Dialed In
By Mark D. Crantz
I was happy to hear about the new leadership of the local radio station, KXFM. The new team sounds perfect for turning up the volume and making the station even better.
I was in radio once. I had the face for it. (That’s a very old joke, and not mine. You can tell the difference; it’s funny. Mine aren’t.) My radio days were in the mid-70s. Rock ‘n roll was big, and musicians needed to get their songs on the radio for airtime. This requirement put DJs in powerful positions of influence.
This was not my experience. There were no rock ‘n roll playlists, powerful DJs, or adulating listeners. If only. Instead, I worked for a small-town AM station that played the same song over and over. It was Perry Como’s “Catch A Falling Star.” You see, Perry Como grew up in Canonsburg, Penn., just down the road from Washington, Penn., where the radio station was located. The locals called it Little Washington, so it wasn’t confused with the other Washington. Trust me, the two Washingtons could never be mistaken for each other. Anyway, where was I? Oh, Perry Como was the local boy who hit the big time. The big time was twenty years before I got there, but the locals won’t forget. The playlist insisted on “Catch a Falling Star,” be played over and over until the grooves wore out.
I remember saying, “Could we add a second song to the playlist? Management answered, “Hey, you’re a newbie. Wait 50 years and we’ll consider your suggestion. For now, get out there and sell some airtime.”
So, I got out there and sold airtime. Or, to be honest about it, that’s what I tried to do. Nobody wanted to buy airtime. Back then, if you wanted to advertise, you bought newspaper space. Newspapers were big business. Advertisers liked print. They could see their advertisements, feel their advertisements, then watch, as readers poured through their doors to buy their products or services.
Unfortunately for me, nobody could see airtime. I’d say to prospective radio buyers, “Get up at 4:21 a.m., tune in to 970 AM, be careful not to pick up the other 500 Pittsburgh stations encroaching on our station’s signal, and you’ll hear the 30-second spot. If you miss it, another will play at 5:13 a.m., so start fine-tuning your dial around 5:03 a.m.” Not surprisingly, very few advertisers bought my pitch.
I was paid $65 dollars a week or $1.63 an hour. Minimum wage for the time was $2.50 an hour. I didn’t make a fuss about it because the station was giving me a lifetime opportunity to showcase my selling prowess. And besides, Horatio Algers started out at $1.25 and he made it.
Nobody wanted to buy radio time from a station that played Perry Como’s “Catch a Falling Star” over and over. To break up the station’s one-song playlist, the station broadcasted live high school wrestling. Yes readers, live high school wrestling. Makes you want to make a song request, instead. How about “Catch a Falling Star.”
Of course, I improvised and tried selling outside the radio box. Nobody could afford the one-minute commercial price. So I sold 10-second spots to six different advertisers. In the background was the sound of a stock ticker tape playing. Tick, tick, tick gave the commercial message a sense of urgency. Close your eyes and imagine….(Tick, tick, tick) Bounce over to Annie’s Mattress Shop….(tick…tick…tick) Get 10% off Mike’s Oil & Lube…(tick…tick…tick) Light up Chesterfield cigarettes from the Washington Tobacco Shop…satisfaction guaranteed (tick…tick…tick.)
These advertisers sharing sixty seconds kept me gainfully employed. But I sensed layoffs coming. One day before taking lunch I popped my head in the general manager’s door and said, “Should I keep my coat on when I come back?” The GM laughed, “No, no. We like what you’re doing Crantz.” Tick…tick…tick. Several days pass, I come back from lunch, “Hey Crantz remember what you said about keeping your coat on? Sorry.” It was humiliating to be fired with my own line. I made it too easy for them. On the way out, I sang to myself, “Catch a falling knife and put it in your pocket. Never let it bleed away.” I felt better.
Crantz tells the Indy that Perry Como started out as a barber at the age of 14. Twelve years later in 1926, Como pulled in $125 per week net profit. Twice my salary, fifty years later. Now Como was dialed in.
