Bouncin' Bobby and the Moon Twist Caper

Acapulco Goldea happily awaits her latest shipment of "Moon Twist"
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Life as a DJ for an immensely popular radio station like CHUM conferred an enormous number of benefits, most of which wore skirts and hot pants.  Trust me, when you came to work at CHUM you were either single or about to be.  I got a taste of what it must've been like to be a member of Led Zeppelin or some other, popular rock band.  So it surprised the daylights out of me when I met the most engaging and attractive lady I'd ever come across, and we became “a number” almost immediately.  Madeline Klingenburg was from Saskatoon, and was as completely nuts as I.  We moved in together at Place Du' Soliel, then found a luxury apartment at one of Toronto's most prestigious buildings at the time, 150 Farnham.

Madeline and I lived large in those days.  We drove a number of luxury cars... a Mercedes 280SL, a Rolls Silver Shadow, various Cadillacs etc.  We attended functions together in matching, custom made clothes right down to our matching custom tailored, leather coats and jackets.  We became notorious social butterflies, and were constantly seen at parties, restaurants and events all over town.

On occasion my brother Mark would drop by, and he'd bring some of his buddies along.  Now if anything he's a bigger idiot than me, so when he told us of a scam he and his buddy Mike were running on a local, Lapeer lad... we'll call him “Bouncin' Bobby”... we HAD to get involved!

He and Mike had convinced this guy that they were under cover Narcs, hot on the trail of the newest and most insidious drug on the market, “Moon Twist.”   This stuff was especially dangerous because you could shoot it, snort it, or use it as a suppository.

I kid you not!

Bouncin' Bobby was a Whirling Dervish on the dance floor.  He'd gyrate wildly, hands flying in the air and his feet moving in 20 different directions at once.  When he hit the floor all the other dancers would give him plenty of space for fear of getting creamed!  Hence the nickname "Bouncin' Bobby."

On one occasion the three of them went to a bar in Lapeer.  It was Holloween, and the band was using a smoke generator which sent huge clouds of thick, chemical fog all over the room.   Mark told him “Smell that Bob?  That's Moon Twist for sure.  I need you to sneak around the dance floor, and check out who's smoking that Twist, so we can move in and bust 'em.”  Sure enough, Bobby headed over, and as discreetly as possible, looked over every dancer on the floor.  No Moon Twist... the perp must've gotten away!

Furthermore they had convinced poor Bob that they needed his assistance in bringing down the gang that was pushing the stuff in Lapeer.  The three of them would pose as buyers for a shipment of Twist.  Now Bob wanted no part of this, but Mark and Mike were convincing so he reluctantly agreed to help them with the big bust.  That's where Madeline and I came in, I was to dress up as “Tony,” the big cheese drug dealer from Toronto and Madeline was to be my Gang Moll.  We set the scam up for my next visit to Lapeer.  Before leaving for a local bar, we filled a baggie with Oregano and I stuffed it in the pocket of my white suit.  This would be a sample of Moon Twist for Mark, Mike and Bob to evaluate!

The scam was to go down like this:  Bob would meet us at Mark's apartment, and we'd head over to the bar to make the deal.  Bob showed up, and was immediately confronted by Tony... the most dangerous Moon Twist dealer in the area.  Tony was NOT impressed.  "He looks kinda' dorky.  Are you sure we can trust this guy?"  Tony's "moll" looked on disdainfully.  "Yeah, we can trust him" Mike said.  "Bob, c'mon in here with me"  The two of them disappeared into Mike's bedroom.  Now Mike had been an MP in the Army, he still possessed his badge and service revolver.  He pulled them both out of a drawer, checked the cylinder, popped the badge in his pocket and said "What'ya say Bob, shall we bust this scumbag right now?"  Bob's eyes widened and he whispered back "NO, NO... let's wait!"   Mike agreed... "Good idea, we'll get a couple of drinks in him.  That way it'll make things easier."  Whew... for the moment Bob was relieved, there would be no immediate confrontation.

So now the intrepid five-some, Mark, Mike, Tony, Tony's moll and Bob head over to a local watering hole to quaff a brew and look over the merchandise.  Upon being seated Tony decides he doesn't like the cut of Bob's jib after all, and decides he needs to see some bonafides.  Tony is convinced that Bob is a Narc, and unless Bob can convince him otherwise... well you get the picture.  Bob's in a state of panic, what can he offer to Tony as proof he's not a cop?

"Will my wallet do?"

"Sure, let's see it!"  Bob hands me his wallet and I tear everything out of it.  A tiny, motorcycle carburetor jet falls out on the table.

"Bob, you devil... A TWIST PIPE!!!!  You've been a smoker all along haven't you?"

With Tony convinced that Bob is a true brother in crime it's time to make the deal.  I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out the bag of Oregano and slam it on the table with a flourish.  Bob's eye's nearly pop out of his head, he's never been this close to an illegal substance before.  He looks like he's going to soil himself.  I pass the bag over to Mark who takes a pinch of Oregano, holds it to his nose and takes a huge snort.

"Yeah that's good shit alright!"

Mark then passes the bag to Mike who does the same.  "Good shit man, good shit!!"  Bob is next in line.  He indicates that he doesn't really need to take a snort himself, he trusts me, but Mike kicks him under the table.  Reluctantly, and with trembling fingers he reaches into the bag, takes a pinch of Oregano and snorts it.  With a greatly satisfied look on his face he grins, nods his head knowingly and says "That's real nice man!"

So a pact has been completed.  Tony is satisfied the other players are legit, the shipment of Twist will be delivered as agreed, and all is well in Lapeer.  The only thing left is for Bob to teach Tony a few steps.

"You know what Bob, I noticed you dancing... you need to show me some of your moves man."

So Bob, Madeline and I take to the dance floor, arms waving wildly, legs thrashing out in all directions and dancers heading for the hills, they must've thought we were all from some foreign land where everybody danced like that!.  The night was a HUGE success... we all laughed our asses off on the way home.

Now this could be the end of a great story, but it isn't.  Mark and Mike kept this scam going for FIVE YEARS!!!

Yup, I said FIVE years!!

At one point, even my grandmother was going to get in on the action.  They were going to convince Bob that she was the "Ma Barker" of the drug gang.  Her name was Goldea, they planned on calling her "Acapulco Goldea," bringing Bob over to her place and staging a shootout using some of the flares left over from the days when my granddad and uncles used to shoot at one another on the 4th.  They'd set up "radio communications" with CB radios... the whole 9 yards.  Unfortunately my grandmother passed away before they could pull off the scam.

But as sure as I sit here writing this, I know that "Acapulco Goldea" is up in Heaven flapping her wings in hover mode, with a box of flares, some shotguns and a CB radio just waiting for Mark and me to arrive.

There's just GOTTA be a sap somewhere up there we can pull this on!!!!


Mark Bergin adds:

His story is only part of the whole thing - like he said it went on for years. In 1975 while in college I was considering the Navy Nuclear Power officer's program - I was flown out to New London to the Naval Base for the interview process. We used this as a lead in to a story wherein I was to join a submarine crew as an officer (for cover) and try to determine who the crewman was that was bringing in the drugs. Another friend, Gregg Scharping, helped us develop the scenario and is the one who came up with the name "Moon Twist".

At one point, after I'd moved from the area, 'Bob' approached Mike at a bar and told him he knew it was all bull shit. By this time, however, Mike was on the Berkley P.D. and showed 'Bob' his badge and weapon. 'Bob's' head exploded.

The Day I Shut Toronto Down

Commander Grease, in all his greasy glory!
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The movie “American Graffiti” had an enormous impact on the teenagers of Toronto. The exploits of Curt, Toad, John and Steve in a fictitious California town circa 1962 hit like an atomic bomb. Now every kid throughout Ontario was aware of, and hungry to experience, life in the 1950s. It didn't take me long to recognize a potential gold mine. I remembered Ted Johnson at WTAC in Flint back in the 50's and early 60's. As I mentioned earlier Ted was the most successful of all the Flint Djs when it came to making huge sums of cash, he had dances going in 3 locations at a time 3 or 4 times a week. There was a new Pontiac convertible in Ted's driveway every year, and now I saw that possibility for myself. I immediately had a huge P.A. System built up using Broadcast grade equipment, just as Ted had done. I commissioned some high school art students to create a personification of the1950s lifestyle and attitude, I envisioned a DC Comics style super-hero with a pack of ciggies stuffed under his uniform wearing a huge grease drop on his chest. Thus “Commander Grease” was christened in Toronto!

The station had been extremely successful with an in school presentation called “The History of Rock.” We'd appear at assemblies with an audio/visual, chronology of rock's lineage. Drawing on that, I came up with a similar show in which I would enlist the aid of some students to model various fashions from the period, and describe the attitudes and lifestyle of the era. The assembly, of course, was intended to promote my dance at the school the following night. It caught on big-time, and soon I was hauling in $1000 per night 2 or 3 times a week doing these “Grease Dances.”

This did not escape the attention of CHUM's management, and soon I was sitting in Bob Wood's office discussing how we might ride the horse a little further with a radio show based on the same, general theme. There was a series of albums out at the time called “Cruisin'” which featured some Djs recreating shows from the late 50s and early 60s. People Like Dick Biondi, Arnie “WOO WOO” Ginsburg, etc. They'd intro songs, and try to recreate their on-air personas from a specific year on the album. I suggested we use the albums as a guide, and “Canadian Graffiti” was born. No sooner had I launched the show then it became a sensation . At one point it was estimated that 60% of the radios in use in Toronto on Sunday night were tuned into that show.

Now back in the early years of rock radio, the DJs were as well known for their crazy stunts as they were for their dulcet tones on the air. Remember me mentioning Jackson Ross, and his “Alley Oop” bit? I figured I had to come up with something similar each week to keep things interesting, so I came up with things like “The Greaser's Rally.”

“Wherever you are right now, turn right”

“Now stop, back up, turn around and go the other way.”

Whoever wound up farthest from Toronto when the rally ended won a prize... stuff like that. One Sunday night I found myself stuck for an idea. I thought back to a radio station in Grand rapids which had a neon sign in the studio window, facing the street, which read “HONK.” The idea was, whenever a car would come by, the jock could hit a switch, turn on the light and the driver would honk the horn. HAH... mission accomplished. It was kind of lame, but what the hell... I went for it.

Now the show went on the air at 9, so as soon as my first record ended I said “It's 9:02... we're one hour and 58 minutes away from the 'Big Honk' at 11 o'clock come on by the station if you can, but wherever you are honk your horn.” I kept this up after every song. “It's 9:30, we're 1 hour and 30 minutes away”... “It's 10 o'clock, we're one hour away...” etc. As the big moment approached I decided to have a look outside just to see if anyone was there. I thought that a few cars would show, imagine my surprise when I opened the blinds and saw hundreds of cars, blinkers flashing, stretched as far as the eye could see both north and south on Yonge Street waiting for their moment in the sun. For a moment I thought about canceling the bit but THAT would've gone over like a lead balloon, besides, they'd probably do it anyway. So when 11 O’clock arrived I gave the command... “It's 11 O'clock, wherever you are honk your horn... let the world experience greaser power!!!”

The place went up like an air raid!

I swear, I've never heard anything like it. I can only describe it by saying, it sounded like the old movies of London during World War Two when the air raid sirens were going off except LOUDER! I was in panic mode, I knew damn well SOMETHING would come of this little stunt and sure enough a few minutes later something did. I heard a knock on the studio door, opened it up and there in full regalia, standing with his hands on his hips and a decidedly un-amused look on his face, was one of Toronto's finest. A young constable with a noticeable Scotch accent had decided to drop by and let me explain why I'd just blown out the Police Department's main switchboard, and to let me know how they felt about that.

“Y'rrrrrre new gonna do that agin are ye?”

“Well, yeah... I was thinking about it!”

“Nooooooo... that was no' a question!!!”

As soon as I got off the air Dave Charles, the stations assistant Program Director, called. “Boogieman, that was the greatest bit I've ever heard!!! I felt pretty good.

When I arrived at the station the next day I was informed the management staff was waiting to see me upstairs... the WHOLE management staff including Alan Waters.

Uh oh!

I opened my mailbox to find a note from Dave Charles... “That was the most irresponsible thing I've ever heard!!!” Huh? I thought he said it was the greatest thing he'd ever heard!!!

To put it bluntly, they read me the riot act, and I was told never to do that again. But I knew I had to do SOMETHING, right? I mean... I couldn't just let it slide the following week, right? I'd only agreed not to do THAT again.

The following Sunday I went on at 9 and counted down just like the week before except this time I told my listeners how much trouble I'd gotten myself into and, whatever happened, at 11 O'clock DON'T blow your horn. When 11 O'clock arrived I looked outside again. This time there were even MORE cars on both sides of Yonge Street. There were clowns juggling in the middle of the street, there were people dancing... traffic was jammed in both directions. At 11 O'clock, sure enough...

HHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNKKKKKKKK!

It was even LOUDER than the previous week! The same cop came down to the station to haul me in, and was greatly dissappointed when his superior told him he couldn't because I'd asked the listeners NOT to blow their horns.

Heh, heh, heh...

The “Big...” bits ended a couple of weeks later when I unleashed “The Big Flush” Use your imagination on THAT one!

Heh, heh, heh...

Gary Milmine writes:

One of my favourite stories starred Scott Carpenter, two Canadian
Graffiti shows (Sunday night 9-12 on 1050 CHUM) and of course a
Torontonians "God given right" to cruise Yonge street.

Beginning shortly after 9 pm, Scott asked everyone listening to
honk their car horn at 11 pm out in front of the CHUM building at Yonge
& St. Claire. We figured that some listeners would show up and blast
away and wouldn't it be great if we got maybe 50 cars…. Well it
didn't take long to see that Yonge street had a few more cars than
usual and that Scott's plan was working to perfection..

Just before 11, Scott brought a microphone outside and really had a
good look at the traffic jam outside of CHUM (actually Metro's
finest estimated that Yonge street was packed north and southbound
from Front St to well past Eglington) and his first words to me on
cue were "Gary you have got to see this" I ran out to see and could
not believe the amount of cars not moving.

11 pm the noise was astounding and must have lasted five minutes
(metros finest actually stated that drivers all over metro were
blasting their horns) and we thought "wow that was fun".

It was a great bit until Scott got called down to "Woody's" office
and probably received the verbal blasting of a lifetime…. The
police had received noise complaints from people all around town
(especially close to CHUM) they were considering several charges
including disturbing the peace.

Mr Wood of course would save the day with his radio being theatre
of the mind arguments and the promise that Scott would never do such a
thing again…..

The following Sunday Scott went on the air and apologized for all
the commotion and begged everyone to NOT drive down Yonge St. at
11 pm and blast their horns…He said that he would get into BIG
trouble , maybe even get fired, and the police had warned him that
all must remain quiet… For two hours Scott begged everyone to NOT
do it…. Well Metros finest let it be known that even more cars
disturbed the peace and that even more complaints were issued.

Well here we are 30 some odd years later and most of my favourite
radio memories are from that era…..

Best wishes

Gary

Jay Nelson

Jay Nelson in the CHUM main studio

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I don't think I'll ever forget the first time I laid eyes on Jay Nelson.  I had only been with the station for a short time, and was finishing my shift on the all-nighter... new djs always “broke in” on the overnight shift, since there were fewer listeners who might hear the occasional technical glitch or in my case hearing the call letters as “CKLW” instead of “CHUM”... I hadn't made the switch in my mind quite yet you see.  At any rate, there was no operator on duty for the overnight show, so I had to run the board myself.  As I was getting ready to give my “farewell until tomorrow” rap I looked up through the glass into the studio, and what I saw damned near scared me!  Nelson had just flopped into the chair, and with his head in his hands was weaving back and forth, eyes bloodshot, unshaven and looking like death warmed over.

Normally by this time Jay's operator would have been there ready to go, but today he was running a bit late so it befell me to run Jay's board for awhile.  After weaving around in the chair for a couple of minutes, he looked into the control room.   He stared at me for a second, and suddenly realized that I wasn't the guy he normally saw at 5AM and inquired.

“Where the F%$k is George?”

I answered as delicately as I could “I don't know where the f%$k George is, so it's you and me Bubba!”

And that's the way our relationship started, Jay Nelson and me.  I had no idea if he was hung over or stoned, and didn't care.   All I knew was that he was the most brilliant air talent I'd ever seen, because as soon as my last record ended he was not only upright in his chair, but had pulled himself completely together.  The second he cracked that mike he was engaging, funny, relatable, friendly and the absolute personification of anything one could ask for in a morning man.  As soon as the mike was off however, he re-assumed his former association with the desktop... he looked like Hell!

Frank Coxe was apparently raised by Jesuits somewhere in Pennsylvania... I'm told Scranton which makes sense since Scranton is the home of a highly respected Jesuit university... and spent some time in radio there.  At some point he wound up on TV in Buffalo, NY wearing a pith helmet and a leopard skin costume, calling himself “Jungle Jay Nelson” on an afternoon kid's show.  In 1963 the CHUM folks were looking for a new morning man, saw him, and decided he was a better option than the other candidate they were looking at....Irene Dunn, Granny from “The Beverly Hillbillies.”   Good choice!

Jay Nelson possessed the one characteristic that I regard as absolutely essential for a successful morning man, the ability to think on the spot.   He never prepared any material that I know of. All his one liners and jokes came to him Johnny Carson style... extemporaneously.  He could be hung over, half asleep... hell, half DEAD for that matter... and the funny stuff would just happen.  I've NEVER been able to do that, and I don't know how those guys do it either.  I had to sit and think up the bits I did, it was hard work.  Nelson, and people like him, are just naturally funny.   Like I said, it just happens.

One of Jay's classic stunts was to send an imaginary character named Shredney Vashtar to jump the Niagara Gorge on his bicycle.   He had sound effects, “live” reports, crowd noises.. the whole 9 yards... only to have poor Shredney splash into the river at the end of the show.  Believe it or not, people actually showed up at the falls to watch him.  That, my friend, is the power of radio... a lesson I learned and never forgot.  I used that power MANY, many times in my career!

Nelson was like most of the other great morning men I knew in another way too, he was extremely insecure.  He was like that class clown you might remember from school.  The one who was always goofing around, telling jokes, playing pranks... basically begging for attention.   Without it he felt threatened, or worse irrelevant.   Jay was a good guy, but nobody really knew him.  He'd attend the Wednesday morning, post meeting breakfasts at Seniors occasionally, but instead of communicating and commiserating with the rest of us he'd be telling jokes.   He was, as they say. “always on.”

Jay and booze were a bad combination.  He drank a lot, and was in pretty bad shape as often as not when he arrived in the morning.  I think it probably harkens back to his feelings of insecurity.  Dick Smyth, CHUM's legendary news director, thinks it might have had as much to do with being raised by Jesuits.  I don't know what was eating away at Jay, but I knew he suffered greatly.   He never seemed to be a happy man, ever.

Jay spent 17 years in the morning slot.  Then, I'm told, was advised that his talents might be better put to use on CITY-TV as a weather man.  I'm sure Jay knew better... he'd overstayed his welcome, and was being pushed out.  He lasted for a short time there, then wound up bouncing from station to station.   Eventually the booze, and his insecurities, caught up to him.  In the last years of his life he worked as a teacher at Toronto's National Institute of Broadcasting, Operations manager at a small station in Newmarket, ON, and finally as a Maître d' at The Daily Planet restaurant in Toronto.   He died on February 18, 1994, apparently of liver issues.  As I understand it, the booze finally got him.

In 40 years of radio and television there's one thing that I've witnessed time and time again, the utter destruction of lives that booze and drugs can bring about.  It's stunning, and not easily understood by those who don't see it close up.  Oh, you may have someone in your family or a friend or two with substance issues, but to see outrageously talented people destroy themselves one after another... that's a different animal altogether.  I was never as successful as some of these folks.  I never had that level of talent, and I damn sure never had that level of need.   The absolute need to be an entertainer, to achieve validation from it.  To me it was a job.  It was what I did, not who I was.

Thank Heaven for that.   I may not be rich and famous, but I'm alive!


Warren Cosford adds:

Ops burned out quickly with Jay Nelson. Of course they also had to deal with John Gilbert. For Bob McMillan and Zeke Zdebiak it was a path to The Production Department. It was not until years later that I discovered "Mac" got up at 3AM, Vomited, and drove in from Oshawa.

To Jay's credit, he did not allow himself to get into "a Rut". He seemed challenged to try New Things. I recall recording Jay backstage with Don Rickles for a week's worth of "Bits". He also had a live chicken as a co-host for a while. But My Fav was Shredney Vashtar. It was The '70s and Women's Lib was being followed by Gay Rights. Although I don't think Jay ever let on that Shredney was "Gay", it was clear he was. To the best of my knowledge we ever received a complaint.

Jay did Shredney as a warm, funny person that I think listeners could identify with as a Dreamer and a Schemer who always saw The Silver Lining and never Gave Up.

I produced Shredney's Niagara Gorge Jump riding a 10 Speed on a Friday Morning with Jay, Maryanne Zuma, Smyth and Dave Wright complete with Sound Effects.

On Sunday morning during Asby's Show I was struck by how "real" it sounded. A few minutes later Reg phoned to say that The Niagara Falls Convention Bureau called to ask where "we" were. Apparently "hundreds of people" had shown up.

Remember.......Jay Nelson was The Last Surviving Member of the Allan Slaight and Committee led by Larry Solway 1050 CHUM. J. Robert Wood was the architect of A Revolution at 1331. When the smoke cleared Jay was STILL doing mornings at 1050 chum.....but Top 40 Radio had changed.

Somehow....Jay made himself "fit". For many years to come.
WC



From Russ Horton:

Jay Nelson was a genius and one of the truly funny guys in Toronto radio history.I used to love it when him and Dick and Henny would get into it.Jay was a prankster ..how many people remember the morning he spiked Dick's Pipe with grass..mellow newscast that morning

It's Da' WOOFMAN BABY!!

 Wolfman Jack in the CHUM main studio
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Bob Smith. alias Wolfman Jack, worked at CHUM for awhile in the 70's. He was quite the character as you might imagine!

Smitty grew up in Brooklyn, and was a huge fan of “Moondog” Alan Freed. The “Wolfman” part of the name came from Bob's love of horror films, the “Jack” from hip phrases of the time such as “Hit the road, Jack .” He based his gravely voice on Howlin' Wolf's singing style.  Smitty began his radio career in Newport News, VA as "Roger Gordon and Music in Good Taste."  I'm guessing THIS particular segment of Da' Woofman's career was somehow missing from his official resume.   


Smitty's alter ego Wolfman Jack began to emerge at KCIJ in Shreveport, LA, and Wolfman hit his stride in the early sixties when he took his act south of the border to XERB in Rosorito Beach, Mexico, a 100,000 watt flame thrower which could be heard in the US from coast to coast.  The Wolfman did pitches for dog food, weight-loss pills, weight-gain pills, rose bushes, and baby chicks.  There was even a pill called Florex, which was supposed to enhance one's sex drive.  "Some zing for your ling nuts!" At one point the Federales decided they wanted a part of the action and, according to Wolf, came down to the station to let him know.  He told me he drove them off with a shotgun!

You never knew what to believe from him, but he sure told a great story.  Hell, they were probably true come to think about it!

Smitty came to CHUM on the heels of his groundbreaking role in “American Graffiti,” a movie in which he basically played himself.   He was constantly accompanied by his manager, who objected strenuously to us calling him “Smitty.”  We couldn't have cared less.

“Hey Smitty, how's it goin'?”

“Call him Wolf or Wolfman please!”

“Yeah, yeah, f*#k you! How's it goin' Smitty?”

“Fine, man fine. Ever-ting goin' jus fine hee hee hee...”

He would cross the border with an unopened pack of Kools.  He'd unwrap the damned pack and there would be 20, perfectly rolled joints inside.  He must've had his own cigarette wrapping machine, and a stash of phony tax stamps!  When he was on the air the place smelled like an opium den, and the smoke was so thick you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.  One time Sandee and her sister went on a food run for Wolfie.  His manager ordered 3 or 5 burgers, a bunch of fries, a couple of cokes, etc, etc.  She said it looked like they were hungry back there.  He answered "Oh, these aren't for us, they're all for Wolf."  When he got the munchies, he REALLY got the munchies.

Typical Wolfman phone bit:

"Hiya baby"

"Hiya Wolfman"

"Hey baby, are your peaches sweet?"

"Yeah Wolfman, they sure are"

"Hey baby, how old are you?"

"13"

"13!!!!!!!. BYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEE!!!! HAH, HAH, HAH... OOOOOOOOOOWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!.."

Wolf was the exact opposite of his on-air persona.  Listening to him on the air you'd have thought he was an old letch, but he was happily married and devoted to "Mrs Wolf," Lucy "Lou" Lamb who he married in 1961.  They had two children.  He was thoroughly engaging, and once you got to know him, he'd open up a bit.  Sometimes he and Lou would get into a tiff and, after about a dozen joints, he'd sit you down for a heart to heart which he'd start off by saying something along the lines of  “Me and the old lady been havin' our troubles lately...”  When he did that, you could be sure you'd be sitting there for a looooong time.

He had an absolutely wicked sense of humor, and would crack up helplessly whenever something funny would happen.   John Tucker was his operator.   John had a long beard and scraggly hair... he looked like a deranged mountain man.  Mary Cribari worked the phones for the show and recalls coming into the control room, and Tucker grabbing and tickling her.  Yes folks, these were PRE PC times.  She remembers Smitty's voice blaring out of the squawk box...

“Unhand her you heathen swine!!!... HAWWW, HAWWW, HAWWW, HAWWW... unhand that innocent little girl you pervert!!!  HAWWW, HAWWW, HAWWW, HAWWW... “ 


Once I had him appear at one of my 50's dances at an outside venue in Oshawa, ON.  We had Farthead go up to the roof of a building across the street to man the huge spotlight we'd brought in.  Wolf had told Randy to be sure and keep the light right on him when he performed “Clap For The Wolfman.”  Now if there was one thing you DIDN'T do, is tell Randy how to do his job.  Randy kept the spotlight on him all right... focused to a 6 inch wide circle right on his crotch!! 

Smitty was a great guy, and we all got along with him famously.  He didn't stay with the station long, however. American Graffiti had made him a household name.  It wasn't long before TV called, and Wolf found himself televised coast to coast hosting the “Midnight Special.”  He went on to do a number of TV shows, radio specials and even a cartoon called “The Wolf Rock Power Hour”

He died of a heart attack some years ago returning home from the road promoting his new autobiography "Have Mercy!: Confessions of the Original Rock 'N' Roll Animal." He got out of the limo to hug Lou, and dropped dead right there in his drive way.

It's a shame, he was a great guy. HAH, HAH, HAH... OOOOOOOOWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!.."


01/06/2012  Mary Cribari adds... 

Awesome story Pat!  I remember him coming through the doors at Chum with an entourage of women, he was never alone.  Being 16 and totally naive, I had no idea that they were "paid help” I thought they were his friends travelling with him until I found otherwise.  I could tell you many crazy stories about "Wolfi" but I can tell you one thing, he always looked after me, he would freak when anyone tried to touch me and that I truly appreciated.  Mary Cribari

Coop

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Perhaps the biggest surprise I encountered at CHUM was Mike Cooper.  Mike couldn't have been much over 18 when he started. He came to us from Hamilton, about 20 miles away, and was well versed in the CHUM approach to radio, having listened to it his entire life.  Mike was a surprising choice to most of us who'd never heard him.  Normally Bob Wood would look for a long-time radio vet to fill a position on the station, not a fresh faced kid with a permanent deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.  I mean it... you could never tell if he was thinking of something to say, or had just that moment woken up and couldn't figure out where he was.  Any concerns about how the kid would fit into the lineup were resolved the second he cracked the mike, however...this guy wasn't just good, he was spectacular.

Coop was a natural on the air the way certain athletes are naturals in a given sport, to him it came easy.  At least you would think so watching him.  He'd clamp the earphones on and hold them tight to his head. When it came time to do a break, he'd gesticulate wildly with his hands like an Italian mother bragging about her “son who's a priest.”  He had (and still has) impeccable timing.  Not only that, but he was gregarious and enthusiastic.  If there was a get together of the usual, rambunctious bunch of CHUM bums, he'd be there every time.   He became a family member immediately!

Coop was not only a great formatic DJ, but had a major love of wacky, publicity stunts.   One year during the Canadian National Exhibition, Coop managed to set the Guinness World Record for riding a Ferris Wheel . He ate, drank, slept and lived on the thing for over 21 days . He was allowed to get off for a few minutes occasionally to stretch his legs and attend to... ahem... personal business, but other that that he was on it constantly.  The station built him a special, enclosed seat that kept him out of the elements.  It didn't protect him from vandals however, at one point some punks sneaked into the CNE grounds at night and roughed him up.  We had to hire a security firm to protect him.  At the end of his ride he was awarded the keys to a brand new car, which he immediately sold, then pocketed the money.

However the most significant contribution Mike made to Toronto radio was what I think of as the greatest publicity stunt in history, he had himself assassinated on the air!   Here's how it went down.  It was April Fools day, 1976.  Coop began to talk on-air about some strange phone calls he'd been getting, some guy was calling him repeatedly and making threats.  Coop played it off saying the guy must've had a fight with his girlfriend, but as the calls supposedly continued he began to feign some concern on the air.  Then, right in the middle of a live commercial, you could hear the door open and Mike talking to someone, presumably in the room.  There was a heated exchange, then the sound of a gun going off several times, Mike screaming and then the thump of something hitting the ground.  Listening to the tapes of this I get chills to this day, it was that realistic.  After a few seconds passed, Mike came back on the air and said “April Fool!”

Great bit huh?

It was, except that the Toronto Police Precinct down the street didn't get to hear the “April Fool” part, they were already on their way to the station and had called for backup.  Coop later told me he was getting ready to intro a record when he saw the business end of a rifle sticking through the studio door.  The cops were NOT amused, especially since by now there were cars from several precincts surrounding the place.

The next day Bob Wood called Coop in.  He played a tape of the bit, looked Coop in the eye and told him “That was the greatest bit I've ever heard on the radio.  Unfortunately I'm not sure I can save your job.”  Coop wanted to say “Tell me about the greatest bit part again!” but thought better of it.  That day Coop was given his walking papers.

But the story has a happy ending boys and girls.  No one in their right mind would've let a talent like Mike Cooper get away, and sure enough Bob had a backup plan.  He'd leave Coop at home for a couple of days and invent some excuse to bring him back.   Maybe a jock was “sick” and he needed someone on the air.  YEAH, that's the ticket!!!   Within a few days Coop was back in the air chair, having accomplished what is now known as the “Great April Fools Day Assassination.”

A few years ago Coop, Sandee and I got together at a bar in Mississauga to hash over old memories.  When Coop relived this incident his eyes lit up, his hands gesticulated wildly. and for a few seconds he was once again a 20 year old kid who pulled off one of the greatest stunts in radio history.

They said at the time that radio was for fully grown men who hadn't grown up.  I can state unequivocally that, even after 40 years, most of us STILL haven't grown up.  Thank HEAVEN for that!

Bruce Marshall adds:

I was the op on that little stunt. I'd worked in radio a grand total of weeks at that point. I was 17.

Coop told me that Woody had said the, "best bit in radio..." part. But he didn't tell me the, "job in jeopardy..." part.

So I saw Woody in the hallways a few days later and said something about, "hey, what about that great bit that Coop did, huh...?" I'd never seen steam come out of Woody's ears until that point. I was told something along the lines of, "if you are ever involved in anything like that again," he'd make sure I didn't work anywhere in Canadian radio. Owww...

...And the cop cars had NOT come from the local division. They came from every corner of the city. You've never seen so many cop cars at a cop car auction. And one of the things that pissed the cops off was that they had responded to trouble at CHUM the same way they'd respond to one of their own in trouble... And to find out it was a stunt got them pretty upset.

2 o'clock on a weekday morning in 1976 Toronto... There were HUNDREDS of cups of Timmies that got tossed out the window as the cavalry started a'comin' from every corner of Metro..

Looking out the newsroom window to the north - all you could see was cop cars skewed every which way where they'd drifted to a stop... Looking south.. The same... The cop cars with flashing lights as far as you could see faded in the distance down Yonge Street.

...But a HELL of a baptism into radio!

The Duker's Got You Covered!

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That was the phrase that most of us identify with “Big Bob Stoehr” aka “Duke Roberts”, who began his second run at CHUM (he'd been “Gary Duke” in the late 60's) in 1973.  Duke was from Scranton, PA, I believe his family owned some furniture stores there.  He brought with him an impressive resume which included some of the premiere stations in some of the top markets of the day.  Stations like WIBG in Philly, CKLW in Detroit, KFRC, San Francisco and many others.  He had a BIG voice, and was considered quite a catch when Bob Wood convinced him to return to CHUM.  Even with the track record he brought to the station, he fit into “The family” like a glove.  No ego issues with this guy, he was one of the gang from day one!

Duke was cut from the same mold as Terry Steele, a straight ahead, no nonsense kind of performer with an uncanny knack for communicating with listeners on a one to one basis.  The most important quality a top-40 jock could have at the time was the ability to “tune in” to what the listener might have been thinking or experiencing at the time, and to paint word pictures in their minds.  These are qualities that are sadly lacking in today's radio environment.  Duke was a master at saying just the right thing in as few words as possible.   He could communicate one-on-one and get his message across over the 10 second intro of a song every time, and do this over and over again.  To sum it up, Duke was the perfect afternoon drive radio personaality!

Duker didn't hang with the rest of us much.   He didn't drink as far as I know, so he never attended the many beer soaked “meetings” at the Red Rooster.  Likewise he never showed for the post staff meeting get togethers at Seniors restaurant on Wednesdays.   With anyone else that would've implied a prima donna attitude but not with Duke, the guy was friendly and approachable at all times, and we all thought the world of him.  Duke was never seen without the company of a gorgeous babe on his arm.   He was a good looking, personable guy who attracted beautiful women like a magnet, but eventually settled down and married his Canadian girlfriend Betty Lou.

Duke could be a little weird, though.   He had a Doberman Pincer he called “Little Duker” that he used to bring with him to the station for some reason.  My old op Rick Murray swears that, when Little Duker was a pup, he stepped outside to encounter Duker teaching the dog the proper way to take a leak on a bush!  Hey, I'm just telling what I was told!

Duke has always regarded his time at CHUM as the best of his long radio career.  As he told the “Rock Radio Scrapbook” website:

“1050/CHUM was the finest station and company that I ever worked for, both before and after.  And that's looking back from today, both as Gary Duke and Duke Roberts, just three years apart in 1973.  When I see Warren's List mail and CFTR jocks talking about all of the fun they had on the air, all I can say is WE at CHUM had fun and discipline and we all treated it like a business.  Maybe they weren't as blessed as myself, getting to work for JRW (J. Robert Wood) and 1050/CHUM more than once."

All that is true, we were a disciplined bunch and damned happy to be there as well.  But Duker, for cryin' out loud, the dog could've taught himself!

The Bear... Terry Steele

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My best friend at the station arrived on the heels of yet another Rivers departure. I'm trying to remember, and I think it was when Tom took his detour to San Diego.   Bob Wood was meticulous when it came to choosing talent for the station.  It was not unusual for a shift to be open for a month or more while he carefully evaluated the many tapes that he'd accumulated from monitors in various cities across North America.  With Terry, however I'm told the decision was reached very quickly.   Bob liked what he heard, and brought Terry in as soon as possible. It was the right move, Terry was a one of a kind talent.

Jim Stromberg hailed from the Washington, DC area.  He'd apparently spent some time in the Navy, was discharged due to an injury and wound up getting a job back home on WINX radio in Rockville, MD.  From there he made his way south to the legendary WNOR Norfolk, and eventually to CHUM.  He was a big guy, with a bushy beard... everybody called him “The Bear” because he was as hairy as one.  He had a great sense of humor, and would break out in uncontrolled laughter at almost any ribald comment.   When I met the guy he shook my hand so hard it damn near came off.   He had a high energy, no nonsense approach on the air and impeccable timing.   These are GREAT talents to have when you were working a fast paced, night-time show.

Terry took Rivers' old 6-9 slot, and preceded me on the air.  One author at the time referred to us in his book as “The greatest one-two punch in rock radio.”  We owned the Toronto market from six until midnight.  There was barely a single teenager who didn't know our names, most of them listened to us every night and even took their transistor radios to bed with them, such was the power of the CHUM brand.

Unlike Tom Rivers, Terry was somewhat reticent when it came to personal relationships with other air staff.  He was unlikely to wade into a friendship until he was very certain.  Many people in the radio industry are like that, perhaps because of the volatile nature of radio employment or the fact that very often someone who seems like your friend will turn around and stab you in the back.   I consider myself fortunate that Terry and I became best friends very quickly.

Terry didn't focus on humor or schtick like most of us, he was a straight ahead, balls-to-the-walls, rock-n-roll DJ.  CHUM's former Production Director, Warren Cosford says of him "On the air, Terry may not have been as funny as Jay Nelson, as creative as Tom Rivers, or as flashy as Scott Carpenter.  In the studio on tape, he wasn’t as smooth as Walter Soles and Ron Morey, or as versatile as John Rode.  But Terry Steele was consistent and solid.  He was the quarterback when everyday was the Superbowl!  He was "Terrible Terry, The Bear in the Airchair from the Big House on Yonge Street".  Working with him made you better.  He had a kind of Majesty."

I don't know about “majesty”, but he sure as hell had a sense of humor!  We concocted a kind of rivalry on the air... a constant, running bitch-slap back and forth.  We were often asked, privately of course, if we hated each other.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Kind of like professional wrestlers, we'd cook up our latest slew of insults over beers at the Red Rooster.  We'd carry the ruse over to appearances where we'd dish out wise cracks to one another in front of 20,000 people.  It was HUGE fun.

Terry and his wife Leslie bought a cabin on Six Mile Lake in the Muskokas.   I'd occasionally take my mini-houseboat up there and hook up with them and Brad Jones who later became Program Director of CHUM, but at the time was known as “The King of the Muskokas” with his hopped up, Sidewinder sports-boat.   We'd toss back brews and cook up new, improved ways of getting on Bob Wood's nerves!

Terry was Jewish, but you'd never have known it.  At our weekly, post-meeting breakfasts at Senior's Restaurant he'd order up the biggest plateful of bacon and eggs you've ever seen.  When asked about that he'd respond “Who the hell do you think I am, Hymie Lipschitz?”   The guy had a laugh that could shake a mountain off it's foundation.   He was definitely one of a kind.

Like many people in the business, Terry seemed to lose his way in the 80's.  He left CHUM in 1985, and never again attained the kind of profile he'd had while there.  None of us did, really.  Some of us were luckier than others though, unfortunately Terry was one of the unlucky ones.

He began to drink heavily, and wound up at one point driving a cab in Honolulu.  Bob Wood brought him back to Toronto and offered to pay for rehabilitation.  Terry told Bob he couldn't do it.  In 1993, while in Tucson, I got a call from Warren Cosford.  Terry had been found dead in his bathtub.   The story at the time was that he'd fallen and hit his head, family members told me otherwise.  Apparently his liver just gave out and he died right there.   Terry's family was extremely close.  I knew his cousin Millicent Stromberg quite well when I worked in New York, when I called her to express my condolences she was inconsolable. Terry's death had an enormous impact on his family.

The call from Warren served as a huge wake up call for me back in '93.  The best friend I'd ever had in radio was dead, and I was certain it was radio that had killed him.  I knew then and there I had to get out.

But back in 1972, there were a few adventures yet to come!


Some comments on this post from other friends of Terry Steele:

The Bear was one of my mentors. He wasn't as actively a mentor as Mark Dailey and John Majhor where. But he had a knack for saying just the right thing that would make you feel on top of the world and brimming with confidence in your performance.

I can tell you there was one respect where Terr Bear wore his Jewishness on his sleeve. He always made sure he was working Christmas day so the other guys could have the day off.

It was tragic to see his decline and then his death. I was at his funeral... Which, of course, being as he was Jewish, happened within 24 hours of his death.

The first times I ever was heard on CHUM was with Terry Steele and another time with Scott Carpenter. CHUM ran a school spirit thing where Metro schools competed to raise money for the United Way. CHUM aired reports from students of these schools and I was chosen to do two reports for my school, George Vanier Secondary in North York. I still have cassette tape of both reports around somewhere.

That piece is a fantastic memorial to Our Bear, Pat.

Posted by Bruce Marshall


I have a picture of the Bear and I sitting on the verandah at my family's cottage. It sits right behind me here in the studio and I look at it EVERY day. That weekend Jimmy and I taught his older daughter Nicki how to waterski. Strommy was often over at our house...or I was over there at his. My 5 year old son just called him "the Bear". "Hi the Bear." Jimmy thought that was hilarious.

On Sunday morning of that cottage weekend we got up early [for us] and putted around the shoreline of the lake at about 4 or 5 miles an hour waving to everyone we saw...whether I knew them or not. All the while we assured ourselves that *they* were all beyond overjoyed to see us...because...we were *US*.

We weren't Terry Steele and Lee Marshall....we were just two guys that enjoyed the heck out of our little 'schtick'. "We're *us*...and *they* all wanted us to stop so that they can give us a drink...or introduce us to whomever that is in the bikini on the dock. I guess you had to be there...but were roared with laughter way past the point of our bellies hurting.

One time at his cottage we got on the cb radio and pestered some poor truckers down in the Southern U S of A. If any of those guys had ever found us...we'd have paid a heavy price. Gawd we laughed.

Then there was the fishing expedition up to the French River. That weekend included a huge poker game. Finally I got a good hand. But I had to pee...like a racehorse. Jimmy and I both loved those rums and cokes. Too much I guess. He wouldn't let me put my cards down in the middle of the hand. I either played it out...or I had to fold. I pissed my pants. [but I won]

Jimmy was the best man at my wedding. He had a heart the size of all outdoors. He was warm, funny and like me a wrestling fanatic who also loved to hop on a motorcycle and tour the smaller highways north of Toronto. We bowled together on Saturday nights...me the only "goyim" in the entire league...and always headed out with our ladies for a post bowling feast at some nifty restaurant.

When The Bear moved to Hawaii...it was like a major void fell over my day to day living. When he returned to Toronto I was overjoyed. He always said...no matter where...no matter when...even if we don't talk all the while..."we're US." "Lad and Son."

VOICE 1 was a real mensch. I loved him...and I miss him terribly.

Lee Marshall


Terry and I worked together briefly at KEY 590 in 1991. I found him to be very warm and open, not to mention talented (I of course had listened to him sporadically when I was in Buffalo and he was at CHUM), but with one interesting "quirk." He hated non-broadcast types in the studio or control room watching him on the air. Unlike many of the rest of us who are uncontrollable hams and love performing for an audience, Terry was quite the opposite, and when I had a close friend from the U.S. visiting one night, he asked me to have her wait in the lobby until he was done with his shift (which of course I did).

Posted by Don Berns


That comment reminds me of the one time I encountered him. It was also the early 90's when he was doing drive on KEY590 and the promotions guy was touring me and a buddy around. As we entered the studio area we could hear his raucous off air remarks to his producer accompanied by that aforementioned laugh. He then asked the promotions guy if he was bringing more of those "damn sales types" in and when told we were on air people, he bellowed "Well then, come on in!" We did and he actually spent quite a few minutes chatting with us between breaks. Too bad his personal demons ultimately got the better of him but he did give many people within earshot some great radio during his time.



I was Terry's traffic chick/co host at EZ...his last gig. He was a wonderfully funny guy and I loved going to work every afternoon to hang out with him. I was going to Montreal for a long weekend and before I left I told him that he didn't look so great - he was looking a wee bit yellowish and I was worried. We said our goodbyes, see you on Monday yadayayda. I got a call Sunday night that Terry had died. I always wonder what would have happened if he went to a Dr. to check himself out. I still miss Terry too.


While at Humber College I made an appointment to see Roger Ashby at CHUM. It was a cold somewhat snowy afternoon, Roger met me at the reception then took me on a tour of the station. First stop? 1050 studios..and I met "THE BEAR, LIVE ON THE AIR". Indeed he was so pleasant to meet and speak with. Probably because, as has been mentioned before here, Terry didn't seem to mind if you were in the biz..if you weren't? Oh well.
He was asking me about if we were using gated compression and other technical things. The fact is..Terry was a REAL gentleman to me, a 19 year old wanna-be. This was 1974. I will never ever forget that meeting. Terry was first class. Thanks to Roger for giving me his time, that day, as well. All the folks at CHUM were first class. Anyone tells you otherwise, tell em' come and see me!
Cheers everyone.
Steve



Terry was one of the many greats at 1050 CHUM. It was a privilege to do newscasts on his shows and he'd always sit in the booth and listen and react to what I was doing.
He called me "triple-scale" because as did he , I did a fair amount of voice work, both on the CHUM year enders and for other stations in the chain.
He told me before he died that when he was gone, I could have his "voice one" identity and I honour him by using that as one of my email addresses.
I remember plenty of fun nights at Jingles and the "Crimson Cock" as the CHUM jocks and newsies got together to "hoist a few."
One of the unique and talented people with whom I've had the good fortune to know and to work with, he'll never be forgotten.

Posted by Mike Cleaver

Cheryl and I hosted a house party on the Saturday of Victoria Day weekend, circa 1987, maybe '88. We had friends visit from Ottawa and when I posted a notice on the bulletin board at CKEY that all were invited, we were secretly hoping maybe a dozen or so would show up. Instead, we had more than twice that number (we had one clique at 'EY and everyone was part of it). Even though we worked opposite shifts of the clock, were delighted the Bear attended -- and he was larger than life all night long (and the next day, as he crashed on our sofa)! Another time, the Bear, John Rode, Don McDonald and I decided to dine at an Indian restaurant on Yonge St. Terry sent his order back THREE TIMES because the curry wasn't hot enough. He was melting like the Wicked Witch of the West but loved every minute of it!! I was in California when I heard of his passing. I miss his laughter and do-anything-for-ya attitude to this day...

Posted by Chris Mayberry