"The  Detroit Lions, and Tigers and Hare…Oh My!"

Ugliness is in the eye of the beholder. A few weeks ago, my former morning  show buddy, Specs Howard and his wife Ceil, visited Herzliya, a scenic Israeli town on the Mediterranean.

They were enjoying the view at a waterfront restaurant, when their waiter, recognizing them as Americans asked them which city they were from.
Specs replied, “Detroit.” 

The man was taken aback “Detroit!” he exclaimed.  “Much violence there.”  

When Specs and I began our WXYZ journey 40 years ago, he and I should have taken it as a grim portent when our champion Hal Neal, the president of ABC Radio, died shortly after signing us up to go to WXYX.. Neal had wanted us to ”rock”, as a wedge against the deeply entrenched MOR personality, J.P, McCarthy Show on WJR.

J.P. sported a 40 Hooper his first hour as a carry-over from Tiger Baseball the preceding night. In the following hours of his show, he scored mid and high 20’s. That 40 was a steep mountain for us to climb. We were not daunted by the 20’s. The rock format that Neal wanted us to do gave us a creneau  to fill against his MOR big band and ballads.

Neal was replaced by Ralph Beaudine, who met us the when we appeared in New York at Leonard Goldenson’s ABC penthouse suite to meet the Blair Reps.

That evening was elegant, the stuff of fantasy, then we descended an elevator with Beaudine to a dark little coffee house down the block where he informed us that things had changed, that we were to go head-on against McCarthy, playing  MOR.

Then, the coup de grace. Our music would be selected by New York. I had never been deprived of this right. I had an encyclopedic knowledge of MOR music and certainly knew Rock. So did Specs. He had pulled the music in Cleveland. But….The new president had spoken.

Well, the other way to look at it was that he was giving us a huge vote of confidence that we could take McCarthy head-on….but…MOR was his turf.

I believe in turfs. San Diego had been my turf, and no one could take me, including some highly regarded players imported to blow me off, then sent packing after a couple of books. Cleveland had been Martin and Howard’s turf, but I wasn’t going to let a little thing like a deeply held belief stand in the way.

There was a rippling effect. Our new Program Director, Lee Allen, submitted his resignation shortly after we came aboard, and wrote us a letter expressing personal regrets that his principles could not allow him to work under the current set-up, and graciously wished us the best. Was it about the music?  He assured us it wasn’t about us.

Had our wheels come off in the Motor City?  Nah! Forget about the road blocks that had been thrown in front of us.  Pound ‘em down flat, and motor on!

In his book, “The Paper Lion,” George Plimpton wrote graphically about quarterbacking for the Detroit Lions in a serious scrimmage game for which he trained vigorously, then experienced firsthand the perils of taking hand-offs and unloading the ball before being crushed under a two ton pass rush

Specs and I used our new found power to devote an entire show to him. He was in town consulting on the movie, starring Alan Alda. I invited him to lunch, and Carol went  along to take notes

George Plimpton, family friend of the Kennedy’s, Editor of the Paris Review which he ran for many years, publishing the works of such greats as Jack Kerouac and Phillip Roth before they were known. He wrote about boxing with Archie Moore, and playing tennis with Pancho Gonzales. At lunch, It was spellbinding to hear him expound on a wide range of topics in his famed cultured clip.

I mostly listened, enjoying the moment, but the time came for me to recite, when he turned to me and asked, ”How is the race situation in Detroit?”

Summoning my aplomb to the max, I replied, “Oh there is no trouble here. That happened back in the 40’s, but that’s all over. The city is peaceful.”

I was driving home after lunch, when Carol noticed an eerie silence on the virtually deserted streets. If John Wayne and Gabby Hayes had been with us, Big John would have muttered, “It’s mighty quiet around here.” Gabby would have replied, “Too quiet, if you ask me.”

Actually, Carol did say, “Darling It feels really weird. around here” I wish I had said, “Too weird, if you ask me.”  It was the beginning hours when the  infamous race ’67  riot erupted.

The city burst into an inferno that spread from the black neighborhoods to the heart of the city. This time, there was no self immolation by black martyrs. They were going to inflict pain on “whitey.”  Burn, Baby. Burn!

The rich in Grosse Point, and other affluent enclaves, had trenches dug in their yards, manned by armed mercenaries, girding themselves to fend off the onrush of furious rioters

The following morning, I drove to work through choking smoke as the fire bore down  on  Troy, Birmingham and Grosse Pointe. Carol went to work with me.

I arrived at the station to find ABC radio and TV network newsmen amassed in our building. WXYZ had its share of remote trucks, but nothing compared to the network  high tech fleet that descended on us from New York.

Outside, guards with guns at the ready, warily scrutinized everyone who turned into the long drive way on the way to the station..

Barney Stutsman, the traffic-copter reporter strolled by. Barney was one of those chronically chipper guys. “Hey, come on!” He shouted at Carol and me. I am going up to take a look around. Ya wanna go with me?” I looked at Carol, and she looked at me and five minutes later, we were lifting off the helipad, headed straight for the flames that were erupting over a large swatch of the city.

Woodward Avenue defines the city, running the length of Detroit in distances that were measured by miles. Ten Mile Road where we were, down to One Mile Road and a little beyond where the trouble began, a joint called “The Blind Pig.”

The expansive avenue was a cauldron, the work of systematic crazies who torched everything in their paths from One Mile Road up to near where Carol and I lived. It started as a small blaze and erupted into Hell on earth.  .

Then, Barney issued a command that raised the hackles not only in my neck, but other sensitive places. His crackling voice penetrated our head phones, “Watch the roofs for snipers. I’ll watch the left side and you watch the right.”

“Snipers! I echoed in shock. Are you kidding?” Another way of saying, “Let’s haul!”  But I wasn’t going to be one who chickened out.

Barney caught my drift, anyway, and did a 180 back toward WXYZ, all the while laughing like one of those old time movie heroes who laughed at danger.

 That evening, Carol and I stayed up all night, with a bail-out kit at the door. Looking out our windows, the entire sky was incandescing in a bright burnt orange  glow toward downtown.

.Rioters were howling for blood, the blue blood of the Grosse Pointe Royalty.  The Royals literally read the riot act to the civic leaders, demanding that they take  whatever action  was necessary to quell the riot..

The National Guard was called out, with guns aimed menacingly at anyone on the streets. Fire Companies from around the state descended on Detroit, and the great fire of 1967 was snuffed out..

I sent George Plimpton a note in which I wrote, “If we ever see each other again, don’t ask me about major social  issues.” 

One thing Specs and I had learned in Cleveland about launching a promotion was that it soon took on a life of its own., The Plimpton Day was a hit, but the bonus with cheese was meeting Lions’ Alex Karras and Dick LeBeau, very funny men. Both appeared on our show and delivered above and beyond. With them, the laughs kept on coming.   

Karras was so imposing at his position of pass rusher that the Lions never pitted him against promising defensive players during tryouts. He was so strong and elusive that he demoralized them, even first round picks. In the regular season, he was uncanny in his ability to get to the passer. He placed second for the 1957 Heisman Trophy consideration.

He went to Hollywood where he played Mongo, the good natured half-wit who decked a horse with one punch in the movie “Blazing Saddles”. He married dazzling beauty Susan Clark and starred with her in the  TV series, “Webster.”

Dick LeBeau was naturally funny, despite his startlingly handsome looks. He played both defensive back and offensive half back for Ohio State in 1957, scoring two touchdowns in a game against Michigan, which Ohio State won 31-14.

His pro playing career spanned 14 years as a defensive back with the Lions He  was a Pro Bowl selection in ’65 through 67, the years we had him on the show. Dick is, at present, a Defensive Coordinator for the Steelers.

This profile on them gives you an idea of how rich those interviews with both of them were, ranging far beyond football..

The George Plimpton Salute was good radio, but meeting Karras and LeBeau and having them on was sheer serendipity, but……Okay who else were we going to salute?  This time, make it easier, someone connected with music.

We chose Tony Bennett. We were taken with his glorious singing and that incandescent smile when we watched him perform at The Rooster Tail in Detroit.

Tony Bennett Day! I could hear it in my head, interviewing this great new entertainer and playing his mesmerizing songs….

Uh…Tony Bennett…bad choice… I’ll  explain next week.