Home > Why I Quit Radio

Why I Quit Radio

by Open-Publishing - Monday 31 July 2006

Radio USA

http://www.niagarafallsreporter.com...

Why I Quit Radio
By Mike Hudson
August 1, 2006

If there’s one true thing about doing radio it’s that, to do it good, you’ve got to be pretty high while you’re doing it. Take Rush Limbaugh, for example. He couldn’t get one doctor to give him enough oxycontin to do his radio program, so he went around to a half-dozen doctors to supply him with multiple prescriptions of the so-called "hillbilly heroin" so that he could get through his show high as a kite.

He’s got three stints in rehab to show for his dedication to the medium and should probably be in some kind of hall of fame for radio personalities who are also drug addicts.

I came here, ultimately, from Cleveland, of course, and the history of famous drink- and drug-addled radio personalities there didn’t start with Alan Freed — who coined the term "rock and roll" — or end with Gary Dee, whose difficulties became the stuff of national gossip when, well, I won’t even go into that. We had Don Imus, too, who got so high one time he woke up in Manhattan and thought he was still in Cleveland. He never came back.

The problem with Western New York radio is that all the shows that would have a person like me on are done in the morning. I’ve done Sandy Beach’s show, Shredd & Ragan, Kevin Hardwick’s Sunday morning chat on WBEN, Joe Schmidbauer’s program on WHLD, Steve Maltzberg’s right-wing witch hunt on WABC in New York City, Scott Leffler’s show on WLVL and, of course, my good friend Sal Paonessa’s program on WJJL.

But how high can you be at 9 o’clock in the morning?

The answer is plenty, and I’ve perfected a routine, which allows me to appear on the radio and sound like I know what I’m talking about at the same time. It involves getting up at seven. Even if you’ve just gotten to bed an hour or two before.

Now you’ve got two solid hours to get ready. Plenty of time to do what’s needed in order to get in shape for the rough task that lies ahead. I won’t get into the ugly details. But when the Redhead finally gets up and asks, "How was it on the radio this morning?" I can mumble, "I dunno," and be 100 percent correct.

Kevin Hardwick’s is the worst show to do, high or straight. You get five minutes and he zeroes in on a single topic which, as often as not, you know absolutely nothing about.

Kevin’s a political science professor at some college somewhere, and it seems like it’s way off his map to talk about politics taking place in a place where talking about politics can get you a knot on the head or something worse.

Like Niagara Falls, for example.

But that’s the Redhead’s favorite show and the one that, when I’m on it, she acts like I’ve actually accomplished something. If she’s up, she’ll even bring me an extra vodka and tonic, mid-segment, if I’ve run out.

Schmidbauer, Sandy Beach and Shredd & Ragan likewise view Niagara County politics as some kind of Hatfields and McCoys brouhaha, the discussion of which is more a public entertainment than anything that might shed light on the proper governance of our bailiwick.

So you find yourself answering stupid questions.

"Is the mayor really the target of a federal investigation?"

"Um, yeah, yes."

"Is there really a labor union down there that will beat people up in order to further their own nefarious goals?"

"Um, yeah, yes."

And then there’s the classic: "Has the construction of the casino in downtown Niagara Falls resulted in a significant betterment of your community?"

"Um, yeah, no, I mean, I dunno."

Because what else can you say to a guy from Buffalo?

Whether you’re on for five minutes or 60, it continues in this vein until, finally, you’ve gotten sick of talking about Niagara Falls and they’ve gotten sick of talking to you.

The best show to do, if you ever find yourself having to do these shows, is Sal Paonessa’s. He’s a cop and everything but, really, cops aren’t all that bad, and he has a lovely co-host, Rosemary Mariglia, who’s Bruce’s cousin and owns a lingerie shop over by Pine Avenue on 19th Street.

Unlike many of these radio shows, which rise to the level of listening to dry paint, Sal’s program has risen to the level of allowing his listeners to actually listen to the paint dry. The minutes fly by like hours, and all apologies to George Sanders.

Today, one of Mickey Sloma’s employees, a woman who gave her name as "Bonnie," called me up and asked whether I would be a guest on his public access cable television program. I called her back, but all I got was an answering machine.

So, just so everybody knows, I’m quitting radio as of today. And television as well. As a person who buys 50 tons of newsprint and 110 pounds of ink a year, I just don’t need it.

But I will miss getting high at seven in the morning, though.