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e-mail Hare
hare@happyhareonline.com
Hare's Biography "Happy Hare's Ages of Rock 2"
I have paid tribute
to Lee Baby Simms
and Ben Shirley in
prior episodes.
Then, there was
Ralph James. When
Ben Shirley fled to
Mexico, he was
replaced by Ralph, a
monster talent. He
was the newsman on
my morning KCBQ show
for some time.
Notice I did not
tell you that he was
“my newsman.”
Newsmen hate that.
Ralph was one of the smoothest articles I ever knew. His voice was pure velvet, and his wit was original. I am certain that he was the one who adopted the word “nerd” and put it into the mainstream. He used it differently than the way it finally shook out when a Hollywood jock picked it up. In later years, it came to mean a dork or a geek. “Nerd” was first coined in wide distribution by Dr Seuss in a 1950 book titled ” If I Ran the Zoo.” A nerd was an animal he wanted to collect for his zoo. Original thinker that he was, Ralph used it differently. He would come into my booth every morning and ask me, “How is your nerd? Apparently referring to an obscure body part that only Ralph knew about. I picked it up when he left, and later heard it on Los Angeles radio. It’s tempting to tell you I first used it, but it was Ralph. He went where the hand of man had never set foot, at least in public.. At KCBQ social/trade occasions it was nothing for him to check the female guests for hernia, if you get my drift. He would approach them and softly say, “I am checking for hernia. Cough.” One powerful woman buyer when checked for hernia in front of a large gathering, giggled, and jumped reflexively straight up a foot or so. Her usual professional demeanor in dealing with sales reps was to rule by fear, but she couldn’t stop laughing when Ralph was around. . Women forgave him for doing and saying things that other men would have been kneed for. But, what can you do? He was …“Ralph”. His wife loved him too, but there was an occasion when she tired of his high jinx and left him after first buying a bucket of black paint and running the wet brush along the sleeves of his expensive suits hanging in the closet, then daubed, ”Goodbye” on the wall. Ralph went home and saw his striped wardrobe. Instead of freaking, he went to the paint bucket, dipped the paint brush, and wrote on the wall next to her farewell message, “Poor penmanship” His wife soon forgave him. There was no holding him back. Ralph went to KABC in Los Angeles where he anchored the morning news, and landed a fabulous network TV role. He was the voice of “Ork” the off-camera voice of the God-like being who counseled “Mork, ”Robin Williams, in “Mork and Mindy.” A not of this world character was appropriate for Ralph. God is probably using him to announce important arrivals in his God-given voice, but commanding him to keep his hands to himself. In latter 1959, Lee Bartell sent me to New York city to do mornings at WADO, a dazzling station that received high grades in Billboard, and other major trade publications. Me in the morning , Ken Garland mid-days and Mort Crowley in the afternoon. Al Heacock, my old army buddy, was the PD. We made a big splash in the trade mags. Billboard loved us, and we were breathing down WABC’s neck, but after a year, Lee Bartell pulled the plug. His efforts to buy a one day -Sunday only- Trenton station-WHBI- in order to glue it onto six day a week WADO failed when the elderly man, who owned it, died during the negotiation, and his young wife killed the deal. Ken Garland went to WIP in Philly. Mort became huge in St Louis and went to KHJ, Hollywood., WLS Chicago, WKNR in Detroit and KMOX in St :Louis. Al Heacock segued to program WBZ in Boston, and I returned to San Diego. My return was greeted by dazzling job offers. Westinghouse beckoned, asking me to join Specs Howard in what was to be a franchise morning show in Cleveland. WNEW wanted me to return to New York. John Dale, their Asst. PD, sent a telegram reading, “It is our sincere belief that you are worth your weight in platinum to a station in New York and we hope it is us.” Then, the call from KLAC, asking me to do mornings. What the…KLAC! The station that couldn’t use me when I returned from the army. I decided on Cleveland for reasons which I will reveal to you in a later episode. In this riveting series of Radio Daily News, episodes I started out telling you about the big things, but now realize that vignettes that were seemingly insignificant at the time are now dancing out of my psyche like a mischievous spirit shouting, “Me! Me! Me!”. In telling you only about the big stuff. Individuals, like Terry, had fallen through the wise cracks. It was right after I faded my theme and segued into a song that a drugged voice on the other end of the KCBQ Request Line slurred “Hey man” only he pronounced it “maayun.” Can I help you?” I asked. I could hear he was a druggie. Damn! Who is this?” I demanded. “This is Terry. Whuz happenin’, man?” “Everything is okay, Terry,” I said, without realizing that this was the blanket reassurance that he was desperate for.. Relieved, he said, “Far out, man,” and hung up. After that, he called every morning first thing, saying, “This is Terry. Whuz happenin’?” I learned to say, “Everything is okay, Terry.” I guess that was all he needed to hear to feel secure that he wasn’t going to go spinning off into the void .Hearing my almost canned reassurance, “Everything is okay Terry.” he would say with great relief, ”Far out, man,” and the line would go dead. He was hanging on by a psychic thread every morning and I threw him a rope. A few years ago, I was tentatively approached by a man who looked to be his late 50’s. He was a worn middle age guy, with tanned skin that had been in the sun too long.. He smiled shyly at me, revealing a mouth full of dentures. In short, he had given himself an extreme make-over. “Happy Hare, I’m Terry. Do you remember me? Of course I did, the very second he told me his name. “Terry.!” I almost shouted.. “Hell! I thought you were dead,” It was a spontaneous eruption which didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he laughed genuinely. “I was, almost,” He said. “I’ve been clean for 45 years. I just want to thank you for helping me get through a bad time. So many people who never filled out a BOOK. Terry. A lone overworked mother with a houseful of kids who waited for me to come on, so she could have company. Teens with no parents, or parents who didn’t care about them, but they considered a jock, only a voice, their big brother, or even their dad. Jose Medina told how, back in the 50’s he rode over the border from Durango on a burro, and came to San Diego where he learned much of his English by listening to me. He is now Professor Jose Medina, an American citizen, teaching English Composition at Grossmont College here. There was Beth, an overweight young lady who volunteered to walk 20 miles for my Cystic Fibrosis campaign and suffered agony, but persisted despite her father’s pleas, to give up, until she stumbled across the finish line on bloody feet. She is now a VP in a prominent law firm and ran competitive marathons for a number of years. She told me how I had changed her life, her father’s too, because he didn’t know his daughter at all. I can relate, because I also have not been free of adversity. I was the unfortunate victim of a haunting misjudgment involving my stay in New York. Even though deeply disappointed, I took the WADO debacle in stride. No, it was worse. Upon arrival in New York, I leased the house that had formerly been occupied by the great Mickey Mantle. A few days after moving in, I found two of Mickey’s jock straps in a corner of the laundry room. They were unwashed, with Mickey’s DNA and other stuff still on them. Unthinking, I tossed them. Today, those jock straps would be worth a fortune on the sport memorabilia market. Worth a lot more unwashed. Since then, my professional credo has been, “Send me your great unwashed.” |
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Previously ...
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