Only a few of you will recognize the name (Boomers who grew up in LA), but disc jockey Billy Pearl passed away last week (as if there haven't been enough deaths). I am very saddened by this. We went to UCLA together and were roommates. Our paths drifted apart as the years went by. But one dinner I had with him made a huge impression and shaped my worldview, especially where my career was concerned.
Billy Pearl was one of the best jocks in the Top 40 era. I don’t think there’s a single person in radio at that time who would dispute that. His rise in the industry was meteoric, but no one could begrudge him because of his enormous talent on the air. By the time he was 24 he was doing nights on KHJ, Los Angeles. KHJ was the very top of the mountain in Top 40 radio — a legendary powerhouse of a station. The only other stations in its league were WABC, New York and WLS, Chicago.
Needless to say, he was the envy of all the rest of us radio nerds. But he was a good guy and we were all very happy for his success. And he was fun to listen to.
At the time I had quit radio and moved back to Los Angeles to try to launch my writing career. This was early 1975. I was toiling at the KIIS Broadcasting Workshop during the day and writing spec scripts with David Isaacs at night and on the weekends. Pearl was making great money. I was pulling down $650 a month. But I didn’t care. I was actually enjoying this time in my life.
One night I had arranged to get dinner with Billy after his show. I met him at KHJ while he was still on the air. Like I said, KHJ was Valhalla, and to see my good friend sitting behind that mic, that was really something. Imagine going to a movie theater and there’s your former roommate as one of the stars of THE AVENGERS.
After his shift we went across the street to Lucy’s Adobe Cafe for Mexican food and top flight margaritas. And throughout the entire meal, all he did was bitch about how terrible KHJ was. The audio quality on the cartridges was muddy, the promos were horribly worded, the music rotation was bad — practically everything about the programming pissed him off. I listened and just nodded, but inwardly I was thinking was: “Are you fucking kidding?! You’re on KHJ!!! We would all KILL to be on KHJ! So what if a stupid promo is worded poorly?”
Apparently he made his displeasure known inside the building to the point where he was let go after maybe one year. And think about it, for a station to fire one of their absolute best and most popular performers, he must’ve driven them scooters.
Now flash-forward two years and David and I are on staff of MASH (which I guess you could say was the KHJ of sitcoms). Not that there weren’t frustrations on that job, but there was not a day that I didn’t drive onto that lot and go “Wow, I’m on MASH. How incredibly lucky am I!” I’d think back to that dinner and appreciate even more my good fortune. And I carried it over to all the stops in my career.
Sometimes you gotta look at the big picture. We’re all going through hard times now. It might be worth a moment to step back and appreciate those things in your life that give you pleasure, give you meaning — be they career situations or relationships or both. Who knew great lessons could be learned at Lucy’s Adobe Cafe. It’s still open, by the way, if you’re looking for your own epiphany.
from By Ken Levine
Billy Pearl was one of the best jocks in the Top 40 era. I don’t think there’s a single person in radio at that time who would dispute that. His rise in the industry was meteoric, but no one could begrudge him because of his enormous talent on the air. By the time he was 24 he was doing nights on KHJ, Los Angeles. KHJ was the very top of the mountain in Top 40 radio — a legendary powerhouse of a station. The only other stations in its league were WABC, New York and WLS, Chicago.
Needless to say, he was the envy of all the rest of us radio nerds. But he was a good guy and we were all very happy for his success. And he was fun to listen to.
At the time I had quit radio and moved back to Los Angeles to try to launch my writing career. This was early 1975. I was toiling at the KIIS Broadcasting Workshop during the day and writing spec scripts with David Isaacs at night and on the weekends. Pearl was making great money. I was pulling down $650 a month. But I didn’t care. I was actually enjoying this time in my life.
One night I had arranged to get dinner with Billy after his show. I met him at KHJ while he was still on the air. Like I said, KHJ was Valhalla, and to see my good friend sitting behind that mic, that was really something. Imagine going to a movie theater and there’s your former roommate as one of the stars of THE AVENGERS.
After his shift we went across the street to Lucy’s Adobe Cafe for Mexican food and top flight margaritas. And throughout the entire meal, all he did was bitch about how terrible KHJ was. The audio quality on the cartridges was muddy, the promos were horribly worded, the music rotation was bad — practically everything about the programming pissed him off. I listened and just nodded, but inwardly I was thinking was: “Are you fucking kidding?! You’re on KHJ!!! We would all KILL to be on KHJ! So what if a stupid promo is worded poorly?”
Apparently he made his displeasure known inside the building to the point where he was let go after maybe one year. And think about it, for a station to fire one of their absolute best and most popular performers, he must’ve driven them scooters.
Now flash-forward two years and David and I are on staff of MASH (which I guess you could say was the KHJ of sitcoms). Not that there weren’t frustrations on that job, but there was not a day that I didn’t drive onto that lot and go “Wow, I’m on MASH. How incredibly lucky am I!” I’d think back to that dinner and appreciate even more my good fortune. And I carried it over to all the stops in my career.
Sometimes you gotta look at the big picture. We’re all going through hard times now. It might be worth a moment to step back and appreciate those things in your life that give you pleasure, give you meaning — be they career situations or relationships or both. Who knew great lessons could be learned at Lucy’s Adobe Cafe. It’s still open, by the way, if you’re looking for your own epiphany.
from By Ken Levine
Comments
Post a Comment