Knowing Andy, that smile on his puss over there on the left is coming from some awful thought he had while his "official" WNEP portrait was being taken. Care to share, Andrew?A lot of us who spent the bulk of our working years in television began the journey in radio. Safe to say, most of us didn't begin there hoping to someday make it to TV.
Quite the contrary.
Radio was our first love. Radio was where we wanted to be. We didn't leave radio, radio left us. That's a quote from yet another old radio pal. I wish it were mine, it says a ton.
To say that radio ain't what it used to be is the very definition of understatement. But you have to realize that while it's not what it was doesn't necessarily mean it's bad. Different, absolutely. Bad, no, not always.
Andy got to recounting his first interview and audition, which was at WCDL, the station Oles
called home for years and years. Paul is at right with yet another dear radio friend, and himself legendary and iconic, Rock107's John Webster.Sitting "High Atop Melody Mountain," WCDL started many careers. Sadly, it probably ended more than a few as well. I have no names to offer here and now, but I would be willing to bet at least some aspiring disc jockeys got that first break at WCDL, only to hit the wall, only to never move beyond the airwaves of Carbondale.
Come to think of it, I knew a few who felt getting to WCDL was an accomplishment, it was a destination, not a beginning. Those few had started elsewhere, then made the big move to Carbondale. There were smaller places to get that foot in the door, there were smaller towns, much smaller towns, than Carbondale.
As I wrote in Part #1 of On The Radio, my first days behind the microphone were in Honesdale. While just over the mountain and through a valley or two from WCDL, WHPA was a "really small" station, as contrasted with WCDL being one level up and just a "small" station.
More importantly, WCDL was on the cusp of the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre market, where there were some "medium" stations, including one extraordinary "medium" radio station widely known as The Mighty 590. In time, I would indeed land in WARM-Land.
The good old days? Yeah, some were...some were not.
All that being said, Andy got me to thinking about my first interview, my first audition. That's all they were; interview, audition. I didn't get the job.
It was in January of 1973 that the program director of WPAM called and asked me to come on down. WPAM was in Pottsville. Best I can tell, it still is. It sits at 1450 on your AM dial, just like it did 35 years ago. Only 35 years ago, it was in a struggle for the hearts, minds, and ears of Pottsville area residents with its crosstown rival WPPA at 1360 AM. WPPA is
also still there and appears to be a viable AM radio station, something which is in very short supply today. The precise status of Pottsville's radio landscape is at present an unknown to me.WPAM's program director(PD)was a really nice guy, a recently discharged Army veteran, retired if I remember correctly. He was likely around 40 and his name is completely and forever lost on me. I wouldn't know it if I drove past it daily on a digital billboard for seven months.
I'd driven to Pottsville on that gorgeous, sunny, and frigidly cold January day with no misgivings whatsoever. In my dopey mind, the job was a done deal. I mean really, why would this guy call me and set a time for me to sit and visit if he wasn't already convinced he'd found the man for the job, and that would be me.
It wasn't me. It wasn't anyone. He was doing pre-opening interviews for future candidates for jobs that didn't yet exist. This he told me after an hour's worth of Q&A in his office. Being the brash and arrogant young man I was at the time, had he told me at the start that there was no job, I would have probably stood, said something rude, and walked the hell out of the place. After all, this trip had cost me a day's pay from my "civilian/real world" job on a loading dock and a tank of gas. He never told me this that day, he waited until the follow-up letter came in the mail a few weeks later. At least he had the courtesy to write.
Oddly, the day did come when he had a job for me. I took some joy in telling him, "No thanks, I already have a full-time RADIO job." Just for snorts and chuckles, I asked what he had in mind salary-wise. I was doing roughly $25 a week more where I was. There was even an ounce more joy in telling him he was not only a day late, but several dollars short.
"You had your chance, Buster, you could have had my major talent. You blew it. Now you pay the price. Now skulk away and weep."
That's what I was thinking.
He was probably thinking, "OK, who's next on the list?" I'm betting he forget me, my name, and everything else about me the second he hung up the phone.
My next interview/audition went precisely the same way; I was there to be no more than filed away for a future position if, and when, one should open. Again, it did open. Again, I had a much better job by the time it did. Again, I took some minor pleasure in dismissing my suitor.
Three's a charm, right? The third trip got me an offer via phone within hours. I jumped at it. And here I am. The 4th of July always reminds me of those WHPA days, and so I write. All sincere and heartfelt condolences to Paul's family this holiday weekend.
