KHJ: INSIDE BOSS RADIO ~ Part 4

Partial Ron Jacobs 93/KHJ Boss Radio archives, shipment to Ray Randolph. March 2006.

Introduction

Boss Radio: Day One

If you can believe it, no one can agree on the exact date Boss Radio began. KHJ historian Ray Randolph and I have been arguing about this for more than ten years now. Sometimes I think that it was May 5, 1965. But that is easily confused in my mind with the launch date of earlier stations with which I was involved. Other times something tells me it was May 3.

Why wasn’t Randolph on the Warren Commission or one of the Watergate investigating committees? Here is a tiny portion of his evidence:

I’m not really concerned about any May date. What RJ is looking for is the date that Steele first cracked the mike in response to KFWB. That date is April 27, 1965.

The May 5th date in the Cruisin’ album liner notes somehow became the de facto “start date” by the end of 1965. Jacobs produced the records. Perhaps he thought it sounded better than May 3rd. A few items where the May 5th date has been heard/spotted:

1) 1965 “Christmas Wish” audio promo. Robert W. Morgan states: “... as the holiday season
approaches, for the first time since Boss Radio began on May 5th, we’re stopping the
constant contests ...”

2) One of the “Boss Goldens” albums lists May 5th as the start date.

3) On Boss 30 Survey No. 95, a promo on the back for the “Birthday Firebird” contest states:
“Boss Radio is two years old on May 5, 1967.”

4) In a 1969 form letter from Warren Earl to those who wrote in with praise for the “History of

Rock ’n’ Roll,” it states: “Not since we began our ‘Boss Radio’ format on May 5, 1965 have

we received such an overwhelming ...”

This info is “reference only” for the hardcore. It also has no impact on the fact that the “Sneak Preview” began on April 27th, 1965.

Then Randolph lists three pages of evidence in support of his claim. For over a decade Randolph has proven me wrong. And I was the damn program director. So let’s go with April 27, already.

“The Boss Jocks Are Coming to KFWB!”

We know the place was 5515 Melrose Avenue, long before it became a trendy street. Back then it was grubby and nondescript. The drab, three-story building that housed KHJ radio and TV resembled a plumbing-supply house. At the entrance, across from a guard shack, sulked a lone banana plan

t. The structure was surrounded by the Paramount and Desilu film studios and a restaurant called Nickodell's, which had red Naugahyde booths and smelled like Lysol and Scotch.

KHJ-TV and office employees looked down their noses at us. We were just the latest in the KHJ Radio Format-of-The-Month Club. It was obvious there’d be little support from our fellow RKO broadcasters. We would rely on our own small Boss group, and our collective desire to do or die.

The day began with a promo jingle recording session at a small studio a few blocks away, down Melrose Avenue. By noon, hysteria swept through the radio section of the building. New KHJ deejay Roger Christian, formerly of KFWB, was the co-writer of the Beach Boys’ hit, “Little Deuce Coupe.” Roger and Brian Wilson let us use the track to overdub our new “Boss Jock” deejay lineup. So the jocks, none of whom could sing a note, were down the street in a sound booth talking in rhythm to the song’s beat.

Professional vocalists handled the chorus, “It’s the new KHJ, now you know what we got.” The jocks did endless takes of their simple rhymes. One of them, Robert W. Morgan, was browsing around his portable radio. He stopped at KFWB at 980 on the dial. Morgan thought he was hearing things he shouldn’t have been. Like KFWB using material we planned to debut the next week. Liners, such as “Boss Radio ... KFWB.”

In those pre-focus group days we called such phrases “liners,” short for one-liners. KFWB relentlessly blasted more slogans: “KFWB 20/20 News.” “The Boss Jocks are coming to KFWB!” Morgan literally ran down Melrose Avenue to the KHJ building, through the lobby and into my office, KFWB trilling from his tinny transistor. At first, I refused to believe what I heard. It was a waking nightmare or acid flashback. But it was happening. I even realized why but filed that away ’til later.

“OK, let's do it.”

I buzzed General Manager Ken DeVaney on the third floor. “You’re not going to believe this, but ’WB is on the air using all our new stuff.” Silence. DeVaney, a lawyer by training, never spoke impulsively. I always did: “Ken, it’s fucking happening. Morgan has it here on his radio.”

“Call Drake, I’ll be right down.”

I phoned Bill Drake on his ultra-hotline. “I’m coming right in,” said America’s future #1 radio programming consultant.

With “KFWB Boss Radio” in the background, I told Morgan and DeVaney why I thought it happened. I started at KHJ several weeks before and discovered two newsmen working there who I knew from Honolulu. One was Andy West. He was “Jumpin’ George” West on KPOI in Honolulu in 1959 until he was fired for threatening me with a gun.

I never worked with the other guy. But, when I was hired he thought he’d be fired on the spot. Actually, the News Department was the last thing on my mind, there being so much to do. Anyway, this n

ewsman ran to KFWB and offered to divulge KHJ’s game plan if they’d hire him.

They did and he did, and that’s why Drake, DeVaney and I were huddled in my cubicle of an office frowning, swearing and more pissed than any trio using a Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum men’s john at halftime of a typical Rams game.

We discussed our limited options. Drake proclaimed, “We’ll start today with the new format. Today.”

“We can call it a ‘Sneak Preview’ of the new format,” I added.

“Can we do it and when?” DeVaney asked.

This photo of The Real Don Steele, taken on February 10, 1969, is one of dozens of publicity shots taken by Henry Diltz, then a starving, apprentice photographer. Diltz and Jacobs met at Punahou School in the 1960s, when Diltz was focused on music as a future member of the Modern Folk Quartet. Today, Diltz is considered one of the major rock photographers. Many more unreleased photos, such as the above, will be seen in the revised edition of KHJ: Inside Boss Radio.

“Three o’clock,” I said, faking the confidence of Eisenhower on D-Day. “Boss Radio 93/KHJ debuts with The Real Don Steele Show at 3 p.m.” It was about 11:15 in the morning.

We had 3 hours and 45 minutes to do a week’s work. Responsibilities were assigned: I’d stay on the first floor, where the studios were. Drake stationed himself close by the traffic people, convincing them that they could have a Boss program log ready in time. DeVaney returned to the executive offices and played free safety. We sent out for two dozen Nickodell’s hamburgers with French fries.

By then the jocks were back from their session. The Real Don Steele was in the production room rehearsing. That was part of our countdown drill, two weeks of practice before going live. Steele had just done one of his patented manic intros to the Supremes’ “Stop in The Name of Love” when I walked in.

“Don, uh, you know KFWB’s on with all our stuff.”

“Yeah, Morgan told me.”

“Well, ah, we — Drake, DeVaney and me — we decided we gotta go a little earlier, or they’ll cop our whole trip. And you’re the guy to kick off the real Boss Radio.”

“When?” asked Steele, casually.

“Oh, ah, you know, your regular shift. In about three hours.”

He said, “OK, let’s do it,” and cranked up his monitor until Diana Ross nearly blew out the studio windows. This would be the last day Donald S. Revert would be an unknown disc jockey born several blocks away from that very spot.