FM

by Richard Neer

  He was being asked to make the move voluntarily, but Laquidara knew that if he didn’t accept he would be fired with his first down ratings book. He agreed to go to WZLX where he replaced George Taylor Morris, a WLIR alum, as the new/old morning man.

  But unlike WBCN, WNEW now had no heritage morning show. WNEW’s testing also showed that no one knew much about alternative bands in New York because they weren’t played by the rock stations in the market, and only by the Top Forties when they had hits. Boston was obviously a different kettle of fish. But the vagaries of the New York market offered WNEW another chance for survival, possibly its last. The failure to seize that opportunity resulted in the long slow fade that killed it forever.

  Get Back (to Where

  We Once Belonged)

  Mark Chernoff left K-ROCK in March of 1993 to become the program director of WFAN. A lifelong sports fan and experienced at dealing with big-time morning shows and big-time egos because of his work with Stern, Mark was brought in to handle Don Imus and Mike and the Mad Dog, the highly rated afternoon team. WFAN was the highest billing station in the country, and it was a step up from K-ROCK. Besides, Mel wanted the move and Mark was always apprehensive of contravening Karmazin’s requests.

  So K-ROCK now was under new programming management and, like WBCN, it found alternative music to be the panacea to keeping Howard Stern’s listeners with the station after the star signed off. In January of 1996, K-ROCK fired Pete Fornatale, Dave Herman, and the rest of the staff in favor of a bunch of fresh young jocks raised on alternative music.

  WNEW was handed the classic-rock franchise on a silver platter. This time I did make my feelings known directly to Kevin Smith: Junk this half alternative–half classic format and go classic all the way. Alternative people will flock to K-ROCK—they’re playing it all the time with more credible jocks than we have. Classic fans are disenfranchised. Welcome them home! Buy TV time to let the world know! Classic Rock Lives at WNEW! Bring back Dave and Pete in some capacity. Seize the moment!

  Instead, WNEW added a few more classic-rock cuts, which sounded ridiculous played next to Silverchair. Jocks were told not to use the term “classic,” since it tested negative with the audience. Ratings did rise slightly, but not enough to significantly reverse the trend downward. We’d blown the perfect opportunity to score a solid three share, which by this point was all anyone could hope for in such a confused and fragmented market-place. Instead we wallowed at 1.3, and Ted Edwards was fired that spring. Instead of 1996 being a pathway back to glory, it was a transitional year for WNEW-FM and a lost opportunity.

  After Ted Edwards was released, there was no program director for several months. Kevin Smith told all of us that he didn’t want to make another mistake, so he was going to take his time and find the right guy. So we drifted through the late spring, half classic, half alternative until Kevin found his man: a genial, heavyset fellow named Steve Young.

  Steve had been a programmer in Seattle and was well respected within the industry. For his first couple of months, he acted intelligently—he listened and evaluated. The luckless Kevin Smith had finally done the right thing, but he’d done it at the wrong time. As Young patiently stayed the course while formulating his plan, he was preempted as another station, WAXQ, picked up the classic-rock banner.

  By November, Young’s scheme was complete—his was going to be a hybrid active-rock station, playing some new music while still rooted in the classics—in essence, what WNEW had done in its golden years. The lineup would be juggled, Muni’s role downplayed, some of the younger jocks elevated. The specifics aren’t important now.

  The reason that the plan never saw the light of day was more of the corporate maneuvering that had bedeviled the station over the last decade. As mentioned previously, the FCC had dramatically raised the number of radio stations that could be held by one group, and Karmazin was looking to expand Infinity with more “oceanfront property.” His pitch was to buy as many of the CBS/Group W stations as he could, but like the Legacy inquiries into the same group years earlier, he came away with much more than he had anticipated. Why not merge completely, Westinghouse ventured? Fine, said Karmazin, as long as I control the radio properties. Agreed, said Michael Jordan, CEO. Upon hearing the news, office pools were formed betting on when Mel would rule the entire company.

  So Mel was given stock (worth some $250 million in the newly merged corporation) and control of dozens of radio stations, including the one closest to his heart—WNEW-FM, the place where he had spent several formative years. Shortly before the acquisition officially was to take place, Karmazin got word of the Young-Smith plan. He lined up a meeting with the principles, but first made a call to his informal adviser on rock radio, Mark Chernoff. Mark was actively programming WFAN and had expanded its success, but he retained his curiosity about WNEW and K-ROCK, continuing his lifelong interest in the New York rock scene. He was always available with an opinion for Karmazin if he requested one.

  “Mark,” Mel asked. “What would you do if you had control of WNEW-FM?”

  Chernoff didn’t have to think very long before responding, “Classic rock with classic jocks.” He then outlined a plan that would bring back the old lineup of Herman, Fornatale, Muni, Elsas, Miller, and Jim Monaghan playing the same songs that had worked for them at K-ROCK and earlier at WNEW. He’d season the mix with special weekends, concert tapes, live studio performances—all the elements that had made the station unique. Then, as listeners began to catch on that their favorites were back, he’d widen the playlist and begin to expose new artists that fit the classic mold.

  “Thanks,” said Mel. “Just asking.”

  Armed with Chernoff’s advice, he took a meeting with Smith and Young, at which they outlined their plan. Karmazin listened patiently, asking pointed questions at times, until the presentation was finished. He then challenged them both to explain why this would work and why Chernoff’s ideas wouldn’t, without attributing them directly to Mark.

  With Karmazin, you must passionately sell any foray into uncharted territory with great conviction. Young and Smith, perhaps intimidated by the man’s reputation, found themselves hedging, suggesting compromise strategies before their ideas were actually rejected. Sensing a halfhearted commitment on their part, he pressed them with tougher questions and instead of vehemently defending their position, they backed off further. If this was the best they could do, he wasn’t buying into it. It is possible that his mind was made up before the meeting.

  After further conversations with Chernoff, he presented them with another option—execute Mark’s plan with Young at the helm. Steve responded that he hadn’t accepted the programming job to be someone else’s puppet with no authority to act independently. He would rather resign. Karmazin immediately accepted the resignation without argument. Young, his pride fully intact, returned to Seattle until WAXQ called him back to New York several months later. Kevin Smith, by this point, had more serious concerns.

  His wife had become extremely ill, and her long-term prognosis was not good. They’d been together since college, and although he put up a brave front, the knowledge that she could be taken from him at any moment was eating him up inside. He’d put in his required time to become vested in the company’s pension plan. Although he still wanted to save WNEW, his wife’s comfort in what would be her final months was paramount. He had a young daughter whose care was now falling to him. He agreed to Mel’s terms, to wit: Chernoff would program WNEW part-time while still handling WFAN and report directly to Mel, bypassing the traditional general manager’s role. Kevin’s responsibilities would be limited to his sales expertise, which was considerable.

  In January of 1997, the new/old format took effect. At that point, the station’s 12+ rating had sunk to a 1.1. Under Chernoff, with the new/old lineup, the number rose steadily until by the end of the year, it had increased to a 1.9, outdistancing the neophyte WAXQ during every period. But things weren’t happening fast enough, and Mark was confronted with a ch
oice: Leave WFAN to become full-time general manager for WNEW, with the freedom to hire a program director of his own choosing to carry on the format, or return to WFAN. Kevin Smith, whose wife had died a few months earlier, was taking early retirement and moving to Florida to play golf and try to make some sense of the hand he’d been dealt.

  It was a hard decision, but Mark had always loved programming and didn’t covet the responsibility of managing a sales and promotions staff. He pleaded to be allowed to continue in both jobs, but by this time, Mel had given up much of his supervision of the radio division to Dann Mason, a holdover from Group W. Karmazin controlled not just CBS radio but television as well, and was soon to take the helm of the entire CBS/Infinity Corporation, eventually merging it with Viacom. He had bigger fish to fry than just one station, even though it did hold a special place in his heart. Besides, some members of the WFAN staff needed constant babysitting, and had complained to Mel that Chernoff wasn’t at their beck and call. Reluctantly, Mark gave up the WNEW job to concentrate full-time on WFAN.

  Scott Herman, the GM of WINS, conveniently located on the next floor of WNEW’s building, was appointed general manager of WNEW and was told preemptively that his operations/program director would be Garry Wall.

  I consider this man to be the most enigmatic program director that I ever worked with. For most of his twenty-one-month reign, the staff tried to figure out what he wanted for the station. We couldn’t, and the conclusion we were led to was that he couldn’t either. There were two alternatives:

  1) He had no knowledge or appreciation for the heritage of the radio station and planned all along for it to become an extreme FM talk station. He was convinced that he could make his reputation by arising Phoenix-like from the ashes of a failed rock station with this hot new format. Any moves he made while it was a rock station were intended for purposes of self-immolation, so that by the time he switched formats, no one would care.

  2) He came into the job with no agenda, willing to take it wherever the research indicated it should go. Unfortunately, his radio skills were so unformed that he lacked the ability to discover a clear path and the will to follow it.

  I favor the latter alternative. It seems that after years of hiring managers who were afraid to tamper with the staff due to personal reverence of their legend, Wall was brought in to inspect the place as an alien from another planet would. Indeed, some members of the staff, perplexed by his unblinking demeanor, called him “Metal Boy.” With no preconceived notions, no agenda, all he brought to the table was a willingness to try anything that struck his fancy. To say that he thought outside the box would be like saying Ted Kaczynski had some unconventional theories about democratic government. Basically, the plan was to disregard history and start fresh. Jocks were shuttled in and out like chess pieces, with no regard for their humanity or personal security.

  This might work if you were a certified genius who could do things in a completely new fashion that would revolutionize the medium, but for all his apparent intelligence, Wall’s radio acumen was sorely lacking. Here are two examples that illustrate the problem. At the first meeting he held with the staff, Wall was asked what the station should be called. Should it be WNEW, WNEW-FM, or NEW? Should the slogan be “Where Rock Lives,” “Classic Rock and Classic Jocks,” or “New York’s Rock Station”?

  At various times in our history, we had been known by these appellations, and more. “Whatever,” he replied, “it’s not important.”

  Given the fact that we’d all become complete sycophants just trying to keep our jobs by then, no one challenged this assertion. But you learn in Radio 101—no, make that Life 101—that what you call yourself has an enormous part in establishing your identity and image with others. Indeed, if your name is Ice T Cool J, one’s expectations would not be that of a Harvard-educated member of the literati, just as John Beresford Tipton III might not fit your conception of a migrant laborer. This, of course, amounts to prejudice, but it’s a fact of life.

  At that initial meeting, Wall suggested that we all speak to his secretary and schedule a “getting to know you” meeting with him privately. Good idea. When not in a public setting with peers, some of the staff might open up and give more honest opinions. So I dutifully arranged a meeting. Given my experience with Edwards, I resolved to be a bit more circumspect with the new guy until I got a read on the lay of the land.

  As I marched into his office, he sat at a small round table, devoid of clutter, CNBC’s stock quotations silently streaming on the television behind him. The Arthurian table seemed a lot more democratic than a big imposing desk, it was more like you were an equal—instead of an underling approaching the almighty boss. Even though I knew that this was corporate window dressing, at least the fact that he embraced it was encouraging. Approaching things with an open mind, I sat down and met Wall’s blank gaze.

  “So,” he started, “what can I do for you?”

  “You suggested this meeting,” I said. “You wanted to get to know us. Here I am. Do you want to know about my history here for starters?”

  “Not really. Why is that relevant?” he answered coldly.

  He wasn’t making this easy. I perhaps foolishly thought that as senior member of the staff next to Muni in terms of years at the station, my counsel might be of some value. “Well, I just thought that since I’ve been here twenty-eight years, that—”

  “Twenty-eight. Doesn’t have the same ring as thirty, does it?”

  “I guess not.” I tried not to react to what seemed to be a deliberate insult. Maybe he was just trying to be funny. “At any rate, I’ve done mornings, I’ve been PD—”

  “Well, gee, everyone’s been PD here at one time or another, even the janitor from what I hear.”

  If he wanted to imply that my opinions were as valued as the janitor’s, he’d gotten the message across. This was an odd way to get to know a valued employee. Strange, but I was getting another message entirely. Okay boss, I just clean up here, what do you want me to do?

  Properly humbled, I continued. “All right, Garry. I’m just here to find out what you want us to do. What’s the plan?”

  “No plan. What do you want to do?”

  “I’ve done every kind of radio there is, from classical to talk. I’m just trying to gather what approach you’re looking for. High energy, lots of talk, tight with no talk, whatever?”

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with. It’s up to you. I’ll be listening and evaluating every one here from ground zero over the next month. Do whatever you like.”

  I laughed, perhaps a bit nervously. “Can you tell me what criteria you’ll be judging us by?”

  “Whatever. If I like what I hear, you’ll be here. If I don’t, you won’t. Simple as that.”

  I’ll try once more, this time in English. “Well, what do you like? What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing. I’ll know it when I hear it.”

  One more attempt at adulation to keep my job. “Whatever role you see me in, I’m willing to discuss. I’m not here to make waves or challenge you, I just want to execute your ideas the way you want me to and help the station win again.”

  “Good.” He said this casually and dismissively, as if I’d just offered him coffee with cream or without. No acknowledgment that I was pledging unconditional loyalty to the call letters.

  This seemed like as good a place as any to end this exercise in mind fuck, so I rose and solicitously said, “Well, I know that you’re a busy man with a lot more important things to do. Just let me know if I can help in any way.”

  “Fine.” He didn’t arise to shake hands, which was just as well. I walked out feeling that I’d just wasted a four-dollar toll on the George Washington Bridge. Confused, I drove home, wondering at several points if I should turn around and go back and bust him in the mouth. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that his plan was not to get to know any of us, because we wouldn’t be around long enough. Would a call to Mel be in order? Would he e
ven care? I was calculating my severance, trying to figure if I could survive on just my earnings at WFAN. Obviously, WNEW-FM was not long for this world.

  With no direction or leadership, the station pinged back and forth from classic to classic/metal to classic/alternative to alternative/classic to talk. I was doing two weekend shows, and I never knew what I’d be doing from week to week. And if I didn’t know, what were the listeners to think? Pete Fornatale was bumped from middays to late nights, a time period he’d never done in his thirty years of professional radio. When he didn’t quit at the change, he was fired and replaced with someone from a small market in New Hampshire. Dennis Elsas was summarily dismissed and replaced by another unknown in the market. Wall called my brother while he was on summer vacation and told him that he needn’t hurry back; he was being replaced. We were being picked off one at a time and we all were looking around at our comrades, wondering who’d be next.

  Scott Muni and Dave Herman were fired on November 13, 1998. The afternoon shock jocks that Wall had hired made fun of them both as dinosaurs who should have been extinct twenty years before. They reveled in sleaze as Dave’s ex-wife joined them on the air to humiliate him with disparaging remarks about his sexual prowess. The ratings had slid back down to the 1.1 region, with the new morning show at an embarrassing .4. No one knew what they were supposed to be doing.

  My last show was on September 12, 1999. I was informed of this after the fact in a telephone call from Wall a few days later. He mentioned that he’d tried to call earlier but couldn’t get through. In the terse conversation, Wall alluded to the fact that he planned a big party for all the station’s alums on its anniversary, October 30, but it was not to be, like so many of his other plans.