The WKRP and WAKY connection

As God is my witness I thought I worked at WKRP

For those of you just tuning in, the Pinedale shopping center has been bombed by live turkeys. “Film at 11.”

The Turkeys mounted a counter offensive. “It was like they were organized.”

And finally, “As God is my witness I thought turkeys could fly.”

For those old enough to remember but may have forgotten, and for those too young to have seen WKRP in Cincinnati except in reruns if at all, this Season one episode of the sitcom is now a cultural icon.

I saw it as it aired for the first time. The sitcom was situated in Cincinnati, right up the river from my home in Louisville. At the same time “On Day at a Time” was situated in Indianapolis. I felt both shows spoke to me.

But there was something special about WKRP. I always felt like the show was a fairly accurate satire of WAKY radio, “Super 79” WAKY 790 on your AM dial. It rocked Louisville. John Cougar Mellencamp listened to it growing up. It was the powerhouse, hard rocking, craziest place I ever worked at - at least when I was a young teen news intern.

We had DJ’s with crazy names. “Weird Beard,” and “Coyote Calhoun” the program director Johnny Randolph, and a host of others. Then there was the “Duke of Louisville” Bill Bailey. I knew Bill and met him often. I worked the morning shift, pulling copy and running errands for Woody Styles and Reed Yadon in the newsroom.

Bill was our Doctor Johnny Fever. He didn’t thrown off the air for saying “booger” like the Howard Hesseman character. No. Bill Bailey, the original shock jock got thrown off the air giving shit to the Louisville Police Department. I was there for part of it.

WAKY radio, lived up to its call-letters. Populated by Louisville’s version of counter-culture mixing it up with the mundane radio culture of the mid 70s, anything could happen at WAKY. Famous rock bands that came to town partied with the DJs and promoted their show on the local rock n’ roll radio stations - meaning WKLO and the better known WAKY. The entourages that accompanied the bands wore off on the DJs who were among the city’s local celebrities. Sex, drugs, you know the usual - but definitely not to extremes. It was casual. Everywhere. As were smiles, fights and great music.

Bill Bailey was the morning DJ of the most popular rock n’ roll morning show in the Louisville DMV. He was regionally famous and today would be a household name. Long before Howard Stern or any other DJ thought of going outrageous there was Bailey. A human version of Yosemite Sam, he was quick witted, sardonic, sarcastic and outspoken. Nobody outspoke him.

WAKY radio at the time was on the River City Mall. Louisville had closed its 4th street, turned it into a pedestrian mall and WAKY was one of the businesses to benefit by increased foot traffic. Bailey would park in the back, in the alley, and did so for a while, I have no idea how long of a while, before the Louisville Police started ticketing him. When that didn’t work, they towed him.

Bailey routinely used his microphone at WAKY for personal reasons. He’d get on the air most mornings and among the things he would do was promote the diner down the street, and order his breakfast as he did so. Then he’d send the intern, me, down to the diner and pick up his breakfast.

After the local constabulary towed his car Bailey went on an early morning rant, questioning the parentage of every police officer on the force and implying they were very familiar with their cousins.

It wasn’t long before someone, I think it was the program director, yanked him off the air and took over his shift. As I remember the next day Bailey was on the air saying “Listen folks, they’re making me do this,” before he went on to apologize for his previous behavior. He was about a minute into the apology before he worked himself up into a frenzy again and started questioning the police department’s mental and physical capabilities and implying that the did more with their handcuffs than place people under arrest. Some of the physical suggestions Bailey offered between two men were previously unheard of by me in my sheltered Catholic lifestyle. Later, I might have figured Bailey knew a few priests.

For that he got booted again. There was also the time Miss Nude Universe sat on Bailey’s lap during his shift and caused a full 10 seconds of “dead air” - but that’s another story.

WKRP, in short, was so much like WAKY I thought there were hidden cameras in our offices. But, maybe that was just the Golden Age of 70s radio.

I know this much, every time I watch the WKRP episode where the station manager drops live turkeys out of a helicopter, I laugh and I am thankful.

I got to see a very small piece of the wide-open 70s AM radio scene - before FM took over and before radio ceased to be a player at all. I wouldn’t trade my experience at WAKY for anything. I wasn’t paid. But I got to be part of some really cool experiences.

Don’t take my word for it. “As God as My Witness; I thought turkeys could fly,” Arthur Carlson said. Well, for a while they could.