A long time ago, when I was a junior at USF and working at the station there, I called up this new guy on KFRC. I had tried chatting up JJ Jackson and Beau Weaver before. They were both very nice, but they had radio to do and didn’t have time to carry on a dialog with some radio wannabe.
But then there was this new guy. He had this huge voice that poured out of the radio like a chocolate sundae. That was cool. But more than that, I remember genuine warmth in that voice that was the whipped cream on top. This guy had something special. I’d spent three years listening to airchecks of the “best” across the country, but this guy was different.
One night I called him on the request line and he talked with me. He didn’t chat. He wasn’t flip or glib or in a hurry. He talked with me. We talked about my interest in Top 40, about where he was from and when we were done, he asked me to call back and keep in touch.
I did. We chatted a few more times before he invited me down to 415 Bush St. where we talked some more. I liked this guy, and the peek into the world of big-time radio to which I aspired. He brought me to his apartment in the avenues where I met his wife and baby girl. (I remember the baby gate at the top of the stairs.) I was welcomed as a friend into a very comfortable place. Later, I looked in awe at the view from his home studio in Colma, and the equipment just this side of his window on the bay.
His kindness extended to helping me get my first job doing weekends at KKIQ, helping me pick my air name, he even loaned me his Pinto wagon once. He invited me to go to Ocean’s birthday party in the mid-70s. That was surreal. I met talent from KFRC and other stations in the city. I seem to remember Eric Chase, Jack Friday, Dave Sholin, Kevin McCarthy among them, but that was over 30 years ago so the memory is a bit soft around the edges. For a 20 year old kid, this was pretty heady stuff. Given the iconic stature that radio of that era has assumed now, it’s heady for me even now.
After college, I went full time in Livermore and on to an on-air career that lasted shy of seven years in small markets on both coasts. All the while, we kept in touch. His friendship and encouragement meant a lot to me through the ups and downs of my broadcasting career.
When my wife and I found out that we were going to have a child, I decided that the life of a radio gypsy wasn’t right for me. My friend from the Big 610 and I chatted periodically after that from hundreds and thousands of miles away as I did my high-tech marketing, but ultimately the conversations ended.
Through the years, I’ve never forgotten that man and his optimism. If not for him I wouldn’t have had the confidence to pursue a wild and wonderful seven years in radio. Aside from Arnie “Woo Woo” Guinsbug, who showed a little kid how much fun radio can be for the listener on a cold winter’s night in New England, there are three people who taught me how good radio could be; Dr. Don Rose for his humor and incredible warmth, Bobby Ocean for his theatre-of-the-mind walk-ups and promo spots (“…just another wave in a sea of consciousness.”), and my friend John Mack.
John… the world of radio is a smaller place without you in it. Your big voice wasn’t your gift. It was your ability to touch the listener and make them feel like you were talking just to them. I remember hearing you when I visited the Bay Area in the 90s. Yeah, you still were doing it.
From the guy that declared Marshall Law on the “Valley of the Q”, you can still do whatever you want… do Rockford, do grampa, do radio. It’s always been up to you… and it still is.
Be happy my friend.
Rick
But then there was this new guy. He had this huge voice that poured out of the radio like a chocolate sundae. That was cool. But more than that, I remember genuine warmth in that voice that was the whipped cream on top. This guy had something special. I’d spent three years listening to airchecks of the “best” across the country, but this guy was different.
One night I called him on the request line and he talked with me. He didn’t chat. He wasn’t flip or glib or in a hurry. He talked with me. We talked about my interest in Top 40, about where he was from and when we were done, he asked me to call back and keep in touch.
I did. We chatted a few more times before he invited me down to 415 Bush St. where we talked some more. I liked this guy, and the peek into the world of big-time radio to which I aspired. He brought me to his apartment in the avenues where I met his wife and baby girl. (I remember the baby gate at the top of the stairs.) I was welcomed as a friend into a very comfortable place. Later, I looked in awe at the view from his home studio in Colma, and the equipment just this side of his window on the bay.
His kindness extended to helping me get my first job doing weekends at KKIQ, helping me pick my air name, he even loaned me his Pinto wagon once. He invited me to go to Ocean’s birthday party in the mid-70s. That was surreal. I met talent from KFRC and other stations in the city. I seem to remember Eric Chase, Jack Friday, Dave Sholin, Kevin McCarthy among them, but that was over 30 years ago so the memory is a bit soft around the edges. For a 20 year old kid, this was pretty heady stuff. Given the iconic stature that radio of that era has assumed now, it’s heady for me even now.
After college, I went full time in Livermore and on to an on-air career that lasted shy of seven years in small markets on both coasts. All the while, we kept in touch. His friendship and encouragement meant a lot to me through the ups and downs of my broadcasting career.
When my wife and I found out that we were going to have a child, I decided that the life of a radio gypsy wasn’t right for me. My friend from the Big 610 and I chatted periodically after that from hundreds and thousands of miles away as I did my high-tech marketing, but ultimately the conversations ended.
Through the years, I’ve never forgotten that man and his optimism. If not for him I wouldn’t have had the confidence to pursue a wild and wonderful seven years in radio. Aside from Arnie “Woo Woo” Guinsbug, who showed a little kid how much fun radio can be for the listener on a cold winter’s night in New England, there are three people who taught me how good radio could be; Dr. Don Rose for his humor and incredible warmth, Bobby Ocean for his theatre-of-the-mind walk-ups and promo spots (“…just another wave in a sea of consciousness.”), and my friend John Mack.
John… the world of radio is a smaller place without you in it. Your big voice wasn’t your gift. It was your ability to touch the listener and make them feel like you were talking just to them. I remember hearing you when I visited the Bay Area in the 90s. Yeah, you still were doing it.
From the guy that declared Marshall Law on the “Valley of the Q”, you can still do whatever you want… do Rockford, do grampa, do radio. It’s always been up to you… and it still is.
Be happy my friend.
Rick
