Life During Wartime

It was late summer 1978, I was working the 7-11pm shift for an AM radio program called "The Album Place" for WQUA Moline. 

Our town didn't have a "rock" station, so I put together a program on an AM station that normally played Barry Manilow, Anne Murray and the like during the day, but at 7pm, the switch was flipped and we played album cuts. The ratings were really good and that meant a new FM competitor had just signed on. Not a good sign.

I took a vacation that sent me to downstate Missouri where I grew up, then driving to Denver because I could. As I was driving to Denver I went through KC and first heard KY..

I went to Denver, visited a friend and while I was gone, my AM station changed the night time format to disco. It was at that time I put together an audition tape and sent it to a number of places I thought might be cool to work for. There was a station in Steven's Point Wisconsin, KSHE, a couple of others and KY102. I didn't hear anything back from anyone, so I started working part time at the Top 40 AM station in Davenport. Middays opened up at the new rock station, so, for awhile in 1979, I was doing overnight at the heritage top 40 AM rock station I grew up listening to and middays at the new FM station. I think Dan Aykroyd did a bit about that on SNL. I lived it.The morning man left on the rock station and I slid my way into mornings in May of 1979. Life was good, I was madly in love with a gal who worked at the station named Mary. We did everything together and working at the new FM station, when the concerts came around, you had the best gig. This was also the time Fredrocks and I became best buds and drank a lot of tequila. Freddy did afternoons at the FM top 40 station. Doing mornings on the rock station in my hometown, got a lovely woman, life is outstanding.

When working morning drive, the best way to sleep is in shifts. Getting up at 4am sometimes is not fun. Especially if Fredrocks had you out until 1am the night before. No one needs that. If you aren't careful, you are toast at 4pm. It was during one of the these shifts in the afternoon, I got THE call. At the time, I was living with my mom, Dad had just died, and her basement had a separate entrance, so it worked out well. I tried to sleep sometime in the afternoon and on one afternoon, the phone rang. Half groggy, I answered. The voice on the other end said something like hi, this is Max Floyd and I'm looking for Randy. "Who are you?" I said. Mind you, it had been over a year since I had sent that tape. My next response was "prove it." I had a friend who liked to punk me and I just knew this was him. "Excuse me?" he said. I then sat straight up in the bed and listened as Max said something about having an opening...would I like to come down...he will set up the arrangements...etc" and then hung up. WTF was that all about? Did I hear him right? Sure enough the phone call happened later in the week with flight arrangements, hotel, etc.

Wow. Just wow.

I had never been on a plane before and the Ozark Airline puddlejumper just about swore me off flying together. We left Moline, no bathrooms and there's about ten seats. As luck would have it, the pilot liked to play chicken with a thunderstorm on the way to KC. Awesome. I arrived in KC, I'm put up at the Marriott and Max says, go ahead and hang loose tonight, I'll come out and get you in the morning. Put a dinner on our tab. I went down to the bar, sat down, order a meal and I get into a conversation with the guy, a DJ for an after work party. He comes over says hello, asks what I'm doing in town and I tell him I am interviewing for the night job at the local rock station. "KY102?" he asked, I said, why, yes that's it. For the rest of the evening this guy buys me drinks, gets me shit faced. and before I leave, he says to me..."nice to meet you, I'm Katfish Kris Kelly." I'm your competition. I thought I'd buy you a few drinks before I kicked your ass."

We both laughed.

This place could be fun, I thought.

This was the first night even before I took the job, someone is trying to get me drunk. Welcome to the boomtown...

I'm in Moline, job offer in hand but it's not enough dough. I called Bob Garrett and we had a great discussion, he basically said that with remotes and personal appearances, I would go well above 500 bucks in the next year. OK. Now what?

I had to talk with the three people I trusted the most, my girlfriend Mary (who was ecstatic I got the offer), my mom and my Aunt Jane. Mary, in her infinite, too damned intelligent self said, "you have to make this decision for you, I cannot guarantee there will always be an us, but there will always be you." Damned common sense. She was about three years older than me and wiser beyond her years but that's not really what I wanted to hear, dammit. Too bad.

My mom was my mom. Saying stuff like how hard I've worked for this blah blah One thing she did remind me was ..."you've always told me this is like baseball, you start in the small towns and work your way up to the big city. Do you want the big city?" So, do I want to remain a large fish in a small pond in the Quad Cities, my home most of my life, or do I leave? Do I want the big city? Do I punk? Next was my Aunt Jane, who was more like a mom to me sometimes than my mom was. "I left my hometown at 18, and never looked back. This is what you've wanted since you were a boy. Radio guy, big city, making a difference." Aunt Jane without a doubt was the smartest person I've ever known or ever will know. She drove a car until she was 94.

Godammit. What to do? It's at that point where that inner voice, that gut feeling, that supernatural connection to your heart and soul opens the tumblers on the cosmic Masterlock. I gotta go.

"Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane, will we ever meet again?...feel no sorrow, feel no shame...come tomorrow, feel no pain?" That was the song of that summer, now eerily haunting to me.

I announced my decision to Mary, who cried and laughed at the same time (and sorry, but for some reason,we had the most incredible sex that night), to my mom, who cried and my Aunt Jane who hugged me like there was no tomorrow.

I called Bob and told him I was in. Now what? I'm 23 years old, never really been away from home much and I'm staring at leaving everyone I know, my family, my friends, co-workers, a girlfriend EVERYTHING I knew for Kansas City. A lifelong Chiefs fan, I really liked what the Royals were doing in the latter part of the 70s. Football, baseball, concerts, big time radio station. There was so much good on my side of the see saw of emotions, this was truly an offer that I could not refuse. But I knew no one. NO ONE in Kansas City. Not a soul. Was I as good as I thought? Someone thought so. It took balls on KY's part to hire a 23 year old kid who's biggest market was the Quad Cities. This was about August 20th or so and everyone agreed I'd do my first show on September 10, 1979.

In the next three weeks,my life resembled a clothes dryer as small town boy says goodbye.

21 days and counting to blast off to Kansas City. I apologize if I don't remember much about these days, it was like a blur, a hurricane that came through my life. I had accepted the job in KC. Now, the saying goodbye to everyone I knew and moving to KC was on the launch pad.

T-minus 17 days...

I went into my boss' office at 97X and said what had happened. Mary knew, but no one else did. I think it kind of caught everyone a bit off guard. Wait, you're the guy that grew up here, graduated from high school here and you're doing what, again?
Wow. Really? You're going to Kansas City? Wait. What? Where?

Good old Mary. "We need to make a list of the stuff we have to do. Let's take a road trip and go down there next weekend so we can scope it out." So, we load it up and bowl it up and go exploring. The weekend before the big move, we spent that weekend looking around, grabbing any information about Kansas City we could find. Wow, River Quay looks nice. It was a great weekend, but, she made it seem she was coming with me when I knew and she knew she wasn't.
Wait, had we discussed this? We hadn't yet, I knew we hadn't progressed that far in a relationship where anything was taken for granted. It was an unspoken communication between us, the question would never be asked because I knew what the answer was.

The week before the move, I got cold feet. It was overwhelming. What the fuck did I do? What had happened was exciting but also a bit terrifying. So, I went to the person with the most common sense I knew, my Aunt Jane. "Are you kidding me?" was her response. "let's look ahead six months. Not today, six months from now. I think you're going to be the king of your universe. There will always be you. What will you do if you turn this down? How soon do you think a another chance will come along?"

The last song I played on 97X the day I left was a song Mary wanted to hear (that's when you could do that stuff on the radio) "The Famous Final Scene" by Bob Seger.
Damn. Hatches batted down. T minus one day and counting.
All of the things on Mary's list had been crossed off.
It was Sunday morning, the UHaul is loaded, I've said my goodbyes. I grew some ditch weed and I had a garbage bag filled with joints the size of cigars. This was a six hour drive and I needed something, anything to dull the pain I felt that day. Don't get me wrong, I knew where I was going but the last train stop hurt as Mary stood me up on our last meeting.

One of the things etched into my mind was when I looked in the rear view mirror, waved and saw my mom who was waving, smiling and crying at the same time.
“Sweet devotion (Goodbye, Mary)
It's not for me (Goodbye, Jane)
Just give me motion (Will we ever)
To set me free (Meet again?)
In the land and the ocean (Feel no sorrow)
Far away (Feel no shame)
It's the life I've chosen (Come tomorrow)
Every day (Feel no pain)
So goodbye, Mary (Goodbye, Mary)
Goodbye, Jane (Goodbye, Jane)
Will we ever (Will we ever)
Meet again? (Meet again?)"
to be continued...

In the photo, taken two weeks before the phone call, myself, Mary, Sue and Mike Keneally at one of the summerjams on Credit Island Davenport. This was the time where Ann and Nancy Wilson plucked me like a banjo. They were very sweet very high, and smelled great as they tried to distract this 23 year old young man. They succeeded. When Nancy Wilson put her hand on my leg during an interview, I called them the Heart sisters. They just thought that was so damn funny. Good times.

Uhaul is packed, all goodbyes have been said, it's Sunday at noon and it's time to go. September 9th, 1979.

A couple of years before this, I lived in a house with some acreage right next to the Mississippi River with my ex-wife and somehow we got some magic "seeds" to try and grow a beanstalk :) . We got out all the High Times we could find and attempted to grow magic plants. We carved out a plot about 20 feet by 20 feet and proceeded to follow instructions. We were a bit successful but all of the plants turned out to be male but two. After harvesting, I turned the plants upside down and sprayed them with sugar water every day (that's what we were told to do.) and when they dried, the result was just ok. We got almost two garbage bags full of a higher level ditch weed really. You could get a buzz but it took a lot. I'm mentioning this as I had one garbage bag with me on my trip and probably seven or eight joints rolled that were the size of my arm.

Weed at the ready, I slowly pull away from my house and I see my mom, forever tattooed in my memory waving goodbye, smiling and crying, which is what I was doing. Mary was nowhere to be seen. (There was a letter from her at the station on Monday when I got there.) I had my radio station play "Goodbye Stranger" a little after noon and that song set me on my way. Goodbye old comfortable world, doing the morning show on the rock station in my hometown, starting to develop a name for myself...here we go...onward through the fog that was rolling around my brain. Heading west, the tears start to recede about Iowa City and the excitement of starting a new life starts to come over me.

It's hard to explain what happens when you pick up everything you have, say goodbye to everyone and just start over. Terrifying but exciting at the same time. The trip through Iowa was pretty uneventful, but for some reason, I've always had anxiety when it comes to Sunday nights, and I think it happened sometime in my childhood. I still sometimes to this day have trouble with Sunday afternoon/nights. I headed south on I-35 and the final half of the trip is now ahead. I start pulling into KC and there it is, that skyline, my new home. There was no GPS back then and I was a map whiz but I'll be damned if I can find the hotel. The Howard Johnson hotel in downtown KC. After getting frustrated by not finding it, I just pull over and break down and cry. The whole day just washed over me. I sat there and prayed.

I looked up and there was the hotel, right in front of me.

Thanks God. I made it, checked in and called collect so my mom knew I was there. I called Mary, no answer. I had so much to do in the morning. Get a place, return the truck and go on the air later that night.

"Life moves pretty fast"...when you are now in the big city. And man did I step from the country road to the interstate with this move. From sleepy river town Quad Cities, to the hustle and bustle of the big city, overnight. It was almost hyperspeed the next day.

But, for that one Sunday night, I made it. Emotionally and physically , all hands and feet were in the ride and I was tall enough to ride it. I was next in line to get on....here's my ticket...

Sunday night September 9th 1979...

It's been a long emotional day, those who have moved away from home understand that during that first day, you are just wound so tight, sometimes it's difficult to unwind. Hello insomnia. Not good.

I made it to the next morning. I have about 19 things to do on my list and the most important one was going on the air at 6pm. I have to find a place, return the Uhaul (I had a couple of days) and prepare for the show.

I found some literature about an apartment leasing place on the plaza, so, I make a list of things to do, go outside and drive my car off the trailer. I get in the car, start it up, drive it off the trailer and it catches on fire. Not really on fire, but the electrical wiring catches on fire. Not good. I get the phone book out and call an import mechanic and explain my deal, I told him I was new in town and needed his help, he asked what I did and I told him I was the new night time guy on KY. He sent a tow truck and towed it to his shop on main street.

Now what to do? Small town boy, first day in the big city and things aren't quite turning out the way I would like.Tried to figure out the bus routes and so I hopped on a bus that took me to the plaza and I found the place that Max talked about. Rent was pretty high. $250 a month was pretty steep but there was a very nice little place at 4510 JC Nichols Parkway that I liked. If you remember 1979 at all, you'll remember sometimes gas was hard to find. I took this place because it was on the main drag, had bus service and if things got bad, I could actually walk to work. Dad didn't raise a dummy.

Now what to do with my car? I wish I could remember the name of the shop right there on main street. I think it was called Main Street Imports. Dunno. Anyway, the guys were willing to work out some stuff. I was the guy on KY, they had never heard me and are willing to work stuff out. I like this place already.

Signed a lease and I've navigated the bus routes pretty well. I went back to my hotel room, took a shower, put on my overalls and a T shirt, that's what I feel comfortable in and get on the bus to Signal Hill, it's about 4:30. I get to the station and I didn't realize that there was a welcoming party in my honor. There were all these professional sales people dressed to the nines, waiting to meet the new guy and Eb from the turnip truck shows up to his own party in coveralls and a Tshirt. I didn't know.

That's the night Jay Cooper told me about the "Nightime Rule" that's been discussed before. Jay pulled me aside at the party and said, "hey, don't worry, you can play anything you want after six oclock. Max doesn't listen, so hell, you can bring some from home to play if you want, Max doesn't care."

I could just see myself kind of bowing and saying "Gee, Mr. Cooper, what ever you say, I'm Eb from the turnip truck." With the party going on and all, I had no time to prepare for the show. That's not me, I like to know where I'm going when I get in there. At 5:55 on September 10, 1979, I opened those big, heavy studio doors for the first time during "Nighttime Magazine". Max, Ray Sherman and a couple of other people were in the studio and when the show was over, Max left me with "I'm Gonna Crawl" by Led Zeppelin.

The photos are of very first night on the air. That's Lauren Lyon helping me find my way.

As described before, the studio at KY was like a closet. A closet that had carpeting on all the walls, claustrophobic as hell and is still the best studio I've ever worked in. Outside the two huge thick refrigerator doors was the hustle and bustle of WDAF AM and TV. 61 Country had a full staffed newsroom and my buddy working evenings was Frank Haynes.

An older gentleman, Frank was very funny and sometimes would run into the studio with "breaking news" and then it would be some stupid shit. He drove an old VW bug to work every night. Score points for that. He'd be there until 10pm, I would venture out of the studio once in awhile. I always enjoyed talking to Frank. He served under Charles Gray so he took the news shit pretty seriously. 61 Country was live 24/7 365 and so was the TV station downstairs. The back door of the building was where the vans and news people from the TV station would continually be leaving and arriving until after the 10'oclock newscast. But, when you walked up the stairs, took a right, then a left down the hall, closed those doors to that closet where it all happened, there was this magical feel about it. The phones never stopped ringing. Ever. Four lines coming in and always blinking. This was my fortress of solitude. I ruled the world from that box.

One of the first people I met when I started there was Harry Thomas. Harry was Steve Thomas'(Shooting Star) father, a lovely man who was a camera man for WDAF TV and very proud of his son. I went on the air at 6, so at five thirty, I was usually in the lounge in the basement eating or reading the newspaper. That's when the 5 oclock newscast on Channel Four would take a break to go to the national newscast and Dan Henry seemed to always find me while having a smoke. We became pretty close. "Randall? How ya doing buddy?" "Living the dream, Dan." "Ain't we all?" was his reply. The lounge was where the smokes and vending machines were. Phil Witt came from Iowa right about that time. He came from Sioux City and I came from Davenport, so we always were kindof kindred spirits. Just sitting in the corner of the lounge was a trip. I heard some very interesting conversations with all sorts of people as I sat there and either read or ate my show prep.

At 5:45 or so, I'd head upstairs with basic idea of where i wanted to go with the show. At 5:50, it was Night Time Magazine with a 10 minute wrap up of stuff happening in the city. A daily talk segment on rock radio? What? On Friday's it was "Jack Goes To The Movies" which sometimes would make it under ten minutes but barely. Night Time Magazine was with Ray Sherman when I first got there so, I just watched and contributed whenever pointed to. May and Ray had this down. Max would leave the show with the "Most Requested Song of The Day." Riiight. It was a song Max wanted to hear, I think.

The song rotations were in a shoe box. You got a sheet of paper that had a series of letters on it, which aligned with the categories of songs in the shoe box. Before your show, you matched the letters with index cards, sometimes in packets with other cards, sometimes on their own were supposed to be pulled from the front, written down, played and then rotated to the back of the category. The problem with this is that Max HATED people in the studio with him that weren't supposed to be there. I felt like shit whenever I was in the room with Max, so, I'd fill out a quarter of the list while Night TIme Magazine is going on and then fill out the rest after that show .Max was pretty strict about following the format and if he saw a card or two that looked that they hadn't been played or messed with, he usually caught it (or so I've heard).

The studio would empty out, I'd pull the albums I needed for the first hour and do my damndest to sprinkle magical dust over the unsuspecting people listening to the 100,000 watts of holy light known as KY 102.