> For those of you who remember the Zoo 98 production sound, Bag did it all
> on only 4 tracks of analog and one first generation Harmonizer.
Thank you for the compliments, kind sir, however, I believe you're still being a bit too modest.
When The Mighty 'Saur (otherwise known as He Who Talks To Wires) came to the ZOU, our production facility consisted of an old Auditronics production board (which I believe was steam-powered) and three two track tape machines...an Ampex 440B and a couple of really old Ampex 350's. For effects devices, we had a roll of Scotch tape to wrap around one of the capstans. Our on-air processing chain was a cobbled-together mess the last engineer put together, some of which bore the brand name Heathkit. The on-air studio was even worse.
Through the aforementioned trading, plus a lot of begging, borrowing and almost outright theft, 'Saur put together a facility that may not have been pretty, and it may have needed a well-placed kick from time to time, but for the analog days, it not only had a sound I haven't heard since, but it was amazingly clean. When you consider the poor guy had a budget that forced him to recycle solder, this was nothing short of a miracle.
The comments on Jerry Lousteau (Uglee Jerry) are pretty close. He was a brilliant programmer and top-notch marketing person and promoter, but the part about ticking people off in 30 seconds isn't true. It was more like 5 seconds.
The truth is, a huge part of what made the ZOU great was Jerry's no-compromise attitude. If something wasn't good for the station, it wasn't allowed to exist, and there was no discussion on those points. And he had no problem demanding extraordinary things from his people. That's where Jerry earned his rep as a horse's patootie. But after you got beyond his bluster, he was basically a good guy, and for me, became a good friend.
A couple of "G" rated stories I can tell are: as most people who listened to the ZOU during that time know, Jerry's words were always accompanied by a fair amount of saliva. And when he walked down the long hall in the programming area, he had a small problem with waddling. Bobby Knight (our afternoon jock who did a dead-on impersonation of Jerry) organized a bunch of us to follow Jerry wherever he went, copying his voice and walk, which made us look like a mother duck leading her ducklings, and drove Jerry straight up the wall.
Then there's the time when GM Hal Smith put a nameplate on his desk that said (cleaned up version) "Dammit Hal". His reason being, since that's the first thing everyone said when they entered his office, he guessed we must have thought "Dammit" was his first name.
I guess that's about as far as I can go, as the rest of the stories mostly involve farm animals.