Learning that the alternative newspaper in Key West had a new publisher led to an interview for the sales manager gig. Japhy from Great Lakes Futon rode shotgun, scouting locations for a new factory. After a good interview, the previous Sales Manager changed her mind and decided to stay, despite assurances that this wouldn’t happen, made before the road trip. Declining a sales gig, they cut me a wee check, maybe enough to cover gas to get to Georgia in my Lincoln.
This is why we drink.
Japhy was drawn to Barefoot Bob's on Duval like a moth to a flame, and I simply followed him in. My prior exposure to the Grateful Dead was limited to their radio hits, such as Shakedown Street and Touch of Grey. Feeling the vibe shift as we crossed the threshold, I immediately understood why their tribe of loyal fans followed them on tour.
We were welcomed by Kathy, who sponsored a round as I related my most recent tale of general fuckery, then shared how she and Bob came to run their joint. As the beer and conversation flowed, we shared what was going on back in Milwaukee. As our visit drew to a close, Kathy suggested that I move down whether I had a job lined up or not. This daring notion made absolutely no sense, and I loved it. Tally ho!
Back in Milwaukee, I closed up shop and rented a place on Cudjoe Key three months later. I’d sent my resume out before departure and was scheduling follow-up interviews. Sitting in my car before meeting the owners of an ad agency a few weeks later, a familiar voice gave the legal ID on a classic rock station that I had not reached out to. The interview ended without a job offer but with directions to that radio station.
At the station, I filled out an application for a radio sales gig, listing David Lee from 93QFM as a reference. Freelancing as The Lee Monster, he had done the station's imaging. Leaving the application with the receptionist, but with no one to interview me, I drove home. The message on the answering machine directed me to report for work the next day, apparently hired on that one referral.
A couple weeks into the gig I picked up the phone to find myself speaking with the station’s owner. He asked if I was the new guy in sales, and then asked if Momma Mia’s still had the best pizza in Waukesha. Of course, they did, but how did he know to ask? Turns out that Brody started in radio as a copyboy at WTMJ in Milwaukee. We had a nice chat, and he wished me well.
A couple of weeks later, I came in to find the music director, Dano, speaking in our hallway with the manager of Brody’s flagship station in Tallahassee. Upon verifying that I was the new sales guy, he asked me to hang around, then returned to the formatting conversation with Dano, already in progress. When the GM who’d recently hired me arrived, I was summoned by the axman into her office.
Caught with her hand in the till, she was ordered to leave immediately. Realizing that his dive excursion would depart in ten minutes, the Tallahassee manager threw me the keys and told me to call the home office for instructions. Might have asked Dano to pinch me to see if this was a dream. This wasn’t a chance for a single parley, but two.
Had I stayed in Milwaukee, at least 128 people would have had to move, pass, die, or say no to a gig like this before I’d get a shot. But I took their offer, the same salary they had paid to the thief I replaced, as an invitation to parley. Proposing $20K less in salary, including commissions, overrides, and performance bonuses that would net me more if I made it work. This looked like less risk for them, with the bar set high enough that they didn’t think they’d have to pay. Brody asked me to take the helm. That was the easy one.
On the air, Classic Rock 98.7 punched well above its class, bringing a big market sound to the small island. Great music, tight boards, interesting jocks, Lee Monster liners all contributed to that image. Inside, a crucible of dysfunction, where inter-office disputes were solved with screaming matches in the halls. The classic rock format was lucrative but limiting, artistically and commercially. But I had an idea, and soon, an ally.
Dano and I collaborated to expand the playlist and change the station image. Where Classic Rock 98.7 focused on the box it came in, The Ozone 98.7 suggested a wide open sky, able to be what you want it to be. A format change would open the door for product giveaways from current artists. Back in Wisconsin, Dano had worked in the family hospitality business, so he saw the sales benefits here also and signed on.
Now, would the rest of the crew be willing to follow the new guy with no radio management experience? Three managers before me promised raises that never came. The talented crew was at their limit, so to distance myself from those three lyin' bastards, I took the team out for dinner. Thanking them all for their service after the meal, I fired 'em right where they sat!
Beyond Dano’s knowing smirk, reactions around the table ranged from ‘you’re kidding, right?’ to ‘this guy’s a dick.’ But they had full bellies, so I kept the drinks coming, and they all agreed to hear me out. Some were surprised to learn that the station had never made a profit, so they saw the financial sense in my deal with the owner. All were in favor of the new format and a chance for more loot. Meetings and arguments were outlawed, and a written "dream job" description was my only re-hiring requirement.
"This mission is not for the weak! Brody is unaware of any branding or formatting changes. We won’t be a pirate station per se, but pirates running a station. Putting cash in the bank from increased sales before anyone learns about these changes is critical. I'm asking you to trust me to increase sales and then make things right for you, which is a lot to ask, having just fired y'all.
Who’s with me?
Cautious grins gave way to smiles and cheers as glasses were raised and turned. "It seems like we have an accord." With their commitment to having more fun going forward, I revealed the plan to hijack the station:
Rebranding: Classic Rock 98.7 would become The Ozone 98.7. The Lee Monster would re-image the station, and I'd handle graphics in-house.
Reformatting: Dano, our Music Director, would add grunge, industrial, thrash, blues, and punk to the core of classic rock.
Rebuilding: Growing revenue and getting raises for the crew was my wheelhouse.
Those dream job descriptions became the station's first operations manual. The crew ironed out differences and established best practices. Dano reached out to expand the music library and score merch for on-air promotions. We began booking annual advertising contracts, a good mix of cash and in-kind. Already the best-sounding station on the rock, the on-air staff turned it up to eleven.
Mornings were handled by RJ, a surfer who was into inline hockey. Kim was a beautiful bookworm who loved writing as much as she loved rocking middays. Dano After Dark took the helm in the evening, with a merry band of misfits, interns, and part-timers holding down overnights and weekends. Listeners would remember them as The G-Man, Psycho Larry, Lady Di, Iron Mike, Opie, Windsong, Vato Man, Tyrone, and Brian.
Then an ill wind blew down from New York, bringing us Brother Kent, previously a live-traffic reporter for Don Imus. RJ graciously moved to PM Drive, and Key West met Uncle Rog, Kent’s faithful sidekick on the Lethal Breakfast Morning Program. Key West got the full spectrum of news four times each morning, over The Hellcasters' cover of The Peter Gunn Theme, in three minutes and forty seconds.
We tested the limits of good taste in Key West, which is saying a mouthful. Honored to serve as Director of Wireless Affairs for the Conch Republic, we conspired with the Secretary-General, Sir Peter Peter, to create our Lemmingway Days Celebration. Several shenanigans therin made it to The Travelers TV program on The Discovery Channel. We helped beta-test promotional ideas for Comedy Central, broadcasting from their NYC offices for a week.
When Brody passed away, his family sold the station, but not to me. A corporation replaced us all with an automated, lite jazz format. For weeks, listeners sent letters to the editor of the Key West Citizen newspaper that read like obituaries, mourning the loss of The Ozone. Doubling the revenue made it easier for the soulless son-of-a-broadcaster to sell the station, leaving me to sign 17 pink slips. Sad end to the last station on the island to broadcast live 24/7/365.
OOMM 2.0 began serving former radio clients from an expanded smörgasbörd. My Epson PC 500, perhaps the first digital camera on the island, shortened the used-car ad turnaround time for the GM/Nissan dealer and snapped the mugshot for your Barefoot Bob's Frequent Flyer card. Creating some of Key West's first web pages under contract with the Key West Citizen, I also produced a web video for Turtle Kraals Restaurant ... in glorious 480p!
An ill wind named Hurricane Jorge blew through the Keys, and the cleanup put a kink in my cash flow. Picture cancelling a meeting with me to get your boat out of a tree. Thumbing through the Miami Herald to see what was shakin' on the mainland, I saw that a Magic City manufacturer was looking for help selling' hot rods.
