“The Trials and Tribulations of a Radio Uncle” might well be the title of Bill Durney’s six months as the “Uncle Bill” of the St. Louis Theatrical School program on WEW each Saturday morning.
Hundreds of kiddies have been made “at home” at the microphone by Uncle Bill during this time and each time Bill has had little difficulty with nervous boys and girls who are facing what seems to their minds a demon in disguise.
Uncle Bill claims that he adopted the role of radio uncle easily because he’s been teaching children for quite some time. He’s known to many basketball followers as the coach of the Rock High School girls’ basketball team and that’s the only educational work outside of radio that this writer knows Bill to be in.
As might be imagined, Bill feels very paternal, or “Uncly” if you wish, with a large group of boys and girls around him. Yet despite this paternal feeling, he claims that his most embarrassing moment occurred when one of his “pals” kissed him! But how a nineteen-year-old fellow could feel paternal is a problem that someone else can solve – your writer won’t even attempt it.
This problem was the first of the “kiddie” programs that WEW has sponsored, coming into existence last September and continuing since then as one of the most popular, due, in no small part, to the work of Miss Marie Moser who directs and produces the presentations.
In the six months that this presentation has been made from WEW, Uncle Bill has not missed one scheduled performance with his pals, and the group he works with often numbers more than a score – never less than ten “pals” are on the program but most often there are twenty to twenty-five in the studio with Uncle Bill and Miss Moser. The presence of a large number of boys and girls may make a studio a pleasant place but they can certainly make it, as well, an unpleasant spot for a program conductor and announcer. Uncle Bill frequently introduces kiddies on these programs only to find that the boy and girl, or either, is not to be found – if they are, they’re behind several of their “pals.”
Uncle Bill is really in a place he likes on Saturday mornings, and you’ve never seen a happier “Uncle” than Bill when one of his “Pals” brings him flowers.
(Originally published in Radio & Entertainment 4/15/1933)
In radio’s earliest days, there was a lot of excitement on the campus of St. Louis University. The school, it seems, was a pioneer in the medium’s development, long before anyone heard voices coming from their radios.
As early as 1912, the university was trying something new in wireless transmissions. Their station, 9YK, was being used to stay in contact with earthquake and seismological stations around the U.S. The university’s observatory would also transmit weather reports over 9YK, but all these broadcasts were in Morse Code, using a broadcast technology perfected by Marconi some 10 years earlier.
This sort of use of radio waves did not escape the attention of the government, but U.S. entry into World War I brought technological development to a screeching halt. All wireless stations, including the St. Louis University station, were shut down so the nation’s brainpower could be devoted to winning the war. But things on the campus changed quickly.
It seems the government realized the value of wireless in war communications, and it sent 380 young military men to the campus to what was quickly dubbed the Radio and Buzzer School. Run by the War Department, the school trained men for duty as telegraphers in the Army and Navy. There were courses in International Morse Code and the fundamentals of electricity.
Station 9YK was back on the air in 1919, being used by the government to relay weather information and livestock and grain reports across the nation. All records indicate this was still being done in Morse Code, although voice and music transmission had been accomplished elsewhere as early as 1906 by Reginald Fessenden.
Brother George Rueppel
Voice and music first came to the St. Louis airwaves over 9YK at 10:05 a.m. April 26, 1921, when the station was under the oversight of Brother George Rueppel, S.J., who was head of the university’s meteorology department. The first voice heard of WEW was that of University President, the Rev. William Robison, S.J. Regular radio service soon began, with stock market, grain market and weather reports broadcast each day.
On March 23, 1922 the station was licensed by the government and given the call letters WEW, which Bro. Rueppel would later claim stood for “We Enlighten the World.” In the interest of factual trivia, it should be noted that another station in St. Louis had been licensed earlier. The Post-Dispatch station KSD had received its license a couple weeks before, on March 8.
Credited with being the “father” of WEW, Bro. Rueppel can also lay claim to another first here: On July 16, 1921, he brought a gramophone into the campus studio, put on a record and held the station’s microphone up to the horn of the gramophone, thus becoming St. Louis’ first disc jockey. He also hosted a daily show popular with the ladies. “Aunt Sammy’s Prize Recipes,” in which he came across as a cooking expert.
WEW lays claim to being the first university radio station in the U.S., the first station west of the Mississippi, and the first radio broadcast of a quiz show, the “Question Box Hour,” in 1923.
(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 4/2006)
The best-known radio continuity in this section of the country is “A Song For You and You and You” – and especially you over there. And it tells the story of one of the most successful radio programs too. Most of you know what program regularly brings that to listeners – but for the benefit of those few who may not know what that program is, it’s the series of half hours with Gypsy Joe and Bill Durney. I say Gypsy Joe and Bill Durney because since the series began the two have become almost inseparable in radio.
It’s just about a year ago that this tall, rangy fellow walked into the studios of WEW and wanted to get “on the air,” probably to get famous. He did and he did, if you get what I mean. That’s just about a year ago – and since that time Joe has received about thirty or forty thousand pieces of mail and telegrams. And if that isn’t an indication of radio popularity – trot out your own indication.
One of Joe’s latest epistles tells of the formulation of a Gypsy Joe Sewing Club – and some time ago we heard tell of the Gypsy Joe Girls’ Trio, a singing group who probably have memorized every song Joe has sung.
(Originally published in Radio & Entertainment 8/26/1933.)
First Station To Broadcast Weather Reports Now Adds Another Feather To Cap
By Bill Nolan
Twelve years ago – when radio was a playtoy, and a listener was not worried with what he received, the broadcast of market reports was inaugurated over the St. Louis University radio station, WEW. In April, 1921, the first broadcast of a regular scheduled weather report left the studios of WEW to be received by a scattered few sets, which, however, brought the report to the ears of an astonished audience. In August of the same year, when the weather reports had proven to be of great value to shippers and farmers, as well as urban listeners, the market reports were added as an additional service.
During the years past, the market report service was spread out to include reports from the chief market centers of the Midwest. Constantly elaborated, the reports grew in scope until the service furnished was one of the most complete of its type of broadcasts from any station. Livestock quotations, reports from the grain exchanges and dispatches of conditions and activities at the various vegetable markets brought a complete news service to listeners within the area served by WEW.
Nearly twelve years after the beginning of this important extension activity, direct wires were established between the station transmitter and the St. Louis Livestock Exchange headquarters at the National Stockyards in East St. Louis, Illinois, making possible a more complete and up-to-the-minute report of interest from this point. The broadcast from that point, begun August 1, has been handled by Harry A. Powell, secretary of the Exchange and an experienced commentator on market news, conditions and activities.
(Originally published in Radio and Entertainment, 8/13/33)
Baby boomers have fond memories of a rock “n” roll station that grabbed the market in the 1960s and dominated listenership among teens and young adults. But KXOK had a long and admirable history even before it hit the top spot with good old rock ‘n’ roll. It also faced a long history of challenges.
On Sept. 22, 1936, the Star-Times Publishing Company was granted a construction permit for a 1,000 watt radio station at 1250 kHz. The station’s transmitter was across the Mississippi River in Venice, Illinois. A couple weeks later, on Oct. 10, the station was given the call letters KXOK. But a challenge to these actions by the owners of WIL kept KXOK off the air.
Aside from fears of competition in the marketplace, there were a couple of other motivating factors behind WIL’s action. The publisher of the St. Louis Star-Times was Elzey Roberts, and there is evidence that he may have been involved in the ownership of WIL as late as 1928. But in the 1930s, Roberts was one of many newspaper executives who were quite vocal in their opposition to news broadcasts on radio. Many of these executives had embraced the development of radio in its early days 10 years earlier, but as the stations realized they could read news and disseminate the information quickly, scooping the papers, they began scheduling regular news broadcasts.
Also, WIL’s owners, Missouri Broadcasting, wanted to move their station to the 1250 dial spot so they could increase WIL’s power. In the end, Roberts won the battle and KXOK’s license was issued in November 1938. The fourth floor of the Star-Times Building in downtown St. Louis was transformed into radio studios. A thesis by Charles Suits at the University of Missouri-Columbia notes the station actually went on the air at 6:00 a.m. on Sept. 20, 1938, and the first show was a broadcast from the studios of KFRU radio in Columbia, MO.
That station had been purchased by Roberts in 1936, and in 1939, the station’s owners applied for permission to swap frequencies, which would put KXOK at 630 kHz. But once again there was a challenge from a St. Louis radio station – KSD, which was owned by Star-Times rival the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. KSD had been forced to share its frequency with KFUO and was looking for a way to end that arrangement. A three-way frequency swap was granted to the Star-Times which allowed KXOK to land at 630, KFRU moved to 1370 and an Indiana station which had also been at 630 was changed to 1250.
In 1951, Roberts sold his newspaper in St. Louis to the Post, and KXOK was eventually sold to brothers Todd and Robert Storz in 1960. Their new ideas, from programming rock hits and using strong personalities as disc jockeys, quickly propelled the station to the top in popularity in the market.
(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 2/98)
In the decade of the 1960s, one radio station stood out in St. Louis, and an assessment some 40 years later finds that it still stands out in the memories of many people. Anyone who lived through those years understood the later premise behind George Lucas’ film “American Graffiti.” The radio – or more importantly one specific radio station – played a big role in the lives of teenagers in just about every market. Everyone listened to that station, and the disc jockeys were real people who became friends to the listeners. In St. Louis, that station was KXOK.
KXOK was owned by Todd Storz as part of his chain of AM stations known for their rock and roll formats. A stroll down memory lane, compliments of station vet Dick Ulett, who now owns Clayton Studios: Mort Crowley, Danny Dark, Ron Riley, Peter Martin, Robert R. Lynn, Bob Shea, David D. Rogers, Dan Allison, Johnny Rabbitt, Don “Stinkey” Shafer, Richard Ward Fatherly, Nick Charles, Bruno J. Grunion, William A. Hopkins, Big Ears Bernard, Steven B. Stevens, Bobby Shannon, Delcia Corlew, Chickenman, News at 55, Radio Park, “The station with the happy difference.”
Ray Otis
Ray Otis was the station’s program director, coming to St. Louis in 1962 at the age of 24. Manager Bud Connell had “opened” the station, and it was Otis’ job to move it through the next stages of evolution. “There was magic at KXOK like no other place I’ve seen,” he says.
“Everything just fell together. The synergy was incredible.” The station was located in a small grove of trees at 1600 North Kingshighway, which it dubbed “Radio Park.”
Across the street was the old Parkmoor. There was an old house on the property and the studios were built as an addition, with the a room in the house serving as the reception area and the rest being used for storage. Out in front, facing Kingshighway, were the 3’ high green letters “KXOK” which had graced the side of the building it had previously inhabited, the old Star-Times Building downtown.
KXOK dj’s on the Radio Park sign
Jim Bafaro, a former radio journalist here and now working at Boeing in public relations, remembers being confused as a five-year-old: “As a kid, I heard the term ‘Radio Park’ and assumed there was some little park somewhere with a big microphone in it.”
Richard Ward Fatherley was KXOK’s production director, and he often did substitute work by doing dj shifts on the air. Like Ray Otis, Fatherley joined KXOK at the age of 24, coming to St. Louis in 1964. “In 1966,” he says, “The Pulse radio ratings research group completed its ranking of the nation’s top five most-listened-to radio stations. Two of them were in St. Louis; KMOX, the CBS-owned “At Your Service Station,” and KXOK, the Storz-owned Top 40 station.
“This ratings battle between two differently programmed radio stations signaled the beginning of the end for the reign of the AM “Rockers” and a green light for the AM “Talkers.”
Both Fatherley and Otis remember how KXOK capitalized on the construction of the Gateway Arch, tying in its dial position with the monument’s dimensions (630 Kc, 630’ high, 630’ wide). Fatherley notes the station “took advantage of every opportunity to embrace the structure in its sales brochures, business cards, promotional pieces and listener contests.”
Otis remembers the day an audition tape was played featuring the work of a young entertainer named Don Pietromonaco. “I’d never heard anything like it. We had a fairly rigid framework for our jocks, but when we brought in Don and made him ‘Johnny Rabbitt,’ things loosened up. Todd Storz used to say some guys need the framework of a format. Others don’t. The proof is in the ratings. We turned ‘Johnny’ loose, and he owned nighttime radio in St. Louis.”
And then there was the time a guy drove up to Radio Park towing a speedboat behind his car. Lou Cooley told the station’s manager he’d like to make a deal. If KXOK would allow him to paint the station’s call letters on the side of his boat, he’d win a high profile boat race. He kept his word, and an interesting relationship was born. “Lou ran a laboratory shuttle service,” Otis says, “and he had a telephone in his car. He’d phone the station with traffic reports and we’d put him on the air.” Otis also put the station’s janitor on the air. “Eddie Simpson, the janitor, lived in the house behind the studios. Sometimes when he’d be cleaning in the studios I’d sit him down at the mic and we’d talk.”
Robert R. Lynn, who was news director in those years, has fond memories of his experience there. “We were actually gatherers, writers, editors, not just news readers like many other stations. The newscasts were full of gizmos, echoes and beeps so they’d fit the format. It was a bunch of people having a good time.”
And those good times sometimes took the form of pranks. Lynn remembers a psychology student at Washington University who sent the station a press release. The student had constructed a body-length black bag (cutting out two holes so he could see out) and he wore it all over campus, recording reactions of other students. The young man scheduled a press conference in which he would detail his findings. “Steven B. Stevens’ mom sewed up five more bags and five of our guys went to the campus wearing them. Each of our guys held a press conference claiming to be the student, blowing away any chance he had of getting attention.”
Then there was the time Fatherley came back from vacation and had to do an air shift. He conducted the station’s “Bingo” game without reading all the instructions, giving out six numbers at once instead of the usual single number. As Lynn tells it, hundreds of “winners” blew out the phone circuits and other multitudes drove to Radio Park, gridlocking North Kingshighway. For the rest of his St. Louis stint, Fatherley became the target of Ray Otis’ ribbing, enduring shouts of “Bingo” at unexpected moments.
A young lady who began her on-air stint as a sponsor’s spokesperson has fond memories of KXOK. Delcia Devon (later Corlew) was the voice of Famous- Barr beginning in 1964. She remembers the brilliance of Don Pietromonaco, who was known to his listeners as Johnny Rabbitt. “I would be recording my commercials in the production studio and Don would come in to record his Bruno drop-ins. He’d just sit down and start talking in his Bruno voice, doing wild tracks. Later, when he was on the air, he’d carry on a conversation with those recordings. I was amazed how he could remember what he’d said on the tapes.”
Everyone interviewed for this article gives the credit for KXOK’s success to one man, Bud Connell, the operations manager. “He pulled the right strings and brought in the right people,” says Robert R. Lynn. Ray Otis says “Bud was the best market opener I’ve ever seen.”
Connell came to St. Louis from Miami. “Storz gave me carte blanche,” he says. Arriving in July of 1961, he monitored the market for a month. “KXOK had 4% of the market while WIL had over 20%. KXOK’s jocks were Ken Reed, Peter Martin, Jack Elliott and Don Shafer. Bob Shea and Robert R. Lynn were the newsmen. My first job was to brighten the sound and beef up the news. I brought in Shad O’Shea and Danny Dark as jocks and David D. Rogers and Steven B. Stevens for news. Our news department had four of the biggest voices in radio.”
“It was a bunch of people having a good time,” says newsman Lynn, “and the jocks made as much on the side from personal appearances as they did on the air.”
Connell says he brought in outstanding people, but his main criterion boiled down to a simple requirement: “I looked for a capacity to entertain and the intelligence to entertain without using bad taste. The big stars in radio today wouldn’t even have been considered for jobs on KXOK. Don Pietromonaco, for example was the ultimate Johnny Rabbitt; the defining Johnny Rabbitt. He was an absolute entertainer.”
The veterans of KXOK all say it was the finest job in their careers. “In a word,” says Robert R. Lynn, “it was fun!” Delcia Corlew says “It was unique, exciting. There was a lot of discovery in it, a chance for all of us to learn about ourselves and our listeners.” Connell says “My nickname around the station was ‘Mr. Kx-OK. Those were heady days for a young man who loved playing radio. I am convinced the old KXOK would blow away all of today’s broadcast wunderkind, including those in the smut-filled control rooms of the present day audio-porn purveyors. And wouldn’t it be fun to do it all over again?” The comment by Ray Otis says it all: “In retrospect it was almost euphoric. I’d go back in a heartbeat.”
(Reprinted with permission of the St.Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 5/01.)
