March 31, 1973: WKBW's Great American Talent Hunt

 


KB radio at the top of its game. 

March 31, 1973

WKBW Finds a New DJ in an Unusual Way 

IT’S FEB. 19, Jack Armstrong’s next-to-last night on WKBW and he’s wailing through a commercial, stretching the 30-second spot into what he calls “my 90-second thirty” and embellishing the written pitch for shoes.

          “I wanta get a date with a girl from Holland,” he fires out suddenly in his hoarse, gatling-gun delivery. “Why? Because of her tu-LIPS!” The engineer frowns.

          Yes, Jack misses sometimes, but he never falters. He comes on so fast you scarcely have time to groan. He’s energy, pure adrenalin, and he can make your blood dance the boogaloo.

* * *

HIS TRIUMPH comes when he closes his show with a two- or three-minute rap that screeches and sails like a cyclone.

          You follow it off-balance. Up, down, in, out, fast, slow, way, way up for the very end to where you can scarcely breathe, then POW! And you fall back weak and panting as Ron Baskin comes in with the news.

          “Jeff wants me to hit the news on time, but I’ve only done it four or five times in two years,” he remarks in his somewhat deeper off-mike voice as he swivels around in his tall stool, a variance he won to Jefferson Kaye’s policy that all KB deejays must stand.

          “Actually, he’s been very, very considerate,” Jack says. “Jeff is a very smart program director. He hires people who can take care of business and then he lets them do it.”

          Jack’s departure for WPIQ, Pittsburgh, is as frantic as his show. The final day he’s getting a new sports car, meeting his wife and a lawyer to work out a final divorce settlement and finishing with a party at an uptown club.

          Just before the 9 p.m. news this next-to-last night (he hits it one minute late), the engineer hands him a yellow card. Apparently his wife called. The first words are: “Settlement is unfair.” Jack excuses his visitor, says he has to make some phone calls.

          Routinely when a radio station replaces a deejay, it advertises for deejays from other stations to send in audition tapes, which are made up of the beginnings and ends of songs interspersed with the guy’s patter.

* * *

IF, HOWEVER, the new man is taking over for an enormously popular personality, the audience just as routinely rejects the newcomer and looks elsewhere on the dial.

          “Audiences are a funny thing,” Jeff Kaye said, sitting in front of a desk calendar covered with elaborate flower doodles. "They listen by habit. Jack being a strong personality could come in and  create a great deal of habit.”

          Though it’s doubtful WKBW would lose its high area rating for Armstrong’s 6 to 10 p.m. slot or the voyageur audience that catches its 50,000-watt signal up and down the Eastern Seaboard, Kaye knew the departure would hurt.

          Instead of accepting this dismal prospect, Kaye decided to take a risk, a gamble that appealed to his love of radio production. If it worked, it would turn a disaster into a gold mine and, at the same time, it would ease the new man in. If it worked.

* * *

IN PLACE of audition tapes, he would have the prospective deejays – 10 of them – come in and try out on the very show they would take over. The listeners would vote on their favorite.

          There was no precedent for this kind of contest. As far as Kaye knew, nobody had done on-the-air auditions before. And the possibilities of something going wrong were great.

          The embarrassment of a flop would not only cost them listeners, but also make them the butt of radio jokes all over town. And it wasn’t as if KB were some tiny station making a grandstand play. Seventeen states and at least two nations would know.

* * *

NOT JUST ANY old record-spinner would do. What Jeff Kaye was looking for was someone who would fit in with the station’s format. There aren’t many who can.

          “Time and temperature deejays are a dime a dozen,” Jeff Kaye was saying in mid-March. “There’s a box full of their tapes at your feet. If we could hire on how well they enunciate the call letters, we’d’ve had a guy last week.

          “This is personality radio. There’s few other stations like it. And personality radio is me. It’s my taste. It’s what I cut my teeth on. I found it here when I came in 1965 and I think it’s most entertaining. I think deejays should be funny, give people a lift.”

          There was no time to advertise for audition tapes. Kaye relied instead on industry gossip, record promo men, whom he calls “the employment agents of radio,” and tricks out of spy movies when deejays had to be sought out at their stations.

          Kaye, rather than be stymied by indignant program directors, would leave the name of a promo man. His secretary, Barbara, found one man’s address by saying she was checking his credit rating for a store credit card.

          You just don’t ask an announcer to take a day off work and fly up to Buffalo to audition for a new job, either.

          Many that were contacted couldn’t make the trip. Their program directors wouldn’t let them. Others put their jobs in jeopardy, taking that 10-to-1 shot at KB while their bosses started looking for new prospects.

          Five days before the start of the on-air auditions, which Kaye dubbed The Great American Talent Hunt, the whole gamble looked like a disaster. Only two of the 10 nights were filled and Kaye had “no tapes of any consequence” to go on.

          “At this point,” Kaye remarked later, “we thought we’d have to cut the contest in half, run it only one week. There were just a ton of things up on the wall. And we hadn’t even begun to think about the second week.

          “Then Friday, about 4 p.m., people started dropping off the wall. By then, we’d booked our first three and we had to scurry on Monday to get the other two. After that, we had breathing room.”

          Even so, Kaye and his staff had to piece things together for most of the time the talent hunt went on. The last contestant, Supershannon, wasn’t lined up until the middle of the week.

* * *

BECOMING a deejay at WKBW is something like walking into a knife fight. You’ve got to have your wits about you to trade insults with Danny Neaverth. Sandy Beach will look for a weakness and play it for all it’s worth.

          It took Jack Armstrong a while to get used to it after the started in late 1970. He didn’t have the same razor wit, but he made up for it with ego. He’d go into any interplay ego first, gullible and wide-open.

          He took a lot of ribbing, but ultimately the other deejays came to view him as a prodigal younger brother, vulnerable but extremely talented.

          This was the crew awaiting the 10 contestants as a WKBW car met each of them at the airport, drove them to a downtown hotel and brought them in to meet Jeff Kaye about 4 p.m. each day.

* * *

BEACH GOT TO meet them all. He’d be tossing off jokes at the driving-home crowd in his loose-jointed fashion as they’d come in to see the studio.

          To a man, they were nervous. Most had plotted their shows out. One hopeful the first week put on the earphones at 6:05 and forgot everything he’d planned.

          “He must’ve gone blank when he heard those 50,000 watts humming in his ears,” Kaye remarks. “We tried everything to get him through those four hours.”

          When about 10,000 postcards came in during last week’s voting, Kaye was pleasantly amazed. “This isn’t a mail-in town,” he points out.

Nicer still was that the listeners picked a man that Kaye wanted. He’d been ready to exercise his own judgment if the vote had gone to someone he thought wouldn’t make it.

* * *

THE WINNER WAS The Janitor, a 32-year-old screamer in the Jack Armstrong mold from Orlando, Fla. He got three times the ballots the second and third guys got. He’d made a strong impression on Kaye as well.

          “He’s got a good background,” Kaye was saying in his redecorated office last week. The calendar was gone. A tank of tropical fish sat next to the visitor.

          “He went to Emerson College in Boston,” Kaye explained, “and he’s got a first-class radio license. It shows a little about his intellectual curiosity. Here’s a guy who went out for the entertainment side and took the trouble to find out all he could about the technical end.

          “He was really quite poised. Sandy worked him over pretty good, but he learned how to work the news mike and talked back to Sandy on the air. It showed he had a little bit of chutzpah.

* * *

“I TALKED to him earlier today and told him and he was delighted and, a surprise, his general manager was delighted too. He’s driving up here now with his wife. I asked if we could use his real name, but he wants to be known as just The Janitor.

          “One side effect is we’ve had calls from several other radio stations, ones in Hartford, Jacksonville, Philadelphia, looking for some of the guys we’ve had on the air. Some of them will end up with better jobs after all.

          “We’ve had some interesting plans for the young man. Some old things and some new things. He’s gonna come in and say: ‘What do you want me to do?’ And I’ll tell him: ‘Be yourself, we’ll discuss things you can’t do as they come up.’

          “I’d do it again, have the Second Great American Talent Hunt. But it’s a basic flaw, I suppose, in my makeup that I haven’t been able to impress anybody with the fact it was an open competition to the end. Our minds were never made up. I really wanted to be as level and honest as I could about it.”

* * * * *

IN THE PHOTOS: Top, The Janitor. Bottom, Jeff Kaye.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE: Jack Armstrong came back to the Buffalo airwaves in 2003, when the station now known as WWKB adopted a nostalgia format to try to recapture the magic of its glory days. This time he worked remotely, from his home in Greensboro, N.C. He lasted until KB switched to all-talk in early 2006.

          Needless to say, that wasn’t his real name. He was born John Charles Larsh in 1945 in North Carolina and broke into radio there at the age of 14. He became a hit in Cleveland at WIXY, where all the evening deejays had to use the name Jack Armstrong. While he was here in the early 1970s, he earned a place in the Guinness Book of World Records as “fastest talking human alive.”

After his stint in Pittsburgh, he worked in other major markets – Boston, Toronto, San Francisco and Los Angeles. He was inducted into the Buffalo Broadcasting Hall of Fame in 2014, six years after his death.

The Janitor’s real name is Warren F. Miller. He’d won a Billboard magazine small market Air Personality Award in 1971 and says on his website that he was “having more fun that people should be allowed to have.”

He didn’t stay long at KB though and, according to the resume on his website, he was out of radio by 1982. Since then, he’s had a long career in the computer industry in sales and marketing, mostly in Florida and California until he moved to Charleston, S.C., in 2009. He currently provides marketing and sales services to startup companies.

Jeff Kaye, real name Martin Jeff Krimski, took his golden voice to WBEN radio as afternoon host in 1974, eventually replaced the legendary Clint Buehlman on the morning show and was producer for the station’s Buffalo Bills game broadcasts. He moved to New Jersey in 1985, did voice-overs for Philadelphia’s WPVI-TV and worked for NFL Films, where he provided the voice for NFL video compilations and won several Sports Emmy Awards. Inducted into the Buffalo Broadcasters Hall of Fame in 2002, he died in 2012.


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