Much of the time spent in Cedar Rapids was filled with domestic problems. If I wasn't working or sleeping, I was partying. Marijuana was a part of that; many of my co-workers and friends smoked. It seemed natural because it was the age of Aquarius. Young people were looking for answers and turned to transcendental meditation. I turned to transactional analysis. The book "I'm OK You're OK" became my bible. Looking back, I'd have to say that all I accomplished was blaming everyone else for my problems. My wife and I lost our first child before moving to Cedar Rapids. Instead of grieving in a healthy way, I turned my grief inside and it gnawed at me and made me callous. My only real relief was my job. The rest of the time, I used other means to anesthetize myself. I was consumed with being a big time PD; perhaps obsessed would be a more accurate description.

Tom Collins, half of The Collins Twins, from my WQXI days came to Cedar Rapids to do nights for the station. Album cuts and alternative radio were rearing their heads, and like many Top 40 PDs I figured they deserved a place in the format. Tom was the perfect guy. Not only did he look the part but he had that mellow sound. No hype, no call letters first thing out of your mouth. Just mellow, man. "Hey I've got some Santana coming up in a few minutes and at 9, I'll play the entire new James Taylor album with no commercials....tomorrow it'll be cold...high only 28....but that's groovy cause at least it'll be high". (This is not an excerpt from Tom's show, just my version of what you might hear on an alternative station.) Tom and his wife were the happiest two people I knew. They lived modestly. Black lights, incense, psychedelic posters and little or no furniture adorned their pad. They were good friends and Tom was often the only person I could talk to about personal matters. After a few months, his brother Paul came to Cedar Rapids and together they saved enough money to buy an old school bus. They outfitted it with stereo equipment, lava lamps, and their families, and set out for San Francisco. One or both of them went to work at a progressive station. They were perfect for the format. They had really been nice to me at WQXI. Just as they were hip in the early sixties, they were cool in the seventies. Being from New York, they dressed differently, wearing pegged pants, pointy collar shirts, and zippered Verde boots. I'll never forget the night I was on the air at Quixie, and I thought they had left the station. WQXI, like any good top forty station, had lots of reverb. In those days, one way to create it was to use a series of springs in a wooden box. The box, unknown to me, was in the basement. Tom and Paul told me stories of seeing ghosts in the old house during the wee hours of the morning. I opened the mike to do a break and something disturbed the coils. Ghost was my first thought and after a few minutes I was doubting my disbelief in apparitions. I didn't open the mike for the next few minutes and suddenly, they popped out a "secret door" leading downstairs. They were laughing hysterically. I loved those guys.

Against my better judgment, I hired this hot shot guy from Milwaukee to do nights. He was much to good to be in Cedar Rapids. I wanted to introduce him to the audience in a different way. I persuaded Don to let me spend exactly $100.00 to promote the guy. I got all ones and sent the guy out early in the morning to a couple of donut shops. He'd walk in, say "Hello" to the patrons, then throw about ten or so ones up in the air and announce he was giving money away because "he didn't like it". Someone called the cops the first morning. The story made the TV news and newspaper. Only the jock, Don and I knew the truth. Vaude Fellwock (apologies, if misspelled) a retired policeman was our "cop beat" reporter. He was all over the story. The news director led with it every other hour. The second day, the cops almost nabbed the guy. It was getting juicy. The third morning, police arrested him and took him downtown. He confessed it was a publicity stunt. Vaude, the news director and the police were furious. I think Vaude even threatened to resign. The police tried to find grounds for charges against the jock and the station. The Cedar Rapids Gazette referred to the incident as a "hoax". I referred to it as the best promotion pound for dollar I'd ever done. It was an old idea, I just revived it.

After just a few months in Iowa, I discovered that the natives enjoyed a morning pastry called "long johns". I started billing my morning show as "John Long with your long johns and coffee". Ron Wilson did news in the morning and was a perfect straight man. He was attending Coe College right across the street from the station. Ron was a very nice young man from a very conservative family and I guess you might say he was somewhat naive. Often, I'd have to explain a bit I was doing which was contained a double entendre. He'd smile and laugh, but I could tell by the look on his face he really didn't get it. I often referred to my imaginary secretary "Lovey Cravesit" on the air. Lovey giggled and cooed at everything I said. When I referred to her anatomy, I could see Ron blushing. Bambi Lee was appearing at the Sip n' Stir and I persuaded her to be at the station one morning around 7AM before any of the staff arrived. When Ron began the newscast, Bambi walked in front of the window into the newsroom and proceeded to remove her clothes. It ruined the boy for life. I doubt that Ron had ever seen the female anatomy unclothed until that moment. It was as if a switch in his libido had been flipped. All of a sudden he understood. I did my part in the rite of passage of a young man. Ron later transferred to the University Of Georgia and went to work at WSB in Atlanta. Unfortunately, I lost touch with him. He was a neat guy.

Each summer, the All Iowa Fair was held at the Linn County Fairgrounds. It was like those fairs I'd seen in movies starring Pat Boone or Doris Day. Livestock exhibits, 4H, FFA, rides, and musical attractions. In the South, our little county fairs were usually limited to rides, freak shows, and a hootchie coochie show. There probably were exhibits, but my friends and I were more focused on how we could slip into the girlie shows. KLWW would sponsor one night of entertainment and the other jocks and I would introduce the act du jour. One year, the act was a relatively new one, Kenny Rogers and the First Edition. "Just Dropped In" was a national hit. Kenny and the group were only to pleased to meet radio folk. Kenny was especially nice. Later in my career, Ken Kragen sent me Kenny's check for $1,000,000.00. It was for my early airplay of "Lucille", a comeback hit for Kenny. The check was actually made of brass and mounted atop a wooden desk box. Ken had actually had the plates made up from a check on Kenny's real account. Someone informed Kragen that the boxes were negotiable and the account was quickly changed.

Other firsts for me at the All Iowa Fair were riding an ostrich (those damn things will kill you in a heartbeat), an elephant (how did elephant boy ride those things wearing only his jockey shorts?), and driving a stock car.

Me doing a remote at a clothing store in Cedar Rapids

On Fourth of July, I came up with a promotion for the local car dealer. Dodge or Plymouth had just come out with a car that was supposed to get better gas mileage than anything on the market. We put one gallon of gas in the vehicle and I agreed to drive it around and around the dealership till it ran out of gas. I started at six in the morning and did hourly updates. I didn't accelerate, the car just idled around the lot in drive. The trip around the parking lot was about a quarter of a mile; we figured I'd do about one hundred twenty laps. Each lap took about a minute or so; I'd be finished by before noon. By noon, the car showed no signs of running out of gas. By 4PM, the guys at the dealership felt sorry for me and jumped on the car slowing it until it choked out. The mileage rating for the car was based on normal highway driving, not idling without the air conditioning on around a flat parking lot. During mid afternoon, a girl from the dealership jumped in the car with me. She'd been sent by someone to keep me company. The promotion nearly ended when my mind was taken off steering; I nearly drove into the showroom.

I first met Bobby Rich via phone, then my wife and I drove over to the Quad Cities one Sunday to have lunch and spend the afternoon with his family. Our wives stayed at his house while we went to KSTT. We talked radio, where we wanted to go, and what our goals were that afternoon. Bobby is one of best jocks to ever open a microphone. He's also funny as hell. I also met a KSTT news guy who was terrific, Charlie Steiner, who became a well known talent at ESPN and now does play by play for the New York Yankees. Bobby and I talked frequently during the first three years I was in Iowa. He called one day and told me he was moving to Miami to work for Buzz Bennett at WMYQ-FM. Top 40 on FM? Well if anyone could program it, Buzz could and Bobby could deliver the goods on air. I was sad to see my friend go so far away, but happy that he'd achieved one of his goals. Bobby sent me tapes and WMYQ was vintage Buzzy. Everyone followed Bennett's every move through a new trade publication devoted more to news than records, The Bob Hamilton Radio Report. Bob and Buzzy were friends and every week, there were stories about the promotions at WMYQ.

One day, a couple of guys from WOKY in Milwaukee showed up for a meeting with Weir. It was Jack McCoy, PD, and another guy pitching an idea for a sales promotion they had conceived. They were trying to syndicate it and I cannot remember what they called it then, but later everyone in radio would know it as, (GONG) The Last....Contest. Jack went on to WAPE in Jacksonville, KCBQ in San Diego, and pioneered the use of research in radio programming.

When Apollo 15 touched down on the moon in 1971, I put together a Dickie Goodman style comedy bit and Bell Records almost bought the master from me to release. There were so many "samples" (as they call them now) in the piece that clearances would have left no profit, so the deal didn't fly. We used it on the air and it got tons of requests. It's scratchy. Click below to listen.

I first encountered DJ groupies in Atlanta. In Cedar Rapids, they were everywhere. If a jock so desired, and some did, he could have had a different one nearly every night. A lot of guys got into radio to meet girls, and what could be cooler than having them call you. Many wound up marrying girls they met on the phone. One time, I got a frantic call from one of my jocks; a girl had cut her wrists at his place. Another time, a girl was drunk or high and had run out of a jocks apartment naked. The craziest thing that happened in Cedar Rapids was that one of my jocks began seeing a girl he'd met on the phone. During the day, she'd show up at his apartment, then leave about 5PM. He told me about her and added that she was married. She was the wife of one of the biggest clients of the radio station. There were two sisters from a rural community near CR that the jocks called the "Sweethearts". They would skip school and show up at a jock's apartment. They were straight off the farm and wild. There was a big problem, they were underage. I cautioned the jocks not to touch them. A part-time weekend jock ignored me and deflowered one of them.

In 1973, the brass at Blackhawk Broadcasting had finally decided it was time to build a new facility for KLWW. Don put me and Willard (we called him Wizard) the engineer in charge of designing the control and production rooms. Willard was a neat guy who worked full time at Collins Radio, one of the major manufacturers of AM transmitters. He was great at keeping old equipment running on a shoestring maintenance budget. Every few months, I'd ask him to make some change in the control room and then we had to come up with a way to do it without spending money. Speeding up the turntables was the rage. I think Buzzy came up with that. The theory was that it made the music on the competition sound slow. It also meant you could cut some time off the length of the song. Management loved the idea; they figured that meant more time for commercials! Wiz looked at me like I'd lost my mind. The companies that made the turntables found out about it and started marketing altered cams that would speed the turntable up for about $50.00 a piece. There was no way I was going to ask Weir to spend $100.00 for something like that. A few days later, Wiz walked in and handed me a little box. I opened it and there were two cams. He had turned them on a lathe at home. When I wanted to start recording callers, he said it would require another phone coupler. From the phone company, the cost was about $200.00. Wiz hooked it up for about $5.00 worth of parts from the electronic place. He helped me convince Don that we should start recording the music on carts. Less hiss, pop, and scratches meant a better sound. At first we carted just the songs in the hottest rotation, about ten or twelve. In the engineering closet (and that's literally what it was), Wiz had a big box full of broken carts. We didn't have a re-winder (device to replace tape) so Wiz made one using parts from an old Wollensak recorder. That allowed us to put all the current music on cart. Designing the new facility was a challenge for us. We had a budget, and I wanted every bell and whistle imaginable. Our old production room was a four channel remote board, one microphone, one turntable, one Ampex reel to reel, an off-the-shelf cassette recorder/playback unit, a cart record/playback machine, and the oldest turntable in the building. Production was a technical and creative challenge.

Despite my excitement about the new studios, it was time for me to move on. Weir was getting restless, also. We confided our feelings about leaving KLWW to each other one night at the Sip n' Stir. Don knew Dale Weber, manager of a WDGY in Minneapolis and called him for me. Nothing ever came of it, but I appreciated what Don did. I was sending out tapes (applying for jobs) right and left. Paul Drew had been keeping an eye on me and my accomplishments through the trades, mostly Gavin. One day out of the blue he called me and asked me to send him an air check. He said a client station needed a PD and he was considering me. I sent him an edited tape. Overnight delivery was very expensive back then. Regular mail took about three days. On the fourth day, he called and wanted an unedited hour of my show. I taped the next morning and mailed it to him. Four days later he called and asked me if I could fly to New Haven, Connecticut and meet with Tom Hoyt, GM of WAVZ. The ticket was pre-paid and Don agreed to let me off the following Saturday. It was a long day, Cedar Rapids to Chicago to Hartford and back. Tom picked me up at the airport and told me he had just taken over as GM. His family was still in Washington, and he was commuting on weekends. He told me about the owners of the station, Dan Kops and Dick Monihan. They had sold their station in Troy, New York but still owned WAVZ-AM and WKCI-FM in New Haven. Hoyt had carte blanche to make WAVZ a winner. My ears perked up. The station was in an old building in downtown New Haven. The equipment was very old, however, a guy named Eric Small had been hired to build state of the art studios and make the 1,000 watt station sound as big as any station in nearby New York City. By the time I got back on the airplane to go home, I had doubled my salary, I had the use of a company car, they were going to move me (not me pack boxes and drive a u-haul...I'm talking professional movers). Additionally, the station would provide accommodations for me and my wife until we found a place to live. Hoyt asked me to come immediately. I called Don the minute I got home. He said I could go in a week and by the way, he was leaving also. He had accepted a job with the guy who owned the car dealership of "round and round the parking lot" fame. I called Jimmy Davenport to tell him the good news. He was happy for me.

When it came time to leave, the station threw a going away party at, where else, the Sip n' Stir. Eli even bought a round of beers. I never realized how much KLWW meant to me. I had gone there with no PD experience; no one in the business knew me. When news of my move hit the trades I received congratulatory telegrams from lots of record guys. I went on to New Haven alone and planned to return two weeks later on Labor Day weekend to get my wife and drive to New Haven. I was bawling like a baby before I got on the plane. The security people were suspicious because I was so emotional. They took me to a room, questioned and searched me. I explained that I was sad to be leaving and they let me board. I arrived in New Haven and stayed at a hotel across the street from the hotel. Paul Drew arrived the next day to accompany me my first day as new PD. I hadn't seen him for almost ten years; he hadn't changed at all. When I joined him, for breakfast the next morning, he had a tiny headphone stuck in his ear. I was a little embarrassed; people in the coffee shop noticed it, but he could have cared less . "Do you have a transistor radio?" he asked. "No" I said. He reached in his bag and handed me one that was about the size of an index card and almost as thin. It came with an earplug, of course. "Now you don't have any excuse for not knowing what's going on at the station at any hour of the day or night regardless of where you are". I sort of chuckled and he looked straight at me and said: "You're the one that told me you wanted to be a great program director ". He reached in his bag again and took out a small yellow pad and a pencil; "Always have something to write on and a pen or pencil....that way you won't forget the things you have to do". "Take notes" he said. An hour and three full pages of notes later, we went across the street for my first day on the job.