Blasting With Boyles
Hard to believe my daughter Shannon turned 40 years of age on July 7 of this year. The first morning my voice ever appeared on Denver radio was on the day she was born. I was the traffic reporter’s assistant at the AAA Auto Club on Colorado Boulevard and on July 7, 1974, the traffic reporter failed to show up for work. I had been at the hospital that night when Shannon was born, went in to work, he didn’t show up and so I went on the air. Something about westbound I-70 or a gaper’s block or one of those hackneyed traffic reporter overused clichés. You remember when I-70 and I-25 were the mousetrap? When traffic reporters used to report that cops were “taking their pictures” as they went speeding out 6th Avenue? Yeah, that was me.
Dan Hopkins, who retired as Governor Bill Owen’s Press Secretary some years ago (it seems like everyone I broke in the business with is either retired, dead or lost their jobs due to some form of substance abuse) hired me to b
e the assistant to the traffic reporter and steal traffic reports from radio stations that had airplanes overhead giving traffic reports. That was pre-helicopter days. I’d like to take this moment to thank Don Martin, Dick Dylan and the guy that flew for KOA for allowing me to steal their hard work and reproduce it as a traffic report for the AAA Auto Club. After a series of Mr. Big Voice traffic reports, Hopkins gave me my break and let me be the on-air traffic reporter. In fact I was Alan Berg’s traffic reporter and the traffic reporter for the man who became my first mentor in the business, the late great Bob Lee.
During that time I was in grad school at DU. My daughter was a baby, my father had passed away and, as Ray Charles says, I was busted. Not Hillary Clinton dead broke. Real dead broke. And then a miracle happened. The late Jack Merker, who had once been Billboard Magazine’s program director of the year, asked me if I wanted to be a weekend disc jockey on KAAT radio. A 50-thousand watt daytime only radio station that broadcast on the floor below the Playboy Club at the Radisson Hotel — Pete Boyles meets the occasion of sin.
Jack said to me, “You’re pretty smart and you’re funny and I’m looking for a weekend guy.” I needed money and probably would have done anything short of selling heroin to keep the ball in the air. I wandered into the very first radio station in my life. I spent the first Friday watching Jack cue records, load cart machines, read the log, pull the commercials and all the things that on air guys did before the digital age. The next day, a Saturday, I returned to KAAT, watched Jack again and then about 4:30 in the afternoon he said, “Switch seats. You take it.” I got behind the console, Jack walked out of the studio and I threw up in the wastebasket where the AP wire machine used to dump its paper. I did probably the worst half hour in Denver radio history. Now it gets good. True to form, Jack said, “Hey not as bad as you think, let’s go get a drink.”
And they gave me weekend work. But what I had to do was go in at night (remember this is a daytime only radio station, at night it was, as they say, in the black) and practice doing radio. I specifically remember the night, and I’ve only told this story to very few people, I was sitting behind what to me looked like the console of the Starship Enterprise practicing radio. And I heard a little voice say, “ Hey, where you been? We’ve been waiting for you.”
That was either the best or worst moment in my life. Later in that week, another great influence, the late Gus Mircos who was also working there, took me to a little greasy spoon restaurant on Colfax and told me, “You seem like a really nice young man. If you’re as smart as you seem, you will stay the hell away from this business.” Not me boy. I already figured out you could drink for free in the bar of the Radisson Hotel and I wasn’t going to give that up. That same wonderful influence, Gus Mircos, also took me to that same restaurant several months later and said, “Hey kid, you ever notice when you turn on your radio on Christmas there’s somebody there?” I said, “I never thought of it but yes.” To which the Greek said, “This year kid, it’s you.” After that I think I worked every Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Labor Day, New Year’s Eve because that is what you did.
During that time period I met my next mentor, the late Bob Lee and went on to become the Lee and Boyles show on KLAK radio. People still talk about that show. I don’t remember it. That shows you what a good time we really had.
I’ve been fired twice, had three radio stations fold around two marriages, my best friend murdered and crawled into recovery from drugs and alcohol 30 years ago. And with the exception of losing Alan, I wouldn’t have traded any of it for anything in the world. When people today, and there’s plenty of them, complain about being in the media business I want to smack them in the face as hard as I can. I saw my father go to work. Since I got a job in this business 40 years ago I’ve never really worked a day in my life. I remember the first day I went to work in a steel mill at 17- years-old and came home laying on the couch in the old man’s living room. And he walked in the door and looked at me and said, “Well, now you know why they call it work.” I’ve never felt that way about radio, TV or the newspaper business.
Gawd I’ve had a great time. I’ve met the most amazing people. I’ve gone places, done things (some of them I regret), but if it were all to end today I’ve gone further than anyone I grew up with thought I ever would or ever could. But I guess in a strange way I owe it all to Marconi.
Most of the people who influenced me, as I said earlier are gone, or out of the business. But I hope there’s someplace right now where Hal and Charlie are doing mornings, Bob Lee’s doing middays, Gus Mircos is hosting a news show, Jack Merker is playing the top 40 hits, Alan Berg is telling some old lady on Capitol Hill to paint her dog’s toenails and quit bothering him. And some young kid is stealing traffic reports and putting them on the air. And somebody says, “Hey kid there’s some woman on line 3 and she says her husband knows about you.”
Remember, always give the call letters, always give the time, always give the temperature and back sell the record. And, the 40 years have flown by.
— Peter