In May of 1984 I was wrapping up my senior year of high school having the time of my life working in radio. Spinning gospel music in the afternoon after school gave me an easy way to earn money part-time while studying for graduation finals during records and preaching shows. We played Lp’s and 45’s directly to air, not from carts* like the bigger stations did so I actually spun vinyl as the club DJ’s did and still do.
Anyway, my station was hosting an exclusive Christian Skating party on Monday nights and was using our morning man Dennis Allen and others as guest DJ’s. I had no concept of their compensation but I was soon to find out some very good news. Our sponsor, Savannah Skate Inn— not actually a hotel, rather a roller rink—wanted an additional skate party on Saturday nights aimed at a slightly younger clientèle. The rink’s manager, Tommy, apparently wanted yours truly to host. He worked out my compensation. I was to be paid three times my hourly rate at the radio station. Wow!
Five days following my high school graduation Contemporary Christian Music rocked the Skate Inn. Church youth leaders brought in bus loads for our premiere. Admission was only $3.00, a dollar less with a coupon, and free skates rental. A quarter of each admission was put into a jackpot that was awarded to the largest group represented. What a win-win scenario!
I was a bit nervous at first facing a live audience but soon overcame the butterflies when I realized the interactions directly with patrons presenting song requests and their putting together a face with a voice. One mother had assumed my age was 35. “Thanks ma’am, I’m only 18,” was my grateful reply.
I was perched in the booth among my peers spinning my own Christian Rock ‘n Roll records, playing the Hokey Pokey, Couples Skate, etc. All the shows were carried out—for the most part—without a hitch.
That is, until one embarrassing incident:
A faux pas that has haunted me to this day happened during one contest, All Girl Skate. I proclaimed to a skater, taking her for a boy, “That’s all girls!” “I am a girl,” was her curt reply. Egg all over my face, I proceeded with the segment gesturing an apology to the young lady.
Two months passed with varying success and little other controversy until one day at my main radio job I received a phone call from the manager of cross town rival Skatetime USA requesting I move the Christian Youth Skate and my CCM record collection to his facility on Monday nights.
I had seen crowds dwindling at the Skate Inn and saw the handwriting on the wall. Manager Tommy Edwards had already cut 30 minutes from the 3½ hour party so I was ready for the new gig—not wanting to become a volunteer. I preceded, thinking I would get a sales commission for the new Skatetime USA account, but was shocked to find out that although I did all the leg work with contracts and producing commercials it became a “house account” because the client had initially called the station so no commission was issued— bull malarkey.
I missed out on the commission but I felt it was now too late to un-burn a bridge with Tommy who reportedly felt betrayed by the station and my subtly spiteful commercial spots promoting the new skate party now competing on Mondays featuring a Southern Gospel / Contemporary Christian mix aimed at the heart of the Skate Inn.
Skatetime USA was a newer facility that the manager touted as sounding better, louder; and promised more liberty in music selection. In my youthful, naïve exuberance I cannibalized a loyal account to potentially make a buck. What a backfire!
Two distinct details I remember clearly from Skatetime USA: the manager had me play “Good ‘Ole Boys” from the then current Dukes of Hazzard TV series. One could feel this mostly Christian crowd groan in disapproval. There had been a famous song I often played by the Southern Gospel group Dixie Melody Boys which was a reply to the popular Waylon Jennings ditty, the Gospel version answered:
“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…”
Second, a live local Christian Rock band joined the party performing one Monday night. Suddenly I became emcee and apparent fan of the unknown garage band while shouting like a boxing ring announcer, “Ladies and gentlemen…Second Wind!” The band then exploded with a few original numbers. It was an unexpected surprise that evening, for sure.
By the third Monday in August of ‘84 the (mostly) Southern/CCM hybrid party was discontinued by the manager who had been so instrumental in wooing me away from the Savannah Skate Inn just a month prior. With his expectations unmet; he called me into the office, paid me in advance and told me the bad news. I actually took it in stride. I had brought a new friend along and didn’t want her to see me in an unpleasant light. It seems likely—although uncharacteristically for me— that we abandoned the party early that night because it was not yet dark outside when we left.
Actually, parting ways with this shorter 2½ hour party was good riddance. It had become a chore that was cutting into my Mondays on-air. Having to pay the substitute jock’s pre-taxed wage out of my own pocket and using/abusing my personal record collection proved counter-productive. In retrospect, the self-promotions potential was huge—both rinks included.
At least one of the Southern Gospel mix tapes I made at home was used to save my— to a lesser extent, the station’s—precious vinyl.
After the Skatetime USA gig tanked; on into early '85, I made a few unpaid Monday appearances at Tommy’s place. I don’t recall patching things up with him or if it was a personal issue between us in the first place. Time erased the details. Ironically, Tommy never restricted my creative freedom nor had other entertainers take the spotlight like the domineering Skatetime USA manager had done.
Two years later in 1987 I found myself at Paulding County Skate Center playing upbeat Christian records for listeners of WSPZ, my second radio home. This ersatz skate party experience was store-brand plain vanilla compared to my Häagen-Dazs™ ventures in ’84.
I remember no extra pocket money was offered and the party alternated hosting duties with the stations other “personalities.”
Stilted radio associates notwithstanding; my own production room values had blossomed, so the Paulding County commercials are the only anecdotal elements I clearly remember. I began the spots with the line, “Skate, Skate, Skate...” My voice was split via multiple tape tracks, filtered and made lower. I then borrowed my top 40 DJ hard sell vocal style for the copy read with a funky bass guitar music bed.
For many years to follow my WSPZ work buddy; the delightfully unrestrained Corky Cheek, whom I would also work with at WDCY and WBKI, would greet me by intoning,
“Skate…Skate…Skate.”
(*see the Gospel Aircheck Glossary page)
Stay tuned
