This is the Spot

Welcome to the best kept secret on the Internet—my weblog known as the Peanut Whistle!

Try not to keep it under wraps too long. Looking at the statistics for my blog they show a either a flat or very slow growth. If you have enjoyed reading my posts, please comment. Remember I am a big boy, so if you haven’t enjoyed it, comment as well. I have allowed our domain name to expire due to lack of readers. The blog has returned to its former Blogspot address. Right now you are invited to catch up on the blog by scanning the archive for posts that you may have missed. Thanks…

Stay tuned

©2010 Neal Rhoden. the Peanut Whistle blog. 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.

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.

wet your whistle

Welcome to the newly redesigned Peanut Whistle. For those of you reading via Facebook notes thank you very much for viewing the basic text of this blog. You will enjoy the Whistle so much more by visiting the website from which this blog originates. Our address is www.thepeanutwhistle.com or click any time you see a hyperlink (usually in blue letters). One of the best features of my new site is the extra audio, video and photos I have included as support for the text. There is music and links galore, so go wild.

Your word of mouth advertising is very crucial to keeping the Peanut Whistle afloat. Also, if you see anything advertised that interests you please feel free to visit my sponsors then return by hitting the back button on your browser. Visit us often because I am constantly adding new content even to older blog posts. For instance, the Gran Torino post includes new pictures of the old wreck. Facebook only archives posts as they originally appeared.

When you are on www.thepeanutwhistle.com check out the side bars for the audio & video and click away on the numerous play buttons as you scroll down the page. There are numerous links beneath our snazzy new header. They lead to my other blog, Gospel Aircheck, my YouTube channel, and the more technical pages I have set up.

Be sure to check out our audio restoration services as well. Peanut Whistle Audio (PWA) will turn your old analog cassettes into CD’s and other digital media. Our rates are very reasonable. “We work for peanuts.” Contact us at nealrhoden@thepeanutwhistle.com

Stay tuned.

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

What's a peanut whistle?

I'm glad you asked. A peanut whistle is a radio station with limited power or listenership or both. It might have the best staff or talent but simply lacks enough umph to reach a broader audience. These media outlets are usually located out in the sticks. These are the places I've hung my hat as a DJ and programmer most often. I've led some very talented people. Some great and near great talents. 

These places are usually programmed for a rural audience. So, I'm not sure if they exist at all any more due to the consolidation of ownership permitted by the Telecommunications Act of 1996. The FCC decided to allow ownership of several radio or TV stations in one market. Large corporations have gulped up these peanut whistles at an alarming rate. It wasn't video that killed the radio star, it was corporate greed. More to come. Stay tuned...