Radio Daze — Part One
Growing up in a bilingual home in Brooklyn in the 1960s I was exposed to a mishmash of mass media influences typical for a Puerto Rican kid of my generation. On TV it was the Ed Sullivan Show, Warner Bros. cartoons, telenovelas, El Show de Walter—a horoscope countdown hosted by the mysteriously androgynous Walter Mercado, Channel 7’s Eyewitness News anchored by Roger Grimsby and Bill Beutel, and showcasing a very young and ambitious lawyer turned investigative reporter by the name of Geraldo Rivera. Weird little animated films on PBS’s Channel 13, my sister-in-law’s daytime soaps, and the Three Stooges. The highlight of my TV viewing during the week was getting to stay up late to watch B-horror classics on Chiller Theatre.
The creepy claymation intro to Chiller Theater.
Radio was the same hodgepodge—Top 40 hits on MusicRadio WABC, noticias and Café Bustelo commercials on Radio WADO, salsa and merengue on WJIT–Radio Jit.
Books and reading? What was that? In our living room we had a nice, glass enclosed bookcase filled with used high school textbooks from my mom’s GED and a boring set of cheap encyclopedias. Our family avoided this area of our home as if it were a Superfund radioactive waste site. We simply did not read for pleasure.
At this point I was always eavesdropping on others’ listening preferences, whether my parents or two older teenage brothers. Not until I reached my early teens did I really start to explore the radio spectrum for myself. That’s when I discovered talk radio: the Long John Nebel and Candy Jones Show (one of the pioneering efforts in paranormal talk radio) and the acerbic commentary of conservative host Bob Grant (always ready to skewer anyone who even hinted at liberal sympathies), plus a multitude of others. I rode the Disco wave with WPIX and later full time with Disco 92-WKTU. Eventually I regained my senses and progressed to FM rock.
Long John Nebel
College Radio
The best find of all during this exploratory phase was college radio. That was truly a revelation. What were these commercial-free stations on the left side of the FM band playing all sorts of alluring new music and noise that was raw, kinetic, and just plain weird? And even more baffling was the fact that the powers that be allowed young, self-indulgent, undisciplined students—people my age—to actually run them!
My sudden awakening to this vibrant cultural undercurrent that the commercial mainstream was completely oblivious to or simply ignoring was exhilarating and intoxicating. It was all so fresh, exciting and resonated fully with me.
Lora Logic of Essential Logic
Here was a whole other dimension of music I never knew existed—groups like Joy Division, Essential Logic, the Buzzcocks, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Dead Kennedys, Throbbing Gristle, Bauhaus, Au Pairs, Gang of Four, and the Mo-Dettes, to name but a few.
At the time my holy trinity of college radio shows were: “Rats and Monkeys” on WFDU (Fairleigh Dickinson University), “The Post Punk Progressive Pop Party” a.k.a. “P5” on WVHC (Hofstra University), and “The New Afternoon Show” on WNYU (New York University). Many a night I would stay up late taping as many hours as I could on good quality TDK cassettes. I’d show up at work bleary eyed and sleep deprived the following morning. Before you knew it I was checking out the listings in Village Voice for live shows.
Some of the highlights of my rather short-lived NYC musical excursions during the 1980-81 period included: the Dead Kennedys at Irving Plaza, Pere Ubu at The Peppermint Lounge, Black Flag at the Mudd Club, Kid Creole and The Coconuts at The Ritz, The Clash at Bonds International Casino, and Wall of Voodoo at I forget where.
With no buddies to share my new found discovery with, I would always venture out alone. My role was more that of an ethnomusicologist—a detached but keenly interested observer researching the mysterious rites of passage of American youth, as opposed to a just a regular teen enjoying a night on the town.
Riding the subways by myself until the wee hours of the morning during the bad old days of pre-Giuliani, crime-filled New York, I was always acutely aware of the potential for danger. Somehow I survived these trips. Surprisingly, never once did I get mugged, assaulted, stabbed or pushed in front of an oncoming train, thanks in no small part to the omnipresent Guardian Angels. Thank you Curtis and company!
Baptismal Fire
The Dead Kennedys show was my initiation into the hardcore punk subculture and to the frenzied, sweaty rituals of pit dancing and stage diving. From the radio I knew the music was ‘in your face,’ irreverent, high-octane fun. I just didn’t know how ‘in your face’ it could be.
I arrived at Irving Plaza early so I could get as close to the stage as possible. A handful of people milled about and no chairs were out (that should have tipped me off). The venue quickly filled up and at the appointed hour the show started. Total pandemonium! Would you believe that people were actually clambering onto the stage and diving headfirst into the audience? How could Jello, the DKs headman, tolerate such reckless, uncouth behavior? You know somebody could get hurt! I was blindsided by this explosion of youthful verve. I felt a surge of panic and feared for my personal safety.
The Dead Kennedys
I was caught totally off guard by this. The DJ’s on the radio had neglected to mention this little detail to me. My research had been woefully inadequate. I should have studied the music press more seriously. Being something of a wuss, I retreated to the rear (no easy task when everyone else was pushing forward), made my way up to the balcony and sheepishly saw the rest of the show from afar.
Rocky Mountain High
Things were coming to a head in my personal life. A recent breakup, my dead end job, living at home with my parents, and the stresses of life in the Big Apple were making me long for something else.
So one day on a whim, I quit my job, bought a suitcase at Macys and a one-way plane ticket to Denver. The seed had been planted for the next phase.
Making a Spectacle of Myself 
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