TORN BETWEEN TWO WORLDS
I Pick-up Broadcasting's Signal
Into Radio and TV
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lead by a Shepherd
A major influence on my future was sparked by a doorman at the Old Jefferson Theater in Fort Wayne, Gaylord Shepherd. He was also a part-time announcer at WKJG Radio. He went by the name "Mark Shepherd" on the air, and just "Shep" off the air. Shep took me to the studio one weekend to see what happens in the world of broadcasting. It had a magical quality for me. I felt I had stepped into my concept of a universe, not unlike the way L. Frank Baum visualized Oz a century ago.
The next thing I knew, I was hooked: Spending most of my free time hanging around WGL and WOWO, two stations within walking distance of the Jeff. Soon, every disc jockey in town knew me. John Cygna, Al Russel, and other D-J's let me "run the board" so they'd have more time to talk with groupies on the phone.
When they got off the air, the heated competition among the jocks at the various stations was set aside. In a bizarre nightly rendezvous ritual, the rivals got together for a round of drinks. That's not accurate. They got together for ROUNDS & ROUNDS of drinks. Shep was part of that club, and he made me part of their group too. Although a half decade shy of the age for legal entry into an Indiana night club, I was never stopped at the door when I was with my well known pals. And it was not uncommon for city cops to sit at the same table with us.
A guy known by more people around the world than any of the rising radio stars owned the bar where the media gang gathered. His name was Troy Shondell, the famous 50's & 60's recording star. The old German style bar was named the "Bavarian Village" when Troy bought it. He updated the decor to fit the Hullabaloo period and renamed it: The "B-V a-Go-Go." My grown-up friends enjoyed seeing me squirm when they convinced the "birdcage" dancers to tease me with more than simple flirtations. I screamed "Farewell!" to the age of innocence as it departed in a giggling fit.
About the same time, I also said "Hello" to the world of news. It was indeed a world detached from the one in which most people live. The introduction was also made at the "B-V" when news guys started joining the jocks for the nightly outing. This was long before women were given access to the fraternity, so I'm not politically incorrect - just accurate. Soon, it was not just the radio newsmen. The T-V guys, and the crusty old newspaper folks started coming too. Suddenly, I found myself sitting more often with the news guys, and less with my old DJ pals. The news stories were much better. When they returned to their old haunt at Henry's the tavern across the street from the newspaper, I moved with them.
Since then, almost every one of the "jocks" and their news buddies rose to celebrity status - at places all over the country with various levels of fanfare. Then, ever so gradually, most faded from the radio and television waves. A few continue in the business. I still see Jim McManus at the Kennedy Space Center covering NASA for ABC.
I was smart enough to know, for ME to get very far in this business... I needed a formal education. The days were gone when people "made it" as a journalist without a college degree. Sure, old fart newspaper cop reporters survived without all that schooling. But these guys had gotten their jobs four or five decades ago when all you needed was three things:
1) Ability to read/write English.
2) Able to spin a good "yarn."
3) Insatiable sense of curiosity.
And you could miss having one of the last two, if you knew how to type. I also remember thinking it appeared to require an ability to smoke a lot of rancid cigars, and hold a lot of booze - at least more than the cop you were pumping for information.
"But things are different now," I thought, as I sat across from the stogie puffing, foul talking cop reporter. I had already taken the dreaded S.A.T.'s and scored high enough that I could pretty well pick where I wanted to go. I asked Shep if he knew about any colleges with a good broadcast journalism program. Right away, he suggested Michigan State University. I think his choice had more to do with the campus being in his home town which was Michigan's state capital.
One day in the middle of April, we took a drive in his shiny Mustang - all the way to Lansing. I was impressed with the building at M.S.U. where Shep thought broadcasting was taught. At an age when activation of my hormones seemed to precede rationale thought, the coeds appeared magnificent. However, Michigan State had one drawback I could not overcome. That was the COLD! If I remember correctly, it was April 15th and it was 15-degrees above (or was it below?) zero. No, my body could NOT handle Lansing's environment. I wondered if it got above 40-degrees here in the summer.
Shep tried without success to convince me that this was NOT normal. He used the argument that it was cold in Fort Wayne that day too - and probably as cold in Bloomington, Indiana where my other front running choice (Indiana University) was located. Shep began to think he had failed in his mission to persuade his little buddy to apply at "State."
In a last desperate move, he dragged me to the radio station where he worked a few years earlier, hoping that would change my mind about Lansing. I remember WILS as a noisy and cramped place, with a lot of excess activity as people kept bumping into each other as each was moving around - seeming to sort thousands of plastic audio cartridges. The people here really loved their work and it showed.
I met Shep's old boss, who was on the air at the time. Shep just flat out asked the man, "Would you hire Duffey, here, to do news part-time, if he comes to M-S-U?" Without hesitation he asked me, "Can you start this weekend, kid?" Shep had really put me in a bind. There it was, right in front of me: A job offer in broadcast news! Oh god, I really wanted to say "Sure, what time do you want me here?"
But just at that moment, there was a defeaning noise - it sounding as thought the roof was falling apart. I was really scared thinking a campus radical had just bombed the radio station. Totally forgetting the question I was just asked, all I could muster from my voice was: "What the fuck was that?" The program director shrugged and nonchalantly said, "Aww, that's just ice falling off the tower. Where'd you guys park? Hope your car wasn't hit. ...Well, can you start Saturday?"
Ice falling off the tower?!?!?! In mid-April!?!?!?!? Is he nuts? This must be so far north it's inside the Arctic Circle. I never realized it was so cold just a couple hundred miles from where I grew up. I can't tell this guy I'm a wimp and can't stand the cold. So, "No, I can't - I'm still in high school WAY down south in Indiana," came out of my teeth chattering mouth.
On the way home, Shep tried appealing to the hormonal side of my thought processes. He seemed to have noticed a lot more big chested blond nursing students than I. But it was not enough. All I could think about was how cold it was in Lansing. I thanked Shep profusely for the adventure, but told him the trip had convinced me to head south that fall. I was going to school at MSU's hated Big-10 rival: Indiana University.
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which exerted its gravity on my soul.
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