“Harry, what in God’s name is going on?” It was Al Heacock, on the phone from Pittsburgh, where he was managing KDKA. “ 

“Hello to you, too, Al,” I replied, mildly rebuking him for the unceremonious way he was opening up a phone visit that had been too long in coming   

He got right into why he was  calling.” Harry, I just heard that (he named my ex) has filed papers against you for living in a “meretricious” relationship with Carol. In Michigan, it means you are living in sin and it carries a prison term.”  

Al was caught in the middle. He was “family,” and any discord between me and my ex was his problem, too. He had never met Carol, so she was temporarily out of the loop.  

Knowing Al, he was just getting warmed up. I braced myself for the next salvo, and was rewarded with his uniquely linear way of attacking problems, like a rat-killing terrier let loose in a corn silo. 

“Harry,” he said tersely. “You have to get out of Michigan right now. You can’t afford to get served there. If they get you, you will have to stand trial, and Mexican marriage or no Mexican marriage, the risk is too great.” 

Al was a rare combination of pragmatist and visionary and it was not in him to suggest that I trash my fantasy job at WXYZ , unless he thought my very survival was at stake.  

A few more stark pronouncements, then he hung up, promising that he would call my ex, and try to josh her out of that course. He actually said, “That way lies madness.”  

What’s the old saying? If you don’t think women are dynamite, try to drop one.” But wait minute, I wasn’t the dropor, but the droppee.  

She threw me out first one year, then we got back together for our trip to New York, and when we returned she filed, not to separate again, but this time, to split permanently. 

I was flummoxed, with visions of being tethered in the zoo at Kalamazoo with Mongo as my cellmate, and me protesting,.” I’m innocent, Mongo. She filed for divorce, then left me hangin.’.”
 

Then, Mongo would reach out his bountiful hairy arms, and say softly “Yeah, I know, Harry. Here, come to Mongo. Let me take away the hurt.” 

Carol was surprisingly calm. You could tell it was a new marriage. She had every faith in me.  

Or, so I thought for a moment till she said, “Honey, I know about this. Nancy (VP/GM Chuck Fritz’s secretary) told me about it. Chuck received the letter  at his WXYZ  suite from her lawyer yesterday, threatening the meretricious charge. He wants to talk to you tomorrow after the show.” 

Carol and Nancy had long ago talked woman-talk about my making more than the legally mandated  payments to ______. That and my never having  missed a payment to her swung Nancy’s inner pendulum in my favor.  

Naturally, Nancy told her boss, and his decision to cooperate with my escape resulted in everything, but driving my getaway car. 

Hearing that I was fleeing town, her attorney raced to the station to short circuit my final pay-off.  Fritz left him pacing frantically in the lobby with legal papers to serve on ABC while he made out a sizeable check to me, handed it over, and I ran to the local bank where it was cashed by an incredulous teller.  

The Lone Ranger was one of my predecessors at WXYZ.  His adventures pale in comparison to mine. “Trouble on the trail, Tonto!” 

Carol and I hastened to San Diego, and cross-filed against my ex’s original action, winning the very divorce she had initiated.  

In San Diego, Judge Leland Nielsen, the San Diego Superior Court judge readily gave me the divorce, then sighed and  said, “I know what I have just ruled: a  retroactive cross-filed  divorce based on an action brought by the wife six years ago, but I have no idea how to dictate my decision.”   

My attorney, John Brady a spirited Irishman, the man who had dreamed up my innovative escape from my ex, said with great theater, “Your honor, with your indulgence, I will dictate the decision.” The judge nodded and Brady rattled off a string of legalese, liberating me.  

Weeks later, the judge ushered us into his chambers so he could give us a good old fashioned legal marriage, Carol and I still celebrate our anniversary on the day we wed in Juarez. 

Carol’s current picture, 40 years later, is in the piece titled “Happy Hare’s Ship of Fool.”  Scroll down to it and read a fun chapter.

I am perpetually grateful that this did not destroy my relationship with Specs. He and I have maintained a close brotherly tie throughout the forty years since our successful adventures together.  

After we split, he launched his world famous Specs Howard School of Broadcast Arts,  and has graduated tens of  thousands of radio and TV artisans. 

In October, he is to be inducted into the Radio and  Television Hall of Fame of Ohio. They wanted him to be honored with me last year but, typical of Specs, he opted away because it occurred during Jewish High Holy Days This year, he is good to go. Our improbable relationship is the stuff of a very funny sitcom.  Read about it in prior chapters. 

But this is about Al Heacock, the self-appointed mastermind of this mess. He had asked that I call him  the minute we left the court room. I excitedly gave him the tidings of my miraculous rebirth. 

 “Autumn in Pittsburgh is especially gorgeous,” Al extolled.” Harry, I want you here at KDKA. Now that you have straightened out your tawdry life, I have plans for you. Take some time off, then get back to me. I have to lay some pipe here first.”  I told him I would talk to Carol and get back. 

Carol and I loved our life in San Diego, BUT… going to KDKA  meant working with  a  powerful personal friend, who liked my work to the degree of being a simple fan. And…..Al was destined for greater things.  

When I was in Cleveland at KYW, Bill Kaland, the Westinghouse guru, dropped into the studio on a station tour, and  thanked me for bringing Al Heacock to New York when we went to WADO .“Al is a genius, and my valued colleague,” Kaland told me.  

Had Al lived, Kaland’s premature death would have put him in line to head Westinghouse Broadcasting. I sometime speculate how Al would have run a big operation like that.  

For one thing, He would not have kowtowed to Sales, He intuited every aspect of broadcasting and would have maintained the balance of power between Sales and Programming, not tolerating all the finger pointing, now prevalent in the Fog of Radio.  

Had he run Westinghouse Broadcasting, he would not have been a party to CBS/Westinghouse Board Chairman Michael Jordan’s sub rosa plot to sneak Mel Karmazin in to run CBS Radio, the way Jordan did, totally disrupting  a brilliantly run organization. Al would have demanded transparency in any deal with which he was involved. 

You can tell that I was getting back into the Heacock mode, mind- melding the way he thought, visualizing how I could help, on the cusp of calling him to say, “yes.”   

This was a hard choice. The California style of life was a cornucopia of little things, not just snorkeling, body surfing, year-around tennis and golf,  patio pool partying with high-spirited friends in the winter months. It was a “tude.”  Besides, because of my riotous KCBQ days, I “owned” the town and got free stuff. 

Another  reason for my inertia. I had watched the Charger football games while in snow country, my innards shriveling with envy, as many in the stadium crowd sunbathed, shirtless in the stands, while my butt was frozen to my seat in Cleveland, Detroit and New York. 

Paralyzed by a multitude of possibilities, time passed by without my contacting Al, then the envelope closed. He died of a sudden heart attack one shocking morning in Pittsburgh, just as the day was beginning.  

Ira Apple, then an Executive  Producer, and later Program Manager of KDKA  was there when Al died, and describes the scene. 

Several of us knew something must be wrong. It was 9 AM and Al was not in the office yet.  You could set your watch by Al. If we looked out of our windows just before 9 AM we could see him coming across the courtyard from the Gateway Towers where Al lived.  

The promotion manager went to Al’s apartment where he found his body. He apparently had just gotten out of the shower. 

Ira continues. Al’s reputation preceded him. When he came to Pittsburgh as GM, his Program Manager approach was refreshing. 

I remember him as being very detail oriented, keeping notes and schedules on his desk and as mentioned, he was punctual and efficient. I’m not sure how long he served at KDKA but I think it was less than eighteen months.

Apple continues….By the way, I was gone from KYW before you teamed up with Specs Howard. That also was truly one of the great radio stations with Martin and Howard and Big Wilson, Joe Finan and others. 

Thanks, Ira.

Widespread  reaction to my tribute to Heacock has flooded in from storied devotees, including David Martin, one of media’s best. He was the WBZ Program Manager after Al left....

He wrote…....

Bless you for paying tribute to the great Al Heacock. While I never
had the honor to meet Al, I have long been a fan of his. When I arrived
at WBZ,  the halls were still filled with stories about Al. Bill Kaland
gave me some very good insight putting into perspective where my radio
station had come from and the contributions Al had made. Bill Hartman,
Dick Harris, Jim Yergin and Roy Shapiro each shared Al Heacock stories
and lessons learned. Bravos to you on remembering this gifted and
talented gentleman.  

Ira Apple had an afterthought and sent this note reminiscing about the time Al called a “special meeting” because KDKA had fallen below a 29.

to a 27 or so!  Pittsburgh, at the time, was still in the top ten markets, compared to today’s number 23 or 24.  And it was shocking when I looked at  recent numbers to find KDKA was in second place in the market.  Such a rank back then would have been unthinkable. 

Beyond this place, there be dragons!

October 3^d, I begin a new series of Wednesday 3p-5p  Internet programs made possible by the San Diego Union Tribune’s entry into that domain. It will be unlike any  internet radio  show ever heard. I’ll keep you posted. 

In the new show…..

I am pondering where to go, humor-wise. My usual light banter?

A horse walked into a bar, The bartender said, “Why the long face.?”

Or harder edged?

Ann Coulter walked into a bar. The bartender said, “Why the long face?”

I’ll probably stick with the horse. 

Haresay

Call it a clan. Call it a network. Call it a tribe. Call it a family.

Whatever you call it. Whoever you are, you need one…Jane Howard