Wicked Clarity Forums - Story

    At 19, I was a self-proclaimed audio nerd. My stack of stereo and broadcast magazines was as tall as me, and I’d read every single one. I was mixing music in my room on gear I pieced together myself. My sister, on the other hand, cared about audio as much as she cared about taking out the trash. Meanwhile, I was DJing at a skating rink on weekends—a gig I got by fixing their sound system when it was cutting out. Some friends drove me there and while skating with those horrible retails the sound was constantly clicking on and off. I got off the floor went over to the DJ both and the owner and DJ were under everything. I don't know they looked. I found loose cables on the mixer. Fixed. The owner was impressed and asked if I wanted to DJ. I said sure. 16 years old. Boom—instant DJ. Had to work a two-day schedule out with mom till I got a car.

Back at the dealership, I was already a pro at mixing, phrasing, and fixing anything audio. That’s who I was at 19. My sister, at 18, was a connoisseur of food it seemed. 

So, anyway the guys are losing it with the broadcast. People are stating we are losing this client guys. So, similar to the skating rink when I was 16, I said, "I can fix it." to this one guy who looked in charge. I said this because I have been watching and listening. This one guy said you need to call Dale. Then the conversation was how Dale the station engineer is like 100 bucks an hour to have him work on his day off. If they do this the gig, is toast. They lose money here paying there engineer to come out and fix this. So, after hearing this and watching them trouble shoot the problem. I just wanted to help.

Making a long story short, the guys are looking at me, "right kid, you can fix this for us." they didn't believe me. So, another broadcast went bad, and they were using the phone again to do there live broadcast. This one guy said to me in all hesitation. "Look if you can fix this, I'll give you a job."

I didn't know these guys. I thought this one guy was pulling my leg. Give me a job, right...

So, here’s the long story short: I started at Y106.7 that week, hired by none other than Bill Michaels, the station's programming director. I was just there to help, not expecting anything in return. Before I knew it, I was everyone’s go-to person. I worked mostly with Dale, the station engineer, but Ron was the unofficial jack-of-all-trades, and I quickly joined the ranks. Engineering assistant? Check. Programming Directors assistant? Sure. Promotions Directors assistant? You bet. Music Directors assistant? Why not. Part-time on-air? Absolutely. Driving the station van and handling promotions? Of course. Basically, I was the station’s Swiss Army knife. 

Dale and I took on the Herculean task of rebuilding the broadcast booth, transitioning from albums to carts. I recorded, tagged, tested, and labeled every song—talk about repetitive stress. We installed cart racks too, which was no small feat. The music director was way behind, and the FCC was ready to hand out fines. So, there I was, part-time, doing everything short of making coffee. What a ride!

I have that kind of talent, my audition with Bill was funny. He only knew I fixed them up but didn't know what I actually knew. Hahaha, that guy walked me into their production room. Full, production room. 3 Sony reels, 16 channel board, 4 cart machines, 3 mics, tape deck, turntable, Yamaha possessing deck. A lot of stuff. I only seen this in magazines. Bill said, "Ron, go ahead and figure out what does what and come get me when you have the board figured out." He left. That was funny as hell, wasn't it? I loved the guy. He treated me like his adopted kid. In a good way. He really was like my radio dad.

Here’s the thing: nothing was labeled—at all. Just some tape on the four cart machines saying, "deck 1, 2, 3, 4," but not a single label on the board or anything else. So, I’m sitting there wondering, "Where are the mic channels?" I start potting up channels one by one until I finally hear my own voice in the headphones. Bingo! Mics 1, 2, and 3 located. Next, I’m trying to figure out why the monitor turns off whenever I switch a mic on. It took me forever to find the darn monitor and now it keeps shutting off. It was bothering me. Then it hits me—Ron, you idiot, this isn’t a DJ booth! The monitor is built that way on purpose, so it doesn’t feed back into the PA or monitor speaker. Genius design, but it took me a while to realize.

About 40 minutes later, I go out to find Bill, who’s with Dale—my first-ever meeting with Dale, by the way. Right as I’m about to accidentally interrupt their conversation, I catch Bill telling Dale, the station engineer, about my fix. Turns out it was Dale’s fault all along! When testing the main system, he had to disconnect everything to plug in his test equipment and make sure the transmitter was working perfectly. Unfortunately, there’s this multi-cable involved—the kind I’ve only ever seen in magazines at home. The collar on the plug? A tricky little beast. If you don’t seat it just right, it’ll cause all kinds of intermittent issues. And guess what? Dale didn’t seat the collar properly after testing.

So, standing there, I hear Bill tease Dale for the oversight. And then, like the hero I am, I step in and say, "Excuse me, gentlemen. Bill, I’ve got the room figured out." Mic drop—figuratively, of course.

We go in, Dale trailing behind, and I get to work. I'm recording on the cart machines, spinning a record on the turntable, and running it all through the Yamaha processor with a flange effect slapped on the song. Then I hit play on the Sony deck, which is I already cued to some random commercial. I show Bill and Dale the whole setup, and they’re both standing there, jaws on the floor. "How did you figure all this out in under an hour? Nothing's labeled!" Bill stammers. "I thought you'd give up after 10 minutes, saying it’s impossible to learn the room."

But Ron, let me tell you. Dale, the guy who could win the "Meanest Person at the Station" award, actually wanted me to apply with the FCC and become a station engineer. Turns out, this grumpiest of grumps was the nicest guy to me! He practically adopted me, and we worked side by side without a single hitch. Honestly, I helped everyone with anything they needed—it’s just my thing. It’s who I am, and yep, still am. I just want to help, even you.

At one point, the station had me working at their transmitter—a job I wasn’t even hired for. Someone had quit, and Bill tried finding a replacement. But then the guy who was supposed to leave stuck around, and I had to meet him at the transmitter one night to check his PA programming. I managed it, but Bill promised he’d find someone else, which wasn’t happening. So, I ended up hiring my sister Robin. I still had hundreds of songs to transfer to cart and was way behind. Then Dale got a memo from the FCC on our first date, saying we’d be fined if we were still using vinyl. I hadn’t finished transferring all the music yet, but I was stuck at the transmitter, unable to get anything done. Mark kept buying new music, which was necessary, but he never recorded anything for me. Instead, it all got dumped onto my production list for whenever I had time. The broadcast booth was being prepped by Dale for major work, and everyone needed help—Dale, Rick, Mark, and Bill—because after I went to Leesburg, they lost their go-to guy. My hours were being eaten up at the transmitter, and as a loving brother, instead of asking a friend for help, I asked Robin if she wanted to try radio. It’s been a nightmare ever since—decades of frustration. It’s just sickening to even talk about what she’s like.

After working in radio, I took on every job I could to learn new skills. I still have my FCC broadcasting license somewhere—those are for life unless the FCC revokes them, as far as I know. I went to college for computer engineering, majoring in hardware, so I could repair all the new computer equipment. I’ve applied that engineering knowledge to almost everything I’ve done in life. When personal computers became popular, I started building my own instead of buying them, and I still do. The computer I have now would blow a computer nerd’s mind—10 hard drives, more storage than NASA. Speaking of NASA, I contracted with them and other government agencies as an engineer, working with companies like McDonnell Douglas and Martin Marietta. As a contractor, I was assigned jobs with deadlines tied to government funding, and when the money ran out, so did the work. What a joy contracting was—well, not really. 

After stepping away from that, I shifted my focus to building computers and designing interfacing systems, mainly for music and streaming. Back in the day, I recorded live bands directly onto my PC, discovered various tricks, and digitized all my vinyl records. Since I’ve been seriously collecting music since 1985, my system demands a lot of storage for projects. Many young people in this business don’t understand what’s coming in the next five years; they’ll be lost, and in ten years, they won’t be able to catch up. The world is evolving quickly, and if we’re not careful, we risk losing a lot. 

One of my last jobs was teaching multimedia at a college. The program was brand new, so I had to create my own syllabus when I was hired. My journey was unique—I went back to school to learn everything about multimedia, including sound, video, web design, and image manipulation. I spent countless hours on computers, mastering programs like AutoCAD and other design software. I purchased all the necessary tools and dedicated myself to learning, whether it involved system upgrades or hardware fixes. My AutoCAD teacher, JD, was incredible and helped me become a professional drafter, which led to earning money through image and multimedia projects. I refused to take on any work unless I was confident in my abilities. Staying current with Autodesk and Adobe was a priority for me to ensure my methods were solid. I went back to school thinking I’d learn all the things incorrectly as I taught myself mostly everything by reading and getting tutorials. I figured by going to school I would finally have a professional who could teach me everything I failed to learn on my own—but that didn’t happen. Instead, I impressed everyone so much that they offered me a teaching position. I started all of it by impromptu as a helper for Wanda Heller (rest in peace), a kind but tired elderly lady teaching the class. I always finished my work early, so I started helping Wanda as she looked worn out. I just couldn't watch the class wear her out anymore and one day, I stood up, truly tired of seeing her overwhelmed, and announced to the class, "Who needs help?" Wanda was completely caught off guard, and that’s how I got hired at a collage to teach what I knew. What is wrong with me I ask myself sometimes. I just want to help people. But I look at everyone else here on the planet and not really to many will. People do not care. They are fakes. Not even a sister can care enough to love her brother.

FYI: Y106.7 Leesburg Orlando signed off the airwaves in 1989, but oh, the untold tales of its glory days in the 1980s! We weren’t exactly the big players, and upper management treated us like the forgotten cousins at a family reunion. But hey, we were number one with women aged 18 to 46—something crazy like that, quite the powerhouse demographic! Naturally, we dubbed our nightclub promotions “Y” parties, and boy, did they live up to the name. Guys a Y106 party anywhere, ladies were 5 to one at any party we had. Not maybe all the fun in world for the ladies ... then again, we gave away drinks to all the ladies and guys had to pay. Now I remember. Not sure who had more fun now. Completely legal, of course (though honestly, it’s a miracle no one landed in jail on some nights). And there I was, the assistant promotions director (19 and 20 years old 😏), ensuring the chaos had just the right touch of order. Hahaha! I loved all of them. My journey guys it has been extraordinary.