Dick Summer Connection

Oh the pressures of big time broadcasting…facing deadlines, and faulty equipment, and sometimes even a determined stripper. But we somehow carry on. It’s in today’s podcast. Of course, it seems like everybody faces pressure these days. 

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For those of you who have the slightest interest in true lust, there’s a true story about a slow strip in today’s podcast.

As I’ve mentioned in the podcasts, along with my time on the radio, I had a career as a hypnotist. My buddy and next door neighbor Randy sent me this in honor of my watch dangling career:

It was entertainment night at the Senior Citizens’ Center. After the community sing-along led by Alice at the piano, it was time for the star of the show – Claude the Hypnotist! Claude explained that he was going to put the whole audience into a trance. “Yes, each and every one of you and all at the same time,” said Claude. The excited chatter dropped to silence as Claude carefully withdrew, from his waistcoat pocket, a beautiful antique gold pocket watch and chain. I want you to keep your eyes on this watch,”said Claude, holding the watch high for all to see. “It’s a very special and valuable watch that has been in my family for six Generations,” said Claude. He began to swing the watch gently back and forth while quietly chanting, “Watch the watch — Watch the watch —- Watch the watch.” The audience became mesmerized as the watch swayed back and forth. The lights were twinkling as they were reflected from its gleaming surfaces. A hundred and fifty pairs of eyes followed the movements of the gently swaying watch. They were hypnotized. And then, suddenly, the chain broke!!! The beautiful watch fell to the stage and burst apart on impact. “SHIT,” said Claude. It took them three days to clean the Senior Citizens’ Center and Claude was never invited there again.

In order to explain what happened in today’s podcast, you need to know a couple of things. First, I always got bored reading newscasts. And as a matter of fact I had a tendency to yawn while reading them. But along with running the control board and the transmitter when I was “Platter Pappa” at that little station, I had to do the news, including the sign off 15 minute newscast, which was the one the station owner always listened to, to be sure you didn’t sign the station off early. I had already given Mr. Big Shot my resignation because graduation time was here, and it was time to put some real pork on the fork.

Madeline, the Lord’s Favorite Receptionist knew all this. She also knew that I tended to nod off doing a newscast. And she decided my last newscast would be different. So just as I started my fifteen minute struggle with the day’s news, she appeared at the window looking out on the transmitter room. She looked me right in the eye, licked her lips, smiled wickedly, and started a very slow strip-tease. Now remember Mr. Big is listening, and watching his clock to be sure he gets his full fifteen minutes worth. I did all right for about five minutes. But when Madeline got down to her underwear the newscast came close to seriously blowing apart. Never in the history of radio up till that point was there such a screwed up newscast. As I hit the sports scores, Madeline stood there in all her considerable glory. Then she did one memorable bump and grind, picked up her underwear, put it in her purse, slipped on her dress, and as I was stumbling all over the weather forecast, she blew me a kiss, and disappeared into the parking lot and out of my life. I was going to say I never saw her again, but as I’m telling you this, there she is in my memory, smiling and stripping just like she did all those years ago. I never got to thank her then. So in case you might be listening Madeline, I want you to know that your memory has warmed me through many a lonely night.

A while ago, I told you about the semi-erotic Manhattan Midnight Ladies who often visited the WNBC studios which were on the second floor of the RCA Building in Manhattan. They didn’t visit the tiny 500 watt station where I had my first radio job. The WNRC studios were in a converted two car garage on a side road in New Rochelle. Midnight Ladies never came to see “Platter Pappa”, which was the God-awful name the station made me use on the air. However there was Madeline, the station’s receptionist. Madeline was about my age, and the Lord had blessed her so to speak. Madeline had a boy friend, and I had a girl friend. But I must confess I had lustful thoughts about her on a regular basis, and Madeline knew it. That’s why she never wandered into the studio or out into the transmitter room during my show while a record was playing. Except on my final night on the air. The amazing story of that final night is in today’s podcast. 

Thanks for dropping in on my podcasts. I very much enjoy your company. I do my podcasts while I’m sitting in my big, comfortable, manly black leather poppa chair in my living room. And today I’m trying to figure out how to break some news to you about something very big that’s happening to me. But I think I’m going to have to put some context around it first. So here’s a Quickie quiz…what famous pretend tv newscaster liked to describe his start in broadcasting as…”It all started at a 500 watt station…” (No fair going to Google.) For those of you who have perhaps wisely managed to avoid spending any time in the broadcasting business, here’s a little context. Fire hose AM stations like (the late, great) WNBC and WNEW in New York and WBZ in Boston pour 50,000 watts of power from coast to coast at night. 500 watt stations are more like water pistols that sometimes squirt half way across the sandbox. Everything has to start somewhere, and like the famous pretend tv newscaster, I also started my career at a 500 watt station…WNRC in New Rochelle. The station gave me an on air name …”Platter Pappa.” Honest to God, that was their idea not mine. I was a junior at Fordham University, and for some reason I was convinced that WNBC and WNEW or WBZ were just waiting till I graduated to start some kind of bidding war for my services. Wow, was I ever an egotistical, dumb college kid. I’ll give you a little more background on today’s podcast. 

I think it’s appropriate that dreams hang out at night. As I was telling you in today’s podcast, a dream is like a movie. Years can pass in a moment, and you can hop from one life to another without having to stop and try to make sense of it. I think dreams are sometimes the answers to questions we haven’t asked yet. Maybe we dream at night because nights are quiet enough to hear the soundtrack of our dreams. Nighttime is the playpen of worldly delights. Nights can be so quiet, that if you listen carefully enough, sometimes it seems like you’re hearing the sound of heavy breathing, and delicately perfumed black lace dropping to the hardwood floor. And think about it. If there’s no one else around, you can have unlimited access to all the Oreos in the cabinet. 

I’m originally from Bay Ridge Brooklyn. The dust from the 9-11 attack was still thick on the house I grew up in for a month. Please don’t forget…like some people have done in the past. 

Life can be confusing. Today’s podcast includes a feature called “Dick’s Details” which delights in adding to the confusion. Dick’s Details…a bunch of totally un-important stuff for you to stuff in one ear, so you can squeeze the important stuff that’s keeping you awake all night out the other ear, and you can find the snooze button on your alarm clock without actually opening your eyes. The smart guys in the white lab coats tell us that half of all animal species are parasites. I guess the other half must live in other cities. If the answer is, “I’ve gotta go” what is the question? I just found out that there’s enough wood in a cord of wood to make half a ton of toilet paper. I do hope they sand down the splinters very carefully. NASA says astronauts fingernails grow more slowly in space than they do on earth. I don’t think that’s true. It’s gotta be scary up there. So I think those guys are just biting their fingernails more in space than they do on the ground. If the answer is, “I’ve gotta go” the question is “What is the world’s quickest conversation stopper.” Personal experience though. It worked better before we had portable telephones. Dick’s Details, they take your mind off your mind.

Nothing interesting ever happens in the morning…on weekday mornings anyway. As I told you in today’s podcast, weekend mornings can be a little better. Especially if you and your lady have weekends off. But think about it. On weekday mornings, if you’re not scrambling to work you’re out jogging. I have never seen a jogger with a smile on his face, have you? As Big Louie says in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, “ Everything is in a hurry on weekday mornings. I hate that. Why should we hurry? We’re all going to get hit with an asteroid anyway.” Early morning shopping in an all night supermarket is especially nasty.