I was coming up on a year, living in my latest bachelor pad across the river from Downtown in the Arlington section of Jax. The Blue Fountain complex was a two story, u-shaped building on University Boulevard. There were twenty six units in the building and I was in number twenty-three on the second floor in the corner, overlooking the kidney shaped pool in the middle with palmetto palms to accent the arrangement. It was a peaceful sanctuary to me, and I enjoyed being there with its navy blue shag carpeting and light blue velour modernistic couch and chairs. That floor covering was such a deep pile that if you dropped something in it, you stood the chance of not finding it for days. My boudoir was a collection of sixties era modern style furniture. It was a one-bedroom plan of ample square footage, and I paid one hundred fifty-five dollars a month for the privilege of laying my head there. This jewel was on the side of the twenty-four hour Hess Gas Station, directly across from the air hose. If I didn’t close my bedroom window, I could hear the air bell ringing at all hours. Cooking was a mystery to me, so the kitchen was always spotless. There was a pot for boiling water for instant coffee and a spoon handy on the counter. My dinnerware was usually Styrofoam to go boxes. I occasionally dusted the appliances.

I was also coming up on a year of experiences at Rock 95 and growing into the role of a Rock Jock. Still rough around the edges, I learned constantly from the other guys who had been in the business a lot longer and much more accomplished on air than I was at that point. I was “The Kid” and they all took me under their wings of protection. Rich and I became friends and I listened carefully to what he was teaching me about how to be and what to do. It turned out to be quite a departure from that very first night, when he zoomed out the door as soon as I got there. Often, I would sit in on his show watching him with great interest, picking up new techniques in operating the equipment and his handling of the audience. As the sun set, the city lights on the tall buildings began to twinkle through the big wall of windows, he would dim the studio lights to give the room a nighttime ambiance. Rich was the Music Director and did the job with an unmatched passion. I remember his enthusiasm the day he added the Tubes song, “White Punks On Dope” to the playlist. As he played the song at “Level 11” on the studio monitors for the first time, the request lines jammed before the song was half over. He led his listeners on a nightly rock journey like the Pied Piper.

My other role model was Steve Fox, the Afternoon Jock. With Steve came a wealth of experience dating back to the 60’s and the talent to work virtually on any format of radio there was or could be. He was polished, confident, and lit up the control room when it was time for his show. Steve was a giant on the station and was generous with his knowledge and all around fun to be around. I enjoyed his stories of different stations he worked at in other cities in his career. The welcome mat was always out at his studio door, and I watched as he effortlessly segued from a conversation, we would be having to a live on air spiel. Control board volumes, switches, turntables, and records danced as if he had a magic wand to make it all work. My education under this radio genius included making my first commercial for the station, using techniques that would stay with me for a long time. He was as cool as a New York éclair, and I gained the confidence I initially needed in the business from watching him along with the positive reinforcement he gave me. He made being on the air look like the easiest job in the world.

Being on top of the Jacksonville Civic Auditorium offered features that made working there an adventure. Behind the studios, there was a master record library. On the floor, in the back, there was a trap door. It looked like a submarine hatch.  A big sign in ominous lettering read “UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES IS ANYONE EVER TO OPEN THIS DOOR”. So, what do you think we did? Of course, we opened the door which revealed a metal ladder that ended up backstage of the Auditorium. A couple of us “envelope pushers” gained access to some awesome major concerts backstage. It sure beat waiting in line or having to actually buy a ticket to the show. It was great! Just ladder in!

The other part of being on Rock 95 in that era that you should know is that Jacksonville was ground zero for Southern Rock. The Lynyrd Skynyrd Band were the undisputed kings of the genre and royalty in town. They were from Jacksonville, and many claimed to be their friends and neighbors. I remember pondering at one point, how many next-door neighbors can they possibly have had? Infamously, several band members, including leader Ronnie Van Zant were killed in a plane crash in Mississippi, heading to their next concert, the October before I joined the station. That was a sad day in The Bold New City. It was the day the music died in town. I recall seeing the breaking news on TV and flags being flown at half-staff. The mourning continues to this day in circles of devoted fans. The “Freebird” anthem by Skynyrd was always played with reverence at Rock 95. The other main players who carried on were Thirty Eight Special, Molly Hatchet and Blackfoot. Even though they were famous for being from Macon, Georgia, The Allman Brothers Band was actually formed in Jacksonville in 1969. Our core audience of Southern Rock fans, in the town where it all began, were responsible for the success of the station. I even got to visit the Jug, where Ronnie Van Zant was inspired to write the song “Gimme Three Steps”. Our listeners were devoted to their music, and we were more than happy to give them an endless supply.

As fun and rewarding as radio broadcasting was and can be, there is the ugly underbelly of politics. Ingenuous behavior by management types and those who seek to advance their careers at the expense of others happens.  There are only about 9000 terrestrial stations in America, so the competition can be fierce for relatively few jobs. I would offer that with the rising irrelevance of the AM band, that 9,000 number is dwindling.  Add in deregulation and consolidation that began in the 80’s, plus periodic poor economies, and it all sums up to being tougher to hold down or even get a radio job than ever before. Online sources for music and information have further fractionalized the media pie. Add job performance, audience retention and growth to that number, and it compounds the stability of this kind of career greatly. Throw in diverse ego, drama and differing philosophies and you have situations that affect the workplace much more than other livelihoods.

In my twenty plus years in the business, I saw every type of volatility you can imagine at different stations. There were the urban lore stories of the guy who had just been fired, nailing his pair of loafers to the manager’s door with a note that said, “fill these shoes”.  I actually talked a fellow jock with a long barrel 45 caliber revolver out of shooting the manager in a brief physical struggle. That manager was a mere feet away in his office up the hallway. I have seen sexual harassment and personal attacks on station personnel at various points in my career. By the end of February 1979, the wolf was at the Rock 95 door.