"They've been wasting most their time / Glorifying days long gone behind / They've been wasting most their days / In remembrance of ignorance oldest praise"
Stay tuned.
©2009 - 2010 The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved.
"They've been wasting most their time / Glorifying days long gone behind / They've been wasting most their days / In remembrance of ignorance oldest praise"
At the close of the Disco era was a fad known as Roller Disco. The popular dances and music moved into the roller skating rinks for those skilled enough.
I was not one of them. I had two left feet but learned to circle around the floor until I fell and hurt my backside on an eighth grade field trip and experienced pain for most of my high school years thus ending my skating “career.” I was too chicken to ever try again until tempted thirty years later when I had my own children. I'm still as clumsy as ever, but as far as my kids know, I can skate even though I am actually wearing shoes. That will be our little secret, dear reader. Shhh!
Disco is dead, but not forgotten. The genre evolved into “Dance” music. It is still played sometimes in its original form at the rinks around here, especially on special skate nights for old folks like me. Well, I'm not a fan of the music but it was designed to dance and later roll to; not many other forms of music are as compatible.
For those of us schooled in the Pentecostal and Southern Baptist conventions dancing was taboo in any form so the youth of my day needed a substitute. The ultra conservative of our sects would argue that even innocuous substitutes for the raunchy dancing and skating was just as bad and viewed as a gateway to Hell. Shoot, in modern churches dance teams are very common; my, how times have changed. I recently attended a church youth presentation of a mainline denomination that featured fast paced dancing to secular popular music accompaniment with no pretense of using a Christian substitute. Funny how even the churches are becoming more politically correct, omitting Christ. Those kids knew nothing of the restrictions I grew up with so I took no offense, especially considering the current character of Christian music.
Winning the “lost” teens of my day involved using our gospel music set to a modern beat. As I have noted in a previous post; I briefly moonlighted as DJ on Christian skate nights. The pairing of Southern Gospel and skates has always been surreal to me. I never thought the genre was compatible. So in 1984 I jumped at the opportunity to spin rock derived Contemporary Christian music (CCM) for the attending youth groups each week at the Savannah Skate Inn on Saturdays . The tunes were fast paced and skate-able. Not so in today's more bland homogeneous CCM. Christian skate night simply would not work for the present generation.
It was hard enough selling the idea of rolling to gospel music in my day when CCM was better. The unchurched laughed; we were preaching to the choir of those who attended (maybe a few invited their “unsaved” friends.) The ultra conservative simply weren't allowed or came without the knowledge of their pastor. It was a wholesome activity, I figured, so why did it fail? It might just boil down to a fickle public that summer. Who knows or cares?
Stay Tuned
© 2009 The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved.
The station now has a 50,000 watt construction permit that is wasted on the same old format with a playlist of obscure southern gospel tailored to those born sometime during the Civil War. Their signal reaches further now though. I don’t believe the current owners wish to program for the major market they now cover. What a shame.
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One of the joys of small and medium market radio is the contact by phone with my listeners both on the air and off. This was no more apparent that at radio home number four, WBKI, in tiny Bremen, Georgia. We had a live call in show called Swap Shop. It was tremendous fun. Callers would phone in their radio classified ads. Anything from bedding and blankets to cars, trucks and farm animals. Along the way I made some telephone friends who felt they knew me personally. I suppose I did a fairly good job of listening to them and recapping what was listed after the conversation ended.
This was all of course absolutely live, without profanity delay, to the air. I was always fearful of losing our FCC license over some nut dropping a cuss word or two. It never happened though. Whew. There is nothing like doing seat of your pants radio. Introducing records is ok, but nothing beat witnessing the unexpected, unscripted, spontaneous and organic process that was Swap Shop. I had a few regulars; Ole Waco Nut for one who lived in nearby, you guessed it, Waco, Georgia, that is. I think he made his living selling items on our show.
Then there was town gossip, Virginia, who who had all the latest news from the whacky goings on in the little town along with her plugs for fresh eggs and chickens from her farm. She visited in person on my last day at the station to wish me farewell. We had an entire hour wall to wall with callers. Quite surprising, with a 2,500 watt signal, the hour never lagged.
I had attempted at number two radio home, WSPZ, something called On Air Market a quarter hour show that seemed like an eternity. I came in around 3:45 pm for the show where no live callers were featured due to our owners’ paranoia. The savory seasoning of live conversation was missing, thus the show, like the station in general, was extremely bland. I had a producer screening and taking dictation of caller submissions who would chime in when needed, like Roz on the TV show Frazier.
Market Calls on 900 AM in Savannah was similar. As a fledgling broadcaster I feared accepting the challenge of live call-in until 1986 when I had three years DJ experience under my belt at my first radio home. Previously, I had refused hosting the show. The one time I finally did it my delivery was so impersonal and unmemorable that I overcompensated and overshadowed the callers not allowing personality to shine through. I got almost every recapped phone number wrong. Thank God it was only 30 minutes. Actually, 20 minutes of show and 10 minutes of pervasive music to fill the voids. Seven years later It prepared me for Swap Shop on WBKI in what not to do.
Stay tuned.
My hand to God this is the truth. If it had not happened in church to someone I know and trust. Yada, yada… In my last post I spoke of some gospel lyrics near and dear to my heart; this next song is especially touching to a car guy such as myself (the actual words from my cousin Ray):
Actually it’s...Jesus, he will be my snow tires, in the winter he’s my anti-freeze, when I need him, he is my oil filter, and he's my windshield when there is a breeze!!! C'mon, sing it this time if ‘ya know it!!.. (true song....written by a well-intentioned, but hardly mentally gifted girl from my childhood)
At least it rhymes. Thanks Ray! She took a metaphor and ran with it. Now on to something completely different.
I first met gospel comedian Wendy Bagwell in 1983 at a big gospel music show in Savannah, Georgia. He was over six feet tall with curly dark hair. The only man I have ever met named Wendy. Like Johnny Cash and his Boy Named Sue I believe Bagwell would have had a great story to tell with the origin of his name. This was about the time he first told his Three German Police Dogs story about the disruption that ensues when a yellow cat is introduced to three seeing eye dogs belonging to a group of famous blind singers at the Ebenezer Freewill Baptist Church all day singing and dinner on the ground homecoming. “Those blind folks didn’t know what was going on,” he said, “They just thought they done took that job too cheap.” His theory was that the blind group, unaware of the ruckus, assumed the crowd had broke out in an old fashioned shouting revival.
It turns out that Mr. Bagwell was quite the shrewd businessman as well. He owned Bagwell Sales in metro Atlanta, Georgia. My parents, who were both blind, did business with his furniture store several times over the years. My mom, who is not the least bit shy, confronted Wendy about his comments in the famous bit. “I’m blind, but I know what’s going on,” she commented to him. “I know you do,” Wendy replied with a broad smile and a wink in his voice. “This is the truth what I’m telling you with my hand up,” he would often say before one of his stories which were probably slightly exaggerated. Stretchers, if you will, were his calling card. He was a master showman of the Gospel world. Wendell “Wendy”Lee Bagwell died in 1996 and now has a stretch of US 278 in Georgia, our home state, named after him. Rest in peace.
Stay tuned.
Throughout my storied radio career I have come across some very entertaining and often comical songs and tales geared to the Gospel audience. Sometimes the comedy was intentional. Most obvious is the work of Wendy Bagwell & the Sunlighters who’s work is intentionally funny. A few local singers with minimal exposure have been overlooked for their accidental comedic portfolio. Take for example a fellow in Savannah who penned the timeless classic, “Jesus Rode a Donkey Down Victory Drive.” His poetic device, a metaphor entailing our Lord riding a burro down world famous palm lined Victory Drive on His way to Tybee Island apparently.
The next songs my cousin Ray told me about a few years back. A songster in his hearing sang, “In the winter You’re my afghan / in my car You’re my anti-freeze” and he also mentioned the big hit by country music’s Bobby Bare, “Dropkick Me Jesus (Through the Goal Post of Life)” from 1976. Give me a break.
Let’s not forget the Jerry & the Singing Goff’s cover version of “God’s Gonna Get ‘Cha (for that)” was originally done by George Jones and Tammy Wynette. Ain’t nothing like basing your theology on a country song. The Jerry Goff cover version was played lyrically unmodified on Gospel stations all across the USA in the late 70’s.
Often I would host, in person, preachers live at my radio homes. Some were earnest but a little confused. Once in my first studio I had a preacher lady give her testimony. The rather large elderly black woman was getting very excited about her personal relationship with Christ when in her discourse claimed that, “Jesus is my boyfriend!” What!? I had to hide my face in my hands laughing hysterically as I could plainly be seen through her studio location into my control room seat by glass partitioning. I could see thousands of radios simultaneously switching off.
Other preachers were allowed language freedoms not afforded Howard Stearn. A few of these guys often used descriptive pejorative terms of certain lifestyle groups. If the FCC had known, our license might have been pulled. None of these shows were auditioned before hand or on a profanity delay when live. All required was their money for airtime.
Then there was a certain preacher from Dallas, Texas whose Success in Life show debuted on our air in about 1985. He claimed that indescribable wealth could be yours with a thousand dollar “vow” to his ministry. He was later exposed of fraud on ABC news when hundreds of letters from listeners were found outside his offices in the dumpster having contributions excised from them. He made claims of praying over each letter personally. That his very tears stained the notes until the ink bled. He also had a TV show. I think you can still see this name it and claim it charlatan on cable to this day.
I think God must have a marvelous sense of humor. Many think they are inspired. Some are. A few, well, let’s leave God alone to judge.
Stay tuned.
For over ten years I thought very infrequently of my radio past. Up until Fall of 2008 I had suppressed any thought or public mention of my previous life in broadcast media. One evening while working as manager of an auto parts retail store I was discussing with a fellow manager and part time country musician his passion for recording his music. I know he wasn’t impressed by my story but I felt the need to enlighten him with the brief details of my 12 year DJ career. I was ignored but relieved that I finally revealed a past that I was quite proud of at one point and I really didn’t expect his arrogant personality to receive it. The conversation was merely a catalyst for a new phase of my life.
It was a load off my chest because I was once again captured by the radio bug. I was burned out with the retail hell into which I had fallen. I needed more out of life. I was waxing sentimental over my old career and could not escape thinking about and writing about it. This obsession eventually became a blog, podcast and Internet radio station, The GRIN.
Still, I need a tangible outlet for my audio passion. As I noted in a previous Gospel Aircheck post I’m trying to get involved in church sound and media again. This objective seems out of reach. I detect little movement from those who could use me and I am somewhat discouraged. Do I face reality and completely abandon my dream? Or should I be more proactive?
Is it 1995 all over again when I saw a new door open in a completely different field? ‘95 was a turning point into the world of retail. It was my final foray into radio because my new employer would not allow me the one day a week I worked at WBTR-FM. Forward to 1999, I got involved with the sound crew of an Assembly of God church known regionally for its Revelation to Calvary production that ran for weeks and was advertised on the Atlanta market’s large FM Christian station, WVFJ.
Here I was a somewhat jaded former broadcaster now volunteering with a highly professional crew. The pastor stressed excellence in the audio and it showed. Theatrical sound effects, creative audio processing and other elements of a proper audio presentation were the norm. It was the best sound I had ever heard in a church setting. Regrettably, I had to leave the team after 8 months or so when marriage to my first wife ended in 2000. My ex attended the church before me and it was agreed that I would leave.
Another ten year cycle passes and I find myself in the present wanting to take what I’ve learned to a new church setting. One pastor is interested in an effective media presentation complete with theater style lighting and effects. So far I’m still deciding weather to get involved with the Media Shout computer operator position Pastor sees me filling. I have liked photography, computers and video as a hobby but audio is my obsession. Maybe the path is clearer as I wrap up. I’ll see eventually. For now I’m remaining at my home church, warming a pew.
One constant in my life is my love of all things audio. Over the last 30 years I have learned all I could about analog and digital sound. In fact, I have started a new business Peanut Whistle Audio Restoration. I specialize in analog cassette and reel to reel transfer to CD-R and other digital media. I will take your tapes, remove noise and normalize for CD then transfer to your choice of digital media all for a very reasonable price. Other services are available. The only limits are our imagination. I apply all my radio production and theatrical audio expertise to every project. Custom editing is available. Email me nealrhoden@thepeanutwhistle.com or call 678-230-2424
Stay tuned.
It was Skatetime USA that had the Technics SL-1200 turntables not the Skate Inn. Their turntables did not provide the instants cues of the Technics. They were good consumer units, but I don’t remember the brand. I discovered a photo on Facebook of the Savannah Skate Inn sound booth from the era that confirms this. Both rinks sounded great! I give Skatetime USA the nod for sheer oomph.
This experience with tight cues on our Technics SP-15 turntables was a joy. Immediate starts from a dead stop were possible with those units. When I wanted even closer starts or begin within a selection I would revert to a method called a slip cue. You would allow the platter to run underneath the record while holding the vinyl manually then releasing the record when needed. Pow! you were rockin’. High torque and perfect precision from the direct drive motors provided years of trouble free service. All but one of my non Internet radio homes used this particular model. In ‘84 a couple of them would set you back the price of a good used car, worth every penny.
Savannah Skate Inn had a nice equipment setup: Two direct drive turntables; not the reference standard Technics SL-1200 found in discos and rinks worldwide; although not suitable for a broadcast environment, a compact disco mixer, a cool Teac C-2 rack mount cassette deck (the $1,000 consumer version of the professional Tascam 122B), cheap microphone, massive amplification and huge pro theater style loudspeaker cabinets. Music to hear and feel.
The sound booth at Skatetime USA was a little bit different from Skate Inn. They had the superior Technics SL-1200 turntables, industry standard to this day for club DJ's who still use vinyl. Instant starts just like the more costly SP-15's. I was reacquainted with these decks at radio home number four, WBKI, the only time I've seen these semi-pro machines used in a broadcast environment. Generally, rink equipment is primitive and clunky compared to fully professional gear. I often fantasized a rink with superior broadcast equipment. A live remote from the party would have been a super idea allowing dual payment. Although the station would have weaseled out of paying me somehow just as they had with the deserved commission.
“Good ole boys won’t make it into heaven; Good ole boys won’t wear a crown; Good ole boys won’t live forever where the saints of God are found…”
Radio home number three has been very hard to write about because it ended in a bitter divorce. Just like the child, little J-O-E, in the famous Tammy Wynette song I needed shelter from the awful truth. I realize now, 18 years later, having survived a bad first marriage in real life a decade ago this radio separation thing was a walk in the park. Both marriages lasted only 10 months.
Third time around was another unique situation. This new owner held a General Radiotelephone Operator License (GROL). I was impressed with his credentials and his engineering background in both radio and TV. The honeymoon soon ended when I discovered his hardnosed, dictatorial approach to managing our staff. This radio home was now owned by one individual owner operator not a corporation or church organization like my previous employers. Imagine Fidel Castro rolled up into Adolf Hitler. So as not to defame the dead, I’ll call him Bill.
The church that had owned WSPZ had become desperate to unload this albatross hung around their neck. So desperate, in fact, that Bill wound up paying less than a tenth of the original asking price of the station less the studio building, which he’d lease from April until we moved the following summer of 1990.
Bill, 58 years old, entered with flattery, focusing his attentions on my office of program director. He seemed to value my role and appointed me architect of the new image. What an ego expedition this turned out to be for me. I came up with the new call letters WDCY-AM, representing We’re Douglas County. We realized the focus of the former owners was too broad. They had assumed our 2,500 watt signal would penetrate the Atlanta environs and marketed us as such. We decided to do a heavy local push by adding a news director and field reporters, making our presence known in the business community, covering nearby high school sports events and doing live remotes ad nauseam. Bill had some great ideas; made some tough adjustments to staff and bruised many egos along the way, but I must say that it was never boring. Bill and I were just too different. He never had a proper understanding of our Southern Gospel music format often referring to it as Barber Shop Quartet. I was an impetuous 24 year old bent on winning control over the old man’s station. Boy, was I wrong!
I believe a pivotal moment for Bill was a Gospel concert he had masterminded, not meeting his expectations, although I saw it as a success during the culmination of Southern Gospel Music Month in September of ‘90. I pled the cause of Gospel music, but he seemed soured by the experience and preferred to go to what he called Country and Western. Who called Country that anymore? Secretly, I knew a secular format would not work for me and would probably quit should we change. Anyway, for the first time ever I was forced to take an on-air partner and produce a morning show modeled after the morning zoo fluff shows popular those days. The Mabry & O’Neal Morning Show was born around November with promotions director slash occasional news reporter, Angie Mabry. We both worked hard at it but the show was incompatible with our audience. We seldom ever referred to the Gospel music or religion at all.
By February of 1991 Bill had trimmed the now bloated air staff taking on some air time himself. This change put me on-air 6 days a week thereby stealing vital time away from the office and production room tasks necessary for perfecting our sound. The balancing act proved humanly impossible and I resigned during the inevitable and ultimately ill fated format change to country and a new slogan, We’re Douglas Country.
Stay tuned
Working in small and medium market radio has had its foibles. For instance, budget restraints in the technical department. I may not know what I am talking about but I believe that all of my chief engineers were moonlighting away from their main gig. My first chief, Dennis, was employed by the number one station in the market and retained by my station part time. At my second radio home Richard was another fine engineer on call to us but yet again his allegiance was to a big Atlanta FM. I had a great rapport with these guys and tried to learn as much about their craft as I could. I knew their hands were tied by our smaller budgets so a lot of maintenance was differed. Still, it was no less frustrating when something major got screwed up.
My first radio station had numerous technical issues although I believe our owners had very deep pockets. One DJ in our FM department once commented that, “Someone could pee down the street and knock us off the air”. Crass but true, he was almost right because it only took a mild thunderstorm to kick both AM and FM off the air. The FM’s signal was almost always monaural not the clear stereo of our competition. Lightning once fried a transmitter making us sound no better than a citizens band (CB) radio. I was advised to switch it off and go home an hour early.
Around Saint Patrick’s day of 1985 some water craft on the Savannah River severed our STL (Studio Transmitter Link) line. All the air staff were moved out to the remote transmitter site to broadcast directly. The FM had emergency equipment there but we in AM were stuck with two Marantz Superscope portable cassette recorders and one patch cord directly wired to the transmitter. In an earlier post, Beam Me Up Scottie, I described the poor audio experience. It lasted two days but seemed much longer. Bell South dropped us a new line in short order.
Five years later at my new radio home, WSPZ-AM, located just west of Atlanta, a tornado blew down our broadcast tower. This time I was off the air for two weeks without the luxury of a back up plan. Luckily for the staff, we reported for work and were paid. The station was awaiting FCC approval of transfer of ownership and feared the collapse would hinder the sale.
Station number two was the opposite of my first. WSPZ was owned by a smallish local church. The owners had spent an obscene amount of money on all new professional studio equipment and had for its size the best AM audio this DJ has ever herd. I feel that the owners were overextended when we first learned the station was for sale, 2 1/2 years prior to the tornado. A sizable investment was wasted on a 1Kw signal with 500 watts critical hours. The power was increased in about 1988 which meant another wad of cash for a new transmitter for only an increase to two and a half thousand watts. You may think that’s more than double the power but remember engineers tell us that to actually double your output on AM there has to be a ten fold increase in wattage. So, obviously, an allowance of 10,000 watts would have actually paid off.
what’s ironic about SPZ, the station’s listed price of $750,000 in 1987 was lowered numerous times and actually sold for a mere $70,000 a tenth in 1990. That’s what I call poor return on investment. For three years I was basically babysitting. I made a decent living doing something I loved and do not regret a thing. It is funny that my original radio home was owned by tightwads who refused a lot of the basics on stations with enormous potential while my second place was owned by free spenders beating a dead horse. I guess you can’t have it all.
Stay tuned.