At first, all I wanted to do was hang around my apartment brooding and reliving my glory days at the local country station I’d worked for previously. But eventually, I realized if I was ever going to feel good about myself again, I had to reach out of my comfort zone and head back to Pittsburgh for a rematch.
In the three days it took to get my interview suit back from the cleaners I had time to use the big green Thomas Registry at the Wheeling Library to research the most popular FM stations in Pittsburgh. My criteria for picking stations was straightforward, the level of competition they gave my former employer KDKA, and their close proximity to each other so I wouldn’t have to move my car from one parking garage to another, or heaven forbid, resort to using a map.
Unlike most salesmen in the 80s, who had a collection of maps somewhere in their car; in the back seat, in the trunk filed in a milk carton, or smashed in the glove box, my library of maps consisted of one big dog-eared, coffee-stained, sheet of poorly folded paper that covered the major highways on W.V., PA., and Ohio. If I suspected my map wouldn’t get me where I wanted to go, I gave myself plenty of time to get lost, ask directions, and then get lost again.
My plan was to leave Wheeling for Pittsburgh at 6 a.m. That gave me three hours to drive there, get turned around a few times, find a parking garage, take the hot rollers out of my hair, and find the first station on my list by 9 a.m. This was all accomplished by 8 a.m. so I took a walk around the block to calm my nerves. While walking, I noticed a poster in a store window advertising a Red Cross Blood Drive to be held that morning at the album-oriented rock station WEWO-FM.
I’d heard of WEWO, but it wasn’t on my apply-to list because an album-oriented rock ( AOR for short) station's music and demographics: male, single, and 18-34 years old, were foreign to me and this time I wanted to keep culture shocks to a minimum. But then I remembered WEWO was owned by a local Pittsburgh family, not a big corporation, which meant their chain of command began and ended in the same building.
Besides, a blood drive would mean a little confusion at the reception desk. I changed course and headed to WEWO. When I got to there, I fell in line to give blood with everyone else, but as soon as I got the chance to break away I headed for the ladies' room. After that stop, I was free to do a little wandering.
I know the idea of a salesman wandering around a business, without an appointment, trying to sell something, or meet someone, sounds sketchy. But at that time living breathing receptionists, normally women, guarded the door and answered the phone. If they didn’t want you to contact someone, you just didn’t. So, I did what I had to do.
I hurried down the halls, reading doors, looking for the sales department. A red-headed woman who looked like she was on a mission took a left. On instinct, I followed her.
There it was--the sales bullpen: the familiar grey steel desks scattered over an open area, mostly men and a few women on the phone fiddling with Rolodexes, a sulky traffic girl staring at a large green computer screen with a flashing C prompt. In many ways, it reminded me of the two previous radio stations I’d worked for. Except that everyone looked like they lived in a small apartment in a city with roommates. The walls were covered with concert posters or signs supporting or condemning something.
“Hi!” I said as loud as I dared. “I’m here to see the sales manager.”
A tall, lanky, curly-haired guy who was walking through the bullpen head down, and reading out loud what sounded like ad copy, stopped in front of me and shouted into the air. “Greg! There’s someone here to see you!” He glanced over at me and asked, “You looking for a job?” When I hesitated he said, “Well, good luck anyway.” and kept on walking.
Before I could stop blushing, a short stocky guy with a brown mullet walked into the bullpen. He checked me out for a second or two and he told me to follow him to his office.
Greg was about my age and the only one in the station wearing a jacket. Robert Crumb’s ‘Keep on Truckin’ poster was hanging on the wall behind his desk.
I launched into my tale: I was successful at KDKA, but it wasn’t a fit. I brought in new business, but that wasn’t good enough. I got cash in advance, but that didn’t matter.
“I get it. They’re uptight idiots over there. But they must have seen something in you.” He tipped back in his chair. “If you want a job, show up tomorrow at 8 a.m. for a meeting about a station promotion we’re doing.”
“I’ll be there,” I said as fast as I could. I was scared to death of talking past the close.
The meeting the next morning was held in the station's break room. There were people draped on counters, sitting on the edge of the sink, and on the floor. The tall curly-headed guy who’d wished me luck the previous day was leaning against the frig. He introduced himself as Kurt. He told me he was the morning man there and added right away that he used to be the morning man at a station in Boston.
The red-headed woman I’d followed to the bullpen was standing next to a table loaded with bagels. She let out what I thought might be a Tarzan yell. I found out later Pat worked a couple of nights a week at the comedy club, Laugh till it Hurts, and it had become something of a tradition for her to bring these meetings to order with her intimation of Carol Burnet’s famous Tarzan yell.
Greg got right into the promotion. It seemed that the actress Jennifer Beal was a childhood friend of Pat’s. She was in town filming a movie called Flashdance, and she’d promised Pat she would take part in an on-air promotion as a personal favor to her.
The plan was that Miss Beal would ride in a big hot air balloon along with Kurt, who would do the cut-ins with another announcer on the ground. They planned to take off from the station parking lot at 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning and head to her movie set in the produce district. While the balloon was floating to the movie location, Jennifer was supposed to toss out coins for listeners to find along the way.
OK, I thought. I don't know if I'll make any money here, but at least this could be interesting.
To be Continued in Chapter 2 "Preparations?"
