AS I WAS SAYING...

It seems I spent the month of August doing everything but making an entry here at BLOGSPOT. My friend John Nixon reminds me, on occasion, that it's time to produce a few cogent thoughts. John, by the way, is one of radio's greatest production minds. We worked together for a short time in San Diego, but have been friends for 23 years. We had a hilarious time in the production studio and in the halls, but at that place, humor never reached the air. It seems ridiculous for an entertainment concern to have an air sound so rigidly constrained, while employing two guys so humorous. We were lashed down like patients in a straight-jacket when it came to on-air presentation. Which do you think would have created better ratings? The constipated, Phil Collins-heavy play-list of K-Lite, or Dave and John making people laugh, both on air and with creative production? Such is the conundrum of the radio business, where theory trumps sense, every time. By the way, K-Lite averaged numbers in the 1.o share territory. It became a station more in need of Ex-Lax than a tubby guy on a Dodger Dog diet.

(To be fair, in 1988, with a both a call letter and slight format change, the station improved, but all improvisation was limited to the morning drive hours. When those fellows left, the station quickly perished. I got out of there in July of '88; John departed for the Pacific Northwest the next year).


DAVE'S SUMMER VACATION

Some vacation. You don't really vacate any place when semi-employment is a fact of life. You sort of keep yourself busy until you're needed--in my case, that's by my former place of full-time employment...where I'm still working each weekend. I've had an on-going broadcast idea floating since February, a great idea in fact. Making it happen has been the difficult part. If and when it hits, I'll be more than happy to share it with everyone. Other than that, I tried to sell a short story to a couple of magazines--an effort that met with little interest. To be sure, it was not one of my better efforts. It was more like a therapeutic fictionalization of someone I worked with. This was a person who used the request-lines as his personal bordello, talking to the mentally wrecked who reach out to the ambient voices that waft from their radios. To quote from the film "A Face in the Crowd," these distressed women were , "...the locker room where he eased up after a rough day." The story could have been better, I suppose, and needs telling. I'm not sure how many people are aware of how nuts are taken advantage of by the narcissist/ egomaniacs who find their way behind a mike. One thing is certain: consolidation of radio stations under one or two company umbrellas is squeezing a lot of those types out of the business...perhaps the only silver lining in what, for on-air people, has become a very dark cloud.

The tale of my summer, then, can be summed up as the two weeks in August I spent filling in during afternoon drive. You radio guys will understand the following: The Personal People Meter gives us ratings data on a weekly basis, and from August 10 through 21st, I drove the numbers up from a 2.9 share to a 3.7, in the 25-54 age group. For ages 35-64, the ratings rose from a 4.6 to 6.1 while I was on. I had anticipated having a good run, but was even more delighted than expected. I was also suprised and pleased by the response from the management. I had no need to reaffirm my abilities to myself or friends, or a good number of radio people. It's a great feeling, though, to have listeners in L.A., at a key time of day, acknowledge that one is very good at his craft.


THE GUIDING LIGHT IS OUT

I have no trouble admitting that, since I was old enough to walk home from the bus stop by myself, I've been aware of The Guiding Light. When I was in kindergarten, class would end at 11:30, and by 11:45 I was home. My mother would be tending to her housework with the TV on, and usually as I walked in the door, if Mom wasn't cackling on the phone with some relative, I'd hear an announcer intone, "...and now...The Guiding Light."

It's funny how these things happen. Every summer after that, when it was too hot to go outside, or a second TV was unavailable, my mother's schedule of soaps on CBS sort of ruled the viewing habits of my sister Lisa and I. Love of Life at 11am, followed by fifteen minutes of Search For Tomorrow, fifteen of The Guiding Light, then news at noon. For reasons I never knew, my mother didn't watch As the World Turns at 12:30, but would warm up the set again at 2pm when the game show To Tell The Truth would precede Edge of Night. The afternoon of serialized angst would conclude with The Secret Storm at 3. Not every day was like this, but enough. Through it all, the house was spotless, and dinner was always at 6. It used to amaze me how my mother could slice vegetables into a bowl while watching Edge of Night, never once breaking a nail or slicing a finger while completely keeping up with the travails of the shows fictional citizens of Monticello.

Being a child with an active imagination, I did many things while this soap stuff was flooding the house--drawing, playing with G.I. Joes, Tonka Trucks, Army Men, etc. But as I got older, while all the rest of those shows fell victim to changing times, there was always...The Guiding Light. From fifteen minutes in black and white, to full color; from a half hour to an hour; from 11:45 to 1:30, to 2pm Pacific, if one was around the house, it seemed a better choice than reruns of Cannon, or much later, judge shows and televised paternity tests. Plus the actresses were much more attractive.

By college, and then my first night job in radio, I'd either watch when I got home, or check it out when I woke up following a work-night. In the '80's, I'm pretty sure I awoke more often to what was by then simply Guiding Light (they dropped the "the" in 1977) , than those keeping normal hours did to The Today Show. And so life went.

By the time VCRs became common place, I had an excuse to quit the habit, but didn't. I set my device for 2pm daily, and would fast forward through episodes whenever I had the chance. And the years zipped by.

Afternoons, nights, overnights...naps, appointments, lunches, daytime dates, trips out of town...
I always kept up with Guiding Light. I was a little ashamed until about 15 years ago when I read that the esteemed journalist Bill Moyers followed As The World Turns in much the same way. Yes, even guys with little time during the day, get caught up in soap suds--the stories are ridiculous, but as I've said, the stable of actresses make rising at midday more palatable.

Now that CBS has, after 72 years (57 on TV) brought Guiding Light to an end, I'm free of this life long addiction...yet left with a wee bit of an empty feeling. Had it not been for recording devices, of course, this would have happened much sooner. To the remaining souls who got hooked on soapery long ago, I say get ready: Youngsters at habit forming ages have better things to do than invest their time in fictionalized serials--there's Facebook, Twitter, file sharing and Beatles Rock Band to take up idle time. In another seven years, the soaps will be as extinct as the DoDo.

HI THERE, SPORTS FANS...

The Dodgers have had A SPECTACULAR summer...even though several losses were frustrating and could have been avoided. On this date, they are 90 and 60, five games up on Colorado in the National League West, with 12 to go. I'm not taking anything for granted. In earlier posts, I've pointed out the things that have gone terribly wrong in Dodger history. Keep your fingers crossed that Andre Ethier and Matt Kemp keep jolting the ball out of the park, that Randy Wolf stays hot on the mound, that everybody stays healthy as the Blue travels through D.C., Pittsburgh, San Diego, and for the season ending series with the Rockies at Dodger Stadium.

By the way, I have no earthly idea as to what happened to mighty Manny Ramirez. Nothing but supposition can account for his limited ability to thrill in 2009. It could be that 2008 was a mirage--naw, he's to good a hitter for that. It may be that when he was suspended 50 games for using that female hormone, he was coming off a steroid cycle, which would explain his late season, super-hero home run tear upon being traded to the Dodgers last year. It might be that the long suspension rendered him unable to get in the groove, or that being hit on the hand in July has something to do with his reduced production. No one knows for sure. We do know that no matter what any East Coast sports talk hack says (or for that matter the numb-nuts who blather on and on from the West Coast) his mere presence in the line up has benefited the evolution of Ethier and Kemp into stars. Now if we could just get the opposition to hit the ball to someplace on the field where Manny doesn't have a glove on his hand...

I hope to have more career news and fun stuff a little sooner, next time. Until then, Go Dodgers, and Goodbye Guiding Light.





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