So, I honestly have no idea whether I've told this story on this board or not in the past 20-something years, but if I have it's been forever, so...
I wanted to be on the radio starting at age 8. Heard Gary Owens on KMPC and that was it. But I thought you had to go to school, finish college and then God knows what.
Flash forward six years. My dad died the year I heard Gary Owens and we've moved 270 miles north of L.A. to Bishop, California, where my mom's side of the family had been for the past 45 years.
There's one radio station, KIBS. 1,000 watts daytime, 250 nighttime at 1230 on the dial. They hire high school kids for cheap talent.
One day, at age 14, I'm shooting hoops with some friends when Virginia Holmes, a substitute teacher and host of KIBS' daily "Coffee With Virginia" (light pop music, household hints and recipes) is visiting her sister, our next-door neighbor.
She recognizes me from school and remembers I read well. So she comes out to ask if I'd like a job at the radio station. I'd like a job at the gas station---are you kidding me? She clears it with mom, takes me down to KIBS, pulls a newscast off the wire machine and has me read it into a tape recorder.
She gives the tape to the General Manager, John Hemler, whose kids I go to school with. He calls and says if I can pass the FCC third-class (with endorsement) test, he'll give me a job. He loans me the books to study, mom takes a day off work, drives 270 miles to Los Angeles, waits in the hallway of the federal building while I take the exam, buys me a Big Mac (we didn't have McDonald's in Bishop yet), and drives 270 miles back to Bishop.
Three weeks later (during which I had turned 15), an official-looking envelope arrives from the FCC and inside is my license. I'm hired.
I start with the 6:00 a.m.-Noon shift on Sundays. Duties: Unlock the building, turn on the transmitter, hit the sign-on at 6:00 a.m. and play religious tapes and public affairs shows back-to-back for six hours. I can turn on the microphone (in fact, I have to) every half-hour to say "KIBS, Bishop." No more, no less.
After about six weeks of that, someone leaves, they hire a new kid, give him that shift and I move into Noon to 6 on Sundays, where I can actually play records and talk. Granted, they're not the records I'd want to play (those are only played at night), but it's something.
Six months in, I get the weekday evenings, and as David said, I rode my bike from school to the radio station. When I signed off at 10 p.m., Mom would be waiting in the parking lot, we'd put the bike in the trunk of her Mercury and go home.
Six months after that, I had a driver's license and 90 days after that I'd bought a used car, so I got myself to and from work.
At that station, in just under three years, I went from that "only the ID" Sunday morning shift to Sunday afternoons, weekday evenings, Music Director, Program Director and midday jock.
So, yeah....you could do it. In 1971, in a town of 3,500. Everyone's mileage absolutely varied.