Excerpt #7 from the long-awaited book that Chuck Blore has almost finished writing ...

www.chuckblore.com

OKAY, OKAY, I WROTE THE BOOK

As I mentioned, the moment Cath and I were within radio-shot of Big D, we heard a promo on KLIF urging the audience to tune in the next day to ... “A new deejay every hour ... Bruce Hayes, Don French, Ken Knox, Bob Cooper, Art Nelson, Chuck Blore ... “ WHAT? The NEXT DAY? Oh ..... My ..... God.

Somewhere in the last part of the five years I spent in Tucson, I decided that it was time to get a car which looked like a “Big Fish” (in a pint-size pool) kinda car. It was a yellow Pontiac with a “Big Fish” looking Continental Kit on the back. For those of you under 60, a Continental Kit was basically a spare tire hooked on to the rear of the car. What give it that “Big Fish” attitude was the snazzy chrome wheel cover which gave the whole car, literally, a flashy look.

As we flashed into a parking place in front of the KLIF studios in Dallas, Don Keyes, who was about to become my main mentor was waiting. “Hey. Neat car.” he said. The radio was on and KLIF was on it, “Listening to KLIF?”

“Yeah”

“What do you think?”

The next thing I said was really pretty stupid, or maybe naive or just very young and inexperienced. No, it was pretty stupid to say to my new mentor-to-be, “I think you are nuts!”

Don leaned down to look through car window so that he could look me directly in the eye, “What did you say?” God, what a voice. I thought for a moment the whole car was shaking and then I realized it was just me. And all that stuff I had learned about honesty was about to bite me right in the ass. I said, “I think you’re out of your damned mind.”

“You realize you’re gonna be working for me dontcha? That’s a pretty stupid thing to say to your new boss.”

“Chuck!” said Cath, “You’d better apologize.” Then to Don, “He’s sorry.”

“Okay” said me. “I’m sorry, but for the past two hours I’ve been hearing I’m gonna be on KLIF tomorrow and I don’t know how to do that stuff you’re doing.” I was really shaking now, “And I know I’m gonna sound like a damn fool school kid.”

“Ah man, don’t worry about it. We moved it. Gordon decided it was a bad idea. He’s afraid you guys will just screw up the format. So tomorrow, you’re gonna read The Policy Book.” Then for a little added emphasis, something Don was very good at, he added, “Tomorrow you’re gonna memorize The Policy Book.

The “Policy Book” according to Don Keyes, who was much less intimidated by it than I, was not so much a set of rules, or even guidelines, as it was “ ... a compendium of Gordon’s thoughts; great ideas, memos, etc. that built the entire McLendon image.”

Regardless of what it was called, I studied it, I crammed, I examined and analyzed every page. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept asking myself, “Why do it that way?” “What does that accomplish?” and “Who really cares about all that extra stuff?”

As an aside, many years later, when I was producing one of the early Gavin Conventions ... (For those who may not know of Bill Gavin, he was probably the first to publish any kind of music list (The Gavin Report) of new record releases, record plays and sales info for radio stations.) ... Bill had asked me to produce a salute to Gordon McLendon and I was thrilled to do it. As I was writing it, I came to realize that what I was doing was a salute to the things I had first discovered in that book, only now I knew the answer to those “Why? What? and Who cares?” questions. Pretty simple really ... to make a difference. That difference was already changing the heart and soul of what radio was and would become.

I can’t say for sure how much of what I’m about to say is actual, but it’s a story I love to tell and I’ve probably romanced it into some apocryphal anomaly with little or no respect for facts, but ...

IN THE BEGINNING: After The Mutual Broadcasting Company, which had exclusive rights to broadcast major league baseball, had shut Gordon’s wonderful recreations down, The Liberty Broadcasting Network was soon to follow. Gordon was left with a station in Dallas, KLIF, but being true to his ‘lemon into lemonade’ philosophy he also had a dream. Local news, the one thing radio, with all it’s lightweight flexibility could do better than television, with all it’s ten thousand pound cameras and other immovable equipment.

Gordon bought a car, painted it the shiniest shade of black with gigantic white lettering identifying the KLIF MOBILE NEWS UNIT, and sent it out to prowl the streets of Dallas. Listeners to KLIF would be listening to Glen Miller music, also a McLendon favorite, when they would suddenly and unexpectedly hear the sound of a screaming siren punctuated by a throbbing bass drum and then Gordon’s voice, in an oh so dramatic fashion, saying something as awesome as: “The ululation of wailing sirens shatter the silence of the Dallas day as the KLIF Mobile News Unit streaks to the scene of breaking news. And Jack Pert is there ...” Then, Jack Pert would growl into the microphone ... “Only moments ago an accident that didn’t have to happen took place in downtown Dallas. We’re on the scene to offer what solace we can to the victim and let her tell her own story of the reckless and irresponsible driving plaguing the streets of our beloved city. Are you alright ma’am? Did you get a license number. Could you identify the guilty driver?”

The fact is this was just a routine fender-bender not even worthy of a traffic ticket and the victim(?) was far more shook up by the microphone being shoved into her face than by the tiny bump on her knee. “I don’t ... uh ... I haven’t even ... I don’t know ... “

“That’s alright ma’m. We understand. We couldn’t expect you to be terribly articulate at such a terrifying time. We do understand.” Then, to the audience in as awesome a tone as he could manage ... “As further details become available, you’ll hear them here. Jack Pert reporting.. We now return to the Klif studios.” The Siren is once again “ululating” over which we hear Gordon’s voice ... “KLIF mobile news, First News First!”and then, back to Glen Miller, or maybe even Jo Stafford.

I obviously overstated that whole thing although it wasn’t far from the truth and the truth is: It worked! People loved it and before long there was a second news unit. And KLIF was attracting more audience than they ever had with The Liberty Network.

In the meantime, in Omaha, there lived a man by the name of Tod Storz. Tod’s father owned a brewery but no matter how much he tried the younger Storz had no interest in the beer business and eventually his father bought him a radio station, a little day-timer, KOWH. Tod had no idea what to do with a radio station and spent most of his afternoons in a bar sipping nice cold Storz Beer.

“You notice how they just play the same songs over and over again.” The friendly bartender was just making conversation, “Drives ya nuts.”

“Yeah” said Tod, “I noticed. But I kinda like it.” And then he started taking closer notice. No matter how many different people played the juke box, the almost invariably chose the same songs, over and over again. Coulda been fifty or sixty songs on that juke box but they just wanted to hear maybe ten of them. Over and over again. “I kinda like it.” It wasn’t long before Tod knew what he was gonna do with his radio station. Play the same songs, over and over again. And suddenly, his little daytimer was attracting more audience than any other station in Omaha.

So, how about that? One guy doing it with music and another guy, a thousand miles way doing it with news.

Music and news. Hmmm.

(...to be continued)