Holiday Zoo Crew

Today marks the 25th anniversary of a show from my personal aircheck archive. It features me and two co-hosts in an impromptu chat show, post Christmas 1985. Click play below or down load here.

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©2010 Neal Rhoden, Aircheck blog. All righs reserved.

Z Marks the Spot

“Lock it in and rip the knob off!” Clever imaging, listenable music, and personalities characterized my favorite radio station as a 1980’s teenager, Z-102 WZAT in Savannah, Georgia. I have written about this station previously in a post called “Breakfast with Burl.” The FM station began life in 1971 as a top 40 automated station. Many FM stations began this way as an offshoot of a more popular AM sister. In those days AM was king. FM was merely a curiosity. By the early 80’s AM music formats almost disappeared having been dethroned by its protégé, FM.

It was during this time I really got into listening to popular music and Z-102 was the station I tuned my Walkman to most. The station was unstoppable in the market and constantly led in the ratings. Now, in an unprecedented boneheaded move, the current owners have decided to drop music and go all sports. It has been at least 16 years since I last visited the area and heard the station live. Through the magic of the Internet I have occasionally listened to their stream. What a waste of a huge signal. Just a bit of my youth is gone. Rest in Peace Z.

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

E93

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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.”

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“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.

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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…

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

St.Paddy's Day

Oh, how I enjoyed growing up in Savannah, GA; especially this time of year. The climate was mild as Spring entered. And, everyone was Irish (at least for a day.) Are you wearing your green?

We were told that our Saint Patrick's Day Parade and celebration was second only to that of Chicago. The way I saw it ours was much bigger considering the comparable sizes of the cities. All three network TV stations had live coverage. I assume that it's still a big deal down in the Coastal Empire although I can't prove it. I haven't visited in over 16 years. Well, maybe next year. Happy Saint Paddy's day everyone! Erin Go Bragh.

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©2010 The Peanut Whistle. All rights reserved.