Long Live The King

"If walls could talk." You have all heard it, and thought: "Yeah ... I bet _______ (wall) would have something to say." Right? Well, sit yourself down. This old wall right here has a story for the ages.

It was that fateful day (but to be honest, aren't they all fateful days? to someone somewhere?), August 16, 1977. I was up early. Ha! Couldn't resist that one. Of course I was up! Haven't fallen down on the job since I can't remember when? Maybe 1957? When they put this slab of stone and rock on a foundation, put a roof over my head, and called us a radio station.

I was just standing around (okay, I won't wear it out LOL), when I heard the bells clanging to beat the band: the AP wire, the teletype, announcing the news that rocked the world. Elvis Presley, the King of Rock & Roll, has died in Memphis, Tennessee, at the age of 42!! I watched the deejay pull the news from the teletype and gasp, "Holy crap!"

The deejay was raw, barely out of school, and the only one in the building. The station was in dire straits. We'd fallen on hard times. I worried every day they'd come and turn us into a meat market, or an arts & crafts store. And, believe me, that would have been tragic. I love music, always have, and was blessed to hear those tunes every day, in great variety.

I can still see the deejay frantically search the shelves leaned up against me for Elvis records. Homage had to be paid. "The King is dead, long live the King!" Most deservedly so, in the case of the boy from Tupelo.

Soon, our man was on the microphone, spreading the news in somber tones. Then he did what I imagine a lot of disc jockeys and music programmers around the country--hell, probably the world over--did that day: put an Elvis record on and let it track. I know that's what happened there in the studio where I stood.

Only two of Elvis' records, two long-players, remained in the station's library, and bless him! He spun both of 'em, back-to-back, no commercial interruptions. Of course, as I said, the station had fallen on hard times, and the majority of our sponsors, sadly, had left us. Still, that was a brave move, don't you think? I do.

I watched the station's sales manager, (Malcolm? Melvin? ...) storm in a half-hour later, in the middle of what I was calling "the Elvis hour," demanding to know what the hell was going on? None of his clients' spots had run at the top or the bottom of the hour! Who did that deejay think kept this place on the air, anyway? The damn sponsors, that's who!

Well, that boy just let it all run off his back. Didn't defend it, and didn't interrupt the King, either. As I seem to recall, at one point he told that salesman if he didn't like what he was hearing, he could turn the dial, change stations, whatever--because Elvis Presley, the King, deserved this much, at the very least.

Once those two records played, and it was about an hours' worth of music, he managed to catch up on the commercials, and segue on into other singers' songs. Still, the ghost of the King hovered over the proceedings, and I'm certain I saw that boy wipe a tear or two away as he listened, and once, in the middle of the newscast, he had to turn the mic off for a moment and compose himself before he could continue.

Life went on. Elvis was feted and the music played on. For a few more years, anyway. Then, the conglomerates started buying up the small, mom and pop stations, like ours, till one day I found myself getting a face lift.

Now, with my new wallpaper, and these shelves full of trinkets hanging off me, I look back with wonder and fond remembrance on that August day in '77, when I reverberated with the sound of Elvis's Rock & Roll.

It was a good run. I stood through it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly--entertaining the masses, spinning the hit parade.

Of course, I had no hand in the actual playing of the records, the reading of the news, or the reporting of the sports and weather, but I like to think I did my part. Held up my end (couldn't help myself - LOL).

My favorite records, you ask? (I'm gonna tell you, even if you didn't). In no particular order:

"Hello, Walls," a big hit for Faron Young, written by the great Willie Nelson; gets me every time! Damn!

"Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 2" by Pink Floyd, with the hilarious lyric: "if you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding." Never fails to bring out the rebel in me, how 'bout you?

Then, of course, there's Jefferson Airplane, "We Can Be Together," with that great line: "Up against the wall [mo-fo]... !" Not so crazy about the "Tear down the wall" part ... but that's when I let my freak flag fly!

The Statler Brothers always crack me up with "Counting Flowers On The Wall;" never tire of hearing that one.

Maybe Elton John sang it best: "I'm Still Standing!"

There, I've had my say. Rock on, brothers & sisters! Tear down the walls (not literally, just metaphorically, if you please)! Long live the King!