Just a week and a half ago marked the fiftieth anniversary of an event most of us would just as soon forget about.
I was not alive on Friday, November 22, 1963, when teletype bells rang wildly at radio and television stations and newspapers worldwide.
After forty-six-and-a-half years on this planet, John Fitzgerald Kennedy's life ended as a bullet entered his skull in a motorcade along Elm Street near Stemmons Freeway in Dallas, Texas. It is still vividly remembered today by those who were around back then when the tragedy occurred, and the circumstances surrounding it are still being hotly debated.
Was President Kennedy one of the greatest presidents of all time? Or has history made him larger than life because of his death at a young age and at the hands of an assassin's bullet?
Depends.
Without a doubt, he was the most popular president among the baby boomers. To them, he represented their generation, hungry for change and demanding an end to the American lives lost in the Vietnam War.
His then nouveau-riche family, today lauded as a political dynasty, afforded him many opportunities other Americans could only dream of. Nonetheless, he was touched by the poverty in Appalachia that he witnessed firsthand as he was campaigning for the highest elected office in the United States.
He felt that communism had to be brought under control, and to be done without any further casualities in Vietnam or elsewhere overseas. He urged America's space program to commit itself to a successful manned lunar mission by the end of the 1960's. He felt that federal intervention was necessary if racially-motivated violence in the American South was ever to end. He and his wife brought a contemporary flair to the Oval Office, often keeping company with the likes of Truman Capote, Marilyn Monroe, Vince Lombardi, Barbra Streisand, Oleg Cassini and countless others.
While many of his goals were ultimately realized, albeit posthumously, his administration had its share of challenges.
A failed invasion of Cuba intended to topple Fidel Castro's regime. A showdown with Russia over atomic weapons that brought the world the closest it's ever been to a nuclear holocaust. Managing poor health while trying to appear at the same time strong to the rest of the world. Whispered marital infidelities that the press largely turned a blind eye to. Accusations of nepotism over the choice of his brother as Attorney General. The death of his infant son. Overzealous organized crime investigations that historians believe led to his murder.
His successor, Lyndon Johnson, a man with whom there was no love lost, tried his best to move the country past the tragedy with The Warren Commission investigation. The finds were for the most part, laughable, at best, and were all but discredited following committee hearings in 1976 and again in 1992. To this day, no true and definitive answer surrounding Kennedy's death has ever come, nor does it appear to ever will in this writer's lifetime.
I have researched John F. Kennedy and the Kennedy family since the age of ten, when I first learned of the tragedy in fifth grade Catholic school. It had a profound effect on me, and I made the most of every opportunity to read everything I could on the subject.
After thirty-four years, I too am no closer to an answer.
Until the day comes when we have a definitive answer, I say this:
"Thank you, Mr. President."
NEXT WEEK: Thanks...???
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Monday, November 25, 2013
"Get a Horse!"
Trucks have long held a place in my immediate and extended family.
Growing up in rural western Pennsylvania, either my dad or a close relative had a pickup truck of some sort, usually a Chevy.
We looked at trucks as a necessity the way horses were looked at during the days of westward expansion in this country. With western PA's rugged hills and unpredictable winter weather, a four-wheel-drive pickup was necessary if you were to depend upon it to get to where you needed to go.
This was also in the days that pre-dated all-wheel-drive cars and SUVs. The first of the four-wheel-drive passenger cars, the AMC Eagle, was often looked upon as a hopelessly ugly piece of machinery that despite its inherent reliability, most people wouldn't want to be caught five-years-dead in.
Nonetheless, the humdrum marque gave birth to the mass-produced front-wheel-drive passenger car, at the start of the 80s and then the sport utility movement that rose later in the decade and continues to dominate the auto industry today.
Then in the 90s, something unthinkable happened...women began buying pickup trucks. To the point where Ford began a 'Splash' edition of its Ranger compact pickup line targeted to women, featuring colors like bright yellow and turquoise, with "Splash" accent striping on the sides of the bed. Automakers took notice and began building trucks with comfort in mind, in addition to payload and other specifications that typical truck buyers were keenly aware of. Option packages with power windows and door locks, cruise control, air conditioning and even leather seating areas became popular among the consumer pickup truck market.
My own pickup is special to me for a couple reasons. I have owned pickup trucks in the past, but they were kept strictly as a secondary vehicle, most often used when I had to haul something, and more often than not, looking like something you'd see on camera during an episode of "Duck Dynasty".
A former colleague of mine at another radio station remarked how much of an eyesore it was when I drove it to the radio station while my main vehicle at the time, a Dodge Stratus, was in the shop with an engine problem.
After he said it a second time, I jokingly threatened to park it in front of his house, as he lived in a more affluent neighborhood and I knew exactly where he lived. He never razzed me about it again.
My Dodge Dakota was also my first-ever 'brand new' vehicle, and today it's my 'daily driver'. I take care of it, but it does get used for its intended purpose.
My dad kept his 1990 Chevy Cheyenne until the end of its life in 2006, when the frame finally bit the dust after years of hard use. Though his 1995 Chevy Suburban gets him where he needs to go, he found himself missing his truck, though I've offered mine time and time again. Then I received the call from Mom last Sunday morning, asking me about my daughter's clothing sizes for Christmas, and...if I would mind driving my dad to Valencia, where he bought another pickup...this one, a 2004 F150.
Valencia is about 20 minutes away from my house. Not a problem.
NEXT WEEK: Fifty Years Later
My own pickup is special to me for a couple reasons. I have owned pickup trucks in the past, but they were kept strictly as a secondary vehicle, most often used when I had to haul something, and more often than not, looking like something you'd see on camera during an episode of "Duck Dynasty".
A former colleague of mine at another radio station remarked how much of an eyesore it was when I drove it to the radio station while my main vehicle at the time, a Dodge Stratus, was in the shop with an engine problem.
After he said it a second time, I jokingly threatened to park it in front of his house, as he lived in a more affluent neighborhood and I knew exactly where he lived. He never razzed me about it again.
My Dodge Dakota was also my first-ever 'brand new' vehicle, and today it's my 'daily driver'. I take care of it, but it does get used for its intended purpose.
My dad kept his 1990 Chevy Cheyenne until the end of its life in 2006, when the frame finally bit the dust after years of hard use. Though his 1995 Chevy Suburban gets him where he needs to go, he found himself missing his truck, though I've offered mine time and time again. Then I received the call from Mom last Sunday morning, asking me about my daughter's clothing sizes for Christmas, and...if I would mind driving my dad to Valencia, where he bought another pickup...this one, a 2004 F150.
Valencia is about 20 minutes away from my house. Not a problem.
NEXT WEEK: Fifty Years Later
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Keep Reaching for the Stars
For four hours every Saturday morning, he kept listeners around the world entertained with his weekly countdown of the "forty most popular songs in the land".
The gravel-voiced Detroit native of Lebanese descent didn't spend too much time in radio just north of Detroit in Flint, before being drafted into the Army, and then moving to the West Coast after his discharge, making a name for himself on Armed Forces Radio during his tour of duty in Korea.
He would bounce between coasts before landing at Los Angeles AM rock powerhouse KRLA in 1963, before the launch of nationally-syndicated "American Top 40" in 1970. He would go on as the program's host until 1988, when he was replaced by Shadoe Stevens, and would return a decade later and host the show for another four years, when Ryan Seacrest assumed the role. He would host several other nationally syndicated programs until retiring from the mic for good in 2009.
I haven't named this guy, because if you don't remember him on the radio, you would on Saturday morning television. He was the original voice of "Shaggy" on Scooby-Doo, and "Robin" on Superfriends.
Kemal Amin Kasem. Better known as "Casey".
Casey stands alone in the history of Top 40 radio, as did Dick Clark in the early days of rock 'n roll. His long distance dedications effectively connected him with his listeners, rather than the detachment his peers favored, often pushing off fan mail to answering services, or simply never read.
Casey valued his fans, and would have preferred to go on forever. Unfortunately, the heavy hand of time shows no mercy on any of us, regardless of stature or wealth.
Casey is no exception to this, and it was made public in October, following a lawsuit by the esteemed disc jockey's caregiver that was ultimately dismissed. His three children from his previous marriage are also petitioning the court for the right to visit him, as Jean Kasem, Casey's wife of 33 years, has reportedly blocked all such attempts. Casey, now 81, signed over power-of-attorney rights to Jean in 2011.
This has all but ripped a family to shreds, as the radio icon battles advanced Parkinson's disease, and the loss of the voice that drew millions to their radios every week. Reports have also surfaced that Kasem is battling Alzheimer's disease, but the family has yet to confirm this. Other reports of elder abuse, thankfully, have been found to be baseless.
It's terrible to see the ramifications of aging on a family, divided over a loved one's best interests. More so, think about how much it goes on every day in our society with families of the not-so rich and famous.
I hope that Casey and his estranged family members will find a common ground and come to a truce so that he can live his last days in peace before leaving this world.
Until then, I'll continue to keep my feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.
You taught us that, Casey. The importance of staying grounded no matter how far you go in this life.
You didn't just teach it, you lived it.
Thank you.
NEXT WEEK: Keep on' truckin'
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Fall of the Season
Now I know why it's called 'fall'. It's the fall of summer...summer fun, vacations, and all the niceties of warm weather give way to the time of the year that's about as predictable as a Kardashian marriage.
At least that's the case here in western Pennsylvania. It's one of those regions of the country where kids wait at the bus stop in mukluks, yet pack the flip-flops in their backpacks necessary for the drastic temperature change by 10am.
Never mind the time change that went into effect this morning, which resulted in our daughter racing into the bedroom at 6:30, because we forgot to set the clock in her room back an hour.
This time of year hit home for me on a recent Sunday, as I was watching the Steelers-Ravens game with my family, and a local weather report came on. The forecast called for snow later in the week.
That Thursday, I woke up to see frost on the ground. My wife had elected to fire up the furnace on Tuesday. I went to bed Wednesday night with the thermometer cowering at 33 degrees.
Now comes the time for decisions to be made.
What to get Margie for her birthday, as it and Christmas are pretty much back-to-back. Making time for Savannah's annual Christmas program at preschool. Knowing when to pull the mower deck off the tractor and replace it with the snowplow blade. How much money to set aside for Christmas gifts. Countless others.
Though I am very much a warm weather person who often laments over missing the warmth of late summer and early fall on the Carolina Coast, I can bask in not forgetting some important aspects of this time of year.
Snuggle weather. Margie and I enjoy cozying under a quilt on the couch as we catch up on our TV watching from earlier in the week. Her making Christmas cookies with Savannah. Me making Coq Au Vin on Christmas Eve.
Oh, yeah...deep fried turkey too. I do make a mean deep-fried turkey. Or so I've been told.
Then Thanksgiving, a little over three weeks away.
I have to say that 2013 has been a year of challenges for me personally and professionally, but I'm still thankful that it's another year that the Good Lord has allowed me to spend on this side of the soil.
I've been able to spend more time with my daughter, look challenges in the face and overcome them, rather than allow them to overcome me, I've spent more quality time with my dad thanks to a boat rebuild project that got underway in early spring, and still managed to find time to take the annual family vacation to South Carolina.
There's a lot of be thankful for. Not just on Thursday, November 28th, either.
NEXT WEEK: Feet on the Ground
At least that's the case here in western Pennsylvania. It's one of those regions of the country where kids wait at the bus stop in mukluks, yet pack the flip-flops in their backpacks necessary for the drastic temperature change by 10am.
Never mind the time change that went into effect this morning, which resulted in our daughter racing into the bedroom at 6:30, because we forgot to set the clock in her room back an hour.
This time of year hit home for me on a recent Sunday, as I was watching the Steelers-Ravens game with my family, and a local weather report came on. The forecast called for snow later in the week.
That Thursday, I woke up to see frost on the ground. My wife had elected to fire up the furnace on Tuesday. I went to bed Wednesday night with the thermometer cowering at 33 degrees.
Now comes the time for decisions to be made.
What to get Margie for her birthday, as it and Christmas are pretty much back-to-back. Making time for Savannah's annual Christmas program at preschool. Knowing when to pull the mower deck off the tractor and replace it with the snowplow blade. How much money to set aside for Christmas gifts. Countless others.
Though I am very much a warm weather person who often laments over missing the warmth of late summer and early fall on the Carolina Coast, I can bask in not forgetting some important aspects of this time of year.
Snuggle weather. Margie and I enjoy cozying under a quilt on the couch as we catch up on our TV watching from earlier in the week. Her making Christmas cookies with Savannah. Me making Coq Au Vin on Christmas Eve.
Oh, yeah...deep fried turkey too. I do make a mean deep-fried turkey. Or so I've been told.
Then Thanksgiving, a little over three weeks away.
I have to say that 2013 has been a year of challenges for me personally and professionally, but I'm still thankful that it's another year that the Good Lord has allowed me to spend on this side of the soil.
I've been able to spend more time with my daughter, look challenges in the face and overcome them, rather than allow them to overcome me, I've spent more quality time with my dad thanks to a boat rebuild project that got underway in early spring, and still managed to find time to take the annual family vacation to South Carolina.
There's a lot of be thankful for. Not just on Thursday, November 28th, either.
NEXT WEEK: Feet on the Ground
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Stick Shutdown
This is a follow-up to last week's tirade on the government shutdown, but on a more local level, so those of you who read this from afar, kindly humor me for this week.
Here in western Pennsylvania, we've seen the demise of many local AM radio stations. Not changing formats or moving out of the community and setting up shop elsewhere. I mean turning their licenses back in to the FCC, knocking down their towers, and selling the land for development or leasing it to natural gas processors.
WASP, WCVI, WKZV, WESA, WPLW and WSTV have rode off into the sunset, never to return. Others are in danger of the same fate. Yet there are others who enjoyed huge success years ago, but are now being sold off and rebranded to the point where all traces of their past prestige and power are being removed and forgotten about completely.
This time we say goodbye to the legendary WIXZ, or "Wickzee 1360", the moniker under which it became best known for, in between WMCK and WPTT. It left the air earlier this month under the call sign WMNY, which it adopted for a former business news format.
For all intents and purposes, we'll refer to it as WIXZ in this forum.
Though licensed to McKeesport, a Pittsburgh suburb, WIXZ was very much a Pittsburgh station, and thanks to the ingenuity of its past owner, Alan Serena, it reinvented itself in the late 80s as a local station serving the Monongahela Valley and Pittsburgh's South Hills. Utilizing a country music format via satellite (it had been local earlier), it boasted a stable of popular programs augmenting the music. It was also one of the very few places where you could hear auto racing on the radio, which would take years to gain acceptance by radio listeners. "Rappin' on Racin'", a local auto racing talk show, also became a listener favorite.
There was also no shortage of talented on-air professionals going through the doors. Both up-and-comers looking to break into the business and those displaced by larger stations that retained their recognizability afterwards found their place on WIXZ.
Alan had called and offered me an interview in 1993 for WIXZ after the "donated sale" of a station I had managed the year before, but I had accepted an offer from another station just one day before. As fate would have it, Alan and I would work together almost a decade later after another station where I worked had been acquired by Renda Broadcasting Corporation, the same company that Alan sold WIXZ to and would serve as its Vice-President of Operations.
Oddly enough, the same organization that acquired my former station in 1992 is now the new owner of WIXZ. While WIXZ's channel won't fade to black, it does mark the end of an era.
I applaud both Alan Serena and Tony Renda for their vision and wisdom in keeping this station on the air as long as they have. As this industry continues its natural progression that has necessitated the sale or silence of many stations, we can fondly reflect on Pittsburgh's own "Golden Age of Radio" and the place these two esteemed gentlemen have in its history.
To both, I say thank you.
NEXT WEEK: Hazy Shade of Autumn
Here in western Pennsylvania, we've seen the demise of many local AM radio stations. Not changing formats or moving out of the community and setting up shop elsewhere. I mean turning their licenses back in to the FCC, knocking down their towers, and selling the land for development or leasing it to natural gas processors.
WASP, WCVI, WKZV, WESA, WPLW and WSTV have rode off into the sunset, never to return. Others are in danger of the same fate. Yet there are others who enjoyed huge success years ago, but are now being sold off and rebranded to the point where all traces of their past prestige and power are being removed and forgotten about completely.
This time we say goodbye to the legendary WIXZ, or "Wickzee 1360", the moniker under which it became best known for, in between WMCK and WPTT. It left the air earlier this month under the call sign WMNY, which it adopted for a former business news format.
For all intents and purposes, we'll refer to it as WIXZ in this forum.
Though licensed to McKeesport, a Pittsburgh suburb, WIXZ was very much a Pittsburgh station, and thanks to the ingenuity of its past owner, Alan Serena, it reinvented itself in the late 80s as a local station serving the Monongahela Valley and Pittsburgh's South Hills. Utilizing a country music format via satellite (it had been local earlier), it boasted a stable of popular programs augmenting the music. It was also one of the very few places where you could hear auto racing on the radio, which would take years to gain acceptance by radio listeners. "Rappin' on Racin'", a local auto racing talk show, also became a listener favorite.
There was also no shortage of talented on-air professionals going through the doors. Both up-and-comers looking to break into the business and those displaced by larger stations that retained their recognizability afterwards found their place on WIXZ.
Alan had called and offered me an interview in 1993 for WIXZ after the "donated sale" of a station I had managed the year before, but I had accepted an offer from another station just one day before. As fate would have it, Alan and I would work together almost a decade later after another station where I worked had been acquired by Renda Broadcasting Corporation, the same company that Alan sold WIXZ to and would serve as its Vice-President of Operations.
Oddly enough, the same organization that acquired my former station in 1992 is now the new owner of WIXZ. While WIXZ's channel won't fade to black, it does mark the end of an era.
I applaud both Alan Serena and Tony Renda for their vision and wisdom in keeping this station on the air as long as they have. As this industry continues its natural progression that has necessitated the sale or silence of many stations, we can fondly reflect on Pittsburgh's own "Golden Age of Radio" and the place these two esteemed gentlemen have in its history.
To both, I say thank you.
NEXT WEEK: Hazy Shade of Autumn
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Plant Shutdown
For a time in the mid-90s, I took a break from radio to work in the automotive industry. More specifically, I found work at a Mazda/Ford subcontractor south of Detroit that processed freshly-assembled vehicles for storage or shipment to dealers and fleets.
Winter was our busiest time of year, with dealers replenishing their stock, often necessitating working in sub-zero temperatures seven days a week, 11 hours a day. Summer, on the other hand, resulted in a decrease in work, with summer layoff options available to those with higher seniority who preferred to collect unemployment and not use any accrued vacation time...until the winter, of course.
July was especially fun. The Flat Rock Assembly Plant shut down for two weeks to install new sheetmetal dies and other tooling for the coming model year. Most of us who had stayed on were primarily kept busy with accessorizing or special projects. Though the plant closed, the show still went on for us.
And we still got paid.
Imagine going 16 days without a paycheck, yet still being asked to report for work each day. Sound crazy?
Yet the leadership in Washington asked just that of many of the workers who support the federal government in some capacity or another. And they did it.
Not sure if I could do the same thing.
What was allowed to happen is nothing short of an absolute travesty. Our founding fathers are spinning in their graves. Other countries are laughing at us harder than ever...rolling on the floor this time.
Thankfully, it's finally over. But the effects of it are still lingering and will for some time.
Our leaders on Capitol Hill have progressed to the level of their own incompetence, proving that the fiscal crisis of 2008 has taught them nothing.
I encourage those of you who do vote, to run your Congressional leaders out of town on a rail this year. If you don't vote, then now's the time to register. We need to prove now more than ever that the will of the people is strong, and our strength is in our numbers. We have the first African-American President of the United States for this very reason.
Why vote them out? Because I don't know of a single congressman or U.S. senator who offered to return his or her paycheck to the U.S. Treasury until the crisis was resolved, yet many federal departments were shut down and many seniors and disabled citizens worried sick over whether or not they would receive their Social Security checks.
I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong, so I'll say this: Anyone who did give their check back, you can stay in office. The rest of you, most of whom are already wealthy, can clean out your desks.
The answer is not a redistribution of wealth. It's the realignment of priorities. To put partisan bickering aside and be very cognizant of the fact that when the government shuts down, we are very vulnerable. September 11th vulnerable. Need I say more?
Or has Capitol Hill already forgotten that as well?
Not us.
And Tuesday, November 5th is the time to prove it.
See you at the polls.
NEXT WEEK: Another kind of shutdown
Winter was our busiest time of year, with dealers replenishing their stock, often necessitating working in sub-zero temperatures seven days a week, 11 hours a day. Summer, on the other hand, resulted in a decrease in work, with summer layoff options available to those with higher seniority who preferred to collect unemployment and not use any accrued vacation time...until the winter, of course.
July was especially fun. The Flat Rock Assembly Plant shut down for two weeks to install new sheetmetal dies and other tooling for the coming model year. Most of us who had stayed on were primarily kept busy with accessorizing or special projects. Though the plant closed, the show still went on for us.
And we still got paid.
Imagine going 16 days without a paycheck, yet still being asked to report for work each day. Sound crazy?
Yet the leadership in Washington asked just that of many of the workers who support the federal government in some capacity or another. And they did it.
Not sure if I could do the same thing.
What was allowed to happen is nothing short of an absolute travesty. Our founding fathers are spinning in their graves. Other countries are laughing at us harder than ever...rolling on the floor this time.
Thankfully, it's finally over. But the effects of it are still lingering and will for some time.
Our leaders on Capitol Hill have progressed to the level of their own incompetence, proving that the fiscal crisis of 2008 has taught them nothing.
I encourage those of you who do vote, to run your Congressional leaders out of town on a rail this year. If you don't vote, then now's the time to register. We need to prove now more than ever that the will of the people is strong, and our strength is in our numbers. We have the first African-American President of the United States for this very reason.
Why vote them out? Because I don't know of a single congressman or U.S. senator who offered to return his or her paycheck to the U.S. Treasury until the crisis was resolved, yet many federal departments were shut down and many seniors and disabled citizens worried sick over whether or not they would receive their Social Security checks.
I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong, so I'll say this: Anyone who did give their check back, you can stay in office. The rest of you, most of whom are already wealthy, can clean out your desks.
The answer is not a redistribution of wealth. It's the realignment of priorities. To put partisan bickering aside and be very cognizant of the fact that when the government shuts down, we are very vulnerable. September 11th vulnerable. Need I say more?
Or has Capitol Hill already forgotten that as well?
Not us.
And Tuesday, November 5th is the time to prove it.
See you at the polls.
NEXT WEEK: Another kind of shutdown
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Ask Questions Later
One way of celebrating my birthday is not paying attention to anything that's happening in the news.
It's my day.
Give me my day.
That said, on with the show.
In the early morning hours of Thursday, August 22nd, James Edwards, 52, of Shaler Township (about 15 minutes from downtown Pittsburgh) opened fire on his family less than a week after being suspended from his $52,000 a year job as an electrician at Pittsburgh International Airport. He had only been there for two years.
He then turned the gun on himself. His daughter and a pet beagle also died. His son and wife were hospitalized.
It's always incidents like these that have everyone crying "why"?
Why, indeed.
Because you lost your job?
You lose your job, so you're going to further lose your family by destroying it with your own hand? The one thing you CAN count on in this world above all else?
Having been in the radio business for more than two and a half decades, I've learned that it's a volatile, unsteady business where getting fired is a way of life. In fact, I know of no job in the private sector these days that's safe. Even the public sector is more shaky than ever, due to budget constraints.
Pensions are fragile to non-existent. No thanks to the job crisis in this country, companies find themselves in the unique position of demanding and getting 'givebacks' from current employees and offering less to new prospects.
And not only that, it's not enough to give 40 hours of labor anymore. Or even loyalty, for that matter. Companies have become more and more vigilant of owning every aspect of an employee. Non-competes, unpaid after-hours work, and scrutinizing social media for any trace of your whereabouts.
They're getting it, too.
I've prided myself on the fact that while a company can own my labors for 40 hours a week, and maybe a little more every once in a while, there are some parts of me that are not for sale, nor should they be, and they never will be.
Ever.
Dignity. Pride. Integrity.
And many sacrifice those very things for the sheer sake of the almighty dollar.
It's not called "mean green" for nothin', ya know!
It's why we buy the things we can't afford, yet say we can't afford to be without. The Rat Race. It's not about the rat, but how many performance-enhancing substances it can ingest.
All a company can do is take away your paycheck.
The three qualities I just mentioned are yours and yours alone. They're yours to keep, and they're the only things you're allowed to take with you when you leave this world.
So why sell them? Or worse, give them away.
Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
When James Edwards learned of his impending job loss, he surrendered control of everything he had and everything he stood for to anyone willing to take it. Not the airport authority, but society. He was upset by society enough to strike out and hurt the people closest to him whom he has an obligation to protect.
From high school dropouts to people with advanced degrees, people get fired. Auto mechanics to aerospace engineers. It's a way of life.
Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. Move on.
There is nothing and no one in this life that is worth killing yourself or someone else over. Nothing.
Dignity. Pride. Integrity.
Commit a selfish crime like this, and you've given all of these qualities away. Because that's exactly what it is, selfish.
If you think your life is that bad, what gives you the right to deprive others of theirs? Are they that much better off than you to the point where you can't stand it?
And the beat goes on.
NEXT WEEK: Stay Tuned
It's my day.
Give me my day.
That said, on with the show.
In the early morning hours of Thursday, August 22nd, James Edwards, 52, of Shaler Township (about 15 minutes from downtown Pittsburgh) opened fire on his family less than a week after being suspended from his $52,000 a year job as an electrician at Pittsburgh International Airport. He had only been there for two years.
He then turned the gun on himself. His daughter and a pet beagle also died. His son and wife were hospitalized.
It's always incidents like these that have everyone crying "why"?
Why, indeed.
Because you lost your job?
You lose your job, so you're going to further lose your family by destroying it with your own hand? The one thing you CAN count on in this world above all else?
Having been in the radio business for more than two and a half decades, I've learned that it's a volatile, unsteady business where getting fired is a way of life. In fact, I know of no job in the private sector these days that's safe. Even the public sector is more shaky than ever, due to budget constraints.
Pensions are fragile to non-existent. No thanks to the job crisis in this country, companies find themselves in the unique position of demanding and getting 'givebacks' from current employees and offering less to new prospects.
And not only that, it's not enough to give 40 hours of labor anymore. Or even loyalty, for that matter. Companies have become more and more vigilant of owning every aspect of an employee. Non-competes, unpaid after-hours work, and scrutinizing social media for any trace of your whereabouts.
They're getting it, too.
I've prided myself on the fact that while a company can own my labors for 40 hours a week, and maybe a little more every once in a while, there are some parts of me that are not for sale, nor should they be, and they never will be.
Ever.
Dignity. Pride. Integrity.
And many sacrifice those very things for the sheer sake of the almighty dollar.
It's not called "mean green" for nothin', ya know!
It's why we buy the things we can't afford, yet say we can't afford to be without. The Rat Race. It's not about the rat, but how many performance-enhancing substances it can ingest.
All a company can do is take away your paycheck.
The three qualities I just mentioned are yours and yours alone. They're yours to keep, and they're the only things you're allowed to take with you when you leave this world.
So why sell them? Or worse, give them away.
Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
When James Edwards learned of his impending job loss, he surrendered control of everything he had and everything he stood for to anyone willing to take it. Not the airport authority, but society. He was upset by society enough to strike out and hurt the people closest to him whom he has an obligation to protect.
From high school dropouts to people with advanced degrees, people get fired. Auto mechanics to aerospace engineers. It's a way of life.
Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. Move on.
There is nothing and no one in this life that is worth killing yourself or someone else over. Nothing.
Dignity. Pride. Integrity.
Commit a selfish crime like this, and you've given all of these qualities away. Because that's exactly what it is, selfish.
If you think your life is that bad, what gives you the right to deprive others of theirs? Are they that much better off than you to the point where you can't stand it?
And the beat goes on.
NEXT WEEK: Stay Tuned
Sunday, October 6, 2013
What We Do Here
My dad is now 68. He's been through a myriad of occupations in his lifetime.
Township Supervisor. Police officer. U.S. Army drill sergeant. Business owner.
But he's been an electrician first and foremost.
Learning this trade in the Army, my dad always had an aptitude for science and mathematics, having excelled at both while in high school. He received his first car at age 14, because it would take him two years to get it repaired and ready by the time he got his driver's license. That tradition was passed to me in kind.
He also built the house he's been in for the past 33 years. By that I mean not hiring a contractor to do the work for him. I mean getting his hands dirty, using power tools, hammer and nails to put it up himself, buying materials little by little in cash to get everything done from the footing to the shingles on the roof.
His neighbors took notice. My dad never had to go to the neighbors' for anything. They usually came over, to see what he was doing and how he was doing it. Then they would try the same thing themselves.
Sometimes it ended in disaster.
Thus, my dad quickly gained a reputation not only as an electrician, but the neighborhood handyman. It was a reputation cultivated over two generations.
His father before him did the same thing. Purchasing the family homestead where he lived from 1955 until his death in 2006 (Grandma still lives there today at 93), it was little more than a roach-infested filling station at the time that had gone out of business. My dad was born in the house next door to it, as was his older sister and younger brother.
Though raising five children on a crane operator's salary, Grandpa fixed it up little by little, until it bore no resemblance at all to what it once was. He also rescued discarded appliances and stripped them of their salvageable parts. Who knows, he might need them one day.
"I NEVER throw anything away!" he exclaimed one day.
I guess you could say he was one of the first 'hoarders', but none of the parts he stockpiled found their way into the house any further than his workshop. They usually took their place in the three 'shanties' he had on his property. Car radios, electric fan motors, sweepers, gas caps, spark plug wires, you name it, he had it. Fred Sanford (or Albert Steptoe to my British friends) would have been envious.
As the years went by, Dad (and Grandpa before him) was usually called upon to help a neighbor out with a problem. Whether it was a short circuit or legal problem, he never turned anyone away, nor did he ever ask for a dime or call in a favor.
And more often than not, he's taken for granted.
Many neighbors often drop by his garage to visit and chat. One is a friend from his days as a township police officer. The misanthropic are often misunderstood, and this fellow is no exception. He can be brash and downright abrasive, but would give the shirt off his back if you needed it and without a second thought.
Dad and Tom had talked about the ingratitude of a 'grantee' one day, but neither of them really let it bother them all that much.
"You know Freddy," said Tom, "when we get to Heaven, I think that gate's gonna swing a little easier for us."
My dad just smiled and nodded.
I still call on my dad every once in a while when I'm having a problem that I don't think I can tackle myself.
He's always been willing to help, and while he can't do much electrical work anymore these days, he's willing to try. I just have to remember to watch carefully to make sure I know how to do it in the future...for the day will come where I'll have to do it for myself or possibly someone else.
And he will always leave here with a thank you and a bottle of wine...minimum.
NEXT WEEK: Shoot first
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Why Are We All Here?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: No "Ken's Korner" last week due to internet connection problems. Thank you for your patience.
The age-old question that mankind has sought the answer to for centuries.
Linda Fiorentino's character asks it to God-in-female-human-form, played by Alanis Morrisette, in the 1999 film "Dogma". The reply is a simple tweak of Fiorentino's nose by the deity with no explanation.
As I grow older, I become aware of the fact that I've already lived half of my life expectancy here on this planet. Before marriage and family, I had no fear of death.
I still don't. Through my faith, I know what's on the other side. If given a choice, no one really wants to die. But I worry about the loved ones I will leave behind come my Judgment Day. Namely my wife and daughter.
Mankind's greatest dread is the knowledge of its own mortality.
I have lost three relatives to cancer. My godfather and second cousin at 49. Another second cousin at 52. My maternal grandmother at 54. My great-uncle at 59. While those deaths were smoking-environmental related, it never ceases to cross my mind as to how many others have died of a terminal illness without knowing they had one until it was too late for medical intervention.
More than four months ago, I changed jobs. I had gone from working days to evenings, and now not sitting down to a traditional dinner with my family, and consuming less wine, I've managed to lose a few pounds, and others have taken notice of it.
Since I turned 40, I've made annual checkups part of my life. My doctor, who's the same age as me, is going through the same careful navigation to stay healthy in our advancing years.
One day, having done the necessary fasting and abstention from alcohol, I went to have some bloodwork done the morning of our annual trip to Kennywood Park. As it was approaching the time for my annual physical, I wanted to get that done and out of the way before I called to schedule my appointment.
They beat me to the punch a little over 24 hours later, when I got the call as I was preparing my daughter's lunch.
"It's about your thyroid", the woman in my doctor's office said to me over the phone.
My thyroid? My wife was born without one. I double-checked to make absolutely sure it was me they were talking about, as we both go to the same doctor.
They were.
My mind flashed back to my job change and the change in my eating and drinking habits that went with the new work schedule. Was that all it was, or is this something more serious?
Whatever the matter, my mind raced through the fact that I needed to remind myself that I was not a young person anymore, and that I'd better be ready to deal with matters like these sooner, rather than later.
That's not to say that the moment of fear, anxiety, and other emotions didn't have an effect on me.
For a while, I became patient with Savannah getting distracted from practicing her letters and numbers. I became aware of the time I had with her...and all my loved ones, for that matter.
And the clock ticking those seconds away resonated in my head much more loudly.
I just turned 44. My former boss was at this same age when he had two heart attacks in succession. If it happened to him, it could very well happen to me. I never lost sight of that. An esteemed colleague of mine dropped dead of a heart attack at 53 while working a charity event. Another died at 49 after years of fighting heart disease. Another colleague just recently announced he was cancer free, while another succumbed to cancer as it appeared he was beating it.
I even asked for prayers on Facebook, thinking of the worst once I walked into the doctor's office.
Turned out not to be so bad.
My doctor and I are the same age, and are going through the same age-related health concerns. My thyroid numbers concerned him and my cholesterol was up a point. He was simply checking to see if I had any symptoms that I might have avoided calling him about.
But we went down the list, and he gave me a thorough exam.
"We'll keep an eye on the bloodwork," he said. As long as I wasn't puking or passing blood, it was all good.
This is what convinced me that I have a good doctor, the fact that he was concerned enough about my well-being to order me into the office to catch anything before it had a chance to materialize.
Or metastatize.
You don't find that level of dedication in a doctor these days.
Well done, Dr. Fiorina. You have me for life as a patient.
Turned out not to be so bad.
My doctor and I are the same age, and are going through the same age-related health concerns. My thyroid numbers concerned him and my cholesterol was up a point. He was simply checking to see if I had any symptoms that I might have avoided calling him about.
But we went down the list, and he gave me a thorough exam.
"We'll keep an eye on the bloodwork," he said. As long as I wasn't puking or passing blood, it was all good.
This is what convinced me that I have a good doctor, the fact that he was concerned enough about my well-being to order me into the office to catch anything before it had a chance to materialize.
Or metastatize.
You don't find that level of dedication in a doctor these days.
Well done, Dr. Fiorina. You have me for life as a patient.
NEXT WEEK: Heaven's Gate
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Connection Perception...Part II
We left off last week with a bit of a history lesson of what led to social media dominating the electronic landscape as it does today.
As I had stated last week, a friend had engaged in a discussion with another about how social media is more of a disconnector than a re-connector. He posted this on his Facebook profile and solicited responses in kind.
It was a matter that I hadn't given much thought until I read the responses. I was surprised to read what I did, but then not so surprised as I began to understand it.
The responses ran the gamut. Reconnector...renewing old friendships across the miles. Disconnector...the depreciation of the meaning of the word 'friend'. Reconnector...a more efficient way to communicate. Disconnector...you learn more negative qualities about that person whose friend request you accepted.
Reconnector...for those who work long hours with little to no time for letters or phone calls. Disconnector...those stupid games!
I'll digress on that one. I do like "Words With Friends".
But are we becoming a generation that has become more comfortable with misanthropy than real social interaction?
Ted Danson's character on the former CBS sitcom "Becker" would happily agree with the former of the two.
In social situations, when we disagree, there is less of a tendency anymore to 'agree to disagree', and more to separate ourselves from that person altogether or even react violently, whether it's verbal or physical in nature.
I know this because in this very forum, I have taken stands on views that have been to say the least, controversial. While some supported me, others spewed vitriol in my direction and de-friended me, never wanting anything to do with me again. The remaining messaged me privately asking me to help them understand why I took the stand I took, because they valued me as a friend and didn't want to lose me.
Notwithstanding, my backbone remains intact.
For the past 25 years, I worked in the radio broadcasting industry, and I spent more than half of my career as a journalist. Objectivity wasn't an option, but a tool necessary to do your job successfully.
And I believe I have been just that. Though objectivity sometimes carries no weight with the bull-headed so steadfast in their beliefs that they see no room for anyone in their lives whose beliefs are different than their own.
Among my family and friends, and I don't mean the ones on Facebook, there are whites, blacks, Asians, Hispanics, rich, poor, atheists, agnostics, Christians, Jews, homosexuals, bisexuals, transgendereds, high school dropouts, scholars, tradesmen, professionals, artisans, executives, ex-convicts, and law enforcement officers.
Muslims too. "OMG...he's a terrorist!!!" I can see it now. Grow up.
Just about every one of them would give you the shirt off their back if you needed it.
There's positives and negatives to social media. Do the negatives outweigh the positives? I believe they do.
But then again, how long can you carry on an in-person conversation with another before life gets in the way and you have to leave, wishing 'I would have loved to talk about that some more'.
When I joined the planning committee for my high school class's 25th reunion, none of us ever would have dreamed that the number of attendees would be less than half of those who came to our 20th.
Nonetheless, we still had a great turnout, with many traveling hundreds of miles to be there. But I'm sure that social media played a role in determining whether or not many of our classmates were going to show up.
Some are content to live their lives vicariously through others or see the pictures of what someone is doing rather than going out and having these experiences on their own. Pictures may be worth a thousand words, but why not go beyond a thousand?
You may have received a 'friend request' that you accepted with some degree of reluctance because it was a person you may not have cared for years ago. And as you browsed that person's profile, you may realize you may have misjudged that person.
Or that you were right about them all along and nothing's changed.
Employers are finding social media to be a useful tool in screening potential work candidates, or giving them grounds to fire an existing employee.
I like Facebook. It gives me an opportunity to share my life with others I don't get to see as much as I would like. Photos, this weekly blog, the occasional trip, my love of wine, things like that.
I don't do Twitter. I personally don't find my life all that interesting to 'tweet' about every single action I have going on. One form of social media that's fairly low maintenance is enough.
For everyone. I don't care who you are.
Anything beyond that is overboard.
I first started with MySpace. Once I learned that Facebook gravitated to a more mature crowd, I migrated there and shut down my MySpace profile.
If I spend that much time on social media, all I'll be 'tweeting' about is how much time I spend on social media. It doesn't make sense to me.
So what's my final answer, disconnect or reconnect?
It's all a matter of perception, and it boils down to this:
With great power, comes great responsibility.
Make of that what you will.
NEXT WEEK: The Ticking Clock
As I had stated last week, a friend had engaged in a discussion with another about how social media is more of a disconnector than a re-connector. He posted this on his Facebook profile and solicited responses in kind.
It was a matter that I hadn't given much thought until I read the responses. I was surprised to read what I did, but then not so surprised as I began to understand it.
The responses ran the gamut. Reconnector...renewing old friendships across the miles. Disconnector...the depreciation of the meaning of the word 'friend'. Reconnector...a more efficient way to communicate. Disconnector...you learn more negative qualities about that person whose friend request you accepted.
Reconnector...for those who work long hours with little to no time for letters or phone calls. Disconnector...those stupid games!
I'll digress on that one. I do like "Words With Friends".
But are we becoming a generation that has become more comfortable with misanthropy than real social interaction?
Ted Danson's character on the former CBS sitcom "Becker" would happily agree with the former of the two.
In social situations, when we disagree, there is less of a tendency anymore to 'agree to disagree', and more to separate ourselves from that person altogether or even react violently, whether it's verbal or physical in nature.
I know this because in this very forum, I have taken stands on views that have been to say the least, controversial. While some supported me, others spewed vitriol in my direction and de-friended me, never wanting anything to do with me again. The remaining messaged me privately asking me to help them understand why I took the stand I took, because they valued me as a friend and didn't want to lose me.
Notwithstanding, my backbone remains intact.
For the past 25 years, I worked in the radio broadcasting industry, and I spent more than half of my career as a journalist. Objectivity wasn't an option, but a tool necessary to do your job successfully.
And I believe I have been just that. Though objectivity sometimes carries no weight with the bull-headed so steadfast in their beliefs that they see no room for anyone in their lives whose beliefs are different than their own.
Among my family and friends, and I don't mean the ones on Facebook, there are whites, blacks, Asians, Hispanics, rich, poor, atheists, agnostics, Christians, Jews, homosexuals, bisexuals, transgendereds, high school dropouts, scholars, tradesmen, professionals, artisans, executives, ex-convicts, and law enforcement officers.
Muslims too. "OMG...he's a terrorist!!!" I can see it now. Grow up.
Just about every one of them would give you the shirt off their back if you needed it.
There's positives and negatives to social media. Do the negatives outweigh the positives? I believe they do.
But then again, how long can you carry on an in-person conversation with another before life gets in the way and you have to leave, wishing 'I would have loved to talk about that some more'.
When I joined the planning committee for my high school class's 25th reunion, none of us ever would have dreamed that the number of attendees would be less than half of those who came to our 20th.
Nonetheless, we still had a great turnout, with many traveling hundreds of miles to be there. But I'm sure that social media played a role in determining whether or not many of our classmates were going to show up.
Some are content to live their lives vicariously through others or see the pictures of what someone is doing rather than going out and having these experiences on their own. Pictures may be worth a thousand words, but why not go beyond a thousand?
You may have received a 'friend request' that you accepted with some degree of reluctance because it was a person you may not have cared for years ago. And as you browsed that person's profile, you may realize you may have misjudged that person.
Or that you were right about them all along and nothing's changed.
Employers are finding social media to be a useful tool in screening potential work candidates, or giving them grounds to fire an existing employee.
I like Facebook. It gives me an opportunity to share my life with others I don't get to see as much as I would like. Photos, this weekly blog, the occasional trip, my love of wine, things like that.
I don't do Twitter. I personally don't find my life all that interesting to 'tweet' about every single action I have going on. One form of social media that's fairly low maintenance is enough.
For everyone. I don't care who you are.
Anything beyond that is overboard.
I first started with MySpace. Once I learned that Facebook gravitated to a more mature crowd, I migrated there and shut down my MySpace profile.
If I spend that much time on social media, all I'll be 'tweeting' about is how much time I spend on social media. It doesn't make sense to me.
So what's my final answer, disconnect or reconnect?
It's all a matter of perception, and it boils down to this:
With great power, comes great responsibility.
Make of that what you will.
NEXT WEEK: The Ticking Clock
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Connection Perception...Part I
An old friend of mine from high school posed this question on his Facebook page just a few weeks ago.
He and a friend were discussing how social media is a disconnector and not a reconnector.
A very thought-provoking argument, Michael. Challenge accepted!
The root argument is this...are we relying on social media to supplant social interaction?
Let's think about the oldest form of social media there was before social media.
Huh?
I'm getting around to that. Just humor me for a moment.
The church was the cornerstone of every community. It was the place to gather for worship, and fellowship before and after the Sunday (temple on Saturday) service. With the rise of electronic media and more secular thinking among today's society, the church is slowly losing its grip on that. And churches have been around for...well, forever.
Oh, let's also not forget the stay-at-home Mom. America's social calendar personified.
Then came newspaper. The telephone. Radio and television. Then the personal computer.
While there is some debate over whether or not IBM co-founder Thomas J. Watson Sr. actually said "I think there is a world market for maybe five computers" in 1943, I doubt even he would have believed that these devices, once large enough to fill an entire floor of an office building, would have shrunk to the size of a notebook, with similar capabilities found on cellular telephones, and be available in just about every home worldwide.
It began in the 1970s following the introduction of the microprocessor, though the personal computer as we know it today would not begin entering homes until the start of the 1980s.
Even then, the devices were used for little more other than playing games or as word processors. The latter would eventually supplant typewriters, though some of those devices are still in use today.
With the increase in the number of personal computers entering homes, then came the internet.
The internet as we know it today has been around for a little more than two decades now. However, the concept of networking computers with one another had been around for at least two decades prior to that, though limited in scope to only government, educational, and scientific entities. As more computers entered homes in the 1980s, more 'hackers' found ways to infiltrate computer networks if they were fortunate enough to own a dial-up modem.
Then someone thought of a way to bring the hackers out of hiding. Thus the birth of the World Wide Web.
While some hackers are still underground, others are working legitimately to combat what they had become experts at over the years and now getting paid for it. The birth of the IT department.
Email was praised as a means for those who didn't have the time to devote to sitting down, finding a piece of paper and envelope, go to the post office and get stamps and THEN put the finished product in a mailbox for pickup the next day. Once you bought your monthly subscription to AOL, you could visit any of the free email sites and set up your own account immediately.
I've had my hotmail address for 15 years now.
You could start a letter to a friend, and if you didn't have time to finish, you could save the draft and return to it later, then finish and send it off.
Those who didn't like to write letters now found themselves with time to email. Even those who highly valued the art of penmanship like my mother (who is a left-handed calligraphy artist), found themselves having to assimilate to electronic mail if they intended to stay in touch with family and friends across the miles.
Some even took this a step further and spent the money needed to develop their own website, make money with it by doing something they enjoyed (blogging, photography, selling of crafts, etc.) and quit their hated day jobs.
Entertainers also plied their trades through websites of their own. But what was left for those who couldn't afford a site of their own, yet still wanted to share their lives with others?
Enter Facebook, MySpace, Twitter.
And we'll touch on that next week.
NEXT WEEK: Part II
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Center of Government
"A government big enough to give you everything you want, is strong enough to take everything you have." - Thomas Jefferson
Think about the third President's words for a moment, and realize just how big government really is. Especially here...at just about every level.
I'm not just talking about our elected leaders and appointed officers, but the staffs that support them.
And the mounds of paperwork that make it all run smoothly.
Or so it seems.
Here in Butler County, Pennsylvania, where I've been based for the past seven years, our county commissioners have come under fire for an annex they wish to attach to the county courthouse because they're running out of room.
In this forum, I'm not going to chide nor praise by name any of the three commissioners currently in office for this reason: many of the county's residents have already formed their own personal opinions of each of the commissioners. Their character flaws or gifts are not the issue here. It's all about money and how it's spent.
Just about every county seat in this country has outgrown its original courthouse. They either add another building onto it like in Westmoreland and Butler Counties, vacate it completely and move into an entirely new one, like in Indiana County or in Seneca County, Ohio, or keep the existing building and rent or buy space in neighboring buildings that are but a short walk away, as is the case with Armstrong and Jefferson Counties.
Since those buildings were first erected, populations were beginning to grow in the areas that surrounded them. With population growth, there comes problems that create a need for "growing the government" in kind.
Public safety. Social welfare. Parks and Recreation. Public works and the relative infrastructure. Those are just a few examples.
Fifty years ago, the ills that face our society today simply didn't exist. That's not to say that things like drug abuse, rape, incest, assault, robbery and theft, and murder weren't around, but they were in far fewer numbers than what they are today, and much went unreported or journalists were told to shy away.
In many cases, much of these crimes involve suspects and victims known to each other, and not random crimes committed by strangers. These are crimes borne out of bad choices made by mature adults capable of taking responsibility for their own actions, yet many choose to make victims out of suspects and place the burden of it all on society's shoulders.
A great example of this is Children and Youth Services. This agency has been praised, feared, damned, and celebrated because of the unenviable job its people are tasked to do.
The essence of the job involves removing children from dangerous situations, and also removing them from society where they pose a danger to others.
The commissioners say that this particular agency has outgrown its space and needs room to expand. Not in terms of staff, but the mounds of paperwork from the multitude of files that have to be at near-arms-reach of a caseworker at any given moment.
Thus the basis of the need for the new building, known as the "Government Center Annex", that two of the three commissioners want to attach to the existing Government Center, which is the courthouse annex (an annex for the annex, yes). The third wants to purchase a building down the street that he claims will cost less than building new. The two others claim that cost will be inflated by necessary construction upgrades to bring that building to suit the needs of the CYS office.
A former co-worker of mine inspired me to write this, saying that the money used to buy or build the building could be better spent on fixing roads or giving police departments K-9 officers or other tools necessary to combat the growing threat of drug-related crimes in town.
I couldn't agree more.
Unfortunately, it's not that simple. Even more unfortunate than that, is that the elected leaders at the county level often get an unfair rap that they don't deserve.
Like other municipal governments, counties are restricted on how they raise revenue on their own, and spend money they receive at the state and federal level. It must be documented in painstaking detail. Not only that, they're required by state law to provide human service programs, yet be totally on their own insofar as raising money to fund those programs.
Unfunded mandates, if you will. They're not the only ones. Special education programs that school districts are mandated to have are all funded through local real estate tax revenue.
When more people depend on 'the system' to carry them through life, these programs are forced to grow in size, because the caseload size grows. Though western Pennsylvania has experienced a 'brain drain' over the past two decades with our native-born population fleeing to a more prosperous job climate, we've become a haven for welfare-dependents from other states who come here after they've exhausted their benefits from their own points of origin.
Thus, western Pennsylvania has earned the nickname "Pennsyltucky".
The paperwork involved with these programs, along with CYS and juvenile courts is monumental...more than you could ever imagine.
But we could make those forms and that paperwork electronic, right?
Not that simple.
Unlike the federal government, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania does not have a Paperwork Reduction Act, geared towards making forms simpler and only available through electronic means.
We need one.
Though Common Pleas (in Pennsylvania, circuit court elsewhere) Judges are housed in a county-owned edifice and are elected by county residents, the county has little to no jurisdiction over the judges. They collect a state-issued paycheck and answer to the state.
And Judges want to see real paperwork written in one's own handwriting, if that's the case. The reasoning behind it is because our justice system is so detail-oriented that one little typo or missing word could make the difference between a conviction or acquittal.
Case files need to be on live paper and have to be easily accessible under rules of criminal procedure in just about every state governing disclosure in the court system.
In case this week's column is too long, it's the shortest, yet most concise answer I can give regarding this subject.
That money could be better spent elsewhere. But state law says it can't be. That's what needs to change, and it's up to us to lobby our legislators to make this change happen. If they can't do it, we can elect someone who will.
When we talk about spending millions of dollars for a new courthouse annex for the existing courthouse annex built over a decade ago, BUT have no money to buy the City of Butler a K-9 officer (money for that was raised mostly through private donations spearheaded by a local businessman), yeah, something's wrong!
The county eventually did kick in some cash towards the dog after it became clear that this is what private citizens in Butler wanted, and proved it through a very successful fundraising campaign.
There's also bickering over office space sizes and parking. Let's settle this once and for all. All department heads get the same office size! Your subordinates are doing the legwork, they need room for all the required paperwork. As for parking, let's not put the cart before the horse. I think employees will take any free off-street parking that's available to them. Umbrellas and overshoes were invented for this reason.
Ron, I thank you for your challenge.
I hope this gives you the answer you were looking for.
NEXT WEEK: Disconnect or Reconnect?
Think about the third President's words for a moment, and realize just how big government really is. Especially here...at just about every level.
I'm not just talking about our elected leaders and appointed officers, but the staffs that support them.
And the mounds of paperwork that make it all run smoothly.
Or so it seems.
Here in Butler County, Pennsylvania, where I've been based for the past seven years, our county commissioners have come under fire for an annex they wish to attach to the county courthouse because they're running out of room.
In this forum, I'm not going to chide nor praise by name any of the three commissioners currently in office for this reason: many of the county's residents have already formed their own personal opinions of each of the commissioners. Their character flaws or gifts are not the issue here. It's all about money and how it's spent.
Just about every county seat in this country has outgrown its original courthouse. They either add another building onto it like in Westmoreland and Butler Counties, vacate it completely and move into an entirely new one, like in Indiana County or in Seneca County, Ohio, or keep the existing building and rent or buy space in neighboring buildings that are but a short walk away, as is the case with Armstrong and Jefferson Counties.
Since those buildings were first erected, populations were beginning to grow in the areas that surrounded them. With population growth, there comes problems that create a need for "growing the government" in kind.
Public safety. Social welfare. Parks and Recreation. Public works and the relative infrastructure. Those are just a few examples.
Fifty years ago, the ills that face our society today simply didn't exist. That's not to say that things like drug abuse, rape, incest, assault, robbery and theft, and murder weren't around, but they were in far fewer numbers than what they are today, and much went unreported or journalists were told to shy away.
In many cases, much of these crimes involve suspects and victims known to each other, and not random crimes committed by strangers. These are crimes borne out of bad choices made by mature adults capable of taking responsibility for their own actions, yet many choose to make victims out of suspects and place the burden of it all on society's shoulders.
A great example of this is Children and Youth Services. This agency has been praised, feared, damned, and celebrated because of the unenviable job its people are tasked to do.
The essence of the job involves removing children from dangerous situations, and also removing them from society where they pose a danger to others.
The commissioners say that this particular agency has outgrown its space and needs room to expand. Not in terms of staff, but the mounds of paperwork from the multitude of files that have to be at near-arms-reach of a caseworker at any given moment.
Thus the basis of the need for the new building, known as the "Government Center Annex", that two of the three commissioners want to attach to the existing Government Center, which is the courthouse annex (an annex for the annex, yes). The third wants to purchase a building down the street that he claims will cost less than building new. The two others claim that cost will be inflated by necessary construction upgrades to bring that building to suit the needs of the CYS office.
A former co-worker of mine inspired me to write this, saying that the money used to buy or build the building could be better spent on fixing roads or giving police departments K-9 officers or other tools necessary to combat the growing threat of drug-related crimes in town.
I couldn't agree more.
Unfortunately, it's not that simple. Even more unfortunate than that, is that the elected leaders at the county level often get an unfair rap that they don't deserve.
Like other municipal governments, counties are restricted on how they raise revenue on their own, and spend money they receive at the state and federal level. It must be documented in painstaking detail. Not only that, they're required by state law to provide human service programs, yet be totally on their own insofar as raising money to fund those programs.
Unfunded mandates, if you will. They're not the only ones. Special education programs that school districts are mandated to have are all funded through local real estate tax revenue.
When more people depend on 'the system' to carry them through life, these programs are forced to grow in size, because the caseload size grows. Though western Pennsylvania has experienced a 'brain drain' over the past two decades with our native-born population fleeing to a more prosperous job climate, we've become a haven for welfare-dependents from other states who come here after they've exhausted their benefits from their own points of origin.
Thus, western Pennsylvania has earned the nickname "Pennsyltucky".
The paperwork involved with these programs, along with CYS and juvenile courts is monumental...more than you could ever imagine.
But we could make those forms and that paperwork electronic, right?
Not that simple.
Unlike the federal government, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania does not have a Paperwork Reduction Act, geared towards making forms simpler and only available through electronic means.
We need one.
Though Common Pleas (in Pennsylvania, circuit court elsewhere) Judges are housed in a county-owned edifice and are elected by county residents, the county has little to no jurisdiction over the judges. They collect a state-issued paycheck and answer to the state.
And Judges want to see real paperwork written in one's own handwriting, if that's the case. The reasoning behind it is because our justice system is so detail-oriented that one little typo or missing word could make the difference between a conviction or acquittal.
Case files need to be on live paper and have to be easily accessible under rules of criminal procedure in just about every state governing disclosure in the court system.
In case this week's column is too long, it's the shortest, yet most concise answer I can give regarding this subject.
That money could be better spent elsewhere. But state law says it can't be. That's what needs to change, and it's up to us to lobby our legislators to make this change happen. If they can't do it, we can elect someone who will.
When we talk about spending millions of dollars for a new courthouse annex for the existing courthouse annex built over a decade ago, BUT have no money to buy the City of Butler a K-9 officer (money for that was raised mostly through private donations spearheaded by a local businessman), yeah, something's wrong!
The county eventually did kick in some cash towards the dog after it became clear that this is what private citizens in Butler wanted, and proved it through a very successful fundraising campaign.
There's also bickering over office space sizes and parking. Let's settle this once and for all. All department heads get the same office size! Your subordinates are doing the legwork, they need room for all the required paperwork. As for parking, let's not put the cart before the horse. I think employees will take any free off-street parking that's available to them. Umbrellas and overshoes were invented for this reason.
Ron, I thank you for your challenge.
I hope this gives you the answer you were looking for.
NEXT WEEK: Disconnect or Reconnect?
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Retirement
Outside of radio, not many people would know the name Mel Karmazin.
Inside radio, we know it. And we know it all too well.
Briefly put, he was the guy who discovered (and ultimately syndicated) Howard Stern, who ruled terrestrial radio for more than two decades before moving to Sirius XM.
Mel, whose claim to fame was WNEW in the 60s, gradually moved up the ranks with Metromedia and Infinity Broadcasting, turning the latter into one of the most profitable radio enterprises in the United States, before leading it into a merger with CBS and Viacom.
His support of longtime shock-jock Stern led him to lock horns repeatedly with the FCC, when the agency tried to levy fines for indecency-related allegations against the company. Mel successfully appealed every fine, resulting in reduced judgements or negotiated settlements. Investors fondly looked upon him as someone with a license to print money.
He announced his retirement in early August. It was the second go-round at such an attempt, as he retired from CBS/Viacom after one too many skirmishes with aging company chief Sumner Redstone. He then was lured back into the radio business by officials from Sirius Satellite Radio, and led the company through its merger with XM Satellite Radio. He fought every monopoly-antitrust allegation against him and his new company.
For someone well-positioned to chart a course for radio's future, he may instead be remembered for its demise.
Mel was one of many broadcasting executives who championed relaxing the then-stringent ownership rules for broadcasters. Until the summer of 1992, no company could own more than one FM and one AM station in a single market, and no more than twelve nationwide. That restriction was lifted, allowing companies to acquire a third and up to a fourth property, depending on the market's size, and the fourth property had to be equally in line with the other three. The new rule was called "No More than Four".
Four was just the beginning for Mel.
"I don't see why we can't own more than three FM's in a single market", he was once quoted as saying.
He continued the push for the FCC to relax the rules even further, to the point where a single company was limited to a percentage of market share, which was more abstract and could easily be manipulated by ratings. In short, you could fire a successful program director for doing his job.
Commercial-per-hour limits were all but eliminated. Especially on fragmented niche-driven formats like decade-based Classic Rock or Pop. Song. DJ chatter. Commercials. More DJ chatter. More Commercials. Song. This was especially prevalent on stations in the nation's Top 10 markets.
As radio turned more and more into commercials with music in between, this gave birth to another market: Satellite radio.
Research showed that people were willing to pay a subscription to hear music without commercial interruptions. Simply put, it was bringing services delivered to cable television via Digital Music Express and Music Choice, but this time through one's car.
Because I don't spend this much time in my car, I can't justify the expense. But my own listening habits have changed over the years. Today I listen to music through my iTunes application on my iPhone, which holds about 800 titles. Most of the tracks are stuff that were hits back in the day, but are today all but ignored by program directors.
Or I listen to other radio stations from far-away markets that can't be heard over-the-air here in western Pennsylvania.
Enjoy your retirement, Mel.
At least you're a radio guy who has something to depend upon for the future.
I'm not so sure about the rest of us.
NEXT WEEK: The Hot Seat
Commercial-per-hour limits were all but eliminated. Especially on fragmented niche-driven formats like decade-based Classic Rock or Pop. Song. DJ chatter. Commercials. More DJ chatter. More Commercials. Song. This was especially prevalent on stations in the nation's Top 10 markets.
As radio turned more and more into commercials with music in between, this gave birth to another market: Satellite radio.
Research showed that people were willing to pay a subscription to hear music without commercial interruptions. Simply put, it was bringing services delivered to cable television via Digital Music Express and Music Choice, but this time through one's car.
Because I don't spend this much time in my car, I can't justify the expense. But my own listening habits have changed over the years. Today I listen to music through my iTunes application on my iPhone, which holds about 800 titles. Most of the tracks are stuff that were hits back in the day, but are today all but ignored by program directors.
Or I listen to other radio stations from far-away markets that can't be heard over-the-air here in western Pennsylvania.
Enjoy your retirement, Mel.
At least you're a radio guy who has something to depend upon for the future.
I'm not so sure about the rest of us.
NEXT WEEK: The Hot Seat
Sunday, August 18, 2013
AM Radio
"Wanna get down in a cool way? Picture yourself on a beautiful day...big bell bottoms and groovy long hair, walking in style with a portable CD player...NO! You would listen to the music on the AM radio...you could hear the music on the AM radio."
Those words were forever immortalized by Art Alexakis, the lead singer of the band Everclear, in the song he penned, released in 2000, entitled "AM Radio". If you ever want to hear it, it's off the band's album "Songs from an American Movie Vol. 1: Learning how to smile". It's a great tune.
Alexakis reminisces about growing up in southern California, during the 1970s listening to Top 40 music over an AM radio, which most broadcasters today find blasphemous, if not downright laughable. The most celebratory note of the song is a jingle from the legendary KHJ, played at the very beginning, followed by a static-ridden sample of 70's soul diva Jean's Knight's "Mr. Big Stuff", which establishes itself into the song.
It didn't seem that long ago when you could still find Top 40 music on an AM station. You still can find such stations, albeit in smaller markets and in much smaller numbers.
But stations broadcasting over the AM band have been shrinking over the past decade, giving way to FM and other forms of electronic media.
I'm not in favor of giving up on the band. At least not yet. Though I now consider myself retired from the business, my career, like those of many others, began on AM radio.
WACB in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, was known as "The Ace of Entertainment" in the late 1980s when I first joined the staff in May 1988. Satellite-delivered formats were emerging since the first half of the decade, but WACB remained live and local, with jocks on-site playing their music in real time, rather than engaging in the practice today known as 'voice-tracking', often involving jocks from other markets across the country, infamously mispronouncing town names.
We played real records. You know, the kind that are mostly black vinyl discs that can skip if they're not handled properly. What wasn't on records was played from cartridges, called 'carts' for short. They operated on the same principle as an 8-track tape, but without the four program separation.
Records skipped. Carts wowed or snarled. Both happened on the air. And sometimes it even happened during the 'restroom records'. This was a list of songs that every rock jock knew that were long enough to assure a non-rushed bathroom break.
"Light My Fire" by The Doors. "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes" by Crosby, Stills and Nash. Anything other than "Cat's in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin. "MacArthur Park" by Richard Harris. And there was the granddaddy of them all..."American Pie" by Don McLean. There's many others, but those are the ones immediately coming to mind as I'm writing this.
Good times.
And we more or less programmed our own music. We followed the music clock (most of the time), but more often than not, we skipped over song titles we didn't like printed on the 3 x 5" index cards and kept going until we found one we did.
And it didn't matter to the majority of our listeners.
We were allowed to be creative and chatty. But as the years progressed and FCC ownership and operational rules were relaxed, in came the multiconglomerates swallowing up signals, mostly high-powered FMs, automating them, and any AM's that were included were either switched to syndicated news/talk formats, also automated, or turned off altogether.
The number of AM's has shrunk. It will continue to shrink.
It has to.
Most of the stations that have disappeared are low-powered with complicated and expensive directional antenna arrays, and are too close to major population centers to really be missed by the overall majority, as broadcast television and city newspaper can provide local news in a much more superior manner, thanks to the advances made in modern technology.
I for one, am not ready to give up on AM radio, but a leaner, trimmer band is necessary to assure the band's survival. It has become the proving ground for up and coming radio talent. If these 'farm clubs' are allowed to die, where is the next generation going to go for spring training?
And that's a whole other argument to be featured next week.
Pardon the pun, but stay tuned.
NEXT WEEK: Retirement from Radio
Those words were forever immortalized by Art Alexakis, the lead singer of the band Everclear, in the song he penned, released in 2000, entitled "AM Radio". If you ever want to hear it, it's off the band's album "Songs from an American Movie Vol. 1: Learning how to smile". It's a great tune.
Alexakis reminisces about growing up in southern California, during the 1970s listening to Top 40 music over an AM radio, which most broadcasters today find blasphemous, if not downright laughable. The most celebratory note of the song is a jingle from the legendary KHJ, played at the very beginning, followed by a static-ridden sample of 70's soul diva Jean's Knight's "Mr. Big Stuff", which establishes itself into the song.
It didn't seem that long ago when you could still find Top 40 music on an AM station. You still can find such stations, albeit in smaller markets and in much smaller numbers.
But stations broadcasting over the AM band have been shrinking over the past decade, giving way to FM and other forms of electronic media.
I'm not in favor of giving up on the band. At least not yet. Though I now consider myself retired from the business, my career, like those of many others, began on AM radio.
WACB in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, was known as "The Ace of Entertainment" in the late 1980s when I first joined the staff in May 1988. Satellite-delivered formats were emerging since the first half of the decade, but WACB remained live and local, with jocks on-site playing their music in real time, rather than engaging in the practice today known as 'voice-tracking', often involving jocks from other markets across the country, infamously mispronouncing town names.
We played real records. You know, the kind that are mostly black vinyl discs that can skip if they're not handled properly. What wasn't on records was played from cartridges, called 'carts' for short. They operated on the same principle as an 8-track tape, but without the four program separation.
Records skipped. Carts wowed or snarled. Both happened on the air. And sometimes it even happened during the 'restroom records'. This was a list of songs that every rock jock knew that were long enough to assure a non-rushed bathroom break.
"Light My Fire" by The Doors. "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes" by Crosby, Stills and Nash. Anything other than "Cat's in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin. "MacArthur Park" by Richard Harris. And there was the granddaddy of them all..."American Pie" by Don McLean. There's many others, but those are the ones immediately coming to mind as I'm writing this.
Good times.
And we more or less programmed our own music. We followed the music clock (most of the time), but more often than not, we skipped over song titles we didn't like printed on the 3 x 5" index cards and kept going until we found one we did.
And it didn't matter to the majority of our listeners.
We were allowed to be creative and chatty. But as the years progressed and FCC ownership and operational rules were relaxed, in came the multiconglomerates swallowing up signals, mostly high-powered FMs, automating them, and any AM's that were included were either switched to syndicated news/talk formats, also automated, or turned off altogether.
The number of AM's has shrunk. It will continue to shrink.
It has to.
Most of the stations that have disappeared are low-powered with complicated and expensive directional antenna arrays, and are too close to major population centers to really be missed by the overall majority, as broadcast television and city newspaper can provide local news in a much more superior manner, thanks to the advances made in modern technology.
I for one, am not ready to give up on AM radio, but a leaner, trimmer band is necessary to assure the band's survival. It has become the proving ground for up and coming radio talent. If these 'farm clubs' are allowed to die, where is the next generation going to go for spring training?
And that's a whole other argument to be featured next week.
Pardon the pun, but stay tuned.
NEXT WEEK: Retirement from Radio
Sunday, August 11, 2013
The Kidd at Heart
Someone once said "Love what you do, and you will never work a day in your life."
One person did just that. He has lately come to be known as "Radio's Biggest Kidd".
To most people outside of Dallas, Texas he was an unknown.
One person did just that. He has lately come to be known as "Radio's Biggest Kidd".
To most people outside of Dallas, Texas he was an unknown.
To those in and around Dallas, he was a close friend who helped you get your weekday mornings off to a good start. He even did so via satellite for a number of stations in about 75 markets nationwide.
To us in the radio industry, including those of us retired from it, he was a brother. He was out to prove that good morning radio didn't have to be dirty or tasteless, and he did just that.
He published a monthly newsletter called "The Morning Mouth", dedicated to helping morning jocks make their shows better, no matter what size market you were in.
Bit ideas, cheap promotional gimmicks that wouldn't make the GM reach for his antacids, and news that jocks needed to know about the changing facets of the industry, but might have been reluctant to accept.
"This business is changing so much, that a year from now, I don't think we'll recognize it," he said in one issue. That was shortly after FCC rules were first relaxed that allowed a company to own more than one FM in a single market, thus putting your once mortal enemy right across the hall from you. Weird.
At that time, the internet was slowly burgeoning. He encouraged jocks to embrace the evolving technology with "BitBoard" a free show prep sharing service accessed online, where jocks who subscribed agreed to provide a weekly report of what they had planned or had previously done for their shows.
Though a jock for more than three and a half decades, he was also an astute businessman, later selling both "The 'Mouth" and BitBoard to other broadcasting companies.
His name was David Peter Cradick, or "Kidd Kraddick" to the scores of listeners he entertained each morning out of the Kiss-FM studio in Dallas, Texas...the native Ohioan's adoptive home base for almost 30 years, having been born in the Toledo area and raised in Florida.
In an industry where shock jocks like Howard Stern, Mancow, and Don Imus gain publicity by what they say or do (negatively), Kidd didn't stoop to such tactics. He made a name for himself by not engaging in overly high-profile sophomoric on-air stunts, but rather using his position to make the world a better place for the most vulnerable members of society.
Thus, Kidd gained a reputation as the industry's 'good guy'. Gregarious, engaging, and personable are just a few adjectives to describe his character.
He made time for everyone, without exception. He valued his listeners, and valued his colleagues. Especially the young, hungry talents still getting their feet wet in small markets. I know this personally, because I was one of them.
I always called him Dave, never Kidd. "Hey Pittsburgh! How's it going?" he would ask when fielding the occasional call from me. I felt a bit of a personal connection, because as he was having his tenth birthday party, I was coming into this world.
A short 21 years ago, he personified the example of 'giving back' by creating his own charity, The Kraddick Foundation. The charity is dedicated to helping children with life-threatening illnesses or chronic injury, mostly listener-funded. You can read more about it at www.kiddskids.com.
He also had his share of personal problems, all of which he successfully overcame.
He was canned from KEGL after eight years in 1992, in favor of a format change and Howard Stern. Many thought he was finished after a six-month paid vacation by the then-owners. No one could be more wrong as the new KHKS hit the airwaves as a new Top 40 station after modest success under an NAC format, and quickly hired Kidd to do mornings, sparing no marketing expense. It all paid off...for he would remain there for the rest of his career, and his life.
His marriage of 21 years to his wife Carol Charette ended in divorce in 2007. "I was fortunate to meet Dave when he was doing nights and eating 'Beanie Weenies' out of the can," she once said.
They had a daughter together named Caroline, born in 1990, and having just graduated college last year. Despite the parting, Kidd and Carol remained friends. Kidd eventually found love again, with Lissi Mullen, the 32-year-old national sales manager of the Gaylord Texan Resort and Convention Center, whom he planned to marry only very recently.
Though his fame was mostly confined to north Texas, Kidd managed to collect some famous friends over the years, including Dr. Phil McGraw, Ryan Seacrest, and Mark Cuban, who all expressed shock over his passing. Just to name a few.
Two weeks prior to his passing on Saturday, July 27th, 2013, he did a bit on his show about how he'd like to die, complete with a fake memorial service on the air.
Though his fame was mostly confined to north Texas, Kidd managed to collect some famous friends over the years, including Dr. Phil McGraw, Ryan Seacrest, and Mark Cuban, who all expressed shock over his passing. Just to name a few.
Two weeks prior to his passing on Saturday, July 27th, 2013, he did a bit on his show about how he'd like to die, complete with a fake memorial service on the air.
He wanted it to be quick. No terminal illness or prolonged suffering.
He got his wish, albeit earlier than anyone ever could have imagined.
And the timing of the on-air bit was eerie.
It happened on a New Orleans golf course, during a charity event for his foundation. He had fallen ill and was taken to West Jefferson Medical Center, where he died moments later at age 53 of what we now know to have been due to complications arising from heart disease.
We also know now that Kidd did not die a suffering death. He died at one of his own charity events, doing what he loved. All things considered, that's not too bad.
We also know now that Kidd did not die a suffering death. He died at one of his own charity events, doing what he loved. All things considered, that's not too bad.
"When I die," he told his morning show team during the death bit, "you have permission to take a bunch of creepy pictures of my body."
Whether they took him up on that offer, or whether his family allowed it is anyone's guess. No pictures have surfaced. So far, no one of the hundreds who attended his private memorial service a week ago this past Friday has anything to say about it. Plans for a public memorial service have yet to be announced.
But the truth is this.
The world has lost a kind and generous spirit. The radio industry has lost a gifted on-air talent. Lissi has lost her life partner. Caroline has lost her beloved daddy.
"I will never wrap my brain around my father's passing," she Tweeted. "Please keep me and my family in your prayers and ask the Lord to watch over my Daddy."
You got it..."Little Kidd."
NEXT WEEK: Band on the Run
Sunday, August 4, 2013
GM's New Deal
For those of you who have been paying attention, you may notice that General Motors has undergone a major facelift of several of its dealerships over the past few years.
It's kind of hard to miss. The soon-to-be signature blue tiles of Chevrolet dealerships and the silver tile of Buick and GMC dealerships, all complete with new signage.
GM has unfairly received a lot of critical backlash over the past few years. Whether is was taking government-offered assistance to ensure the brand's survival, or starting this program to facelift its dealership network, with the automaker picking up the majority of the tab for its dealers.
This backlash, to me, is not fair.
I'm a second-generation motorhead. I not only pay attention to what's under the hood, but what all goes into the production of an automobile. From its engineering to its purchase.
For a period of 18 months, I worked for Mazda's Flat Rock assembly plant in southeastern Michigan, about 20 miles south of Detroit. During my tenure, the plant produced the 626 and the MX-6 models, including the Ford Probe through Auto Alliance, a joint endeavor between Ford and Mazda of North America.
My job was to take cars off the assembly line and either move them into the storage yard or lines for shipping by truck or rail. Or we pulled cars from the storage yard into the shipping lines.
Our busiest time of the year was the first quarter, when dealers were replenishing their stock after the year-end closeout sales. This meant seven-day workweeks and sometimes 10 to 12 hour days...all in sub-freezing temperatures and blizzard-like conditions.
Not always a pleasant place to work. Nonetheless, I still had fun doing it, and still have many happy memories of the place.
Thus, it was only natural that I keep an eye on the industry years after leaving it.
I especially paid attention to GM's plight, and how the conservative capitalist purists insisted that the brand be allowed to die.
To do so would have cost not just thousands, but MILLIONS of jobs. Not just at GM, but the subcontractors that produce parts for the automaker. The network of approximately 6,000 dealerships nationwide, many of which employed at least 50 people.
And there would have been the domino effect on the other brands that didn't have to fold, now that consumer confidence had been shattered forever due to the demise of what used to be the largest corporation in the world for decades.
One person still has yet to offer me a plausible solution that would have been an effective alternative to the federal bailout.
One person still has yet to offer me a plausible solution that would have been an effective alternative to the federal bailout.
Let it die...real smart, huh?
But the brand hasn't died. It's come back.
And it's done so in a big, big way.
GM has trimmed its dealer network to approximately 4,300, which has allowed it to be administered much more efficiently. The retail brands have been trimmed from seven to four. Its new dealership renovation program has the goal of providing uniformity and instant recognition not just with the vehicle's badging, but the 'badging' of its dealerships as well.
It only makes sense. As a society no longer limited to the geographic borders of its native land, we have had more foreign-born citizens coming to the U.S. than ever before. Those who were not born with English as their first language. The common appearance of the dealerships don't require a strong command of the English language to know what can be found at one. The color and badging do the work for you.
Ever wonder why controls inside vehicles have symbols instead of words these days?
It only makes sense. As a society no longer limited to the geographic borders of its native land, we have had more foreign-born citizens coming to the U.S. than ever before. Those who were not born with English as their first language. The common appearance of the dealerships don't require a strong command of the English language to know what can be found at one. The color and badging do the work for you.
Ever wonder why controls inside vehicles have symbols instead of words these days?
By the way, this is nothing new among the Big Three. Just a different take on what Chrysler did several years before when many of its dealerships took on a southwestern hacienda-styled motif, and Ford adopted new signage.
And there are rules.
To participate, the dealer can only show it's GM-licensed brands in the showrooms. Foreign branded new vehicles owned by the same dealer must be located in a separate showroom with its lot separate from the GM vehicles.
The program is strictly voluntary, but it's hinted that non-participating dealers had better be producing impressive sales numbers if they want to keep their franchises. Some of those in the program have gone the extra mile and built entirely new facilities according to GM standards.
I heard one man complain recently "all done with (taxpayer) money."
Read the papers, buddy.
GM paid back every penny they borrowed from the feds. Its leadership at the time was smart enough to realize that any negative publicity generated by asking for loan forgiveness or an unreasonably long term of repayment, could kill the badly-injured brand.
And people are buying again.
Many GM dealerships are now reporting that 2013 could be their best year ever, in terms of sales figures. Not only that, but people are buying the larger pick-ups and SUV's, as opposed to the "loss leaders" (aka subcompacts) when the industry's rebound began.
GM has not only regained a foothold in the new car market, but it has worked hard to increase its brand awareness and live within its means. Unfortunately, it had to learn this lesson the hard way like other companies when the housing market collapse of 2008 created the domino effect that still has our economy healing.
Healing is always better than reeling.
NEXT WEEK: For Kidd's Sake
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Four and Many More
Where did the time go?
It didn't seem that long ago when I was at my wife Margie's side when the squirming organism emerged from under the cloth covering her lower half after almost fifteen hours and brought into the world from her safe dark haven where she spent the past nine months.
One week ago this past Friday marked the four year anniversary of the event that began when Margie said "I think my water broke".
So much has happened.
Moving from formula to solid food after just getting used to getting up in the middle of the night to give her her bottle. Her first experience with chocolate. Her first steps in September 2010. Her first words and her who-flipped-a-switch talking and interaction that hasn't made her shut up for a moment since July 2, 2011.
Our daughter Savannah has been a rollercoaster ride of laughter, tears, failures and accomplishments all at the same time since her debut in this world on July 19, 2009.
We've been through daycare, pre-school, tumbling classes, swimming lessons, with her latest interests being ballet class and soccer. This little girl has been through so much in the first four years of her life.
One can only help to wonder how much more she'll be through during her childhood years. Even my own childhood memories are fading as I've grown older.
It's amazing how one can grow with their child as well.
You learn to be less selfish, listen harder, gain greater patience, and are more cognizant of every word and action from you having an effect on your child.
Positive and negative, I might add.
With a small child, birthdays aren't celebrated in one fell swoop. Especially if they happen during the week. In this case, it was a three-day birthday extravaganza.
There was her official birthday on July 19th, celebrated with the "July Birthday Club", which consists of my father-in-law, my niece Mia, and Savannah. The club lunch was held at Hardwood Cafe that day.
Then the next day there was the party with her little friends, one of whom celebrated his own birthday earlier that day. Two birthday parties in one day...just about every small child's blood fantasy.
If that weren't enough, there was yet another party the day after, with the extended family members, along with her 'big gift' that came in the shape of a 16-inch Mongoose bicycle, a gift from my parents.
The Berenstain Bears are an important part of Savannah's reading. My wife and I particularly enjoy the lessons taught in these books, especially the ones with the more Christian-themed "Living Lights" series.
One particular story is called "Too Much Birthday".
Sister Bear is overwhelmed by a noisy and crowded sixth-birthday party, though she is the guest of honor. It's proof positive that even kids have their limits. We adults can only internalize our frustrations and reach for the closest 'legal beverage' after all is said and done in order to begin the decompression process.
But a kid doesn't know this. They haven't experienced all the life lessons an adult has and has no other outlet other than acting out emotionally.
If only we could get away with that.
NEXT WEEK: Wheels and Deals
It didn't seem that long ago when I was at my wife Margie's side when the squirming organism emerged from under the cloth covering her lower half after almost fifteen hours and brought into the world from her safe dark haven where she spent the past nine months.
One week ago this past Friday marked the four year anniversary of the event that began when Margie said "I think my water broke".
So much has happened.
Moving from formula to solid food after just getting used to getting up in the middle of the night to give her her bottle. Her first experience with chocolate. Her first steps in September 2010. Her first words and her who-flipped-a-switch talking and interaction that hasn't made her shut up for a moment since July 2, 2011.
Our daughter Savannah has been a rollercoaster ride of laughter, tears, failures and accomplishments all at the same time since her debut in this world on July 19, 2009.
We've been through daycare, pre-school, tumbling classes, swimming lessons, with her latest interests being ballet class and soccer. This little girl has been through so much in the first four years of her life.
One can only help to wonder how much more she'll be through during her childhood years. Even my own childhood memories are fading as I've grown older.
It's amazing how one can grow with their child as well.
You learn to be less selfish, listen harder, gain greater patience, and are more cognizant of every word and action from you having an effect on your child.
Positive and negative, I might add.
With a small child, birthdays aren't celebrated in one fell swoop. Especially if they happen during the week. In this case, it was a three-day birthday extravaganza.
There was her official birthday on July 19th, celebrated with the "July Birthday Club", which consists of my father-in-law, my niece Mia, and Savannah. The club lunch was held at Hardwood Cafe that day.
Then the next day there was the party with her little friends, one of whom celebrated his own birthday earlier that day. Two birthday parties in one day...just about every small child's blood fantasy.
If that weren't enough, there was yet another party the day after, with the extended family members, along with her 'big gift' that came in the shape of a 16-inch Mongoose bicycle, a gift from my parents.
The Berenstain Bears are an important part of Savannah's reading. My wife and I particularly enjoy the lessons taught in these books, especially the ones with the more Christian-themed "Living Lights" series.
One particular story is called "Too Much Birthday".
Sister Bear is overwhelmed by a noisy and crowded sixth-birthday party, though she is the guest of honor. It's proof positive that even kids have their limits. We adults can only internalize our frustrations and reach for the closest 'legal beverage' after all is said and done in order to begin the decompression process.
But a kid doesn't know this. They haven't experienced all the life lessons an adult has and has no other outlet other than acting out emotionally.
If only we could get away with that.
NEXT WEEK: Wheels and Deals
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Staying Afloat
Most of you who are friends with me on Facebook know that I have a boat that's undergone a heavy restoration effort this past spring.
It's amazing what a little money set aside can accomplish if spent wisely, and what results time can also bring.
My wife and I try to do a 'date night' about once a month. Over dinner one night in Pittsburgh, she asked me if I wanted to sell the 1988 Bayliner Cobra that's been languishing near my father's garage in Apollo for close to three years now.
I told her I didn't want to...that the reason was because of money. Unfortunately, when you have a child, you find that you have less and less of it.
Much to my surprise, she told me that she put money aside for repairs. I asked her to give me a number.
$1,000.
That number would likely not fix everything, but it would get the high-priority work done. Not only that, but there was plenty of work that was just that.
The entire floor needed new woodwork, and so did the upper deck in the bow area. New carpeting throughout. Upholstery needed purchased, along with padding to go underneath it.
Time was also a factor. I wanted to get it done before Memorial Day.
I told my dad my intentions. After he saw me buy the first couple pieces of plywood for the upholstered walls, and then cut them out, he knew I meant business.
Then by my next visit back, I saw that he had cleared out some space and moved my boat inside his garage and near his own...a 1990 16-foot tri-hull Bonito. Oh, it was on!
What I didn't have time to do, he did in his spare time. What I didn't know how to do he either did himself or showed me how. Or I watched him once and did the rest myself. Between the two of us, when we didn't have to keep the daughter/granddaughter entertained, we managed to get a lot done.
Carefully watching for sale prices at suppliers (Jo Ann Fabrics, Ace Hardware, Home Depot and Lowe's), we spent the resources wisely and when all was said and done, we had a very impressive vessel that would rival many of the newer products Bayliner is putting out today.
And it would last longer.
Way longer.
Pressure-treated lumber, given additional treatment with linseed oil and paint. Galvanized deck screws. Liquid Nails outdoor construction adhesive. Marine-quality vinyl...even better than what the boat came originally equipped with when it left the factory in late 1987. Pliable outdoor carpet from Lowe's, textured similar to the original. And the best cover money could buy while the boat was stored outdoors during the season.
Even Margie was impressed.
But before we could take our maiden voyage as a family, my Dad suggested that we take it out to Crooked Creek Lake for a test run, as the engine hadn't been run for so long and in case something did go wrong, he was able to find it.
I had a bad experience (well, a couple) with Crooked Creek a few years ago, but thought, Margie and I had learned our lessons as boat newbies, so we'll give it another try.
So Dad and I launched the boat off the dock, and given a high temperature of close to 90, off we went. Remembering that my dad had never been on this boat before while it was on the water, I offered him the opportunity to take the wheel.
He didn't hesitate to take the wheel nor be conservative with the throttle. All 125 horsepower of that Force/Mercury engine was going to be taken to the max, with the fuel pump screaming for mercy after it all.
The look on his face said it all. It was more than just a construction project. It was the chance to see a masterpiece in action. What weeks of extreme attention to detail and patience manifested in on that hot June Tuesday. A labor of love would have been an understatement.
While we weren't as lucky weatherwise with our 2013 season family maiden voyage, we still called it a success. There were few mishaps (loading and unloading), and the boat ran well.
After all, as any boater may tell you, the worst day boating is better than the best day working.
NEXT WEEK: Four More Years
It's amazing what a little money set aside can accomplish if spent wisely, and what results time can also bring.
My wife and I try to do a 'date night' about once a month. Over dinner one night in Pittsburgh, she asked me if I wanted to sell the 1988 Bayliner Cobra that's been languishing near my father's garage in Apollo for close to three years now.
I told her I didn't want to...that the reason was because of money. Unfortunately, when you have a child, you find that you have less and less of it.
Much to my surprise, she told me that she put money aside for repairs. I asked her to give me a number.
$1,000.
That number would likely not fix everything, but it would get the high-priority work done. Not only that, but there was plenty of work that was just that.
The entire floor needed new woodwork, and so did the upper deck in the bow area. New carpeting throughout. Upholstery needed purchased, along with padding to go underneath it.
Time was also a factor. I wanted to get it done before Memorial Day.
I told my dad my intentions. After he saw me buy the first couple pieces of plywood for the upholstered walls, and then cut them out, he knew I meant business.
Then by my next visit back, I saw that he had cleared out some space and moved my boat inside his garage and near his own...a 1990 16-foot tri-hull Bonito. Oh, it was on!
What I didn't have time to do, he did in his spare time. What I didn't know how to do he either did himself or showed me how. Or I watched him once and did the rest myself. Between the two of us, when we didn't have to keep the daughter/granddaughter entertained, we managed to get a lot done.
Carefully watching for sale prices at suppliers (Jo Ann Fabrics, Ace Hardware, Home Depot and Lowe's), we spent the resources wisely and when all was said and done, we had a very impressive vessel that would rival many of the newer products Bayliner is putting out today.
And it would last longer.
Way longer.
Pressure-treated lumber, given additional treatment with linseed oil and paint. Galvanized deck screws. Liquid Nails outdoor construction adhesive. Marine-quality vinyl...even better than what the boat came originally equipped with when it left the factory in late 1987. Pliable outdoor carpet from Lowe's, textured similar to the original. And the best cover money could buy while the boat was stored outdoors during the season.
Even Margie was impressed.
But before we could take our maiden voyage as a family, my Dad suggested that we take it out to Crooked Creek Lake for a test run, as the engine hadn't been run for so long and in case something did go wrong, he was able to find it.
I had a bad experience (well, a couple) with Crooked Creek a few years ago, but thought, Margie and I had learned our lessons as boat newbies, so we'll give it another try.
So Dad and I launched the boat off the dock, and given a high temperature of close to 90, off we went. Remembering that my dad had never been on this boat before while it was on the water, I offered him the opportunity to take the wheel.
He didn't hesitate to take the wheel nor be conservative with the throttle. All 125 horsepower of that Force/Mercury engine was going to be taken to the max, with the fuel pump screaming for mercy after it all.
The look on his face said it all. It was more than just a construction project. It was the chance to see a masterpiece in action. What weeks of extreme attention to detail and patience manifested in on that hot June Tuesday. A labor of love would have been an understatement.
While we weren't as lucky weatherwise with our 2013 season family maiden voyage, we still called it a success. There were few mishaps (loading and unloading), and the boat ran well.
After all, as any boater may tell you, the worst day boating is better than the best day working.
NEXT WEEK: Four More Years
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Career Workout
It's a jungle out there.
If you're out of work and hunting for a job, you don't need me to tell you that.
I've long held the belief that it's not a matter of the jungle itself, but how to cut the brush in your path. With a machete, or a pocketknife?
Trying to find a job these days, especially if you've been 'involuntarily outplaced', is not an easy task. It's not just isolated to my home base in the Pittsburgh area, but anywhere.
Companies that were well-established here for decades are packing up and moving elsewhere. Or being absorbed into other companies altogether.
Over the past three decades, Pittsburgh has managed to transition itself from a smokestack-based economy that earned it a less than favorable reputation (who remembers those Pittsburgh jokes?) as the dirtiest city in America, to a corporate center attracting highly-educated professionals and high-tech companies that eventually led it to earn the title "America's Most Livable City".
More than once, I might add.
But Pittsburgh is seeing a new set of challenges now.
Crumbling infrastructure that only recently has gained attention, yet little funding to change its fortunes. A tax base that continues to shrink. Companies not properly incentivized to not just build here, but stay here as well.
We have people with graduate degrees who are having a hard time finding work here, never mind those with education levels at or below the four-year degreed level.
I had learned of one particular company where hundreds lined up for a small number of part-time jobs, and most of them were college graduates.
We have people willing to work. We don't have enough jobs for them.
And that's wrong.
I learned of this firsthand when I visited the local Pennsylvania CareerLink office earlier this year. Not as a visitor, but as a client.
I was surrounded by degreed professionals at a career education class. Some of them willingly jumped at the chance of a $12 an hour overnight security job at several Marcellus shale drilling sites in the area.
Most employment recruiters tell job-seeking candidates not to settle for just any job out there, and that employers tend to look at those who stay within their fields.
Staying within one's own field should never stand in the way of feeding one's family or sustaining one's self, and why any HR person should feel otherwise, I'll never know.
I know a person who left the engineering field for a job with a car rental company. Another who left ministry to work in retail. One more who left the graphic design field to run his family's farm. I'm married to someone who left teaching for criminology.
Hey, child actors don't stay in the business for life. They've gone on to be great successes outside of show business.
Mike Nesmith. Ken Osmond. David Doremus. Jeremy Miller. To name a few.
If companies are trying to be more family friendly by offering options like telecommuting or flex-hours, why can't they accept the fact that not everyone is content with sitting on his and her duff and willing to go the extra mile to get up in the morning and do something with their day?
To me, working hard and having a job is far more admirable than waiting for the phone to ring.
NEXT WEEK: Boat Trip
If you're out of work and hunting for a job, you don't need me to tell you that.
I've long held the belief that it's not a matter of the jungle itself, but how to cut the brush in your path. With a machete, or a pocketknife?
Trying to find a job these days, especially if you've been 'involuntarily outplaced', is not an easy task. It's not just isolated to my home base in the Pittsburgh area, but anywhere.
Companies that were well-established here for decades are packing up and moving elsewhere. Or being absorbed into other companies altogether.
Over the past three decades, Pittsburgh has managed to transition itself from a smokestack-based economy that earned it a less than favorable reputation (who remembers those Pittsburgh jokes?) as the dirtiest city in America, to a corporate center attracting highly-educated professionals and high-tech companies that eventually led it to earn the title "America's Most Livable City".
More than once, I might add.
But Pittsburgh is seeing a new set of challenges now.
Crumbling infrastructure that only recently has gained attention, yet little funding to change its fortunes. A tax base that continues to shrink. Companies not properly incentivized to not just build here, but stay here as well.
We have people with graduate degrees who are having a hard time finding work here, never mind those with education levels at or below the four-year degreed level.
I had learned of one particular company where hundreds lined up for a small number of part-time jobs, and most of them were college graduates.
We have people willing to work. We don't have enough jobs for them.
And that's wrong.
I learned of this firsthand when I visited the local Pennsylvania CareerLink office earlier this year. Not as a visitor, but as a client.
I was surrounded by degreed professionals at a career education class. Some of them willingly jumped at the chance of a $12 an hour overnight security job at several Marcellus shale drilling sites in the area.
Most employment recruiters tell job-seeking candidates not to settle for just any job out there, and that employers tend to look at those who stay within their fields.
Staying within one's own field should never stand in the way of feeding one's family or sustaining one's self, and why any HR person should feel otherwise, I'll never know.
I know a person who left the engineering field for a job with a car rental company. Another who left ministry to work in retail. One more who left the graphic design field to run his family's farm. I'm married to someone who left teaching for criminology.
Hey, child actors don't stay in the business for life. They've gone on to be great successes outside of show business.
Mike Nesmith. Ken Osmond. David Doremus. Jeremy Miller. To name a few.
If companies are trying to be more family friendly by offering options like telecommuting or flex-hours, why can't they accept the fact that not everyone is content with sitting on his and her duff and willing to go the extra mile to get up in the morning and do something with their day?
To me, working hard and having a job is far more admirable than waiting for the phone to ring.
NEXT WEEK: Boat Trip
Sunday, June 30, 2013
His World Was Our World
For many working-class Pittsburghers, Al Julius was a powerful voice for those who didn't hold large sums of money or influential positions of authority.
Loved by the blue-collars. Feared by the white-collars. The former was his world.
"Julius' World" was the name of his five-minute commentary five days a week on KDKA-TV's six o'clock news edition.
He wore suits and ties when he was on KQV radio in the 1960s. But by 1973, the brash, Brooklyn native had made the move to television, and in doing so, ironically took on a less camera-friendly image, marked by his full graying beard and abandoning suits for sportcoats, usually with sweaters and never a necktie.
And makeup? I can see him telling the director "you know what you can do with that."
Why? Because the people he was trying to reach likely didn't own a suit, much less wear one often. He was the de facto voice in the media for those who had none.
He was bare and blunt, unashamed of his words and actions, and had no patience for those who tap-danced around what they really wanted to say. In Julius' World, it's OK to get mad!
"Out out out!" One of his catchphrases during interviews. He wanted that raw emotion, that anger, that feeling of discontentment that few externalize in polite society.
He had no time for it. Less so for what he described as the 'fluff and puff' that people wanted to hear and see on TV, rather than what they needed to hear.
He wanted people to know the opinions those had of local government. The wasteful spending, the indifference towards those losing their jobs after the steel industry collapsed. The blind eye towards Pittsburgh's fabled red-light district along Liberty Avenue. The poor and hungry in our own backyard trying to find something in their lives to be thankful for...which culminated in something that still lives on, more than two decades after his departure and over a decade this month after his death.
He introduced "Julius' Turkeys" with all the subtlety of a busted chainsaw in the on-air promo that launched the annual Thanksgiving fundraiser.
He had the characteristic angry look in his eye...almost as if he were daring you to have a Happy Thanksgiving esconced in your suburban home's Barcalounger after stuffing yourself with turkey and stuffing, without giving a second thought to those less fortunate.
"THEIR tables will be bare...NOTHING!"
He wanted you to feel guilty about it. He wanted you to want to do something about it, and the last thing he wanted was having to tell you it was your duty to your fellow man to do it.
But if not for the imperfect world in which we live, Al's world may not have existed.
Al was rudely shoved aside during a massive layoff at KDKA-TV in 1991. While he said he would have accepted a pay cut, he was less willing to change the style that made him just as much a part of Pittsburgh as chipped ham and Iron City beer.
He proved it in 1995 when he given a chance to deliver a farewell address, which he began with his trademark irreverence.
"Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?"
Unfortunately, the likes of Al have fallen into anachronistic anonymity, where journalistic backbone has given way to 'safe' news reporting pandering to advertisers and political cronyism.
I've often heard it said it's better to safe than sorry.
Is it?
I'm sure Al would be the first to say "don't even think of going there."
NEXT WEEK: Workout to Work Out
Loved by the blue-collars. Feared by the white-collars. The former was his world.
"Julius' World" was the name of his five-minute commentary five days a week on KDKA-TV's six o'clock news edition.
He wore suits and ties when he was on KQV radio in the 1960s. But by 1973, the brash, Brooklyn native had made the move to television, and in doing so, ironically took on a less camera-friendly image, marked by his full graying beard and abandoning suits for sportcoats, usually with sweaters and never a necktie.
And makeup? I can see him telling the director "you know what you can do with that."
Why? Because the people he was trying to reach likely didn't own a suit, much less wear one often. He was the de facto voice in the media for those who had none.
He was bare and blunt, unashamed of his words and actions, and had no patience for those who tap-danced around what they really wanted to say. In Julius' World, it's OK to get mad!
"Out out out!" One of his catchphrases during interviews. He wanted that raw emotion, that anger, that feeling of discontentment that few externalize in polite society.
He had no time for it. Less so for what he described as the 'fluff and puff' that people wanted to hear and see on TV, rather than what they needed to hear.
He wanted people to know the opinions those had of local government. The wasteful spending, the indifference towards those losing their jobs after the steel industry collapsed. The blind eye towards Pittsburgh's fabled red-light district along Liberty Avenue. The poor and hungry in our own backyard trying to find something in their lives to be thankful for...which culminated in something that still lives on, more than two decades after his departure and over a decade this month after his death.
He introduced "Julius' Turkeys" with all the subtlety of a busted chainsaw in the on-air promo that launched the annual Thanksgiving fundraiser.
He had the characteristic angry look in his eye...almost as if he were daring you to have a Happy Thanksgiving esconced in your suburban home's Barcalounger after stuffing yourself with turkey and stuffing, without giving a second thought to those less fortunate.
"THEIR tables will be bare...NOTHING!"
He wanted you to feel guilty about it. He wanted you to want to do something about it, and the last thing he wanted was having to tell you it was your duty to your fellow man to do it.
But if not for the imperfect world in which we live, Al's world may not have existed.
Al was rudely shoved aside during a massive layoff at KDKA-TV in 1991. While he said he would have accepted a pay cut, he was less willing to change the style that made him just as much a part of Pittsburgh as chipped ham and Iron City beer.
He proved it in 1995 when he given a chance to deliver a farewell address, which he began with his trademark irreverence.
"Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?"
Unfortunately, the likes of Al have fallen into anachronistic anonymity, where journalistic backbone has given way to 'safe' news reporting pandering to advertisers and political cronyism.
I've often heard it said it's better to safe than sorry.
Is it?
I'm sure Al would be the first to say "don't even think of going there."
NEXT WEEK: Workout to Work Out
Sunday, June 23, 2013
KZ's Country
Hey, it doesn't affect me. Yet why do I still care?
Local AM radio stations have been leaving the dial en masse since the Telecommunications Act of 1996 that mandated that radio stations listed as 'silent' had so many days to power back up or see their licenses expire.
Many of said stations were small-town operations that were licensed to operate only between sunrise and sunset. Over time, they lost their relevance and were supplanted by FM stations or other media altogether.
On May 16, 2013, it was the end of the line for a forty-two-and-a-half-year-old AM daytime station licensed to the city of Washington, Pennsylvania.
WKZV originally took to the air on October 1, 1970 as WKEG. The one thousand watt AM daytimer came on the air at a rather odd time, when FM radio was starting to gain momentum (though automakers weren't entirely sure at that time). Nonetheless, this little station pressed on and was a pretty impressive little powerhouse through the late 1980s, when its owner of 16 years decided to retire and sell to another owner.
Said owner ran said station into the ground faster than a pile driver at a Boston loading dock. It went off the air indefinitely until another owner was found. That owner eventually cut his losses after a year, unable to overcome the stigma created by previous mismanagement, and also went off the air until a new owner could be found.
In the business, we call a radio station that's gone off the air indefinitely as one that has 'gone dark'. The term applies to the broadcast tower, usually lighted, as 'dark' because there's no more money to pay the electric bill.
And that owner found making a tough go of the station. But this time, the station did not go dark. Other investors were found to take it over. After some tweaking, the station began to finally recover and prosper over time.
Then as the owners got older, they got tired. Tired of the hard work involved in keeping a station like this on the air and staying competitive as technology around them evolved.
Local radio stations require a lot of hands-on care by an operator willing to 'wear a lot of hats' as part of keeping such operations profitable.
Many radio stations have found themselves relying more on promotions-based revenue as a means to make money. Advertisers today are no longer buying straight commercial ads in the traditional sense, but rather, the 'value-added', or 'buy-this-and-you'll get-that' mentality.
When you get to a certain age, and you're facing health issues, many of which are business-related, you're less willing to do this. And if you're less willing to do this, you're even less willing to embrace new technology...spending money to make it back down the road.
Unfortunately, this will cost you in the long run. And it did them.
The original Collins transmitter, purchased in 1968 after the permit to build the station was first issued, had limped along for years, breaking down more frequently as parts to maintain it were not purchased in advance and had to be 'rush-ordered' at the last minute, and very costly.
This proved to be the last straw for the sole remaining owner, the other two having passed on, one day, when it was learned that two tubes were going to need replaced.
This meant an investment of about $8,000. Just five years ago, you could buy a brand-new solid-state transmitter for that amount.
The transmitter site was sold to recoup years of losses. The doors were shuttered and the sole two employees left at the station were released.
No deep corporate pockets. No unlimited line of credit. Just a mom and pop operation determined to press on.
Many speculate on what could have been done to save WKZV. It no longer matters. But to this radio veteran, it's an example of the American spirit.
To try even at the risk of failure.
To try and fail is far more admirable than to not try at all.
NEXT WEEK: His World Was Our World
Local AM radio stations have been leaving the dial en masse since the Telecommunications Act of 1996 that mandated that radio stations listed as 'silent' had so many days to power back up or see their licenses expire.
Many of said stations were small-town operations that were licensed to operate only between sunrise and sunset. Over time, they lost their relevance and were supplanted by FM stations or other media altogether.
On May 16, 2013, it was the end of the line for a forty-two-and-a-half-year-old AM daytime station licensed to the city of Washington, Pennsylvania.
WKZV originally took to the air on October 1, 1970 as WKEG. The one thousand watt AM daytimer came on the air at a rather odd time, when FM radio was starting to gain momentum (though automakers weren't entirely sure at that time). Nonetheless, this little station pressed on and was a pretty impressive little powerhouse through the late 1980s, when its owner of 16 years decided to retire and sell to another owner.
Said owner ran said station into the ground faster than a pile driver at a Boston loading dock. It went off the air indefinitely until another owner was found. That owner eventually cut his losses after a year, unable to overcome the stigma created by previous mismanagement, and also went off the air until a new owner could be found.
In the business, we call a radio station that's gone off the air indefinitely as one that has 'gone dark'. The term applies to the broadcast tower, usually lighted, as 'dark' because there's no more money to pay the electric bill.
And that owner found making a tough go of the station. But this time, the station did not go dark. Other investors were found to take it over. After some tweaking, the station began to finally recover and prosper over time.
Then as the owners got older, they got tired. Tired of the hard work involved in keeping a station like this on the air and staying competitive as technology around them evolved.
Local radio stations require a lot of hands-on care by an operator willing to 'wear a lot of hats' as part of keeping such operations profitable.
Many radio stations have found themselves relying more on promotions-based revenue as a means to make money. Advertisers today are no longer buying straight commercial ads in the traditional sense, but rather, the 'value-added', or 'buy-this-and-you'll get-that' mentality.
When you get to a certain age, and you're facing health issues, many of which are business-related, you're less willing to do this. And if you're less willing to do this, you're even less willing to embrace new technology...spending money to make it back down the road.
Unfortunately, this will cost you in the long run. And it did them.
The original Collins transmitter, purchased in 1968 after the permit to build the station was first issued, had limped along for years, breaking down more frequently as parts to maintain it were not purchased in advance and had to be 'rush-ordered' at the last minute, and very costly.
This proved to be the last straw for the sole remaining owner, the other two having passed on, one day, when it was learned that two tubes were going to need replaced.
This meant an investment of about $8,000. Just five years ago, you could buy a brand-new solid-state transmitter for that amount.
The transmitter site was sold to recoup years of losses. The doors were shuttered and the sole two employees left at the station were released.
No deep corporate pockets. No unlimited line of credit. Just a mom and pop operation determined to press on.
Many speculate on what could have been done to save WKZV. It no longer matters. But to this radio veteran, it's an example of the American spirit.
To try even at the risk of failure.
To try and fail is far more admirable than to not try at all.
NEXT WEEK: His World Was Our World
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Stop the Pidgeon
In honor of Father's Day, this week's column is dedicated to a man who was both a father and a father figure to many others. Thanks for indulging me.
I meant to pay tribute to this man on the fifth anniversary of his passing last month. But I was still on the fence as to whether I wanted to come back and start writing on a weekly basis again.
To begin with, let's trace back.
Who remembers "Dastardly and Muttley in their Flying Machines" cartoon that ran from 1969 to 1970 on CBS and then an even longer life in syndication on independent TV years after it was canceled?
For those who do, you remember Paul Winchell (who voiced the former titular character) singing "Stop the pigeon, stop the pigeon..." referring to Dastardly's nemesis, Yankee Doodle pigeon, who managed to evade every bumbling attempt by Dastardly and his three cohorts, Muttley, Klunk and Dilly, to 'stop the pigeon' from carrying messages to the enemy during a fictitious World War I era setting.
They came close, but never succeeded to 'stop the pigeon'.
History lesson over. Class dismissed.
This lesson was the groundbreaker in young Kelly Pidgeon's career. As an early 20-something getting his start in the business as the morning news voice on the former WNRJ 104.7 in Pittsburgh, his morning show counterparts took great pleasure in playing the theme song under Kelly as he delivered his news.
Kelly had the last laugh, however. He's currently at KDKA and has his own production company.
But this isn't the story about Kelly or his career. Rather, it's about the man who played half the role of bringing him and his siblings into this world.
John A. "Jack" Pidgeon.
Growing up in the slums of Boston, Massachusetts, Jack Pidgeon was the son of a single mother who eked out a meager living for herself and her son by working as a cleaning woman. Using his athleticism to win a scholarship to a prestigious prep school, Jack entered the military and then college. The private sector, teaching, and an assistant headmastership at another school soon followed.
Then came Kiski.
Not the public school district in northern Westmoreland and southern Armstrong County. The home of the Cavaliers (and my alma mater) would not be formed until the end of the decade.
The Kiski School, or Kiskiminetas Springs School, or K-Prep, whatever you want to call it, had been around since the late 1800's. It was one of the oldest boarding schools in the country, and today is the oldest all-boys non-military boarding school in the U.S.
You may recall early movie portrayals of prep schools and Ivy League colleges as having students and faculty who wear overcoats in class.
That wasn't because of class distinction. It was out of necessity because of drafty windows that allowed the harsh New England winters to creep through warped and cracked windows.
Kiski was no exception when Jack Pidgeon arrived in 1957 as its new headmaster. Few are left insofar as those who would remember those days. When I arrived on campus to take my SAT exam in May 1987, I myself would not have known it. Nor did I know the gruff man in a golf shirt and walking shorts proctoring the exam was the reason behind the school's success.
Because Jack Pidgeon would not have it that way.
Yes, he was behind it. But it was not about him. It was about the school. And 'his' boys. He made sure everyone remembered that.
Stop the Pidgeon? Hell no.
Jack Pidgeon used the same determination as he did to rise above his humble upbringings years ago. He was determined to make Kiski succeed. And he did.
Famous alums include Congressman John Murtha, Jack Hanna, and Rafael De Medina, just to name a few. Those not-so-famous still went on to success in their own right.
And they never forgot Jack and the life lessons he taught them.
Not only did he build a school, but he built men.
Successful men.
If Jack wanted to be remembered for anything, it would be for that.
NEXT WEEK: Out in the Country
I meant to pay tribute to this man on the fifth anniversary of his passing last month. But I was still on the fence as to whether I wanted to come back and start writing on a weekly basis again.
To begin with, let's trace back.
Who remembers "Dastardly and Muttley in their Flying Machines" cartoon that ran from 1969 to 1970 on CBS and then an even longer life in syndication on independent TV years after it was canceled?
For those who do, you remember Paul Winchell (who voiced the former titular character) singing "Stop the pigeon, stop the pigeon..." referring to Dastardly's nemesis, Yankee Doodle pigeon, who managed to evade every bumbling attempt by Dastardly and his three cohorts, Muttley, Klunk and Dilly, to 'stop the pigeon' from carrying messages to the enemy during a fictitious World War I era setting.
They came close, but never succeeded to 'stop the pigeon'.
History lesson over. Class dismissed.
This lesson was the groundbreaker in young Kelly Pidgeon's career. As an early 20-something getting his start in the business as the morning news voice on the former WNRJ 104.7 in Pittsburgh, his morning show counterparts took great pleasure in playing the theme song under Kelly as he delivered his news.
Kelly had the last laugh, however. He's currently at KDKA and has his own production company.
But this isn't the story about Kelly or his career. Rather, it's about the man who played half the role of bringing him and his siblings into this world.
John A. "Jack" Pidgeon.
Growing up in the slums of Boston, Massachusetts, Jack Pidgeon was the son of a single mother who eked out a meager living for herself and her son by working as a cleaning woman. Using his athleticism to win a scholarship to a prestigious prep school, Jack entered the military and then college. The private sector, teaching, and an assistant headmastership at another school soon followed.
Then came Kiski.
Not the public school district in northern Westmoreland and southern Armstrong County. The home of the Cavaliers (and my alma mater) would not be formed until the end of the decade.
The Kiski School, or Kiskiminetas Springs School, or K-Prep, whatever you want to call it, had been around since the late 1800's. It was one of the oldest boarding schools in the country, and today is the oldest all-boys non-military boarding school in the U.S.
You may recall early movie portrayals of prep schools and Ivy League colleges as having students and faculty who wear overcoats in class.
That wasn't because of class distinction. It was out of necessity because of drafty windows that allowed the harsh New England winters to creep through warped and cracked windows.
Kiski was no exception when Jack Pidgeon arrived in 1957 as its new headmaster. Few are left insofar as those who would remember those days. When I arrived on campus to take my SAT exam in May 1987, I myself would not have known it. Nor did I know the gruff man in a golf shirt and walking shorts proctoring the exam was the reason behind the school's success.
Because Jack Pidgeon would not have it that way.
Yes, he was behind it. But it was not about him. It was about the school. And 'his' boys. He made sure everyone remembered that.
Stop the Pidgeon? Hell no.
Jack Pidgeon used the same determination as he did to rise above his humble upbringings years ago. He was determined to make Kiski succeed. And he did.
Famous alums include Congressman John Murtha, Jack Hanna, and Rafael De Medina, just to name a few. Those not-so-famous still went on to success in their own right.
And they never forgot Jack and the life lessons he taught them.
Not only did he build a school, but he built men.
Successful men.
If Jack wanted to be remembered for anything, it would be for that.
NEXT WEEK: Out in the Country
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