Copyright © 2013 Lisa Wainland
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1481942867
ISBN 13: 9781481942867
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
To Mom and Dad who taught me to follow my dreams…
and to Robert who made them come true.
Before iPods and mp3s, satellite and internet radio…before corporate America changed the rules, radio was the ultimate music medium and disc jockeys ruled the music world.
This is their story.
The Nineties
Chapter 1
Jonny Rock just got laid.
Tall and tan with bright spiky bleached blonde hair, Jonny was a rock star - in his own mind.
Jonathan Roeker was a poor student from Philadelphia. Bad grades and an even worse complexion were not a recipe for success. But Jonathan had drive, raw ambition and an intense love of music.
Besides, radio deejays didn’t need a pretty face, just a good set of pipes and a lot of attitude.
Jonathan was blessed with both.
An overnight shift, a skillful dermatologist and Jonathan was on his way. Jonny Rock was born and Jonathan Roeker was left far behind in a middle class suburb. Now Jonny was the man, the Assistant Program Director of WORR – Only Rock and Roll, Miami’s alternative rock station. It wasn’t an easy road, but he had made it.
And he was loving every minute of it.
Jonny stretched his arms over his head and flipped on the radio. It was two in the afternoon and he was on the air. The miracle of voice tracking, he thought to himself. He could record his breaks the night before into an automated computer giving himself free time in the afternoon for some extracurricular activities. All while his wife listened to him “live” on the air.
He couldn’t ask for a better set up.
He turned over onto his side and looked over at the nubile girl next to him. She was a college intern and a natural redhead, a fact he was very happy to find out.
Her name was Heather, his latest conquest. She was long, lean and minus the extra ten pounds his wife had gained in the six years of their marriage. Heather desperately wanted to be on the air and so she was doing what so many young girls do, sucking up to the big guy. He laughed at his own joke, stirring Heather from her afternoon slumber.
“Hey, babe,” she murmured in sultry tones rolling her naked body on top of his.
“Hey,” he said.
“So do we really have to go back to the station?” She ran her tongue slowly down his chest, glancing up momentarily to eye the dingy motel room with distaste. She wasn’t proud of this moment, but she was determined.
“Shh,” he said over his own voice that broadcast from the radio. “I’m on the air…I wanna hear this break.”
Heather stopped licking and feigned interest.
Jonny listened intently to his deep voice resonating from the small speaker. He loved to hear himself talk.
“…and so,” he heard himself say, “you can see me and the whole WORR gang this Saturday at the Just Talk cell phone store in Miami. Stay tuned, I got music from Stone Temple Pilots and The Offspring coming up next.” Jonny admired himself. He sounded so natural, like he was really live in the studio.
“You sound terrific…as always,” Heather complimented in her most sincere voice. It wasn’t a lie, Jonny was good. His voice was strong, but not intimidating. He sounded like the coolest guy on the block who just happened to be your best friend. A true master of delivery. That’s why Jonny was the most popular jock on WORR with the best shift, afternoon drive - the time when every commuter trapped in his car was listening to the radio. Most car radios were tuned to WORR and Jonny Rock. And now Heather had just bedded him, the man with the voice, the man with the power.
“You’ll get there too,” Jonny said, basking in his own glow. “When do you graduate? Next year?”
Heather looked at him, annoyed. “This semester, remember?”
“I thought you were only nineteen, baby girl.”
She bristled. “I am. I told you. I’m in a two year community college radio program. I graduate at the end of this semester.”
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, brushing her soft red hair back from her head. She looked up at him. He could see the disappointment in her bright blue eyes. Memory was not one of his better traits. “Sorry.”
Heather smiled sweetly at him. “That’s okay,” she lied.
Jonny cupped her head in his hands. She was so incredibly beautiful. He would never have been able to get a girl like this when he was in college. He drew her toward him, placing his lips intently on hers.
Heather wasn’t ready to go again. Sex was a necessary evil to a greater goal, Jonny promising her an on-air shift.
“So, Jonny,” she pulled gently away and let her hand wander south. “Did you listen to my demo tape yet?”
He groaned with pleasure. Heather smiled to herself, now she had the power.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “it’s good, really good.” The tape lay unlistened to on his desk, he was referring to her skillful hands.
“Great.”
“Ummm. We’ll go over it together, I’ll help you improve.”
“And then you’ll put me on the air.” Heather wasn’t planning on furthering her education. She knew she didn’t really need a degree to get a job in radio. College was a good way to get an internship at a radio station and an internship meant a job.
Hopefully.
“You know I’ll help you,” Jonny whispered.
God! His power made her tingle with desire. Heather kissed Jonny’s neck slowly, making sure he could feel her naked body against his. Give him what he wants…seal the deal.
“You make me an offer that’s hard to refuse,” he replied grabbing her, unable to control himself any longer.
They made love quickly, Jonny tempering his insane lust for her with his need to get back to work. Voice tracking was great, but other people needed him during the day, mainly Ted Reed, the Program Director. Ted was always on his back. When Ted made him Assistant Program Director, he told Jonny clearly, “You’ll handle all the bullshit. I’ll handle the music.” The bullshit included the other jocks on the station and the salespeople. This in itself was a fulltime job. Not that Jonny couldn’t understand Ted’s lack of interest in the functional details of the station. Ted Reed had been there, done that with radio. An extreme perfectionist, Ted ran WORR with a firm grip.
He needed control of everything.
Everything except the petty crap of running the station.
Oh, Ted was a stickler on what music was played, how the station was promoted and how the jocks sounded on the air, but when it came to the day to day business…those duties were relegated to Jonny. Ted wanted nothing to do with scheduling shifts or assigning appearances. The last task meant dealing with the salespeople and if Ted could, he avoided them at all costs. His focus was the station and the music.
Jonny hated him.
Ted took credit for creating the Jonny Rock phenomenon. Sure, Ted had given him his ticket to stardom by putting him in the afternoon drive shift, but that was all he did. Jonny’s talent was his own. He made the station, the station didn’t make him. But Jonny needed his job like oxygen. In no other career could he have the fame and attention he so desperately needed. So he put up with Ted. Jonny was more famous than Ted was anyway. This gave him some satisfaction.
Jonny needed to draw on that feeling of superiority when he dealt with the salespeople. They constantly approached him to do appearances and endorsem
ents. He was grateful for the gigs, they meant extra money, but the salespeople were a huge pain in his ass, overpaid phonies who kissed up to him and glommed onto him and his popularity as a measure of their own success. Jonny loved admiration, but not from them. The salespeople used him, parading him in front of their clients as the miracle worker.
“An endorsement from Jonny is like money in your pocket,” they’d promise. “Right, buddy, boy,” they’d then confirm with a punch to his shoulder.
“Yeah, right,” he’d say with a pasted on smile.
He hated the whole dog and pony show. He hated how the salespeople acted like he was their best friend. If he wasn’t popular, if he couldn’t put money in their pockets, they wouldn’t give a crap about him.
Jonny pulled away from Heather. Thoughts of work took him out of the mood, out of the moment. He was done.
“Sorry, sweetie, I gotta get back.”
“Sure, Jonny.” Heather slipped out from under the sheet allowing him to take in her naked frame. She bent down to pick up her thong underwear that just an hour earlier was flung with careless abandon.
Jonny admired the view.
She quickly pulled on her pair of jeans and put on her tight yellow halter top. She needed to tease him a little, make him want more.
“So we do this like last time?” she asked referring to their staggered return to the station so as not to draw attention to their joint disappearance.
“Perfect. I’ll go back first, then you come back, say in a half hour or so?”
“Okay.”
“All right then,” Jonny said rising from the bed. “Now give me kiss to think about.”
Chapter 2
Jonny returned to the station, slipping in quickly through the back employee entrance. He was only gone an hour and a half. If no one needed him, he’d be fine. If they were looking for him, his time away might pose a bigger problem with questions he didn’t want to answer.
He showed his badge to his favorite security guard, Joel, winking at him to ensure his accomplice status. Joel gave Jonny his familiar nod, “How are you today, Mr. Rock?”
“Just fine, Joel,” Jonny said, words trailing as his body kept moving forward toward the staircase that led to the studio.
He swiftly maneuvered through the endless rows of sales cubicles, zig zagging with great skill, hoping to avoid eye contact.
It was not to be.
“Jonny boy.”
Jonny turned to see Nick Coleman approaching him. Nick was one of the sleazier sales people. Short with a big Napoleon complex, Nick was your buddy…if you could do something for him. Nick loved the idea that he was friends with the big personalities at the station. Friendships he created himself.
“Hey, Nick.” Jonny waved quickly and kept moving. He wanted to make a fast exit.
“Jonny, I got a great proposition for you.” Nick fell in step with Jonny. “I have this client who’s opening a surf shop in Fort Lauderdale right on A1A with a perfect view of the beach. You’d love it.”
Jonny stopped and looked Nick square in the eyes. At the age of thirty-nine, Nick still fancied himself twenty-two. He wore his hair a bit too long and had a small gold hoop earring in one ear. He looked ridiculous to everyone but himself. “Dude, I’m on the air now, I gotta go.”
Nick shrugged his shoulders. “Then what are you doing down here?”
Jonny thought fast. “I came down to get a soda.”
Nick looked at Jonny’s empty hands. “I don’t see a soda.”
“They didn’t have what I wanted. Nick, I’m leaving.”
“Right. I’ll walk with you.”
Jonny started walking. Salespeople were not allowed in the studios. If he could get there fast enough, he could get rid of Nick.
“Anyway, Jonny, this guy’s gonna have this huge beach bash…free beer, Playhouse girls in bikinis,” he nudged Jonny, “a real big kickoff party and he wants you there for the festivities. Are you in?”
Jonny didn’t really have much choice. If a client specifically asked for him, he pretty much had to say yes. That rule came from upper management. But he liked pretending that he did have a choice, that he did have some control.
“I’ll think about it Nick.”
“You do that. They’ll pay you, plus I’m sure I can get them to give you some gift certificates for the store as a little bonus. And, hey,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “what could be better than a couple hours with some Playhouse girls?”
“Right.” He gritted his teeth.
“Maybe we’ll get that midday jock Dana Drew to put on one of those little string bikinis…now that would draw a crowd. You know if she wasn’t such a stuck up bitch I’d go after her myself.”
“Nick, you’re married,” Jonny said cringing at the thought. Dana was his friend and besides, Nick had kids, an affair for him was different.
“Yeah…and?” For Nick, every conquest made him an inch taller. When he looked in the mirror, he was seven feet tall.
They reached the studio door.
“Nick, I gotta go…”
“Alright buddy, think about it and let me know. I’ll confirm with this surf shop guy that you’re gonna be there so he’ll sign the contract. Big bucks for me, man. Can you say ca-ching?”
Yeah, Jonny thought, and I’ll see how much of that? My pittance fixed per hour rate. Big motivation, Nick, big motivation.
Jonny pushed through the studio door ending the conversation. The heavy, soundproof door shut, cutting Nick off mid-sentence. At last, he was safe.
Jonny looked around the room. Everything was as he had left it: the music log resting so officially above the console on a clear Plexiglas stand, his fighter pilot style sunglasses strewn on the counter and a set of keys perched around the microphone, keys from Jonny’s old Nissan that he drove in high school oh so many years ago. It was Jonny’s clever set up, if anyone came in, they’d assume he was in the building. After all, no one would leave all his stuff out like that. Especially not his keys.
Jonny didn’t feel guilty. Technology made it so radio no longer needed people. Of course radio still needed great personalities like him, he reassured himself, but that was really all they need from him. A new computer system housed an enormous music library and all of the commercials. The computer ran the whole show, playing song after song, commercial after commercial. Jonny’s only job was to talk during the assigned breaks, something he didn’t need to be there for. This was the miracle voice tracking that enabled his many affairs. Jonny could pre-record the breaks and insert them at the appropriate time. The computer would run the song into his break into the commercial flawlessly.
Jonny walked behind the console and checked the computer screen. He made it back just in time, another break was coming up in a few minutes. He had recorded all the breaks for his show just in case Heather really detained him, but since he was back to finish his shift, he’d rather do the break live. It was more exciting than watching the computer scroll for the rest of the afternoon.
Creep, by Radiohead, was playing. He potted up the volume and smirked at the irony. Some might call this his theme song. He lowered himself onto a stool. The tortured words blasted through the speakers.
The lyrics touched a nerve. “What am I doing here?” he thought to himself. Jonny remembered the old days. When he started as an overnight jock on an upstart radio station in Macon, Georgia, he was such a novice. No one there paid him any mind. He was just the kid who worked the graveyard shift, two to six am.
Working when the only people listening were drunk or drugged out was a drag, but no one cared if you messed up. It was good training ground. Back then you had to have skills.
It was 1992…Jonathan Roeker sat at the console. It was almost time for a break and he was fired up. His right hand hovered over the button on the board to turn on the mic, waiting for the song to end. He stood up and got ready to speak, trying to calm his nerves as the song faded out.
He hit the red button watching it li
ght up below his fingers and quickly raised the fader.
“Hey Georgia, it’s Jonny Rock,” he said, letting his new moniker slide off his tongue. “I’ve got great music heading your way.” He glanced at the VU meters on the board that showed the sound level. The needles were pinging. His voice was overmodulated. Crap! He quickly slid the fader down a touch. “And don’t forget to listen every morning to Bill and Dan in the morning. Lots more music on the way.” He hit another button to fire the commercial which was recorded on a glorified eight track tape called a cart. A typed label listed the name of the client and the last four words of the spot so he knew when to hit the button to fire the next commercial. Sometimes the guys in the production department forgot to add that important piece of information. Then he had to guess the end of the commercial. He was always off. Never failed. And dead air was something the Program Director didn’t like. Not at all.
The last commercial ended and he hit the button for the next song to play. He had three minutes and thirty-two seconds until the next song.
The lights in the studio flashed signaling the phone.
“Hey…Jonny Rock here, what’s goin’ on?”
“Well hey, Jonny Rock, let me tell you.” Jonny immediately recognized the slow southern drawl of his boss, Clark Ford. He’d forgotten, in addition to the drunks and druggies, sometimes Clark listened too. “You don’t need to tell everyone you’ve got great music on the way at the beginning and end of every break.”
“Okay,” Jonny said, embarrassed.
“And saying every morning and Bill and Dan in the morning is a bit redundant, dontcha think?”
Jonny thought ‘dontcha think’ wasn’t all that great language either, but he was contrite. “Got it. Won’t let it happen again.”
“Good. Keep an eye on those levels too. Don’t wanna blow out some guys stereo. Later.”
Clark hung up, not waiting for a response.
Jonny sighed at the memory. Things were so different. Now all Jonny had to do was talk. He no longer had to worry about running a tight board. The computer did it all, giving him time to read the newspaper, do sit-ups on the floor behind the console or have another affair.
Rock Radio Page 1