90 lines
5.0 KiB
Plaintext
90 lines
5.0 KiB
Plaintext
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THE FOLLOWING IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL.
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"One Of A Kind" From the Electronic Edition of One-To-One --by Jay Trachman
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"Come in, sit down," he commanded as I strolled past the transmitter room with
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a cup of coffee in my hand.
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"Oh, no," I thought--not another lecture about "the old songs are coming back,"
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or how the syndicators are ruining radio...
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The old engineer twinkled his patented twinkle and began, "Style, m'boy-- what
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you need is style! That's what separates the great from the also- rans, the
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stars from the bit players, the winners from the losers, the men from the boys.
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Sit down and I'll tell you what radio is all about."
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It was already too late. He could not be denied. "Yes, Mr. Heller," I said
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reluctantly. Around the station, we usually called him Gramps, but I was never
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sure whether he liked the title. "I thought I already had a style. I spent my
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whole childhood listening to the greats in my profession, studying them,
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practicing doing things the way they did, until everyone told me, 'You're
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ready--go for it!' Are you saying I have no style?"
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"The style of a parrot, son--no offense! Did Edison, Einstein, Benny, Burns
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and Berle do everything the way those before them had done? Look at Al Radka!"
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"You're pulling my leg," I laughed. "I was his replacement on the air, because
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everyone said he was making the whole station sound like fifties radio!"
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"A capital crime in your book," he responded, frowning. "With all his silly
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noises, his singing commercials and cornball jokes and that dumb hat, Radka had
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more style than any of you kids on the air today. Personally, I never much
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cared for him either--but I listened, because he was the only one who didn't
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sound like all the others. That's why he lasted on the air a dog's age longer
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than he should've, and why folks around here still remember his name--years
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after he's had a daily show. Think about some of those younger generation
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characters, too--Dick Clark, Gary Owens, and even that Stern fellow back
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East--no matter what you think of their act, they've got style--and no two of
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'em are alike."
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"But those people are all geniuses, Mr. Heller; I don't think I'm in that
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league--I'm just a guy trying to do my job. I can't reinvent the the
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lightbulb, or even radio," I protested.
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"Nonsense!" he proclaimed. "Some of 'em are geniuses; some of 'em ain't.
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Radka's no genius, sure as Hell. It doesn't take a great mind to have
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style--look at Ronald Reagan--why do you think folks voted for him? What each
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of those characters did mainly was to reinvent themselves...The rest just
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followed.
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"It wasn't their brains," he said, warming to the topic; "it was who they were.
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One of a kind, every one. They didn't spend their time tryin' to please
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everybody or learnin' how to be like everyone else; they just were. And what
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each of 'em is, is bigger than me, bigger than you, sonny--bigger than life!
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Each of 'em had, or has a unique way of seein' the world, and tellin' you and
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me about it in such a way that makes us want to hear more."
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"But if you don't think I have style, Mr. Heller, then how am I supposed to
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get it?" I asked.
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He thought a moment, then spoke softly: "To those who understand, no
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explanation is necessary--"
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"Cut the crap, Gramps," I said. "I don't even understand what it is, so how am
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I supposed to develop it?"
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"I ain't your teacher, son, and even if I was, I suspect it ain't something you
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can take lessons for. Maybe you have to be born with it. Or maybe you just
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gotta' give yourself a chance for it to happen. You guys today, you're so busy
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giving the call letters, and givin' them again, and again, you forget to take
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the time to be human bein's. Those programming logs-- maybe they ought to say,
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'8:32--Be a human bein': 30 seconds'! But you're an okay guy, and you listen;
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so let me see if I can come up with an answer to a question I know you asked
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sincerely. If you and your so-called 'personality' buddies strip away all the
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one-liners you're doin' just because you think you're SUPPOSED to be funny, and
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all the cliches about the time o' day and the weather I hear you usin' on every
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show, and the deep rrrradio voice you try to force that sounds so phony even in
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my old ears, and all the little comments you make about what a great station
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this is, that I'm so sick o' hearin' over and over again, and take the time to
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say somethin' you really FEEL, from the heart, maybe that would be a good first
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step. How are folks supposed to grab ahold of your style, if they don't even
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know who you are?"
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And with that, he set his ancient, stained coffee mug down, pulled his
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Pendleton closely around his shoulders, stared at the wall of meters in front
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of him and smiled gently. I was about to ask him who he thought had the most
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of this "style" here at the station. Then, I saw him tap one of the meters and
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say, "Come on, baby, get back where you belong," until the thing read true
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again, and I thought, I already know... (Your comments are welcome.)
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