyn Russell, who was a real gem to most of us, and pushed us in the right direction when it came to performing services for La Bankhead. The show went very well that week, and she was loved by all who came to see her. Ticket prices had been raised from an average $3.50 to $4.50, but the audience had gladly paid even that exorbitant fee! There was the definite impression, and rightly so, that she was usually pretty much half in the bag all of the time, but this condition did not as I recall, affect her stage performance at all. There were many demands that week, and we adhered to them as much as possible. The theater was very hot and not air conditioned, a major bone of contention at all times! And, the one thing, above all else... she demanded to have her newspapers, as many different ones as possible, delivered to her cabin every morning.
As the week went on, we all towed the line. She had remarked several times that I had beautiful hair, somewhat of an embarrassment for me, as she would always muss up my then full head of red hair. On Sunday, July 19,1964: I arrived at the theater early that day; as this was strike day, after the final performance of the current show, the old set came down and the new one would be erected overnight. Van Johnson was scheduled to act in the play,"A Thousand Clowns." I was with the others outside the theater, busily painting flats, when a frantic Hugh Fordin came tearing down the hill, looking like a grizzly bear was after him. "Did anybody remember to get her papers?" Apparently, the answer was no, so Fordin handed me a $10.00 bill and yelled,"GO GO GO, hurry up and get 'em (before she wakes up and creates another row)!!"
The theater car was a brand new Rambler convertible, white with a red interior, on loan from Konner Rambler in Holyoke. It had about 600 miles on it. Now I was Batman, jumping into the Batmobile, taking off to save the reputation of the Mt. Tom Playhouse and all of the people involved with it. With unequaled speed, I raced down the access road from the playhouse to Route 5 and into the city, to the little candy and soda shop on Hampden Street in Holyoke; leapt out of the car, raced to the door to find the shop "Closed. On Vacation,"... damn!! Back in the car, racing up to the drugstore at the other end of town, I stopped to take a sample of every newspaper, that city paper, this local paper, that other one, The Racing Sheet; I didn't even know what she wanted, so I took them all. The guy at the counter just stared at me as I ran out of the store with an armful of newspapers, jumped into the Batmobile, emblazoned with the words "CAR OF THE STARS" on either side, and sped off into the sun.
The bottom of the dirt access road that lead to her cabin had a sign planted there that read "SPEED LIMIT 5 mph." I had never seen a 5 mph sign before as a speed limit, but quickly found out the reason for this, as I tore up the road at 40mph, straight up on one side, straight down on the other, Gallahad on his quest! I don't remember seeing the hill and the big dip right after it. But, I do remember being airborne and the nose of the new convertible smashing into the ground on the other side of the dip [and the brakes that didn't work while the car was airborne]. The explosion I heard was the front right tire. I got out, muttered a few words like "Golly Gee!" or words to that effect, grabbed the newspapers, and like a marathon runner, raced another half-a-mile uphill in the July sun.
I remember distinctly knocking on that screen door, and peering inside for movement. A lone figure came to the door, and I thought, "Oh man, please don't let her yell at me." The woman who came to the door was a black heavyset lady, and I informed her I had Ms. Bankhead's newspapers, as I stood there, shaken, soaked, and out of breath. Then the unmistakable voice echoed from somewhere deep in the cabin,"Who's there, Molly?" Molly may not have been the name called out, but I will use it here. Molly asked what happened to me, I told her, and she said please come in. I entered with the sweat-soaked papers, and Molly again asked, "Can I get you something?" And, before I could answer, I heard THE VOICE say, "How about a drink, Dahling?" [In the back of my mind I thought, wow, she really does say that.] At 16, I opted for ice water and was told to sit down, a few feet away from Tallulah Bankhead!! She was wearing a light blue colored nightgown and her hair was pulled back; she had a drink in one hand and may have had a cigarette (or 10) in the other. She looked at me while playing with her hair and said, "So, what do you do?" "I work at the theater," I answered. She said,"A MOOOVV-ieee theater?" I said: "No ma'am, the theater where you are performing." She put on her glasses and said, "Oh, I know you, you have beautiful red hair... ," then followed with," I HATE THAT GODDAMNED THEATER!"
I excused myself, announcing that I had to go back down the mountain and change the tire. She then abruptly asked me why I had come up there in the first place. I quickly said "To deliver your papers, m'am." She waved her hand, " Oh, that." I then did something I have never done again in my whole life, I impulsively reached to kiss her hand and thank her for the water, overhearing again the magical voice, dismissing me this time: "Anytime, Dahling! Anytime." Molly asked if I wanted to call anybody for help, I said no and started trotting down the mountain to the car.
I fixed the flat, and then proceeded back up the mountain, as you can only go one way, and that is the one and only way to turn around, up at the cabin. When I got there, Tallulah was outside, sitting at a table under a yard umbrella; she looked up at me. I waved, and she yelled out,"Back already, are we?" I explained to her that I was just turning around, and she waved at me like I was one of the neighbors. I went back to the theater and told them of my accident; the damage to the car was passed off as minor, as long as she had gotten her newspapers. The matinee and the evening performances that day went well ... . And , then, it was a wrap! I made sure to stand at the actors exit when she was to leave. She approached me, smiled, and without a word, walked by as I mumbled good-bye. (At least, I think she may have smiled; I really don't remember, though I do recall the delicious scent of her obviously expensive perfume, like an exquisite blue cloud that wafted around and trailed after her). I watched the slight stagger in her walk as she approached the limo... crushed out a cigarette and got into the car; then, she was gone.
I picked up the cigarette butt and put it away in a small paper bag with a note on the bag so as not to forget. Stupid, I guess, and now long lost somewhere forever, but I will never forget the Lady nor the time a 16-year-old kid had the distinct honor of sitting down (albeit, momentarily) with an immortal and hearing her call me: "DAHHHHHHLING!!!!"
July 1964, and I was 16 years old. I had always loved the theater and having begged a Mr. Carlton Guild several times for the chance, I was granted permission to work as an apprentice for the summer at the Mt. Tom Playhouse in Holyoke, Mass. My father was rather upset that I had had to pay $30.00 (union fees) to work there, but after much ballyhoo, I convinced him that I would be in a learning place and not out somewhere on the town. Some shows had come and gone already that season, and as we headed into the month of July, great anticipation was prevalent as the Queen herself was on the way. My Gawd, ...Tallulah Bankhead!!..., coming to Holyoke.
That week arrived and naturally all shows were sold out; the sets were up and ready. The producer, a Mr. Hugh Fordin, was nervous, having heard that Ms. Bankhead was somewhat difficult. Everything must be as perfect as possible. She arrived at Holyoke on a Sunday, and went directly to her lodgings, a mere cabin hidden in the woods of Mt. Tom. It was en route to this cabin that my one on one with Bankhead transpired.
Mid-afternoon on Monday, July 13th, a limousine pulled up next to the theater. The driver got out and stood to the right rear of the car. I was watching from the outside rear of the theater...as he just stood there in the July heat. We watched and waited for about 15 minutes; another car pulled up, some people got out, went to the limo with the driver, and they all just stood there together. Finally, the driver opened the door... . And there she was!, dressed in a long flimsy/frilly sort of gown/lingerie looking thing, flowered if I remember correctly. My first impression was that she hadn't slept in two days or had been taking the Holy Water for most of that day. She had a sharp temper, and at times swore like a sailor, but she was Tallulah and she could and would do as she wished, when and how she wished it. Hugh Fordin warned us that whatever she needed, whenever she needed it... we were to "JUST GET IT!"
The show that week was "Glad Tidings," a comedy written by Edward Mabley, and although I watched it eight times, I cannot, for the life of me remember anything about it. The only other actor I remember in the production was Evelyn Russell, who was a real gem to most of us, and pushed us in the right direction when it came to performing services for La Bankhead. The show went very well that week, and she was loved by all who came to see her. Ticket prices had been raised from an average $3.50 to $4.50, but the audience had gladly paid even that exorbitant fee! There was the definite impression, and rightly so, that she was usually pretty much half in the bag all of the time, but this condition did not as I recall, affect her stage performance at all. There were many demands that week, and we adhered to them as much as possible. The theater was very hot and not air conditioned, a major bone of contention at all times! And, the one thing, above all else... she demanded to have her newspapers, as many different ones as possible, delivered to her cabin every morning.
As the week went on, we all towed the line. She had remarked several times that I had beautiful hair, somewhat of an embarrassment for me, as she would always muss up my then full head of red hair. On Sunday, July 19,1964: I arrived at the theater early that day; as this was strike day, after the final performance of the current show, the old set came down and the new one would be erected overnight. Van Johnson was scheduled to act in the play,"A Thousand Clowns." I was with the others outside the theater, busily painting flats, when a frantic Hugh Fordin came tearing down the hill, looking like a grizzly bear was after him. "Did anybody remember to get her papers?" Apparently, the answer was no, so Fordin handed me a $10.00 bill and yelled,"GO GO GO, hurry up and get 'em (before she wakes up and creates another row)!!"
The theater car was a brand new Rambler convertible, white with a red interior, on loan from Konner Rambler in Holyoke. It had about 600 miles on it. Now I was Batman, jumping into the Batmobile, taking off to save the reputation of the Mt. Tom Playhouse and all of the people involved with it. With unequaled speed, I raced down the access road from the playhouse to Route 5 and into the city, to the little candy and soda shop on Hampden Street in Holyoke; leapt out of the car, raced to the door to find the shop "Closed. On Vacation,"... damn!! Back in the car, racing up to the drugstore at the other end of town, I stopped to take a sample of every newspaper, that city paper, this local paper, that other one, The Racing Sheet; I didn't even know what she wanted, so I took them all. The guy at the counter just stared at me as I ran out of the store with an armful of newspapers, jumped into the Batmobile, emblazoned with the words "CAR OF THE STARS" on either side, and sped off into the sun.
The bottom of the dirt access road that lead to her cabin had a sign planted there that read "SPEED LIMIT 5 mph." I had never seen a 5 mph sign before as a speed limit, but quickly found out the reason for this, as I tore up the road at 40mph, straight up on one side, straight down on the other, Gallahad on his quest! I don't remember seeing the hill and the big dip right after it. But, I do remember being airborne and the nose of the new convertible smashing into the ground on the other side of the dip [and the brakes that didn't work while the car was airborne]. The explosion I heard was the front right tire. I got out, muttered a few words like "Golly Gee!" or words to that effect, grabbed the newspapers, and like a marathon runner, raced another half-a-mile uphill in the July sun.
I remember distinctly knocking on that screen door, and peering inside for movement. A lone figure came to the door, and I thought, "Oh man, please don't let her yell at me." The woman who came to the door was a black heavyset lady, and I informed her I had Ms. Bankhead's newspapers, as I stood there, shaken, soaked, and out of breath. Then the unmistakable voice echoed from somewhere deep in the cabin,"Who's there, Molly?" Molly may not have been the name called out, but I will use it here. Molly asked what happened to me, I told her, and she said please come in. I entered with the sweat-soaked papers, and Molly again asked, "Can I get you something?" And, before I could answer, I heard THE VOICE say, "How about a drink, Dahling?" [In the back of my mind I thought, wow, she really does say that.] At 16, I opted for ice water and was told to sit down, a few feet away from Tallulah Bankhead!! She was wearing a light blue colored nightgown and her hair was pulled back; she had a drink in one hand and may have had a cigarette (or 10) in the other. She looked at me while playing with her hair and said, "So, what do you do?" "I work at the theater," I answered. She said,"A MOOOVV-ieee theater?" I said: "No ma'am, the theater where you are performing." She put on her glasses and said, "Oh, I know you, you have beautiful red hair... ," then followed with," I HATE THAT GODDAMNED THEATER!"
I excused myself, announcing that I had to go back down the mountain and change the tire. She then abruptly asked me why I had come up there in the first place. I quickly said "To deliver your papers, m'am." She waved her hand, " Oh, that." I then did something I have never done again in my whole life, I impulsively reached to kiss her hand and thank her for the water, overhearing again the magical voice, dismissing me this time: "Anytime, Dahling! Anytime." Molly asked if I wanted to call anybody for help, I said no and started trotting down the mountain to the car.
I fixed the flat, and then proceeded back up the mountain, as you can only go one way, and that is the one and only way to turn around, up at the cabin. When I got there, Tallulah was outside, sitting at a table under a yard umbrella; she looked up at me. I waved, and she yelled out,"Back already, are we?" I explained to her that I was just turning around, and she waved at me like I was one of the neighbors. I went back to the theater and told them of my accident; the damage to the car was passed off as minor, as long as she had gotten her newspapers. The matinee and the evening performances that day went well ... . And , then, it was a wrap! I made sure to stand at the actors exit when she was to leave. She approached me, smiled, and without a word, walked by as I mumbled good-bye. (At least, I think she may have smiled; I really don't remember, though I do recall the delicious scent of her obviously expensive perfume, like an exquisite blue cloud that wafted around and trailed after her). I watched the slight stagger in her walk as she approached the limo... crushed out a cigarette and got into the car; then, she was gone.
I picked up the cigarette butt and put it away in a small paper bag with a note on the bag so as not to forget. Stupid, I guess, and now long lost somewhere forever, but I will never forget the Lady nor the time a 16-year-old kid had the distinct honor of sitting down (albeit, momentarily) with an immortal and hearing her call me: "DAHHHHHHLING!!!!"
What A Character
Occasionally, I would come up with a concept that required a certain sort of person to make the concept work. I could never find these people in the real world, besides if I did I would have to pay them, so I did the next best thing. I made them up. This is why there are casting directors in the movies. An idea can only be made to be funny if the characters are funny, and fit the part.
I think I'll introduce you to two long lasting nimrods that were on the air with me at WSPR, WLDM, and finally at WNNZ.
Felix Pernaverny and Clarence Fempter.
I had an idea in the mid 80's about traffic reports in the morning for my radio show, but like every other station I worked at, there was no money in the budget. Helicopter reports were becomming commonplace in larger markets. They always seemed stupid to me, for whenever you heard of some problem on the roads, you were already in the middle of the traffic snafu, or had just passed the exit that would have allowed you to get around it, or if you didn't have a job and nowhere to go to, you'd head to the spot of the incident to rubberneck, thereby furthur complicating the lives of cops and hundreds of angry people who are now late for work.. Now I was about to institute fake traffic reports around Springfield with two way out characters, but I couldn't make them sound too real. Lord knows there are people out there that believe everything they hear on the airwaves. So I created Felix Pernaverny's Discount Helo Service. Felix was the worst of the worst when it comes to deadbeats. He drank, gambled to excess, and was a schyster who got away with everything illegal and immoral, coming out of it smelling like a rose. His co pilot Clarence was not the brightest bulb in the silverware drawer either. Felix was married once to Clarences sister Shirley. When they were kids, Shirley used a staple gun to staple Clarences hat to his head so he wouldn't loose it. Clarence had to quit school in the third grade because he was getting too big to fit behind the desks.
Every day, I would send a signal to the helo to start the report, and every day there was a problem, so a traffic report was never given, just another story about some inane issue in the lives of Clarence and Felix.
I penned about 160 episodes of this bit, and did all of the sound. Every episode ran four to five minutes. When I wrote these episodes, the words just flowed, the ideas were endless, and I would laugh out loud, envisioning the episode in my mind. It was not unusual for me to get off the air, and spend the afternoon writing. I would go back to the station at night and bring the scripts to life. There was a constant loop of the sound of a helicopter in the background. I would grab a studio tape for each character and number the script so I knew what tape a character went on. I wrote this stuff so I already knew the inflections that were needed. When all of the lines were recorded, I started up a reel to reel tape recorder, started the loop, and then just pressed the corresponding tape to the script, and an episode came to life. The next morning the episode would air twice, and that was it. It took about 5 hours to do each one, and some were pretty complicated as there were episodes that had different characters, (ergo, different voices ) flying the WW2 army surplus helicopter. The whole family of the Pernavernys were nuts. Verna and Bernie Pernaverny his parents. Hortense and Laverne, the boys girlfriends, Clarence's brother Nestor Fempter, and a few others. Felix's family all operated "discount" services of some kind .Whenever there was call for a service of some sort, Felix always had a cousin who owned...for example..Ernie Pernaverny's Discount Law Firm, or Stetson Pernaverny's Discount Lawn Care.
All in all there were 22 different characters in this bit, and it got funnier and funnier.I would always use towns and streets in the area, and people would call me on occasion telling me that they looked for this helicopter and could never see it up there. I was amazed at those calls.
When I first dreamed this thing up, I had to be sure to get the proper names for the characters. I didn't want to use any name that could be associated with anybody, or religion, or ethnic background. One of my radio idols when I was a kid was a guy on WHYN. His name was Tom, but on the air he was Bud Stone, and he was funny. He started a radio club and if you wanted to join the club, you wrote a letter to him and you became an official member of " The Purn Club ". Myself and hundreds of others became Purns. In homage to one of my heros, the name Pernaverny was created some 20 years later. Clarence Fempter I just dreamed up. It sounded funny and as Clarence was a character who should'nt have been allowed on the street alone, it fit like a glove.
I was lured away from WSPR by the promise of bigger and better things. The station I went to was run by a husband and wife and she used to follow the helo reports like a soap opera. One of the conditions of me going to work for them was that I bring the concept to their station. About two months into my tenure there, he came into the studio one morning and said the helocopter sound effects in the reports was annoying, and I should stop using it. Helocopter reports with no helo sound. Well, now...this is brilliant. It then went from the Whispercopter report to the Whisperbugger reports, as I then had them in an old VW every morning. This annoyed him too. Eventually the daily reports went from daily to a Friday report from the tower site, and finally he told me to stop it all together.
When I was at WREB, I introduced to the public Mz. Clara Washington, the last living daughter of George. She was nuts and would pop in for Christmas time, Thanksgiving, or no reason at all. She ran a potato farm in Connecticut someplace. She was 107 at the time, and completely off the wall. I would write these scripts with my friend Chip in mind as he would always interview her,(me) on the air. I would give him the script, he'd scan it over. We went into production and taped it. First take, every time. The guy is a genius.
Chester J. Misque was an editorialist who came on weekly. In the 1980's, he did an editorial on aids. He thought there was a problem with eating too much of the diet chocolate that was around then.That character was also a moron.
One day at lunch I came up with an idea for a Dragnet episode. Chip and me again. He was Joe Friday, I was Bill Gannon. It was '"The Night Before Christmas". A report came in about a night time B&E, and they went to the house with the standard "just the facts ma'am.." What made it funny is that it was The Night Before Christmas verbatim. The whole poem, interjected with questions by Joe and Bill.. Of course, the boys got their man at the end. One Kris Kringle.
I remember hearing The 12 Days of Christmas on the radio one day. It occured to me that the only thing of value in that song are the 5 golden rings. Literally, 45 minutes later, I had written a script with 2 characters about this song. Till I left the airwaves, it was the most requested thing I had ever created for radio, and to this day people ask me for a copy of it. One day a woman called me telling me she was listening to it on her way to work, peed in her pants from laughing, and had to go back home..
Then there was Cozy Man. Fifteen characters. A weekly radio soap opera about a guy whose whole purpose in life was to go around and make everybody's life comfortable and cozy.This started out when a place called The Cozy Inn on Rt. 20 in Westfield started advertising with WREB. The salesman wanted me to come up with something funny to promote the little bistro. So Cozy Man was born, along with his trusty sidekick, Samuel. Horace and Shirley Glump were their arch enemies, and they once crash landed a plane in the Frinkleville jungle. Go figure. It worked..People loved this thing. Problem was that John and Joanie, the owners od the Cozy Inn, drank up the profits, and one night the farm they had that was in foreclosure mysteriously burned down, and they went back to New York.
It was always so much fun creating characters, and it transported people back to a time when radio was king and you got to make up who the people were and what they looked like. It was imagination, it was silly, it was funny, and I got to do this at a time just before the magic of radio faded away into a platform for selling prescription medications to the masses. Larry Glick replaced by Michael Savage. Cousin Brucie, replaced by Dean Edell . There's no fun out there for the most part, because there are no characters out there. When's the last time you heard the series "Chickenman" on the radio. In the sixties, this was one FUNNY show. I have the entire series on tape, and every few years or so I dig it out and it's still funny today. Find out how funny it is. http://www.danoday.com/chickenman . How many people record Limbaugh or Drudge off the air? In years to come, will these recordings be something to listen to and recall the good old days? Will we ever really look forward to hearing a great show everyday? Perhaps if you have some old reel to reel tapes your family might have floating around the cellar somewhere, and if you're lucky enought to have a player, you might find some recording of someone from years gone by that your father or grandfather thought was good enough to tape. Who knows? You might find an episode or two of Cozy Man or Clara Washington on them.. You'll never be able to hear those characters on live radio ever again, but when they were there, they made you laugh and feel better about things. That's one of our problems today. We listen to get angry, not to have fun.Thank you corporate America..
I think I'll introduce you to two long lasting nimrods that were on the air with me at WSPR, WLDM, and finally at WNNZ.
Felix Pernaverny and Clarence Fempter.
I had an idea in the mid 80's about traffic reports in the morning for my radio show, but like every other station I worked at, there was no money in the budget. Helicopter reports were becomming commonplace in larger markets. They always seemed stupid to me, for whenever you heard of some problem on the roads, you were already in the middle of the traffic snafu, or had just passed the exit that would have allowed you to get around it, or if you didn't have a job and nowhere to go to, you'd head to the spot of the incident to rubberneck, thereby furthur complicating the lives of cops and hundreds of angry people who are now late for work.. Now I was about to institute fake traffic reports around Springfield with two way out characters, but I couldn't make them sound too real. Lord knows there are people out there that believe everything they hear on the airwaves. So I created Felix Pernaverny's Discount Helo Service. Felix was the worst of the worst when it comes to deadbeats. He drank, gambled to excess, and was a schyster who got away with everything illegal and immoral, coming out of it smelling like a rose. His co pilot Clarence was not the brightest bulb in the silverware drawer either. Felix was married once to Clarences sister Shirley. When they were kids, Shirley used a staple gun to staple Clarences hat to his head so he wouldn't loose it. Clarence had to quit school in the third grade because he was getting too big to fit behind the desks.
Every day, I would send a signal to the helo to start the report, and every day there was a problem, so a traffic report was never given, just another story about some inane issue in the lives of Clarence and Felix.
I penned about 160 episodes of this bit, and did all of the sound. Every episode ran four to five minutes. When I wrote these episodes, the words just flowed, the ideas were endless, and I would laugh out loud, envisioning the episode in my mind. It was not unusual for me to get off the air, and spend the afternoon writing. I would go back to the station at night and bring the scripts to life. There was a constant loop of the sound of a helicopter in the background. I would grab a studio tape for each character and number the script so I knew what tape a character went on. I wrote this stuff so I already knew the inflections that were needed. When all of the lines were recorded, I started up a reel to reel tape recorder, started the loop, and then just pressed the corresponding tape to the script, and an episode came to life. The next morning the episode would air twice, and that was it. It took about 5 hours to do each one, and some were pretty complicated as there were episodes that had different characters, (ergo, different voices ) flying the WW2 army surplus helicopter. The whole family of the Pernavernys were nuts. Verna and Bernie Pernaverny his parents. Hortense and Laverne, the boys girlfriends, Clarence's brother Nestor Fempter, and a few others. Felix's family all operated "discount" services of some kind .Whenever there was call for a service of some sort, Felix always had a cousin who owned...for example..Ernie Pernaverny's Discount Law Firm, or Stetson Pernaverny's Discount Lawn Care.
All in all there were 22 different characters in this bit, and it got funnier and funnier.I would always use towns and streets in the area, and people would call me on occasion telling me that they looked for this helicopter and could never see it up there. I was amazed at those calls.
When I first dreamed this thing up, I had to be sure to get the proper names for the characters. I didn't want to use any name that could be associated with anybody, or religion, or ethnic background. One of my radio idols when I was a kid was a guy on WHYN. His name was Tom, but on the air he was Bud Stone, and he was funny. He started a radio club and if you wanted to join the club, you wrote a letter to him and you became an official member of " The Purn Club ". Myself and hundreds of others became Purns. In homage to one of my heros, the name Pernaverny was created some 20 years later. Clarence Fempter I just dreamed up. It sounded funny and as Clarence was a character who should'nt have been allowed on the street alone, it fit like a glove.
I was lured away from WSPR by the promise of bigger and better things. The station I went to was run by a husband and wife and she used to follow the helo reports like a soap opera. One of the conditions of me going to work for them was that I bring the concept to their station. About two months into my tenure there, he came into the studio one morning and said the helocopter sound effects in the reports was annoying, and I should stop using it. Helocopter reports with no helo sound. Well, now...this is brilliant. It then went from the Whispercopter report to the Whisperbugger reports, as I then had them in an old VW every morning. This annoyed him too. Eventually the daily reports went from daily to a Friday report from the tower site, and finally he told me to stop it all together.
When I was at WREB, I introduced to the public Mz. Clara Washington, the last living daughter of George. She was nuts and would pop in for Christmas time, Thanksgiving, or no reason at all. She ran a potato farm in Connecticut someplace. She was 107 at the time, and completely off the wall. I would write these scripts with my friend Chip in mind as he would always interview her,(me) on the air. I would give him the script, he'd scan it over. We went into production and taped it. First take, every time. The guy is a genius.
Chester J. Misque was an editorialist who came on weekly. In the 1980's, he did an editorial on aids. He thought there was a problem with eating too much of the diet chocolate that was around then.That character was also a moron.
One day at lunch I came up with an idea for a Dragnet episode. Chip and me again. He was Joe Friday, I was Bill Gannon. It was '"The Night Before Christmas". A report came in about a night time B&E, and they went to the house with the standard "just the facts ma'am.." What made it funny is that it was The Night Before Christmas verbatim. The whole poem, interjected with questions by Joe and Bill.. Of course, the boys got their man at the end. One Kris Kringle.
I remember hearing The 12 Days of Christmas on the radio one day. It occured to me that the only thing of value in that song are the 5 golden rings. Literally, 45 minutes later, I had written a script with 2 characters about this song. Till I left the airwaves, it was the most requested thing I had ever created for radio, and to this day people ask me for a copy of it. One day a woman called me telling me she was listening to it on her way to work, peed in her pants from laughing, and had to go back home..
Then there was Cozy Man. Fifteen characters. A weekly radio soap opera about a guy whose whole purpose in life was to go around and make everybody's life comfortable and cozy.This started out when a place called The Cozy Inn on Rt. 20 in Westfield started advertising with WREB. The salesman wanted me to come up with something funny to promote the little bistro. So Cozy Man was born, along with his trusty sidekick, Samuel. Horace and Shirley Glump were their arch enemies, and they once crash landed a plane in the Frinkleville jungle. Go figure. It worked..People loved this thing. Problem was that John and Joanie, the owners od the Cozy Inn, drank up the profits, and one night the farm they had that was in foreclosure mysteriously burned down, and they went back to New York.
It was always so much fun creating characters, and it transported people back to a time when radio was king and you got to make up who the people were and what they looked like. It was imagination, it was silly, it was funny, and I got to do this at a time just before the magic of radio faded away into a platform for selling prescription medications to the masses. Larry Glick replaced by Michael Savage. Cousin Brucie, replaced by Dean Edell . There's no fun out there for the most part, because there are no characters out there. When's the last time you heard the series "Chickenman" on the radio. In the sixties, this was one FUNNY show. I have the entire series on tape, and every few years or so I dig it out and it's still funny today. Find out how funny it is. http://www.danoday.com/chickenman . How many people record Limbaugh or Drudge off the air? In years to come, will these recordings be something to listen to and recall the good old days? Will we ever really look forward to hearing a great show everyday? Perhaps if you have some old reel to reel tapes your family might have floating around the cellar somewhere, and if you're lucky enought to have a player, you might find some recording of someone from years gone by that your father or grandfather thought was good enough to tape. Who knows? You might find an episode or two of Cozy Man or Clara Washington on them.. You'll never be able to hear those characters on live radio ever again, but when they were there, they made you laugh and feel better about things. That's one of our problems today. We listen to get angry, not to have fun.Thank you corporate America..
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