CHAPTER 10

     Just before the 1975 KRUX April Fools’ Day "All News" announcement, R&R announced that Jimmy was leaving the day to day operations of WFOM and becoming an independent promotion man. I didn’t have a clue what that meant or that he was thinking about doing it. He would work for whatever labels hired him to lend additional promotional support. I asked how I could help. "Call me every week and tell me what records you’re considering. So how does that help you?", I asked. "Just let me know what records you’re going to add, first" he told me. KRUX wasn’t a reporter to any credible trade publications; the station didn’t matter much.

I did report to Kal Rudman’s publication "Friday Morning Quarterback". Kal was having a "convention" in Vegas. Oddly enough, Gerry Peterson was out of work, also. He came to Phoenix and we drove to Vegas. A national promotion man provided us a suite at the Rivera. The complimentary room would come back to haunt me later. Once there, we immediately went to the tables. We ran into Danny Davis, head of promotion for a label and George Wilson, head of programming for Bartell Broadcasting. Danny entertained everyone at the craps table. If he had money on the five for instance, he’d shout "three two for the little Jew" (he was hoping the dice would roll a two and a three; Danny was Jewish). Danny is a life long veteran of show biz and once worked with Eddie Fisher. He should have been a stand-up comic. I kept trying to talk to Wilson about a job. He pretty much ignored me. Within months, he left Bartell to head a group of broadcast investors. A legendary LA indie (independent promotion man) invited Gerry and me to join him and some friends that night to see Paul Anka. We met the in the Indies’ penthouse suite for a drink. Fireplace, Jacuzzi, white grand piano, and several drop-dead gorgeous "hostesses" were a few of the amenities. The Indies’ friends showed up and we went downstairs. As we approached the doors to the room where Anka was playing, the doorman moved aside those waiting on line. As we walked into the room, again the crowd parted. Front row booths held about twelve people. There were at least four waiters hovering around us. The corks on several bottles of Dom Perignon were popped. People stopped by the other end of the table where the "head man" was seated. He had the respect of many. Just before the show, Paul Anka and his manager came over to the table to say hello. Anka's show was incredible.

When I returned to Phoenix, a national promotion person called and invited me to come to LA for a few days on the record company. I asked if I could bring Christopher Haze along. We drove there and went straight to the record company offices on The Sunset Strip. The promotion gal greeted us and asked us what we’d like to do. I said, "I want to see the Tonight Show". Haze agreed and she disappeared for a few minutes. When she came back, she handed me a map to Burbank and a sealed envelope. We left for NBC and on the way opened the envelope. It was a joint. One or two hits and I was "out there". After being seated, I began to get paranoid. I just knew that they were going to play "Stump The Band" and I would get picked and I’d stand up and say something really stupid like, "Far out, man". Rich Little subbed for Johnny and thankfully they didn’t play "Stump The Band". We met the gal from the record company at her office after the taping; her roommate joined us for dinner in Malibu. Like a dummy, I smoked more. The next morning I woke up in her apartment.

Haze and I stopped by to see Bob Wilson at Radio & Records, now THE trade. Gavin was still important, but Bill hadn’t changed his format and R&R had pictures, news, and ads. Bob gave us a tour and he asked me if I’d consider working for R&R. I told him I’d think about it. A few months later John Leader became Top 40 editor. I’ll never know if that was the job that Bob had in mind for me. Returning to Phoenix, I was broke. Bucky Rheingold of Casablanca Records called me. He asked me if I would like to earn some bucks, while I looked for a PD job. They were trying to break a new group, KISS. All I had to do was call all my PD friends and convince them to add the record to their play list. He gave me a telephone credit card number to use for long distance and I started dialing and smiling. My friends thought I was nuts, but the money they paid me kept me afloat for a couple of months. I had no offers or prospects for a job. I was beginning to learn that you’re only as good as your last gig. Roz Frank moved back to Mississippi. Mayer moved somewhere. Haze left for Dallas, again.

In June of ‘75, my wife and I packed our bags and daughter, closed up the apartment, and headed home. As soon as we got to Georgia, I went to see Davenport. Jimmy was busy promoting records and still occasionally putting his hands into the radio station operation. I cautioned him about the consequences should the FCC get wise or tipped off by someone with a grudge. He hired me to consult WFOM in Marietta. The understanding was I, alone made the music choices for the station. That insulated him legally. My wife and daughter stayed with my parents in LaGrange; I stayed at Jimmy’s house during the week The Atlanta record promotion men were a close bunch. Almost every night, I met Gino Rumple, Long John Silver, Billy Lemmons, and others at The Royal Coach, the hotel where the first R&R convention had been held. They owned the bar. A lot of stewardesses stayed there on their layovers. It’s been said more than once, "If the walls of The Royal Coach could talk!"

I was in constant touch with Burkhart, hoping for an opening at one of the stations he consulted. Finally, Jay Thomas called me from WAYS in Charlotte. I flew there and met with the owners, Stan & Sis Kaplan. We discussed me going to WAPE in Jacksonville as PD. I was so excited, I know I appeared overly anxious. WAPE was a legendary radio station. It was put on the air by The Brennan Brothers, owners of WVOK in Birmingham and WBAM in Montgomery. I grew up listening to both stations. I was familiar with WAPE, having visited the station when I attended the Beatles concert in Jacksonville. WAPE was the coolest facility I’d ever seen. There was a swimming pool in front of the building which continued into the lobby. Girls would flock to the station to swim in the pool right in front of the jock on the air. The pool was part of the cooling system for the homemade 50,000 plus watt transmitter. At 690 on the dial, The Ape could be heard from Cape Hatteras to Melbourne, in the daytime. The night-time signal, like those of WBAM and WVOK, was directional and low power. The Brennan brother who headquartered in Jacksonville was killed when Leer crashed. There were plenty of rumors about him and his female pilot. The station originally had an apartment that would have suited Hugh Hefner with it’s wood paneled walls, a hidden doorway, and a full bar. The apartment had been converted to offices, but the secret door stayed. It took over a week for me to get the job. I don’t know who else they were talking with, but I’m sure Kent weighed in heavily on my selection. I told Davenport and he seemed pleased.,

I was unsuccessful in negotiating for movers to bring my household belongings from Phoenix to Jacksonville. Jay finally convinced the Kaplans to at least give me enough money to fly out there, rent a truck, and pay for my gas, lodging, and meals. Jay told me the first order of business at WAPE was hiring a killer nighttime jock. Haze had given me a tape of a guy he worked with in Dallas named Domino Rippy. Jay, Stan, and Sis liked Domino; Burkhart already knew about him. Domino was hired on the phone, sight unseen. Haze had told me that Domino looked like a member of Hell’s Angels, but was great on the air. Domino and I hooked up in Dallas then flew to Phoenix. We planned to pack my stuff, drive to Dallas, pick up Domino’s stuff (including his cat and Harley), then drive to Jacksonville. We took a cab to the nearest U-Haul place and rented a truck. It was late June; the temperature was over 100 degrees in Phoenix (but, it was dry heat! Yeah right.). We arrived late in the afternoon. I intended to leave the next evening, drive all night, and stop in El Paso to rest. My friend Bob Gourley at KELP had graciously offered the use of their trade account at La Quinta. We smoked a joint and started packing. Domino took a doobie break every thirty minutes. You can imagine what that did for our progress. The last item was loaded and I took a shower; Domino didn’t. We packed an ice chest with beer and pulled out of Phoenix about 7:00 PM. The temperature was over 100 degrees and the truck had no air conditioning. We were barely on the road when Domino opened a beer, lit a joint, and started talking. He talked all the way to Tucson. I wasn’t smoking or drinking beer; I was dying from the heat and Domino’s B. O.. I kindly refused his offers to drive. He wanted to stay in Dallas long enough to party with his friends. About two o’clock in the morning, the idea hit me. As soon as we got to El Paso, I’d buy him a plane ticket to Dallas, then pick him up there. He’d get to party with his friends and hopefully take a bath; I’d get a break. He loved the idea. After four hundred miles and ten hours on the road, we reached El Paso. After taking Domino to the airport, I checked into The La Quinta, turned the air conditioner down to arctic, closed the drapes and slept all day.

The longest, loneliest, and darkest stretch of highway I’ve ever driven is from El Paso to Dallas. Over six hundred miles. I was driving at night, thank goodness. There is nothing to see. The U-Haul had a governor on it and barely made 55 mph. I finally made it to Domino’s house about noon the following day. I’d decided that if we were going to have to ride together the rest of the way, I was going to have to lay down the law. We had another thousand miles to drive. I needed help. The next leg to my parents home in LaGrange, Georgia was over seven hundred miles. I wanted to do it non-stop. We loaded Dominos stuff and Harley. His cat hid under the seat. As we left Dallas, I told Domino, "no more doobies or beers until Jacksonville". He agreed and after I knew he was okay to drive, I sacked out. The only stops were for gas, food, and necessity. The cat box odor mixed with Domino’s, so my window was always open. He was really a nice guy, he just looked scary as hell and was hygienically challenged. We drew plenty of stares at truck stops, particularly in Mississippi and Alabama. My Dad hated cats, so I called ahead and told my Mom to get the basement bedroom ready for "the guy with me" and his cat. I knew Domino was going to be a shock to them. We arrived at suppertime; my Mom cooked fried chicken, fresh vegetables from their garden, cornbread, iced tea and homemade ice cream. I strongly hinted that Domino take a shower before we ate. We put his cat in the basement. Domino ate like he was going to the electric chair. After dinner, Mom, Domino, and I went out on the patio. Their back yard had a lot of tall pines and hardwoods. It was twilight and lightning bugs were beginning to float up from the grass. Domino was mesmerized by the lush woods. "Man, this is so beautiful. It’s like not being here", he said. I thought Mom was gonna die trying not to laugh. Domino was the first "hippie" type she’d ever been around. Later that night after we’d all retired, I smelled a familiar sweet odor. Domino was burning one in the back yard.

We left the next morning for Jacksonville. The GM at WAPE had arranged hotel accommodations for all of us in Orange Park. We arrived on July 2nd. The next day, my wife and I moved into an apartment traded out by the station at Bay Meadows. Getting cash out of Stan was tough, but if you could trade it out, no problem. Domino went out to Jax beach with my wife, daughter, and me for the fireworks on July 4th. We would go to work the next day. I was very anxious to get back to work. Davenport told me he’d bring the Atlanta promotion gang down as soon as I got settled. This was gonna be fun!

CHAPTER 11

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