B
Braswell
Guest
Via Ma Bell, I just had a little visit with Don Sports of metropolitan, downtown Hagan, Georgia. For those that don't know, Don was the manager/owner of WCLA in Claxton, Georgia for nearly 40 years. He sold the stations in 1997.
No, he isn't from Cobbtown...he hails from Douglas. That "Cobbtown Sport" comment was just something my daddy used to say, when he was affectionately referring to someone he liked.
I discovered that Don occasionally peruses these pages, so I gotta watch what I say (be careful who you talk about...you may be speaking to their sister).
Don mentioned that he'd seen a blurb that I'd posted about his music and radio philosophy, which was that "...I don't CARE what kind of music we play. The damn music ain't good for nothin' but holdin' the radio station together between the news and the commercials". That may not be a precise quote, but's it's close. As I recall, I was probably critical of that mindset, but let's just leave it at that...that's not the reason for this post.
When Don answered the phone, I told him that I wanted to thank him for putting up with "kids" like me (and there was a bunch of us that he had to endure over the years), and "gently" guiding us to fame and fortune, even though he must've worn out several good pairs of shoes from all that butt kickin'!
Like SO many small-market broadcasters, he was running a business. A business that he supported his family from. To Don (and the others), this was not fun and games...it was serious. One by one, all of us know-it-alls passed through, seeking to enlighten him on the error of his ways. Thinking back, I guess he didn't own any guns, knives or brass knuckles. Ain't no doubt...he'd a killed a few of us, if he did! That said, he must've listened, 'cause he had a pretty good run. Shoot, if it hadn't been for us, he'd a-had to've padlocked that place, back in the sixties!
Joking aside, as I look back, I realize just how much I owe to "Cobbtown sports" like Don Sports. In their own way, all of the people I worked for were pretty good mentors. Although there was much kicking, screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth, they helped teach "the rules of the road" to many a kid like me.
Wanna hear my favorite Don Sports/Jay Braswell story? Good, 'cause I'm gonna tell it anyway!
When I worked for WCLA, I did the Sunday morning sign-on. We signed-on at 7 o'clock on Sunday, and, like most small town stations, had back to back religious programming 'til noon (or later). I lived less than 5 minutes from the station (in a luxury suite in the majestic Palms Motor Lodge). I could get up at 10 'till 7, and make it to work with seconds to spare. In those days, my wardrobe and hygiene left much to be desired, but I digress.
On this particular Sunday, I awoke to the sun streaming brightly into the window of my palatial bachelor pad. Wait a minute...this ain't right. Oh my God...my wristwatch said the time was 9:45. Swiftly, I threw on my pants and shirt, and literally flew out of the parking lot (that '72 Nova would haul ass), racing across U.S. Highway 301, careening into the driveway of 316 N. River Street on two wheels...and ran almost slap into the ass-end of Don's dark green Ford Torino. I corrected and slid around his car, jumping out before it stopped rolling. As I did, Don opened the driver's door of his car, put one foot on the ground, with the other still in the car, leaned across the door, stared into my eyes with a look that'd kill kudzu, and said "I'm glad to see you finally decided to grace us with your prescence", then shook his head, got back in the car, cranked up, and backed out of the driveway. I knew I was a dead man, but he never, ever mentioned it to me.
An "inside" to any WCLA alumni that visit these pages...even though it was 10 'till 10, Willie Bell Harper was sitting on the front steps, with that paper sack full of records in one hand, and several handwritten pages of obituaries for me to read, in the other!
To the rest of you, Willie Bell owned Harper's Funeral Home, the black funeral home in Claxton. He had a 30 minute program every Sunday morning at 7 o'clock. The program consisted of playing those scratched-up 45's (no shucks), and me reading whatever obituaries there might be, along with some special dedications. Willie Bell did NOT talk on the radio. If you ain't ever worked at a small station, and had the pleasure of reading a handwritten obituary of a black person (no, I'm not being racist), you ain't lived.
Oh, I asked Willie Bell why he was still sitting there at 9:45, and he said he figured somebody would eventually show up! Talk about your loyal advertisers.
For many years, "Super 'CLA" was a hell of a good little station. To Don's chagrin, the hits got played, but the news got on, and the commercials were played, too. Even though Don and the others say they don't miss it, I'm not sure I believe them. I wish I could go back, and do it all again...knowing what I know now, of course!
There are many more stories to tell, about WCLA, and other stations, too. As long as this ol' keyboard'll keep functioning, you can count on me to keep on tellin' em.
Don...when you read this, I want you to tell our listening audience about the time a few bad words (from you) almost got on the air during the noon news. Don't remember? Let me help. Blasting forth from the speaker of the huge Motorola two-way base station, came a screaming command that went something like, "Car 1 to Claxton, Car 1 to Claxton...get it off, get it off, get it OFF". Now do you remember?
To all the Dons, Jims, Genes, Vernons (yes, I know I'm forgetting some names) that put up with "that damned Jay Braswell"...thank you for your patience, thank you for your tutilage, and thank you for helping me to make radio my life's work. <P ID="signature">______________
Jay Braswell - Moderator
Atlanta/North Florida/South Carolina/Georgia Boards</P>
No, he isn't from Cobbtown...he hails from Douglas. That "Cobbtown Sport" comment was just something my daddy used to say, when he was affectionately referring to someone he liked.
I discovered that Don occasionally peruses these pages, so I gotta watch what I say (be careful who you talk about...you may be speaking to their sister).
Don mentioned that he'd seen a blurb that I'd posted about his music and radio philosophy, which was that "...I don't CARE what kind of music we play. The damn music ain't good for nothin' but holdin' the radio station together between the news and the commercials". That may not be a precise quote, but's it's close. As I recall, I was probably critical of that mindset, but let's just leave it at that...that's not the reason for this post.
When Don answered the phone, I told him that I wanted to thank him for putting up with "kids" like me (and there was a bunch of us that he had to endure over the years), and "gently" guiding us to fame and fortune, even though he must've worn out several good pairs of shoes from all that butt kickin'!
Like SO many small-market broadcasters, he was running a business. A business that he supported his family from. To Don (and the others), this was not fun and games...it was serious. One by one, all of us know-it-alls passed through, seeking to enlighten him on the error of his ways. Thinking back, I guess he didn't own any guns, knives or brass knuckles. Ain't no doubt...he'd a killed a few of us, if he did! That said, he must've listened, 'cause he had a pretty good run. Shoot, if it hadn't been for us, he'd a-had to've padlocked that place, back in the sixties!
Joking aside, as I look back, I realize just how much I owe to "Cobbtown sports" like Don Sports. In their own way, all of the people I worked for were pretty good mentors. Although there was much kicking, screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth, they helped teach "the rules of the road" to many a kid like me.
Wanna hear my favorite Don Sports/Jay Braswell story? Good, 'cause I'm gonna tell it anyway!
When I worked for WCLA, I did the Sunday morning sign-on. We signed-on at 7 o'clock on Sunday, and, like most small town stations, had back to back religious programming 'til noon (or later). I lived less than 5 minutes from the station (in a luxury suite in the majestic Palms Motor Lodge). I could get up at 10 'till 7, and make it to work with seconds to spare. In those days, my wardrobe and hygiene left much to be desired, but I digress.
On this particular Sunday, I awoke to the sun streaming brightly into the window of my palatial bachelor pad. Wait a minute...this ain't right. Oh my God...my wristwatch said the time was 9:45. Swiftly, I threw on my pants and shirt, and literally flew out of the parking lot (that '72 Nova would haul ass), racing across U.S. Highway 301, careening into the driveway of 316 N. River Street on two wheels...and ran almost slap into the ass-end of Don's dark green Ford Torino. I corrected and slid around his car, jumping out before it stopped rolling. As I did, Don opened the driver's door of his car, put one foot on the ground, with the other still in the car, leaned across the door, stared into my eyes with a look that'd kill kudzu, and said "I'm glad to see you finally decided to grace us with your prescence", then shook his head, got back in the car, cranked up, and backed out of the driveway. I knew I was a dead man, but he never, ever mentioned it to me.
An "inside" to any WCLA alumni that visit these pages...even though it was 10 'till 10, Willie Bell Harper was sitting on the front steps, with that paper sack full of records in one hand, and several handwritten pages of obituaries for me to read, in the other!
To the rest of you, Willie Bell owned Harper's Funeral Home, the black funeral home in Claxton. He had a 30 minute program every Sunday morning at 7 o'clock. The program consisted of playing those scratched-up 45's (no shucks), and me reading whatever obituaries there might be, along with some special dedications. Willie Bell did NOT talk on the radio. If you ain't ever worked at a small station, and had the pleasure of reading a handwritten obituary of a black person (no, I'm not being racist), you ain't lived.
Oh, I asked Willie Bell why he was still sitting there at 9:45, and he said he figured somebody would eventually show up! Talk about your loyal advertisers.
For many years, "Super 'CLA" was a hell of a good little station. To Don's chagrin, the hits got played, but the news got on, and the commercials were played, too. Even though Don and the others say they don't miss it, I'm not sure I believe them. I wish I could go back, and do it all again...knowing what I know now, of course!
There are many more stories to tell, about WCLA, and other stations, too. As long as this ol' keyboard'll keep functioning, you can count on me to keep on tellin' em.
Don...when you read this, I want you to tell our listening audience about the time a few bad words (from you) almost got on the air during the noon news. Don't remember? Let me help. Blasting forth from the speaker of the huge Motorola two-way base station, came a screaming command that went something like, "Car 1 to Claxton, Car 1 to Claxton...get it off, get it off, get it OFF". Now do you remember?
To all the Dons, Jims, Genes, Vernons (yes, I know I'm forgetting some names) that put up with "that damned Jay Braswell"...thank you for your patience, thank you for your tutilage, and thank you for helping me to make radio my life's work. <P ID="signature">______________
Jay Braswell - Moderator
Atlanta/North Florida/South Carolina/Georgia Boards</P>