Static

Static

Wolfman Jack was the prize. In a time far removed from today, I grew up. In many ways, I was educated by the airwaves.

From my earliest memories, I was always fascinated by radio and television. I remember sitting in front of our General Electric black and white television watching whatever I could tune in. That was quite a challenge back then. Our television probably had a 17 inch screen, and it rested on a 1960’s shiny metal stand with a magazine rack below the stand. My mother kept her staple Redbook and Look magazines there. I used to love to mess with the channel selector knob on that TV. I’d constantly click through the 13 channels and try to mess with the rabbit eared antenna to pull in faint traces of far away stations. In Roanoke, we really could only get three stations, WDBJ (CBS) 7, WSLS (NBC) 10, and WBRA (PBS) UHF 15. With clever antenna manipulation, I could tune in snowy images from WLVA (ABC WSET) 13. My prize, however, was WXII 12 from Highpoint/ Greensboro, North Carolina. I always felt that if I could tune in faint ghost images from that station, I was actually traveling to that foreign place. On Saturday mornings, WXII ran Mid-Atlantic Championship Wrestling, such educational offerings and so forward thinking.

Radio, however, was my true love. I was always fascinated by the radio on our old Philco record player (I think it was a Philco). Anyway, the machine had a record player with a deluxe speaker under the platter. Situated on the front of the speaker was a smiling radio tuning system. Round knob for volume on the upper left front. Round knob for tuning on the upper right. AM tuning band centered in an arc directly between the two knobs. J The machine always looked like it was smiling at me. I’d sit for hours tuning in distant stations, carefully turning the tuning knob, passing distant voices; listening as voices faded into static. Traditional, Country and Western, Swap Shop, Rock. They were all there. Somewhere near 1300AM, the tuner labeled something called “CD.” I later learned that this was where I could find information on the pending nuclear apocalypse. On the other end of the dial, King Edward IV played his goofy country and western music.

Some time after my seventh birthday, I received a transistor radio, complete with an earpiece. I loved my radio, I’d set it to WROV 1240 and listen to the best of the new rock n’ roll. ROV had some really cool jocks. Freddy Freelance, Bart Prater, Larry Bly, and later Rob O’Brady. These guys made my life. At night, I’d fall asleep with the radio under my pillow and let my mind rock into the night, muffled through the down.

I remember that when I turned 8, I began my football career on a hapless sandlot team. We were the castaways, kids who weren’t selected in the first round of picks because we appeared to be too timid or weak for real aggressive ball. We were given a couple of “real players” to give some depth and coordination to our ridiculous mob of nerds. Our team only won one game that fall, but we had one really cool coach, Mr. Sigmon, who just happened to be a nighttime DJ at WROV. After each losing game, he’d point out all of the positive plays our team made and share funny stories from our trips to Mr. Moe’s for milkshakes after games. The night that we won our only game, by forfeit when the other team failed to show up, he celebrated our victory for all of Roanoke to hear. I was so proud!

When I turned 9, my parents got me a real radio that plugged into the wall. This Juliette possessed unimagined distant power. With it, I could tune in the mysterious world at night. I would sit in the dark in my room after I went to bed and scroll through the powerful glowing AM dial. Soon, I learned to focus on three main frequencies: 670 (WNBC-New York), 770 (WABC-New York), and 880 (WCBS-New York). I especially loved WNBC because they were the dark lair of the amazing Wolfman Jack. This cat would howl into his microphone in New York City or Texas, and it would carry all the way to my bedroom in Virginia. Wolfman was a compassionate cat. He’d tone his howls down and speak seriously to his audience in a compassionate voice, then he’d crank it all up again and spin platters with the best of the modern music scene.

Sometime in that period, I began to have a social education through “Dr. Demento.” This guy was just plain nuts. When I was lucky enough to get his weekly show, I’d hear all kinds of wacky songs led by the amazing tune, “Shaving Cream.”

ARTIST: Benny Bell with Paul Wynn

TITLE: Shaving Cream

Lyrics and Chords

I have a sad story to tell you

It may hurt your feelings a bit

Last night when I walked into my bathroom

I stepped in a big pile of

/ C - - - / - - G7 - / - - C - / F G7 / 

{Refrain}

Shaving cream, be nice and clean

Shave everyday and you'll always look keen

/ C - - - / F C G7 C / 

I think I'll break off with my girlfriend

Her antics are queer I'll admit

Each time I say, "Darling, I love you"

She tells me that I'm full of

{Refrain}

Our baby fell out of the window

You'd think that her head would be split

But good luck was with her that morning

She fell in a barrel of

(Refrain}

An old lady died in a bathtub

She died from a terrible fit

In order to fulfill her wishes

She was buried in six feet of

{Refrain}

When I was in France with the army

One day I looked into my kit

I thought I would find me a sandwich

But the darn thing was loaded with

{Refrain}

And now, folks, my story is ended

I think it is time I should quit

If any of you feel offended

Stick your head in a barrel of

{Refrain}

Over time, I learned geography by pulling in AM stations from all over eastern America, Canada, and Mexico. I learned about murders and protests from WCBS and WABC. I could even tell you when the Throgs Neck Bridge was jammed with traffic.

AHHH-OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH…Wolfman Jack here baby! And the big Wolfman AHHH---OOOOOHHHHHHH is gonna spin some platters for you baby!! AHHH-OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

To this day I stay nice and clean and I always look keen. I grew up as a human transistor to a modern age.