But a man needs a son
time to add one more
By the time we hit the big time
Curtis made it four.
I was hired by the Chum group to be the new Program Director of CFRA, but they neglected to tell me that I was following Alden Diehl, who was a legend, and the staff didn’t like the “suits” from Toronto. They all still worshiped the old owner, Frank Ryan. However, what old Frank and the Misses forgot to tell them was when CFRA was sold to the CHUM group, they scooted with the loot.
I loved when Ted came to town because he was into concepts and philosophy, whereas George was mostly about mechanics. I was also only a phone call away from my old friend from Winnipeg, J Robert Wood, the program director of CHUM in Toronto, not to mention Fred Sherratt, the group’s V/P of programming.
In fact, it was so shrill, it sounded like it was coming out of a phone, so I spent hours and hours battling with the chief engineer until he finally backed the compression down, which gave us a little fidelity.
I didn’t worry about all the adversity because even back then, I knew that all you needed was 5-7 like-minded people to succeed.
Next, we added Sharon Henwood to the promotion department, and when our mid-day guy, Joel Thompson, came around to our way of thinking, we were all set.
CFRA was a great radio station, and one of the best things about it was its award-winning news department.
I’ll never forget watching the evening news one night when the Prime Minister responded to a reporter’s question with, “All I know about that is what I heard on CFRA this morning.” How many times do you suppose we ran that little sound bite, “Eh?”
Hell, we even had a 100 share Sunday morning.
Years later, someone told me that the owner, Allan Waters, had told everyone to back off me because as he reportedly said, “I don’t want anybody slowing down this kid’s train.” Unfortunately, he neglected to tell me, so my rage began to heat up.
Terry was the GM, and on this particular day, as I was passing by, he waved me in. Sitting in there with him was his sports director friend, Ernie Calcutt. They wanted to know why I’d hired Roger Klein, knowing full well that as good as he was, he’d only leave?
Then I threw the tape of produced promos that I’d been carrying against his mahogany wall where it shattered. I watched in horror as what looked like brown tinsel slowly drifted down, covering them both, and as they struggled to free themselves, I stormed out.