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Sunday, November 9, 2008
KLUV Radio and the Pirate DJ is on the air...
9:19 PM | Posted by
David |
Hey, fellow readers. How about we take a walk. Just take my hand and the hand of others, and let's go for a stroll. ( Remember that dance). Lets take a walk to Raleigh County on a mid 60's Saturday night. Now...I want everyone to gather in close and close your eyes really tight. Drift back with me to AM radio and those sounds that have never left our hearts. I know it might give away our age, but so be it. For tonight we are going to walk down memory lane. Music wise. The Capris are setting the mood by telling us "There's A Moon Out Tonight". One of my favorites of all time.
There's a moon out tonight, whoa-oh-oh ooh Let's go strollin' through the park...
There's a girl by my side ,who's heart I have stolen...
The 50's set the stage with Elvis and Buddy Holly. The Platters were telling us about a "Twilight Time and a Great Pretender." Little Richard was screaming out the words to "Good Golly Miss Molly". Pat Boone was crooning about "Love Letters in the Sand " and the Big Bopper was talking to his lady on the phone. All of this came to us in the "Still of The Night" with help of the Five Satins. From them, it came to us, through WWNR, Beckley's finest .
The 60's introduced us to MOTOWN and what a sound it was. It was so easy to find some fitting message from these sounds to dedicate to a special someone. I wonder how many ladies were told "you're my sunshine on a cloudy day, and when it's cold outside, you're my month of May". So many of these tunes were listened to with "Tears On my Pillow" while you dreamed about your "Earth Angel". The Temptations, and that never forgotten voice of David Ruffin on "My Girl", could melt even the coldest heart.
Everyone was doing the "Mash Potato" or the "Swim" and then that magical invention that made us all a Fred Astaire - "The Twist" by Chubby Checker. We could slow dance to "Unchained Melody" and wonder how in the world Frankie Valli ever was able to sing that high without hurting himself. Local groups imitated the sounds and the Little Beaver Lake sock hops were crowded each and every night. Summer time meant tuning in late at night to WLS in Chicago and listening to the neat drag race advertisements: SUNDAY!!...SUNDAY!!...SUNDAY!! FIRE BREATHING FUEL DRAGSTERS IN HEAD TO HEAD GRUDGE MATCH...
How could you not love it.
The beach boys came on the scene and turned so many into surfers that had never seen the ocean yet. With sun tanned "California Girls "who wouldn't. England invaded America's jukeboxes with the Beatles and the hair cut so many wanted. Guru jackets replaced Car coats and penny loafers with no sox were the rage. Not to mention brand new blue jeans pegged so tight you couldn't get them over your foot most of the time.
The music began an extension of troubled times and the turmoil going on in the world. Artists used the media as a means of protest and soon came a gathering of thousands on a farm in Woodstock, NY. WAR ! Good God Y'all what is it good for "...sent the sentiments of so many. Songs of free love , mistrust,and anti-establishment could be found across the dial. The girl groups dressed in clothes that had to be painted on had us all memorizing the lyrics. The Supremes reminded us there "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", and Marvin Gaye wanted us to "Get it On".
Dick Clark was in the living rooms of thousands each afternoon and even in Charleston at the Civic Center. That was my first concert, and one I'll never forget. Can you imagine driving the turnpike back to Beckley after it had just been paved and in a fog? It was opened by a group from Huntington called The Collegiates, singing about rain and all that goes with it when a heart is broken. The Shirelles and the Dixie Cups singing about their "Soldier Boy" were there along with The Rip Cords telling us about a hot rod called "Little Cobra". Little did I know then how much that rare package of pure horsepower would be an important part of my life. But that's for another post .
Viet Nam found soldiers getting homesick to songs they had danced to only a few weeks before. At the same time telling them about the unrest going on back home. Weekend nights at Town and Country or King Tuts Drive-Ins were full of tunes like these coming from car radios. They have never left me. I still listen to them and own a very good collection of Doo Wop and 60's tunes. I can connect with them far easier than the music of today. So many of these original artists are gone. But their music will live for ever.
If you happen to remember a pirate radio station broadcasting on Friday and Saturday nights from Beaver,warning others when the constable was heading out airport road,to the parking spots, it was me... KLUV Radio and the Pirate DJ is on the air...Sending out this dedication to Cool Ridge from someone who is sorry they broke your heart. You know who I'm talking about. To that Cheerleader from Shady who has been crying her eyes out, this is for you. It's Gene Pitney and "Only Love Can Break A Heart".
I hope you have enjoyed our walk tonight. I know I have.
There's a moon out tonight, whoa-oh-oh ooh Let's go strollin' through the park...
There's a girl by my side ,who's heart I have stolen...
The 50's set the stage with Elvis and Buddy Holly. The Platters were telling us about a "Twilight Time and a Great Pretender." Little Richard was screaming out the words to "Good Golly Miss Molly". Pat Boone was crooning about "Love Letters in the Sand " and the Big Bopper was talking to his lady on the phone. All of this came to us in the "Still of The Night" with help of the Five Satins. From them, it came to us, through WWNR, Beckley's finest .
The 60's introduced us to MOTOWN and what a sound it was. It was so easy to find some fitting message from these sounds to dedicate to a special someone. I wonder how many ladies were told "you're my sunshine on a cloudy day, and when it's cold outside, you're my month of May". So many of these tunes were listened to with "Tears On my Pillow" while you dreamed about your "Earth Angel". The Temptations, and that never forgotten voice of David Ruffin on "My Girl", could melt even the coldest heart.
Everyone was doing the "Mash Potato" or the "Swim" and then that magical invention that made us all a Fred Astaire - "The Twist" by Chubby Checker. We could slow dance to "Unchained Melody" and wonder how in the world Frankie Valli ever was able to sing that high without hurting himself. Local groups imitated the sounds and the Little Beaver Lake sock hops were crowded each and every night. Summer time meant tuning in late at night to WLS in Chicago and listening to the neat drag race advertisements: SUNDAY!!...SUNDAY!!...SUNDAY!! FIRE BREATHING FUEL DRAGSTERS IN HEAD TO HEAD GRUDGE MATCH...
How could you not love it.
The beach boys came on the scene and turned so many into surfers that had never seen the ocean yet. With sun tanned "California Girls "who wouldn't. England invaded America's jukeboxes with the Beatles and the hair cut so many wanted. Guru jackets replaced Car coats and penny loafers with no sox were the rage. Not to mention brand new blue jeans pegged so tight you couldn't get them over your foot most of the time.
The music began an extension of troubled times and the turmoil going on in the world. Artists used the media as a means of protest and soon came a gathering of thousands on a farm in Woodstock, NY. WAR ! Good God Y'all what is it good for "...sent the sentiments of so many. Songs of free love , mistrust,and anti-establishment could be found across the dial. The girl groups dressed in clothes that had to be painted on had us all memorizing the lyrics. The Supremes reminded us there "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", and Marvin Gaye wanted us to "Get it On".
Dick Clark was in the living rooms of thousands each afternoon and even in Charleston at the Civic Center. That was my first concert, and one I'll never forget. Can you imagine driving the turnpike back to Beckley after it had just been paved and in a fog? It was opened by a group from Huntington called The Collegiates, singing about rain and all that goes with it when a heart is broken. The Shirelles and the Dixie Cups singing about their "Soldier Boy" were there along with The Rip Cords telling us about a hot rod called "Little Cobra". Little did I know then how much that rare package of pure horsepower would be an important part of my life. But that's for another post .
Viet Nam found soldiers getting homesick to songs they had danced to only a few weeks before. At the same time telling them about the unrest going on back home. Weekend nights at Town and Country or King Tuts Drive-Ins were full of tunes like these coming from car radios. They have never left me. I still listen to them and own a very good collection of Doo Wop and 60's tunes. I can connect with them far easier than the music of today. So many of these original artists are gone. But their music will live for ever.
If you happen to remember a pirate radio station broadcasting on Friday and Saturday nights from Beaver,warning others when the constable was heading out airport road,to the parking spots, it was me... KLUV Radio and the Pirate DJ is on the air...Sending out this dedication to Cool Ridge from someone who is sorry they broke your heart. You know who I'm talking about. To that Cheerleader from Shady who has been crying her eyes out, this is for you. It's Gene Pitney and "Only Love Can Break A Heart".
I hope you have enjoyed our walk tonight. I know I have.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
To my brothers in arms...literally
11:40 PM | Posted by
David |
Soon our nation will be celebrating Veterans Day. It's a day set aside to remember those that have fought to preserve our freedom and to protect those that could not protect themselves.
June 1969 will be a time segment of my life that I will never forget. I was not in support of the Viet Nam conflict. I had just lost my best friend, Allen Moore, in the war; and to be honest, I had other plans. Plans I had made since a young pup and I very much wanted to see them through. Yet the war was in high gear and I too got that dreaded letter from Uncle Sam. The best laid plans of mice,men and boys from Beaver are often spoiled. So were mine. I thought possibly joining the Air Force was my best bet to avoid the war and perhaps continue on with my education plans.
I took several specialty tests on photography during basic training and was selected to attend the world famous photography school at Lowry Air Force Base, in Denver. I honestly thought it was a very wise decision. It was one of the longest schools in the Air Force education system. I should have known my first day of class when I entered the highly classified photo center and saw the sign above the door: "Air Combat Photo School" "Alone, Unarmed and Unafraid".
By my third week of school, we were told that 90 percent of us would go to south east Asia upon graduation. Surely I would be in that 10 percent that wouldn't. The training was extremely difficult yet very interesting. Each spare moment was spent studying. Soon graduation was close and assignments were passed out. I can remember that day as if it were yesterday. They called each student's name out and where he was going. I didn't make the 10 percent. I was being assigned the 600 Combat Photo Squadron, Cam Rahn Bay, South Viet Nam. I can't begin to express my feelings that day.
I graduated in May and was so looking forward to going home on leave. The Rocky Mountains are beautiful. But they are not Appalachia and Denver is definitely not Beaver. The next 30 days passed far more quickly than I wanted them to. I had to deal each day with my mother's concern which only added to my own. I thought the sun rose and set on my dad. To me, he was the kind of man I wanted to be like. But his emotions, he kept to himself. Yet, as I walked out on that run way at Raleigh County Airport, he hugged me and told me he loved me for the first time.
The next 24 hours were a blur. Processing was done in Seattle, Washington. I spent the night alone in a billet room with a burned out light bulb. I knew no one there and very little as to what was going on. I was homesick before I even left the United States. I boarded a plane that next afternoon and was soon on my way to the war. I had no idea what to expect. The flight was almost 20 hours long. That's a long time to sit in an airplane, wondering with each hour that passed what would lie ahead.
When the plane landed in Cam Rahn, the stewardess came to me and took me to the front of the plane. At first I thought we were debarking by alphabetical order. She opened the door and the blast of heat took my breath away and the bright sun blinded me. I noticed two men standing at the foot of the stairs. It took me a moment to adjust to the light and notice they had the same last name that I did. It was my two older brothers there to greet me. Thus began one of the most interesting years of my life. My oldest brother was stationed at Da Nang. The other was stationed at Cam Rahn with me. Little did I know at that time the mess we were creating.
I can't remember when I had visited with them last. They were both career military and had not been home for the longest time. In the next few days I was to witness my brothers re-enlistment . A story that made the Air Force Times, Stars and Stripes and even a write up in Comstock's Hillbilly.
Have you ever been driving down the street, and your mind is occupied on matters other than the road? Have you ever all of a sudden run a red light or a stop sign? You know all too well then that feeling of anxiety and fear that rushes into your chest when you do. That is how I spent the next 12 months. My duties were to document different operations and special interest matters for the Air Force. I worked out of a photo station with 12 other men each trained in some discipline of photography. In early September I was assigned to a Forward Air Control Unit. (FAC). Their mission was to fly small single engine air craft, much like the Piper Cubs you see flying in and out of the airports. They were unarmed except for smoke rockets attached to each wing. Enemy locations and speciality targets were flown over at low altitude and the rockets were fired to mark the locations. The pilot would then call in fighter aircraft and we'd fly off a few miles.
It was my job to then photograph the damage for assessments. My first flight I was scared. My last flight I was terrified. Matters didn't change the rest of my tour. I was taken off flight status once I had less than 30 days left in country. My last missions were flying in the back of a C130 that was carrying a 10,000 pound bomb. It was housed on a pallet. The pallet was on wheels. The load master would release the restraints and then cut a small parachute loose. This in turn pulled the bomb out the back and it drifted to earth with the aid of another chute. It was my job to photograph the whole operation and then the damage. These are now called Bunker Busters.
My oldest brother went home at Christmas. My other brother went to another base outside of Viet Nam. I saw matters that I don't ever wish to see again or even hear about. I saw boys become men and men become broken. I saw hearts broken and dreams shattered. I was fortunate. I simply came home. I would dream at night of Town and Country Drive-In hamburgers and Pizza from the Capri. I would so often simply close my eyes and make the circle from Town and Country to King Tut 1 and 2. I had visited another part of the world. But it couldn't compare to Raleigh County and home.
When my plane landed in SEATAC Washington, we were rushed behind covered chain fence to protect us from the protesters. We changed out of our uniforms so as to not attract attention.
During my brother's funeral there was a framed photo sitting on the table outside the viewing room. A gentleman came up to me and asked if I was one of the men in the photo. I said yes and he asked who the other two were. I told him they were my brothers in arms and my heroes.
It's a shame we only take one day to thank those that served for us. It doesn't compare to the days being under siege on some remote jungle air strip or not knowing if you would live to see the next minute. I spent time in a ditch with my one brother. Mortars falling all around us. Small arms fire just a few feet away. He looked over at me and said..."if something happens to you, mom will kill me". Funny how, even captured in fear, you can laugh. If you know a Veteran, don't hesitate to tell him thank you. When you hear of the talk of war, remember - the list of thousands of names will be added to.
To all my brothers in arms, I salute you. To my brother in Beckley, I remind him he's my hero. My granddaughter recently wrote a report about me being a Veteran. She asked me for some photos she could use. I'm not the same man I was in those photos. But I'm the man I am because of them. While flying over the delta and dense moutain ranges, grandchildren were the farthest thing from my mind. Yet I thank each and every Veteran, from the beginning of our nation and forward, for making their life free. For it's the future we served.
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