Who would have predicted that the movie “Oh Brother! Where Art Thou?” would be a blockbuster in 2000, that the soundtrack music, all 1930’s- 40’s country songs, and  bluegrass would sell like sno cones in Houston? I didn’t predict it, but I wasn’t surprised. 

It seemed natural to me that this infectious music would catch on with the general public. Anyone who has small town (Galveston) southern roots will tell you that, once you get back home for a spell, your love for down to earth “country” comes back like it never left. It doesn’t matter that I sang in the Robert Shaw chorus or know big band and Rock intimately, ”Country” still pecks at my cerebrum. 

When I returned to Galveston after 45 years of speaking classic “American” on radio and TV, I found myself  “tawkin’” to my old high school buddies in a Texas accent in a matter of minutes. I have a talent for languages and mid-American had originally been a stilted accent that I had to master in order to get into radio. “Texas” was my first language. 

In 1949, When I left Galveston  to do afternoon drive at KLAC in Los Angeles,  I had to relearn words that I had used all my life, like “greasy” which I pronounced like the “s” was  a “z”…I said, “grea-zee” and had to learn to make the “s” hard, the way it is pronounced in Omaha and network radio. It was Betty White, while working at KLAC with me, who said sweetly, “Harry, darling, the word is “or-chestra” with an “o”, not “arkestra,” as in Noah’s ark.” 

My friends looked at me “ kinda  strange” when I visited Galveston, and began laying  mid-western American English on  them. My boyhood friend, Louie, was shocked. “Harreh!” he said, “What the hay-ul happund to yore Texas Ak-sayent? 

It wasn’t that I had outgrown them. Louie was a retired Corporate VP of  Dresser ,a major oil supply company and knew Bahrain, Saudi, Iraq, and Iran (Persia) like he knew south Texas. Retired, he reverted to his linguistic roots.  

I first spent time alone with each of the guys, and had “heart to hearts” with them, getting the juicy (to me) small town dirt. I got caught up on ex- girl friends, nothing my wife, Carol, was interested in. She did a lot of shopping, and swimming in the Gulf that week 

Another “bud” was Henry, the former #3 suit at Shell Oil. Funny to hear him spouting “Texas talk.” When I was alone with him, he ruefully told me that Shell had offered him an even higher position,  headquartered in Holland., which he turned down because of a commitment not to disrupt the family, They bought him out, and now, he was literally “on the beach” in Galveston.  

Resorting to a  Texas (or Southern) accent is understandable only to those who were born and raised in humid climes. With the temperature in the 90’s and humidity that penetrates your clothes leaving you drenched, it is too taxing to pronounce that final “g”.   

A week passed. All of the personal stuff  was out of the way in those “one on one’s.” Now, we were jes’ settin’ around, drinkin’ Southun Select Long Necks at Hill’s Restaurant (He-yul’s Restrunt) on tha Seawall overlookin’ tha poundin’ Gulf waves.  

There were Henry, Louie, Mel an internationally  renowned Radiologist, myself ,and  Carol, who spoke no “Texas,” and sat uneasily watching me morph into an alien persona. 

We all took turns trying to out-small-talk each other, At that time, I was hosting a  syndicated big band show called “Waxworks,” that reached 132 markets, including Galveston, so they knew I was a “star.” The trick was to low-key myself, easy in this august company.  

The classic exchange when playing this timeless game is: One says, “:How ya doin’?” The other says, “Aw, nuthin’ much, How ‘boutchu?”  The coded message of the game is, “No brag, but I am in command of my life, so nothing is bothering me…and you?”  

That afternoon at Hill’s, I ran off a mundane list of stuff about myself, and then it was Louie’s turn to recite.  

After much thought he said, “Ya know……. I seen a dirt dauber (a wasp) yesterday mornin’.” We sat silently, waitin’ for him to get goin’ again. It is against protocol to interrupt a thoughtful discourse. Finally, I could stand the long dead air no longer and spoke up. “No kiddin’,” I said.   

Long silence…..then he said. “Yeah…I was sitting in the livin’ room readin’ the Tribune and this ol’ dirt dauber lit on my knee, so…(long uninterrupted pause)…I rolled up the Tribune ….(pause)     and mashed it.  

(Long respectful pause)  Mel finally said, “I don’t remember the last time I saw a dirt dauber in the house.”  

At the end of a folksy get together, that no one in the East, West, or North would understand, we broke up, and shook hands warmly. Carol, smiled, hugged them goodbye, waited till they left , then turned to me, and peered intently into my eyes, the windows of my soul, to see if her Harry was still in there. Satisfied, she smiled and said, “And these are your people?” I immediately lapsed back into my mid-America patois and said, “You had to be there.” 

After a week spent with them good ol’ boys, I returned to the west coast, and picked up my perfectly natural unaffected (or affected) Midwestern accent, the classic radio idiom. 

That was a seminal moment in 1990.  I’ll tell you why later.. Fast forward to 1999, when I was sittin’ in the KPOP studio doin’ weekends for my friend, Mike Glickenhaus  the good ol’ VP/ GM of Clear Channel in San Diego. He had asked me to “help KPOP,” and do morning drive, and I said no, but I would do mid-day weekends for him. It was great to get back in the saddle after 30 years, and see if I still “had it” I didn’t need the money. Good thing.  

After listening to KPOP  for a week, the way I saw it, it was beyond “help.”  They had a piss poor signal, and a look at the Arbitron revealed the median age of the listeners was 65+. How did I get into this mess, Ollie? 

In saying yes, I had not reckoned with the restrictive Prophet computer system that was mandated at Clear Channel. The music was pre-programmed “vanilla” pop standards. I mean, Dean Martin’s “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime” was in heavy rotation. Not even some of the up-tempo songs of the latter 30’s and early 40’s: Bob Crosby’s “Big Noise from Winnetka” or Will Bradley’s “Beat me Daddy.” No Harry James, great show music. Kenton had eroded into quite listenable music over the years, but not here. Latter 40’s Sinatra, some of  the most beautiful music in history was “out.” No Sinatra 50’s finger poppers either. Instead, there was plenty of Andy Williams “Hawaiian Wedding Song.” often followed by three or four more sound alike soft male voices back to back, with no thought of mix, rotating men, women or tempo. Few instrumentals. 

The “clock” called for coming out of the top of the hour news and sweeping this moribund  Prophet System music for twenty minutes, back-announcing it, hitting a jingle and segueing  into a four minute spot cluster. Then, jingle out of the spot cluster into twenty more minutes of music without saying a word. 

Divine Intervention: One afternoon, I was subbing for the full-time afternoon KPOP jock when I walked past Roger Hedgecock’s next door KOGO studio, looked in to wave hello, and there was Senator  John McCain guesting with him, running for president at that time. 

I was fascinated with McCain, and walked in to meet him. He proved to be a congenial fellow, and I found myself inviting him in for an interview. What? An interview on a music-drive station?  Screw it! Yes!! 

I  began to sneak in “one liners” coming out of the top of the hour news. and to break into the long music sweeps for a  short gag or otherwise personalized bit. Or, if the rare situation arose, a major celebrity interview.  

Bonus! They remembered me despite a 30 year hiatus, The minute I launched into this irreverent Happy Hare riff, the phone lights pulsed orgasmically. “It’s you, Happy Hare. You can’t fool me.” Hundreds of them calling, emotionally begging  me to open up and “do Happy Hare,” instead of the straight job I had been doing in deference to the vanilla Pop Standard 50’s music that was oozing out of the speakers.  

The  1999 Winter Arbitron came out and I had doubled the ratings in three months from the pre-Hare days at KPOP. By now, I was into local issues, deeply involved in bringing about a change in the way cruise liners were allowed to dock in San Diego. all due to the John McCain visit.

Over 2000, we talked frequently on the air about how the KPOP travelers were being tortured by having to disembark in Ensenada instead of San Diego because of an archaic Act that had to be repealed. He pledged his support in Washington.  

I no longer hesitated to do shtick, despite unfriendly memos from lower management, (nothing from Glickenhaus) ordering me to cease and desist. They grew more dire, despite the “Trends.” Then, the following  Spring  2000 Arbitron  showed that I had plunged the median 65+ demos down to  #1  45+, both AQH’s and TSL’s (Time Spent Listening), a vital measurement of audience). 

More big  #1  45+ numbers in the 2000 Summer book. It was time to check with Glickenhaus and confess that I had been playing fast and loose with the beloved Clear Channel clock and messing with the music, occasionally throwing in some melodic upbeat 60’s and  70’s songs, and about my adventure with McCain. In short, I told him everything. He smiled and said, “What are they going to do? Fire you?” I took that as a nod from upper management.  

By the end of 2000, I had worked more and more shtick into my act and, thanks to McCain, had helped triple the cruise liner traffic in San  Diego, enabling my KPOP listeners  and others  (mostly elderly) to board ship and disembark locally instead of Ensenada or L.A.  

 Imagine! Three dimensional radio on a boutique pop standard station. AND, I was #1 45+ both AQH and TSL. for the entire year 2000. I even hit #3 35+.in this geriatric radio station. 

In December 2000, The music establishment was ”all het up”* when the “Oh Brother” movie soundtrack CD scored  #1. I was faced with two options if I wanted to play some tracks..

# 1.   Ask permission, but…Nah! My rule is: Never ask permission of an exec who is       paid to say “no.”

 # 2.  Sneak the “Oh Brother” CD in, and, risk taking my Texas Two Step a step too far in my dance with lower management.  

I vowed that I wasn’t going to go runnin’ to Mike Glickenhaus if I really got my tail in a crack. It wasn’t a matter of “framing” the music, so it fitted in better. They simply would have not tolerated my airing it. I encircled this moral dilemma in ever-tightening concentric circles. Then…..an epiphany hit me smack between the eyes.  

More next week when….. Angels rush in where fools fear to tread. 

Flash!  My amazing long time friend and ex-KYW Cleveland Partner, Specs Howard, will be inducted into the Ohio Radio And TV Broadcast Hall of Fame of Ohio in October of this year. He is one of the most gifted pro’s, and greatest men I know. 

*Texas talk for really excited.