Gorilla warfare

There has been a few times in my radio career that my bosses and I have not seen eye to eye.  I've only had one boss that had to be restrained to prevent him from causing me physical harm.  Yes, it was my fault, but I sincerely believe he provoked me.  He yelled at me in a staff meeting for playing the wrong song, so I told him that he shouldn't project his anger on me just because his wife looked like a silverback gorilla.  The fact that her knuckles brushed the ground when she walked and that the room erupted with laughter might have escalated the conflict a little faster than anyone could have possibly predicted.

I never actually finished listening to the phone message from our human resources director, but I think I was put on double secret probation or something like that.  Bottom line, I got three days suspension with pay.  Ouch. 

When I returned to my morning shift, the young man who was working the overnight greeted me at 5:00 a.m. with a six-pack and a hardy handshake.  I scarcely knew the guy but for some reason he had latched on to me like a tick on a hunting dog.  He was incensed that I had been so unjustly treated and seemed to have taken an oath of vengeance on my behalf.  Who was I to cool his passion?  

My boss and his wife, Koko, had a spare car they kept in the parking lot of the radio station.  This radio station was sitting in the middle of the woods and they used this vehicle to go even further into the woods to fish.

The young overnight guy insisted that I come outside with him as soon as I started my first long song.  I followed him to his jet black Pontiac Trans Am, watched him pop the trunk and remove a 12-gauge pump action shotgun.  He was so sincere that I almost thought he was going to cry when he said, "this is for you."  As he moved around my boss's car, cocking and firing, I felt a certain amount of satisfaction.  It wasn’t because of what was happening to his car, it was that somehow I had inspired this level of allegiance in someone that not only carried a loaded weapon, but that he was willing to use it as a show of devotion.

I liked that kid.

It's Hammer time.

I always considered it a matter of professionalism and personal pride not to break my focus on the air, no matter what was happening around me.  Throughout the years, I have let myself down a few times.  One day as I was reading a news story on the radio, I glanced up and there, directly in my line of sight, was a co-worker, bent over with his pants around his ankles, attempting to press his hairy, naked backside against the control room window.  And so it began . . .

Once these games began, the pranks could go on for years and the best ones always escalated.  There were times, when logic dictated, that it was best to call a cease fire and temporarily suspend the game.  But radio personalities rarely let logic dictate. 

I worked with a newsman that was legendary as being unbreakable on the air.  Apparently, no one had ever been able to make him laugh or cause him to miss a beat.  Hearing that just aroused my competitive spirit.  So, of course, I enlisted the help of a young male intern, working for free, because he thought radio was an exciting career with unlimited growth potential.  On some level, I felt a little guilty involving him, but he looked up to me and I thought this could be entertaining.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when Old Mr. Stoneface was seated at a table in the middle of a newscast.  His news copy was on a stand directly in front of the table, similar to how sheet music is placed on a music stand in front of a musician.  My naive accomplice approached the newscaster from behind and, standing next to the table, unzipped his pants and placed his ‘unit’ on the tabletop.  With the reflexes of a gunslinger, the newscaster brought his fist down like the hammer of Thor. 

I was truly impressed that Stoneface didn't even smile.  I knew then, that I was in the presence of greatness.  I can honestly say I have never heard a newscast like that one.  He continued reading the news quite authoritatively and then, broadcasting over the air, there was a sudden loud thud, followed by a high-pitched scream, the sound of a body hitting the carpeted floor and then lots and lots of muffled moaning.  All the while, my new radio idol continued to read the news without pause or hesitation.

For reasons unknown, the intern never returned to the station.  I wasn't overly worried about him because by the time he got up off the floor, his whimpering had slowed to an almost inaudible groan, he walked with very little of my assistance to his car and he was able to drive away.  No, I didn’t worry about him reporting the events of that day to anyone.  Seriously, whom would he tell?  His Mother?  The Federal Communications Commission? 

I think not.