The Birthday Truck Returns

In 1990 this blogger found himself mid-point in a radio career as program director at a 2,500 watt AM that served the Atlanta marketplace (barely). Our owner compelled me to begin a whacky morning show with a new female host. I hated the idea. A fluff show on a southern gospel station would not work; I had never seen (better heard) these type shows work. Our audience was very old. Why would they accept two kids in their mid-20’s droning on about the hot topics of the day? My new co-host was my age; lacked any radio experience, but was a natural talent, so she quickly caught on.  I finally acclimated myself to the concept having actually putting in 100%. Despite our efforts, the show lasted mid-November until it tanked just before Christmas when the two of us had exhausted every idea for the old folks now switching off their radios en masse. In hindsight, the station’s format should have been changed altogether—perhaps talk or oldies—in order to make the morning show work. Today marks the 20th anniversary. To celebrate, Aircheck has posted a YouTube video. Exclusively available here:

Stay tuned
©2010 Neal Rhoden,Gospel Aircheck blog. All rights reserved.

Shoestring Broadcasting

Here is how it all began: that is, my experiment with Internet streaming of my radio show concept, the GRIN (Gospel Rewind Internet Network.) Last year we started our own Southern Gospel themed radio station on a shoestring budget (zero dollars). Record your comments below. You can listen or download to your computer here.

©2010 Neal Rhoden,Gospel Aircheck blog. All rights reserved.

Sincere Flattery

Back in 1981 I was having a dental checkup when I heard the funniest song on the radio, “Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow!” I almost fell out of my chair laughing. It is one of those flashbulb memories permanently etched in my brain. The song was by the Oak Ridge Boys called Elvira, an obviously catchy tune that became a number one hit for the former gospel singing group now superstars of Country music. Actually the Oaks version was itself a cover of Kenny Rogers and the First Edition who had recorded the gem as well to lesser success. In fact, the song had been around since the mid-1960’s having been recorded by numerous artists. The 1981 version being the one best remembered. There were even a couple of Southern Gospel imitations, rather adaptations, as well: Go Jonah! by the Cathedrals and the version I remember playing by the Kingsboys. It was a case of taking a hit Country song, reworking the lyrics and adapting it for the Christian market.

“Giddy Up A-Go Down Jonah/God Will Tell You What to Say”

You will have to imagine the tune of Elvira in your head because my copy of the gospel version has not survived.

Probably a even bigger cross-over hit was Billy Ray Cyrus doing Achy Breaky Heart in 1992. Yep, it too was covered as a gospel song by a forgettable singer lost to history. I occasionally played these silly imitations as a gospel DJ many years. It was often a way to give our audiences a substitute for the secular music requests we would often get when these monster hits were played all up and down the dial. Most of the time Gospel gets it right by sticking to what it does best, but sometimes a few stinkers get thrown in the mix. On the other hand, one artist who had consistently impressed me with adapting secular music is Kirk Franklin. Check out his version of the Kenny Loggins classic This is It and September originally cut by Earth, Wind and Fire.

Stay tuned

©2010 Neal Rhoden. Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

The Truth With My Hand Up

My hand to God this is the truth. If it had not happened in church to someone I know and trust. Yada, yada… In another 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

reposted from my Peanut Whistle blog Sept. 17, 2009

©2010 Neal Rhoden,Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

It’s Surreal

A thought occurred to me this morning that made me smile. Over the years as a Gospel music collector I have come across a few oddities. You know how sometimes a secular singing star will cut a Gospel album? Well, my recollection was not necessarily of those known as singers per se. TV actors and pro athletes have dabbled in sacred music from time to time—often with comical results. Let’s face it, Terry Bradshaw was a legendary Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback and sports broadcaster. Could he sing? Well, he did an album of Country Gospel sometime in the late seventies or early eighties. Search for it and if you can find the record let me know if he should quit his day job. Not a Steelers fan? Then try Kathie Lee Johnson’s Gospel gems she recorded way back when. Who? You may know her now as an original co-host of morning talk shows, Kathie Lee Gifford. Yes, that Kathie Lee.

I am not making a judgment on their talent. Believe me, I’m not a critic. It just seems weird these particular people not known primarily as singers taking up, of all things, Gospel music. For example, Lisa Welchel who played Blair on the NBC sitcom classic The Facts of Life. She did a Gospel record. Who, except me, would remember that?

There are also well known singers who’ve done Gospel albums. It may be surprising: Bob Dylan got “saved” in the 80’s and gave us a couple. Of course, B.J. Thomas, famous for his signature hit Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head, was a Gospel star for a while. Countless Country music stars: Glen Campbell, George Jones, Alan Jackson, Charlie Daniels and Grandpa Jones all did religious projects. Perhaps most famous singer of all time; Elvis Presley, won Grammys for his Gospel albums, an accolade ironically not rewarded for his secular work.

At the risk of sounding critical, take the best known of all the non-singers who has made his living in music: Pat Boone. In the fifties he remade such classics as Tutti Frutti and Long Tall Sally into bland pop imitations of the Little Richard originals. By the 1980’s Boone had migrated into Gospel with a charting hit, Let Me Live. Little Richard himself got religion numerous times over the years and has recorded at least one Gospel album. Whew! It boggles the mind. Could it be possible that old stars never die, they just get saved?

Stay tuned

©2010 Neal Rhoden and Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

Easter Eggs

I was nervous. My dad had prepared a cassette tape of the first two weekly episodes of the Jesus is Lord Broadcast—a half hour brokered time preacher’s show on local 5,000 watt WEAS-AM in Savannah, Georgia. In a scene reminiscent of the 1987 movie Broadcast News, the tape was rushed—hand delivered— to the station just in time for the 12 noon airing that first Saturday we went to air. It was a small miracle that I got there in the first place.

Finally finding it, the station was not at all what I expected: located in a residential neighborhood, a fairly large two story clapboard house. A large wide wooden staircase led up to a screened porch and an unlocked front door to the reception area. Somehow I found myself on the upper floor having been misdirected outside around the obvious studio by a musical commotion.

My WEAS Photo ID

Inside I heard loud music from a direction that I assumed was emanating from the studio. I never forgot the song playing: Indeep’s “Last Night a DJ Saved My life”. “Please,” I thought, “Somebody save me, I can’t find the studio!” It was a ghost town in there. Now clear as crystal, I realized the music and disembodied DJs were from a stereo cabinet the FM used to monitor their air. But, where was the studio? I tried a couple doors that opened into empty offices. Nothing! Time was wasting. I felt like a cat-burglar. Had all the DJ’s, like Elvis, left the building? Maybe I could steal all those gold records and certificates of live remotes promoting something called a “Budweiser Beer Bash” proudly displayed on the office walls. What sort of Christian station allowed such vulgar trophies in the first place? In the mind of a conservatively raised 17 year old, Bud and Gospel Preaching did not mix. But, I digress.

All I knew at the time was that Gospel 90 and its 100,000 watt FM were sister stations in the same building. Obviously, the FM dominated the decor choices. Had my dad seen what I saw that day he would have turned tail and run. But our sponsor—Manning’s Discount Furniture—was counting on us to deliver a product. So, I resumed my search. It was one minute to show time when I discovered stairs leading down into a pit of ugly brown carpeting; both on the floors and the walls located inside a haphazardly constructed addition encased in cinder block and plywood. The place reeked of cigarette and God knows what other type smoke, both legal and not. To the right was the FM control room. In the middle was the “Production Room.” And to the left was my future work home, WEAS-AM, “Gospel 90.” The doors were unlabeled; my ears had to determine which studio to enter. I chose wisely.

The Former WEAS studio

3, 2, 1, cue tape! Jesus is Lord was broadcast via 5,000 watts from the AM side. Our premiere went on without a second to spare—literally. Dennis; the DJ on duty, sighed relief as he politely waved me away returning to conversation with another visitor, presumably his wife. I was happy. Then I questioned, “How do I get out?”

My first misadventure with finding the studio behind me, I returned to thoughts of life after high school. I was wrapping up the 11th grade supposedly college bound needing some sort of diversion for the coming summer vacation. Driving home from one of our—probably last minute—tape delivery runs to the radio station that spring, my dad and I began listening to and critiquing WEAS-AM, Gospel 90.

We noted that the DJ was running a phone-in contest involving listeners guessing the number of eggs contained in his imaginary Easter basket. They would offer a guess then he played a self-voiced tape of a presumably randomly generated number. The DJ was prone to stammering and often at a loss of the right words that he delivered with a slight lisp. Knowing of this DJ’s skill with the English language my dad asked, “You think you could do that, Neal?” It was a loaded question for sure. I didn’t know whether to be honored or insulted. He obviously lacked the repartee of the FM DJ’s I was accustomed to. “I guess so,” I replied weakly. “Well, if you’re interested, then I can talk to the ‘acting’ station manager for you.”

________________________________________

“If Neal wants the job, then it’s his,” the manager later phoned Daddy, “So I can [honestly] tell this other guy that the position’s filled.”

That May of 1983 she had listened to my voice-over introduction I had taped for the Jesus is Lord Broadcast and she claimed to like it. Retrospectively; rather than a golden voice, I was the cheaper button pusher alternative. The Easter Basket DJ trained me. Much of what he taught took me years to unlearn, especially apparent when I moved to the Atlanta market 3½ years later. Only the basic mechanics of radio were part of his dubious curriculum.

"New" WEAS Studio 1988

We became fast friends, though. Over the years we could talk shop for hours visiting each other at work alternately. I last saw him while touring the long overdue new studio facility in 1988 then considering a return to my original radio home. I never saw him or any of the AM jocks equal to our counterparts at our sister, E-93.

________________________________________

Magic E-93, as it became known, was the consistent number one radio station year in and year out. Its music format appealed to the market’s predominant population featuring songs by the Gap Band, The O’Jays, James Brown, Marvin Gaye, The Commodores, and Prince, E-93 brought soul to all Savannians.

In those days prior to the invasion of Rap and Hip Hop, I actually listened—something I never did voluntarily of my own station. The initial appeal of working with Gospel 90—ironically, a mostly white Southern Gospel outfit—was that it shared quarters with a station I secretly tuned in at home.

I witnessed firsthand the likes of Elliot “E-Man” Neely, Don “Casanova B” Jones and “Stormin’ Norman” Wright weaving word tapestries of Funk, Rhythm and Blues. Seeing them doing their own thing in person was surreal for me. I was star-struck teenager peeking in their control room. Their uncanny knack for matching cadence with the music, blending its rhythms with the words they used was enlightening. It was almost like poetry. Rap “music”—a ghetto poets’ medium—seldom appealed to me; these jocks showcased soul music, which they loved. There was a vast talent deficit between the AM and the FM. Our respective worlds might have met occasionally—even collided—but, there was a vast gulf separating us; more than just a tiny production room.

Like the famous reveal in the Wizard of Oz, I eventually saw behind the curtain. But, that’s another story.

Stay tuned.

©2010 Neal Rhoden,Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

E93

---

My first misadventure with Gospel 90 behind me, I returned to thoughts of life after high school. I was wrapping up the 11th grade supposedly college bound needing some sort of diversion for the coming summer vacation. Returning home from one of our—probably last minute—tape delivery runs to the radio station that spring, my dad and I began listening and talking about the broadcast we had only recently started airing on WEAS-AM.

We noted that the DJ was running a phone-in contest involving listeners guessing the number of eggs contained in his imaginary Easter basket. They would offer a guess then he played a tape of a presumably randomly generated number. The DJ was prone to stammering and often at a loss of the right words that he delivered with a slight lisp. Knowing of this DJ’s skill with the English language my dad asked, “You think you could do that, Neal?” It was a loaded question for sure. I didn’t know weather to be honored or insulted. He obviously lacked the skills of the FM DJ’s I was accustomed to.  “I guess so,” I replied weakly. “Well, if you’re interested, then I can talk to the ‘acting’ station manager for you.”

---

“If Neal wants the job, then it’s his,” the manager later phoned Daddy, “So I can [honestly] tell this other guy that the position’s filled.”

She had listened to the voice-over introduction I had taped for the Jesus is Lord Broadcast and claimed to like it. Retrospectively, I was a cheaper button pusher. The Easter Basket DJ trained me. Much of what he taught took me years to un-learn, especially when I moved to the Atlanta market four years later. Only the basic mechanics of radio were part of his curriculum.

We became fast friends, though. We could talk shop for hours visiting each other at work over the years. I last saw him on a return trip to the new studio facility in 1988 when I had considered coming back to my original radio home. I never saw him or any of the AM jocks equal to our counterparts at our sister FM, E93.

---

Magic E-93, as it became known, was the consistent number one radio station year in and out. Its music format appealed to the market’s predominant population. Featuring  songs by the Gap Band, The O’Jays, James Brown, Marvin Gaye, The Commodores, and Prince, E-93 brought soul to all the Coastal Empire.

In those days prior to the invasion of Rap and Hip Hop I actually listened. The initial appeal of working with my Gospel 90—ironically, a mostly white Southern Gospel station—was that it shared quarters with a station I secretly tuned in at home.

I witnessed first hand the likes of E-Man, Don “Casanova” Jones and “Stormin’ Norman” Wright weaving word tapestries of Funk, Rhythm and Blues. I was star-struck.

Like the famous reveal in the Wizard of Oz, I eventually saw behind the curtain. But, that’s another story.

Stay tuned

We will take an extended break from radio topics for the time being and delve into more relevant fare, next time…

©2010 Neal Rhoden, The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved

A DJ Saved My Life

I was nervous. My dad had prepared a cassette tape of the first two weekly episodes of the Jesus is Lord Broadcast—a half hour brokered time preacher’s show on local 5,000 watt WEAS-AM in Savannah, Georgia. In a scene reminiscent of the 1987 movie Broadcast News, the tape was rushed—hand delivered— to the station just in time for the 12 noon airing that first Saturday we went to air. It was a small miracle that I got there in the first place.

Finally finding it, the station was not at all what I expected: located in a residential neighborhood, a fairly large two story clapboard house. A large wide wooden staircase led up to a screened porch and an unlocked front door to the reception area. Somehow I found myself on the upper floor having been misdirected around the obvious studio downstairs by a musical commotion. 

I heard loud music from a direction that I assumed was emanating from the studio. I never forgot the song playing: Indeep’s “Last Night a DJ Saved My life”. “Please,” I thought, “Somebody save me, I can’t find the studio!” It was a ghost town in there. Now clear as crystal, I realized the music and disembodied DJs were from a stereo cabinet the FM used to monitor their air. But, where was the studio? I tried a couple doors that opened into empty offices. Nothing! Time was wasting. I felt like a cat-burglar. Had all the DJ’s, like Elvis, left the building? Maybe I could steal all those gold records and certificates of live remotes promoting something called a “Budweiser Beer Bash” proudly displayed on the office walls. What sort of Christian station allowed such vulgar trophies in the first place? In the mind of a conservatively raised 17 year old Bud and Gospel Preaching did not mix. But, I digress.

Gospel 90 and its 100,000 watt FM were sister stations in the same building. Obviously, the FM dominated the decor choices. Had my dad seen what I saw that day he would have turned tail and run. But our sponsor—Manning’s Discount Furniture—was counting on us to deliver a product. So, I resumed my search. It was one minute to show time when I discovered stairs leading down into a pit of ugly brown carpeting; both on the floors and the walls located inside a haphazardly constructed addition encased in cinder block and plywood. The place reeked of cigarette and God knows what other type smoke, both legal and not. To the right was the FM control room. In the middle was the “Production Room.” And to the left was my future work home, WEAS-AM, “Gospel 90.” The doors were unlabeled; my ears had to determine which studio to enter. I chose wisely.

3, 2, 1, cue tape! Jesus is Lord was broadcast via 5,000 watts from the AM side. Our premiere went on without a second to spare—literally. Dennis; the DJ on duty, sighed relief as he politely waved me away returning to conversation with another visitor, presumably his wife. I was happy. Then I questioned, “How do I get out?”

We will continue the story of our FM soul sister next time on the Peanut Whistle. Read about E-Man, Casanova Jones, Stormin’ Norman and the other DJ’s who shared our space. Until then…

Stay tuned

©2010 Neal Rhoden, The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved

Channel Grazing

Back in 1992 I worked for a small 2,500 watt AM radio station hid near Bremen, Georgia. We played Southern Gospel music and brokered preacher shows from daylight to dark. Our studio location was situated on the same property as our tower facility on about two acres of pasture land. In fact, we had fenced in a cow or two grazing out back near the antenna. I even had one or two bovine interactions when no humans we available to chat. Cows are not very social. I often wondered the purpose of these animals on our land and have learned recently that often these little stations, similar to mine, posted grazing animals in order to keep the grass mowed thanks to a special agreement with local farmers. The following is a story I discovered while reading a radio forum posted by an owner of such a station. I don’t know the source, but the scenario seems plausible. One word of caution to animal lovers: the story is a bit graphic.

“In the late 80's I owned WDGR Dahlonega, GA.  The station's studios, transmitter and tower were all located together, with the tower being in the middle of the 5 acre property.  The station was (where else?) - Radio Road, and the land behind the station was fenced.  Trying to keep the field bush hogged was a job, and after dodging snakes for a summer I decided on a solution that would pay me.  A local farmer needed some grazing land for some cows, and we struck a deal where I'd keep his cows inside the fence where they could effectively keep my tower field mowed.  After getting paid for keeping the cows fenced and fed for 7 months, I was quite pleased.

One afternoon I heard a loud pop from inside the station and we immediately went off the air.  I headed out the back door where I saw a small fire in the middle of the field.  As I went down the steps with an extinguisher I noticed the rail was dotted with red paint, something else to fix.  I noticed all the cows were bunched tightly together way down at the bottom of the field, and at the same time I saw to my horror, a cow leg and hind quarter lying next to my car.  Further down inside the fence I saw another.  A fire, cow parts - I couldn't put all this together, and as I looked at the back door I saw that the entire back of the station was dotted NOT with red paint, but blood.  An extremely unlucky cow had bitten into the transmission line buried close to the transmitter building and 10,000 watts had literally blown it up.  It was a pretty horrible sight, and also pretty hard to explain to everyone calling wanting to know when we'd return to the air.  ‘We'll be back on the air soon - a cow blew up and took us off the air.’

I went back to bush hogging the field - the money I'd made from fencing the cows went to repairing the transmission line.  Wild days, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.  I'm sure the cow would though.”

Jay Andrews
VP & General Manager
Jacobs Media Corporation

Stay tuned

©2010 Neal Rhoden, Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved

Brush with Country

In the years since today's audio post I have learned to actually appreciate some of the music my radio bosses had me play. Below is the final Southern Gospel aircheck that transitioned into the first with a new Country format on my 3rd radio home. Please allow a moment for the mp3 to load, then press play.

©2010 The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved.

Living the Dream

A year ago this week I began a new radio station on the Internet called the GRIN, or Gospel Rewind Internet. It featured classic Gospel songs that covered a twenty year period from about the mid 1960 to the late '80's. We were about 70% Southern Gospel with some light CCM, Country and mainstream Gospel. GRIN was a hybrid based on the format of my first radio home, Gospel 90. At that station I was allowed to play broad range of songs now considered classics.

Technical issues plagued the GRIN. Hosting a 24 hour web radio station from my home computer I naturally blamed my equipment for the constant downtime and made the decision to kill off the GRIN after only a month and a half. Ironically, the problem was discovered in July of 2009; a bad modem supplied by my local phone company. It was a discovery made three months too late. Oh well, it's nice to live your dream; if only for a little while. Below is a sample of the GRIN in this netcheck. This is the first live show. Please allow time for the mp3 to load, it is a big file.

  

©2010 Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

Radio Home Four

1992. I found myself at a small broadcast facility out in the sticks. Twenty five hundred watts on AM radio with a Southern Gospel music format; the best thing about this station was that I was purely a disk jockey having recently stepped down as program director at my previous gig. Below is a sample of my show there. Please allow a few seconds for the mp3 player to load, then press the play button.

©2010 Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

Let's Rewind

Now a blast from the past. Presented here today is a classic episode of Gospel Rewind featuring two timeless songs. Some of the contact info has changed. Reach me through email nealrhoden@gospelaircheck.com


©2010 The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved.

Let's Roll!

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 Truth with My Hand Up

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.

nealrhoden@thepeanutwhistle.com

We’re Douglas Country!

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

King of all Peanut Whistles

Talk about a peanut whistle. I worked a year at this particular 2,500 watt gem. We had local news, Southern Gospel music, a Swap Shop and daily obituaries. The news wasn't from a teletype or our own reporters. No, we read it directly from the newspaper. Verbatim. A few years before the dot com boom one of my fellow staff members commented on the state of our programming. The idea of a good ole country station was a relic of a bygone era. The world was now more accessible thanks to new technologies. I don't agree with him totally because stations such as this have their own unique charm. My friend Jim did get it right on one point though, we are a more enlightened society thanks to outlets such as CNN and other TV cable networks readily available then. It was 1992 and the World Wide Web and Fox News were a few years off. The context of his remarks was framed by people who he had observed overstating their "country" heritage by feigning ignorance, although being just as enlightened as city folks.

I was a bit of a snob then and saw this station a road block in my career.  The WBKI culture was an adjustment and was a step down from a purely business perspective. I later adopted their style and grew to appreciate their way of doing things. A few of the more countrified elements were weeded out and we became more "sophisticated." The home spun morning DJ resigned shortly after some heated debate with me. I viewed him as a local yokel. He was blissfully ignorant but the people loved him. The station fell into decline and eventually folded. My guess is that we didn't give the listeners what they wanted or maybe poor management was to blame. Who knows? Our GM saw the futility of the situation early on and probably mentally quit long before our demise. To borrow from the famous TV show WKRP in Cincinnati this guy was "town to town, up and down the dial". Success eluded David. We had worked together before. I witnessed his slow decline at my previous radio gig and now doubt my own wisdom in hitching to his star. However, I learned a lot from him and consider him a mentor. He allowed circumstances to limit him. I missed the control I had as a program director at my two previous jobs and felt the air chair was a handicap. For the first time in 6 years I was "just" a dee jay.

Stay tuned!