Radio Memories Vol. 12

One of the hallmarks of Top 40 radio was getting the audience involved through contests, and boy, did we have contests at WCOS. But before you had contests you had to have prizes. The value of these prizes ran the gamut from “three records from the “WCOS grab bag” to a single prize of $1,000 that would be worth $8,200 today. 

I guess I should explain what the “WCOS grab bag” was. Back in the '60s, record companies had salesmen who visited the local stations to hype the records their company had released that week, leaving 5 or 6 copies of each record in case one got broken or scratched. The record salesmen would also replace records that were getting so much airplay that we had burned through all the copies. Some of these copies made their way to enrich the grab bag. The grab was actually a large 4’ x 4’ x 4’ cardboard box that normally held a couple hundred 45 RPM records. 

I don’t have to explain “45 RPM Records” to someone as old as dirt like I am but there is a whole generation of young folks who are just getting into vinyl records. The first vinyl records were 78 RPM records typically with a diameter of either 10 inches or 12 inches, with 10 inches being the most common size. They all had a hole in the middle that was 0.286 inches in diameter. 1949, RCA Victor released the first 45 rpm single, 7 inches in diameter with a large center 1.5” hole. In the UK and Europe, the center hole was a quarter-inch diameter which was the same size as the 33 1/3 RMP LP records that became the rage in the late 60s. All in all, we disk jockeys of the 50s, 60s, and early 70s loved those 45s with the big center hole. They could be picked up with a middle finger in the hole and a thumb on the outer edge. 

Many record players of the day could be switched between 33 1/3 and 45 RPM. Many sported automatic record changers upon which you could stack several 33 1/3 records for hours of unattended music pleasure. You could also stack 45 RPM records on these machines using a 45 RPM record adaptor. 

Being just a few years after the “Payola Scandal” of the late 1950s, WCOS’s management was careful to keep space between the DJs and the record companies. Woody, our program director was also the music director and was the only one to have direct contact with the record companies.

Whenever possible, he would review the records that came in that week with a bunch of us gathered in the production studio. We were always on the lookout for the song that we might break exclusively on the air. Woody would play each record and we would all listen. It didn’t take long for us to make our decisions. 10 – 20 seconds, if the record didn’t grab us by then it got tossed into that big cardboard bin in the back of the production room. When we were done auditioning the records for that day, we would drag that box into the front office behind the receptionist’s desk.

Every so often, we would be divided on the merits of a record. If we were evenly split on a record, it would go into the “Make it or Break It” bin. Each evening, Woody would leave one of these records in my cubby hole in the DJ room. That night, at 11:30, I would play that song on the air and let the audience call in and say “Make it” or “Break it.” If the vote was in favor of the record, I’d place it into the stack of “Up and Comers” on the console desk. If the vote was not for the record, I’d play a cart with a sound effect of a record-breaking on the air and toss the record into the “grab bag.” Finally, if one of us really liked a record and the others didn’t, that song would be shown on the Top 40 list coming out as that particular DJ pick hit.  I sucked at that! Only one of my pick hits even made the regional charts’ The Choir – It’s Cold Outside was big in Cleveland and in my mind.  

Each DJ was given the opportunity to run a quick contest during his or her shift, usually by asking a question on the air and taking guesses over the phone as to what the answer was. We took down the name of the first person to get it right and left it on the receptionist’s desk so that person could claim their three records from the grab bag. 

On the other end of the prize spectrum was the biggest prize giveaway of my time at WCOS. Station management hid a “Thousand Dollar Bill” somewhere in the city and drew up a bunch of clues as to where that bill was hidden. I was told that it wasn’t really a $1,000 bill, but a document the shape and size of a $1,000 bill with instructions on how to redeem it. Each day, during his morning show, Woody would bring out a new clue and we would all announce that clue all day.  Pretty good luck for us, it took over a month for someone to claim that $1,000, pretty good bang for that 1,000 bucks. 

We also held DJ competitions for charity. In 1967-1969 that competition was called “The Good Guy with the Biggest Heart.” Each of us would ask our audience to bring donations to the station and give it in the name of their favorite DJ. I was an average DJ in our cadre of “Good Guys” and for the first few years of the contest finished near the back of the pack. Scotty, our Midday guy and I got to talking about this and came to the conclusion that the audience to most likely give was one of the Drive Times, mornings or afternoons. 

Our theory, as it turns out, was completely wrong. The first year of the contest, the DJ doing the evening Doug Broome’s Nightbeat show came in first. I would not move to the Doug’s show until after the competition in 1968 so it wasn’t me. We had mistakenly assumed that the DJ with the biggest audience had the advantage. We were perplexed when a different DJ also doing the Doug Broome’s show won it the second year. Clearly, we were missing something. 

It all became crystal clear in the third and final year of the competition! The day before, the closing day of the competition, I was running a distant third behind Woody, our morning drive jock, and Bill our afternoon drive jock. When I arrived at the station Nellie our receptionist told me that I had narrowly won the competition. I was floored; I was over $100 behind the two drive-time jocks. How could this have happened? She told me that “Mister Little,” a School Teacher at E.L. Wright Middle School had brought in all the cash that he had collected during the competition and that the students had voted to donate all of it to vote for me. 

“Why did they vote for me?” I thought. My theory was that these kids did not hear the morning or afternoon drive DJs as they were on school buses or in class while they were on. However, I was in the air when they were at home listening to the radio while doing homework. They knew me better despite my audience being significantly smaller than our drive-time DJs. I mentioned my theory to Jess, our station manager and he thought I had a good analysis; the Nightbeat Show jock had an unfair advantage. 

Instead of doing another competition in 1970, Woody did a marathon fund raiser from the Taylor Street Pharmacy which was far more successful than the competitions we did the three years before. Finally, we got it right. Those marathon broadcasts that Woody did are legendary today.