www.chuckblore.com

Okay, Okay I Wrote the Book

As the Crowell-Collier broadcast empire got larger and larger, the time I spent programming radio stations got smaller and smaller. I had been able to hire three very good PDs and I had the big-deal title of, VP of Programming. That meant listening to air-checks sent to me by those very good PDs and sending them memos about the wonderfulness of their station. Their station, not mine. That’s when radio stopped being fun and started being ... business. I kept telling my good friend and boss, Bob Purcell, (President of Crowell-Collier’s broadcast division) that this was not what I wanted to do. I tried to convince him that I could be far more valuable by programming KFWB on a day to day basis and let KE and KDWB just replicate what we were doing in L.A. But, we had created three highly profitable stations and, naturally, Crowell-Collier wanted more. So did Mr. Purcell, and he wanted me right there with him. It wasn’t long before he had ‘purchase agreements’ with stations in Washington DC and New York City. And, because this was the Big Apple we were about to bite into, Purcell thought it would be wise if he and I stayed in New York for a few weeks and really get to know the market.

I remember checking into The Navarro Apartments, right across the street from Central Park. It was a fabulous place and as the concierge handed me the key to where I would be living for awhile, he told me that up until the night before, Vivian Leigh had been staying in that very apartment. I remember saying, “Oh wow! You didn’t change the sheets did you?” He thought that was funny and assured me the sheets had been changed (drat!). He confessed, however, that they had found a photograph of the lovely Vivian after she had checked out. She apparently had begun to autograph it for someone and had changed her mind. Written on the photograph was, something like, “I hope you’ll keep this close, you mean so much to me.” The concierge asked if I’d like to have it. Yes. For the six weeks I lived in New York I slept with Vivian Leigh every night. At least, when I looked at the pillow next to me, it was her face I saw. I kept it close because ... I meant so much to her.

It wasn’t long before word got out that we were in town and we were buying WMGM. I’m not quite sure how or why but Purcell and I started spending time at the station. Bad move! Suddenly everything went nuts. Crowell-Collier was notified by the FCC that our purchase agreement was being rescinded because Crowell-Collier management people were occupying the station before The Commission had approved the sale. That was devastating. What happened next was worse.

Newton Minnow, the FCC Chairman who described broadcasting in America as “A vast wasteland.” was suddenly aware of Crowell Collier Broadcasting. The Washington DC application was also turned down because “No one company should be allowed to have a potential audience of more than 33% of the country.” That wasn’t the exact language I’m sure, but that was the reason given for not approving the sale. Commissioner Minnow’s new found interest in Crowell-Collier was also the reason it was determined that maybe three stations were enough.

When Crowell-Collier had decided they were going to build a broadcast empire, Mr. Purcell and I were told to make the stations autonomous so that we, Purcell and me, could pay attention to empire building. Problem with that was, now that the empire was limited to what it was yesterday, and yesterday was pretty much running itself, we ‘empire builders’ had very little to do today. And as far as I could see, there was no tomorrow.
The people at Crowell-Collier were actually very kind. They told Purcell and me they had been thinking about starting an Audio-Visual division and they’d like us develop it. Bob and I were ‘promoted’ to the President and VP of Crowell Collier Audio Visual. I think that was about the unhappiest I had ever been. In a matter of what seemed like no time at all, I had gone from being ‘the golden boy of radio’ to trying to learn how to produce educational arithmetic slide strips. (Don’t ask.)

I gave my notice to Crowell-Collier and was reminded that I had an 18 month non-competition clause in my contract. What that meant was, as long as they continued to pay me, I could not work for any other broadcast company. They apparently thought I might end up working for the competition and for 18 months at least, they could keep that from happening. I became a well paid bum.

I built a little office behind my garage at home and day after day I would sit and listen to what ‘they’ were doing to my radio station. One thing was very obvious. You could hear the programming department bowing down to sales. I spent a lot of that time crying. My baby was dying.

After a couple of months of this, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turned the radio off. Not just KFWB, I turned the radio off for over a year.

I found a lot of things to do. I took up golf and became addicted. I drew a comic strip, “Captain Glutz Of The Space Command.” Cap’n Glutz and his electric girl friend saved the world from the dreaded Space Finks. And, I wrote a musical comedy called, “Good Luck General.” It was about General Custer and a traveling brothel. My Custer was an egomaniacal genius who introduced himself to the troops singing ...
I COULD WEAR MY MANY MEDALS,
YOU COULD GAZE UPON THEM BOYS
BUT THEY TEND TO WEIGH ME DOWN
BESIDES, I NEVER COULD STAND THE NOISE.
IF I HAD MORE HAIR UPON MY CHEST
YOU’D THINK I WAS A TREE
NOW, C’MON BOYS, DON’T BE BASHFUL
LET’S HEAR IT ONCE ... FOR ME.

Well, at least it passed the time. About three months into which, one of the KFWB salesmen stopped by my garage. “Chuck,” he said, “You gotta help me. I’m about to lose the Rambler account” (Talk about putting something in it’s time frame.)

“What’s the matter, Paul.” I asked with feigned concern. I really cared zero about what was going on at that radio station.

“The spots aren’t working like they used to. I need you to cook up a promotion for me.” Paul pleaded, “Something that’ll get people into the Rambler Dealers.”

“What do you want to do? Give away balloons?” I snorted, “What you need is a good commercial. The commercials on your station are either stupid or just plain bad. That’s probably what’s chasing your audience away.”

“Okay.” said Paul, “Make me a good one.”

“I don’t know how to make a commercial,” I said.

“Or sure you do.” Paul continued his pleading tone. “Just make one like some of the stuff you used to do on the air. How about ‘My Mommie drives a Rambler?”

Well, at least it would give me something to do. I told him I’d try. But I wouldn’t do it for nothing. “How much?” he said.

I had no idea how much, but I figured I might as well shoot for the moon. “Five hundred dollars.”

“Okay.” Said Paul. He called the agency. “Yeah, he said he’d do it, and because we’re such good friends he’s gonna do it for only five hundred bucks.” Done deal.

A group called The Playmates had had a Number One song a couple of months before I left the station. Beep Beep. It was about a Rambler. A little Rambler racing and beating a Cadillac. I called the publisher. I could tell by the greeting I got that he had no idea I was no longer at the station. “You wanna use Beep Beep for a commercial? Sure Chuck, no problem.”

I changed the lyric to Creep, Creep. It was about a guy who didn’t have sense enough to have a Rambler and all the girls called him ... Creep Creep.

I called Johnny Mann and asked if he could put a group together that sounded like The Playmates. As I knew he would, he shouted with glee, “Oh yeah! Absolutely” Then, “Uh ... who are The Playmates?” In less than a week, we were in the studio, and Johnny, as usual delivered big time. It was great. Lots of fun too.

A couple of months went by, and because I had sworn off radio, I never heard the spot. The phone rang one morning and I was told that my little commercial had won first place in The Advertising Association of The West. Wow! Great! Couple of weeks later a telegram from Paul ...”I told you you could do it! Our spot won First Place in ... “ I honestly don’t remember the name of the competition, but that little Rambler spot won top spots in three or four major awards shows.

“Hmmph.” I thought, “That was easy. Maybe I’ll try making commercials for a while.”