All posts by Old Rocker

Beatniks and Hippies

August 30, 2014TimesOld Rocker

✌️ From Beatniks to Hippies: Rock and Roll’s Counterculture Roots

The Golden Age of Rock didn’t just soundtrack a generation—it came with its own cast of colorful characters. And while some of the older folks might have lumped them all together under “dirty, unwashed scum” (charming, right?), we know better.

Sure, maybe a few hippies forgot to shower. And yes, beatniks loved their black turtlenecks and bongo drums. But these were two distinct cultural tribes, and both played important roles in shaping the look, sound, and soul of rock and roll.

🥁 The Beatniks: Jazz, Bongo Drums, and Cool Detachment

Before hippies hit the scene, there were the Beatniks.

The name sprouted from the Beat Generation, a term coined by writer Jack Kerouac in the late 1940s to describe a group of post-war bohemians who were disillusioned with mainstream values and spiritually adrift. “Beat” referred to both the musical rhythm they loved—usually jazz—and the sense of being “beat down” by society.

Then came Sputnik, the Soviet satellite that launched into orbit in 1957. The U.S. was stunned, and someone jokingly slapped the “-nik” suffix onto “Beat” to form a new word: Beatnik. It stuck.

🧔‍♂️ The Beatnik Look?
Goatee, beret, dark shades, and a turtleneck for the guys.
🖤 For the gals? Black leotards, long straight hair, and serious existential vibes.

Beatniks hung out in coffeehouses, read poetry aloud, and sipped espresso while discussing the meaning of life. They “played it cool,” spoke in jazz slang, and tried very hard not to care what anyone thought of them.

They weren’t wild—they were wary. But they laid the groundwork for what was coming next.

☮️ Enter the Hippies: Tie-Dye, Rock, and Revolution

In the early 1960s, the cultural tides shifted again. A new generation emerged—less interested in existentialism and bebop, and more into psychedelics, rock and roll, and radical change. They became known as Hippies, or the Hip Generation.

Although a few Beatniks morphed into Hippies (Kerouac, for example, didn’t love the new crowd), the two groups were very different.

Where the Beats were low-key and literary, the Hippies were vibrant and visual.
Where Beatniks whispered poetry, Hippies shouted protest slogans.

But the biggest difference? The music.

Beatniks loved jazz.
Hippies lived for rock and roll.

And not just any rock. We’re talking psychedelic jams, folk-rock anthems, and electric rebellion. This was the era of The Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, and Jimi Hendrix. Music wasn’t just a background to the movement—it was the movement.

📺 Watch: Jefferson Airplane – “Somebody to Love” (1967)

🌍 Culture Clash and the Anti-Everything Attitude

The hippies had opinions. Lots of them.

They were anti-war, anti-materialism, and anti-establishment—which didn’t win them many fans among middle-class, middle-aged Americans watching the 6 o’clock news. But to the youth? The hippies were heroes.

Some dropped out entirely, heading for communes or hitchhiking across the country in flower-painted vans. Others took to the streets, joining marches, protesting the Vietnam War, and clashing with police during events like the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago.

Whether political or just peaceful, hippies believed in love, peace, self-expression, and (of course) great music.

🗺️ The Hubs of Hippie Culture

Like all cultural movements, the hippie wave had its capitals—cities where music, art, politics, and counterculture collided in technicolor brilliance.

Greenwich Village, New York – The East Coast’s hub for folk music and progressive thought. Bob Dylan got his start here in tiny coffee shops.
Venice Beach, Los Angeles – Known for its beachside bohemia, beat poets, and early rock experiments.
Haight-Ashbury, San Francisco – The epicenter of the Summer of Love, 1967. Here, psychedelic music, flower crowns, and anti-war sentiment all came together under one hazy sky.

📺 Watch: Scott McKenzie – “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)”

🎶 Beatniks vs. Hippies: Not the Same, But on the Same Path

Beatniks questioned society quietly.
Hippies shouted their discontent with flower power and amplifiers.

The Beats laid the philosophical foundation; the Hippies added color, chaos, and a killer soundtrack.

Together, they helped fuel a cultural revolution—one that still influences art, music, politics, and fashion today.

🎸 Final Thought: More Than Just Dirty Hair and Bongo Drums

Sure, some of them could’ve used a shower. But the counterculture wasn’t about hygiene—it was about freedom, expression, and resistance.

From smoky poetry readings to open-air festivals with walls of sound, both Beatniks and Hippies played their part in shaping the Golden Age of Rock. And if that meant wearing a beret or growing your hair past your shoulders?

Well, that was just part of being cool, man.

American Bandstand

August 30, 2014ShowsOld Rocker

🎶 American Bandstand: The Dance Floor That Rocked America

Before YouTube, TikTok, or even MTV, there was American Bandstand—the teen dance show that brought rock and roll into American living rooms, one twist and one pompadour at a time.

Running for over three decades, Bandstand became one of the most iconic music programs in television history. And at the center of it all? Dick Clark, a man so squeaky clean he made rock and roll look downright respectable.

📺 The Early Days: From Bob Horn to Dick Clark

American Bandstand didn’t start as a national sensation—it began as a local show in Philadelphia in 1952, originally called Bob Horn’s Bandstand. Hosted by (you guessed it) Bob Horn, the show featured local teens dancing to the day’s hottest tunes.

But in July 1956, Horn’s career came to a screeching halt after a drunk driving conviction, and the show needed a new face. Enter Dick Clark—a young, polished radio personality with great hair, a steady hand, and a clear vision.

Clark took over hosting duties, and the very next year, ABC picked up the show for national syndication, giving it a new name: American Bandstand. The rest, as they say, is history.

🕺 Dancing, Ratings, and Clean-Cut Cool

From its national debut in August 1957, American Bandstand quickly became a cultural force. It aired daily at first, then switched to weekly broadcasts in 1963, continuing all the way until 1989.

But this wasn’t a rowdy rock circus. Bandstand offered a vision of rock and roll with its shirt tucked in:

No profanity
No wild antics
No wardrobe malfunctions
Just kids in smart clothes doing the latest dances on polished floors

Each show typically featured:

A live performance by a major act or hot up-and-comer
A “Rate-a-Record” segment where teens scored new songs
A studio audience of dancers who stole the spotlight week after week

Dancing on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand

The dancers weren’t paid. They were just regular local teens from Philly (and later LA), but they were trendsetters. They knew the Twist, the Stroll, the Mashed Potato, and more. And let’s be honest—they probably made up a few steps of their own.

🎤 Where Stars Were Born

If you were a new artist in the ’50s, ’60s, or ’70s, getting on American Bandstand was like winning the lottery. One performance could send your record soaring up the charts.

Everyone from Elvis Presley to The Jackson 5, from Madonna to Prince, made their mark on the Bandstand stage.

Even more important, Bandstand was one of the first national shows to regularly feature Black performers—and to show Black and white teens dancing together on the same stage. That might not sound radical now, but in 1957, it absolutely was.

⚖️ The Payola Scare: Dick Clark Under the Microscope

As the host of the most influential music show in the country, Dick Clark held serious power. A song featured on Bandstand could go from unknown to hit in a week.

This caught the attention of the U.S. Senate Subcommittee on Payola, which launched a sweeping investigation into DJs and producers accepting money or favors in exchange for airplay.

Clark, it turned out, had investments in several small music publishing companies—companies whose songs got a lot of screen time on his show. Suspicious? Maybe. Illegal? Apparently not.

The Senate found no criminal wrongdoing, but ABC wasn’t comfortable with the optics. They made Clark divest all his music-related holdings to stay on the air. He did. And his reputation survived intact.

🏁 The End of an Era (But Not the Legacy)

American Bandstand finally went off the air in 1989, marking the end of a 32-year run that shaped the face of youth culture and music television.

By then, MTV had taken over, and kids were watching music videos instead of live dance floors. But the blueprint for modern music shows? That was pure Bandstand.

From its pioneering integration of artists and audiences to its unmatched catalog of performances, American Bandstandwasn’t just a TV show—it was a cultural institution.

And through it all, Dick Clark remained the “World’s Oldest Teenager,” proving that even in the rebellious world of rock, a little polish could still go a long way.

🎶 Final Thought

Whether you tuned in for the music, the dancing, or just to see what people were wearing, American Bandstand was the place where music met movement—and where generations of teens saw themselves reflected on screen.

And let’s face it: without Bandstand, we probably wouldn’t have Soul Train, TRL, or even Dancing with the Stars.

Long live the beat.

The Newport Folk Festival

August 30, 2014ShowsOld Rocker

The Newport Folk Festival started in 1959 as a spinoff of the Newport Jazz Festival, a long running fixture at Newport Rhode Island. There are 4 stages at Fort Adams State Park with the seating area ovelooking the water and Jamestown Bridge. It’s a beautiful place for a concert.

The Festival has a history of introducing new artists and launching careers. Bob Gibson introduced then-unknown Joan Baez in 1959. Baez in turn introduced then-unknown Bob Dylan at the 1963 festival. Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Johnny Cash (who later introduced Kris Kristofferson in 1969), and many others also got their first big exposure at Newport.

It was the 1965 Newport Folk Festival that will be remembered as the day of change or maybe the beginning of the end for Folk Music. Bob Dylan was by then the one of the biggest folk stars and a Festival headliner. On July 25th Bob Dylan performed 3 of his hit traditional folk songs with acoustic instruments. Then he strapped on a Fender Stratocaster and ripped through a high energy set of electric amplified rock accompanied by Mike Bloomfield and the Paul Butterfield Blues Band.

Dylan played 3 electric numbers, “Maggie’s Farm”, “Like a Rolling Stone”, and “Phantom Engineer”. The folk crowd was shocked and the boos may have outnumbered the cheers, but all together they were reported to be louder than the sound of the electric guitars. Dylan left the stage for a while and later came back to perform a few more acoustic numbers.

It was later debated whether the boos were from the shock of electric at the traditional acoustic festival, or that the quality of the electric sound was lousy. Others believe that it was because Dylan was held to a tight time allotment and they wanted more.

Whatever the reason, it was a watershed moment in the evolution of rock. Dylan got a similar reaction at his next concert at at Forest Hills Stadium. The crowd was split, half loved it, half wanted the old Bob Dylan back. They weren’t going to get him back.

As a side note, in 2005 The Pixies, a heavy duty alternative rock band best known for punk rock, played an acoustic set at Newport. Sort of like a reverse Dylan.

The Newport Folk Festival is still running. The format has changed a few times, but every summer, the world’s greatest folk artists meet, play, introduce new artistst and show off new works at Newport.

The Moondog Coronation Ball

August 30, 2014ShowsOld Rocker

🎉 The Moondog Coronation Ball: Rock and Roll’s Very First Night

Moondog Coronation Ball poster — Moondog Coronation Ball poste

It’s always tough to pinpoint the exact birth of a cultural movement—but for rock and roll, we’ve got a pretty good guess:
March 21, 1952.
That’s the night of the Moondog Coronation Ball in Cleveland, Ohio—a wild, overcrowded, one-song concert that’s widely regarded as the first rock and roll show ever held.

Sure, the music itself wasn’t brand new. It had been thriving in Black communities for years under the name rhythm and blues. But what was new was the name, the packaging, and the man helping bring it to the mainstream: Alan Freed.

🎙️ Alan Freed: The DJ Who Named the Sound

Alan Freed was a radio DJ who had recently started calling this electrifying blend of blues, boogie, and backbeat “rock and roll” on his show, Moondog’s Rock ’n’ Roll Party. The name stuck. So did his on-air persona, “Moondog.”

Local promoter Lew Pratt knew Freed had a growing teenage fanbase, so he tapped him to help publicize a live concert featuring some of the top rhythm and blues performers of the day. The event? The Moondog Coronation Ball.

The “coronation” turned out to be for Freed himself—because that chaotic, unforgettable night cemented his reputation as the genre’s unofficial “King of Rock and Roll.”

🎫 Sold Out… and Then Some

Freed’s radio station and sponsors helped promote the show, and 7,000 tickets for the Cleveland Arena went fast. The top price? A mere $1.75. That’s cheaper than your favorite coffee today.

When that batch sold out, another 2,000 tickets were printed—and those vanished just as quickly. Then came the kicker: counterfeit tickets started showing up. Nobody knows how many were in circulation, but the crowd that showed up that night far exceeded capacity.

🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️ Lines Around the Block

As the sun set and the showtime approached, people packed the sidewalks, wrapped around the arena in anticipation. Inside, the place was standing-room only. And outside? Still more trying to squeeze in.

The audience was racially mixed—about two-thirds white, one-third Black—which was almost unheard of at the time. For many, it was their first experience seeing and hearing rhythm and blues music live.

Then the music started.

🎷 One Song… and Chaos

First on stage was Paul “Hucklebuck” Williams, an R&B saxophonist famous for getting crowds on their feet. And he did—almost too well. The energy inside reached a boiling point. Fights broke out. The crowd surged toward the stage.

After one song, the Cleveland Fire Marshals shut the show down due to overcrowding and safety concerns.

Backstage, performers like The Dominoes, Tiny Grimes and the Rockin’ Highlanders, Danny Cobb, and Varietta Dillard never got the chance to perform. Just one song, and it was all over.

📺 Watch: Paul Williams – “The Hucklebuck” (1950)

📻 The Day After: A DJ’s Redemption

The next day, a worried Alan Freed went on the air. He apologized to his listeners, explaining that he was only the emcee, not the promoter, and that he hadn’t anticipated the crowd explosion. He also said he feared he might be arrested.

Then he did something bold: he asked his fans to call the station in support.

They did. In droves.

Instead of facing charges, Freed became a bigger name than ever. The station didn’t punish him—they gave him more airtime. And just like that, the DJ who named the music became its most famous voice.

🎸 The Night That Changed Everything

Crowd outside the Moondog Coronation Ball

The Moondog Coronation Ball may have lasted just one song, but it signaled the arrival of something huge. A genre. A generation. A movement.

It blended audiences, broke norms, and blew the doors open—literally and figuratively—for what would become rock and roll’s golden age.

And while most concerts aim for three encores and a satisfied crowd, the very first rock concert went out with a bang after just one tune.
Because if rock and roll taught us anything, it’s that sometimes one song is all you need.

Alan Freed – The Father of Rock and Roll

August 30, 2014Music BizOld Rocker

🎙️ Alan Freed: The Man Who Gave Rock and Roll Its Name (and Its First Party)

When we talk about the birth of Rock and Roll, most people name-check Elvis, Chuck Berry, or Little Richard—and rightfully so. But behind the scenes, spinning the records and packing the dance floors, was a man who didn’t sing a note but still helped launch a musical revolution: Alan Freed.

You could say Alan Freed was rock’s ultimate hype man—a disc jockey, promoter, and music evangelist who believed in the power of rhythm and blues to bring people together. And while he didn’t invent the music, he gave it a name, a platform, and—crucially—an audience that crossed racial lines in an era when America was still deeply segregated.

📻 From Cleveland With Rhythm: The Birth of “The Moondog”

In the early 1950s, Freed was working at WJW in Cleveland, where he launched a late-night radio show under the name “Moondog” (yes, like the eccentric Viking street performer from New York—long story).

But here’s the twist: instead of spinning the usual crooner tunes or pop standards, Freed played African-American rhythm and blues records—music that mainstream (read: white) stations usually ignored. And he didn’t just play it, he sold it. Loudly.

“Here’s a new kind of music,” he’d say. “We call it… rock and roll.”

He wasn’t the first to use the phrase (it had been floating around in R&B lyrics since the ’30s), but Freed popularized it—and, more importantly, rebranded R&B for a mass audience, giving it a name that felt exciting, edgy, and just a little dangerous.

🎉 The Moondog Coronation Ball: Rock’s First Party (Sort Of)

On March 21, 1952, Freed threw what’s now considered the first rock and roll concert: The Moondog Coronation Ball. It was held at the Cleveland Arena and was supposed to host around 10,000 fans. More than 20,000 showed up.

The result? Absolute chaos. People climbed through windows, security was overwhelmed, and the fire department shut the whole thing down halfway through the first act.

But even though it was a logistical disaster, it was a cultural milestone. For the first time, a racially mixed audience had gathered to dance to music that wasn’t labeled “race records”—and that was revolutionary.

📺 Watch: Alan Freed introduces R&B in the film Rock, Rock, Rock! (1956)

📦 Coast to Coast, and Across the Atlantic

Freed’s radio success in Cleveland took him to New York City, where he transformed WINS 1010 AM into a rock and roll powerhouse. His late-night shows blasted across the Eastern Seaboard, pulling in legions of teenage fans and sending record sales through the roof.

He even started recording programs for Radio Luxembourg, whose reach extended into Eastern Europe. Imagine a young John Lennon in Liverpool, hunched over a crackly radio, soaking in the sound of American rock by way of a guy in New York. That’s musical globalization before it had a name.

🎬 Lights, Camera, Rock!

Freed didn’t stop at radio. In the mid-1950s, he jumped into the movies, starring as himself in a series of rock-themed films like:

🎞️ Rock Around the Clock (1956)
🎞️ Rock, Rock, Rock! (1956)
🎞️ Mr. Rock and Roll (1957)

These movies featured artists like Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and The Platters, introducing their music to white teen audiences across America.

📺 Watch: Chuck Berry performs “You Can’t Catch Me” in Rock, Rock, Rock!

He even hosted “The Big Beat” on ABC—the first national TV show dedicated to rock and roll. But when African-American singer Frankie Lymon danced with a white girl on screen, the backlash was swift, and the show was cancelled. Welcome to 1950s America.

💸 Payola: The Party Ends

Just when it seemed like Alan Freed had brought rock to the mountaintop, the storm clouds rolled in. In the late ’50s, the Payola Scandal hit the music industry like a thunderclap. DJs across the country were investigated for allegedly taking money or gifts to play certain records.

Freed wasn’t the only one caught up in the mess—but he became one of the most high-profile casualties. He was accused not only of taking bribes but also of claiming songwriting credits on records he didn’t write in order to earn royalties. One notable example? Chuck Berry’s “Maybellene.”

📺 Chuck Berry – “Maybellene” (Live)

Freed eventually pleaded guilty to commercial bribery, received a fine and a suspended sentence—but the damage was done. Major stations dropped him, concert promoters backed away, and Freed’s career never fully recovered.

💔 The Final Chapter

Alan Freed died in 1965 at just 43 years old—his name still under a cloud, his contributions to music not yet fully appreciated. But time has a funny way of setting the record straight.

In 1978, the film American Hot Wax told a fictionalized version of Freed’s story, capturing the wild energy of those early days.

In 1986, Freed was part of the very first class inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame—which, fittingly, was built in Cleveland. He was later honored by the Radio Hall of Fame and the Rockabilly Hall of Fame as well.

🏆 Alan Freed’s Legacy

Alan Freed didn’t write songs or front a band, but he helped build the stage they all stood on. He was a passionate promoter of integration through music, a believer in the power of rhythm and rebellion, and a key figure in launching rock and roll from its R&B roots to global superstardom.

He may not have had a guitar, but Freed helped tune the world in.

Arnie “Woo Woo” Ginsburg

August 30, 2014Music BizOld Rocker

Gather ’round everybody, for you’re about to hear,
The show that’s gonna make you, grin from ear to ear,
It’s Arnie Ginsberg, on the Night Train Show.
He plays the old and new, the swinging and the blue,
He plays all the records, especially for you,
It’s Arnie Ginsberg, on the Night Train Show

Hey, Arnie Woo Woo Ginsburg was good, he wasn’t a great up in the same class as some of the others here, but he was my disk jockey growing up in greater Boston. Every major market had a DJ like Arnie, he was hyper, fast talking, and knew his music inside and out.
Every night, we’d crank up WMEX on our radio tubes and listen to his bells, horns, whistles, and “Adventure Car Hop is the place to go for food that’s really great”….and if you said “Woo Woo” when you ordered, you’d get 2 burgers for the price of one!

Mixed in with his chatter was top 20 music, and if you wanted in on the buzz the next day, you had to listen to Arnie at night.

Murray the K

August 30, 2014Music BizOld Rocker

Murray the K worked as a promoter and producer through the 50’s, but he caught his big break in 1958 when he signed on with WINS in New York to do the all-night show. This was just as WINS’s star disk jockey, Alan Freed, was indicted for tax evasion and forced off the air. Freed’s spot was briefly occupied by Cousin Bruce, Bruce Morrow, but Murray was quickly moved into the time period and remained there for the next seven years.

When he left WINS, his next stop was at WOR-FM where. As program director and primetime evening DJ, he created the first FM rock station, setting the pattern for countless other stations that followed, including WNEW-FM and WCBS-FM.

Kaufman reached his peak of popularity in the mid 60s when, as the top-rated radio host in America’s largest market, he became an early supporter of The Beatles. Later, Murray was referred to as the “Fifth Beatle,” by George Harrison during a train ride from New York to the Beatles’ first U.S. concert in Washington, D. C. Their friendship was renewed when they came to NYC in February, 1964 and met again. He was invited to the set of A Hard Day’s Night in England and made several treks to England during 1964, giving WINS listeners more Beatle exclusives.

Following Alan Freed’s lead, Murray produced several concerts each year. Those shows featured the top performers of the era and introduced new acts, such as Dionne Warwick, Wayne Newton, Bobby Vinton (who was the leader of the house band when he asked for a chance to perform as a singer), The Lovin’ Spoonful, Cream, and The Who. Murray the K left WINS in the mid-60s when they switched formats, and worked at stations in Toronto and Washington D.C. before returning to New York to team with Don Imus and Wolfman Jack on WNBC.

Don Steele

August 30, 2014Music BizOld Rocker

Don Steele, often promoted as “The Real Don Steele” to distinguish himself from another DJ with the same name, was one of the most popular disc jockeys in the United States, from the mid 60s until his retirement in the 90s.
Steele first fame came as a DJ on Los Angeles radio station KHJ with the “top-40 Boss Radio format” in the 60s. He also appeared on TV in his own programs called Boss City and The Real Don Steele TV Show, a show which ran from 1965 to 1975 on KHJ-TV channel 9 in Los Angeles. When FM stereo radio gained popularity in the 1970s, Steele made the switch and continued his popularity.
In a 1995 interview, his description of Boss Radio was, “Look, you take the Motown sound and the British Invasion and you throw in Elvis and Roy Orbison, and you have a music mix that’s hard to beat at any time or any place”.

Wolfman Jack

August 30, 2014Music BizOld Rocker

🎙️ Wolfman Jack: The Howlin’ Voice of Rock and Roll

In the golden age of rock and roll, there were plenty of legends with guitars and microphones—but none quite like the man behind the radio mic, growling through the static with a voice like gravel wrapped in velvet: Wolfman Jack.

He wasn’t just a DJ. He was a myth with a mixing board, a howlin’ high priest of the teenage airwaves. With his raspy laugh, manic energy, and deep love of the music, Wolfman didn’t just spin records—he spun magic.

🐺 Meet the Wolfman

Born Robert Weston Smith in 1938 in Brooklyn, New York, he had a pretty typical upbringing for a kid of the era. But inside that quiet boy was a wild streak—and a dream. From the first time he heard a blues record crackle through a radio speaker, he was hooked.

Like many teens of the 1950s, Smith was mesmerized by rhythm and blues, and he quickly gravitated toward radio personalities who sounded larger than life. He eventually enrolled in broadcasting school, landed a few early gigs, and then rebranded himself with a persona that was part voodoo shaman, part rock and roll ringmaster.

Thus, Wolfman Jack was born.

📡 Border Blaster Legend

Wolfman Jack found fame on the “border blaster” stations—powerful AM radio towers located just across the Mexican border. These stations weren’t bound by U.S. regulations, which meant they could crank the signal to 250,000 watts or more, enough to bounce his howl all across North America.

Late at night, kids from Kansas to Canada would huddle next to their radios, spinning the dial until they landed on that unmistakable voice. The Wolfman would growl, howl, cackle, and preach the gospel of rock, R&B, doo-wop, and soul.

He played artists most stations ignored—black musicians, regional acts, deep-cut B-sides—and he made them sound like the coolest thing on Earth. And he didn’t stop at music. His shows were part circus, part sermon, part comedy routine, and all rebellion.

🎧 “This is the Wolfman comin’ at ya, baby! Diggin’ deep in the vault to spin somethin’ you ain’t heard but you’ll never forget!”

🎥 American Graffiti & Mainstream Fame

In 1973, Wolfman Jack made the leap from radio hero to big screen icon in George Lucas’s American Graffiti. Playing a fictionalized version of himself, he became the voice of the night, guiding the characters—and the audience—through one unforgettable evening of youth, romance, and rock and roll.

Suddenly, everyone knew what teens in the know already did: Wolfman Jack wasn’t just a DJ. He was a symbol. He represented the freedom of the night, the thrill of discovery, and the bond between a generation and its music.

After American Graffiti, he appeared on TV, co-hosted music countdown shows, and even showed up on The Midnight Special. But no matter the screen, it was always the voice that stole the show.

🔊 More Than Just a Howl

What made Wolfman Jack different wasn’t just the theatrics (though they were spectacular). It was his heart. He loved the music. He respected the artists. He wasn’t afraid to cross the color line during a time when many broadcasters still did.

He helped introduce white audiences to black music. He played gospel cuts next to garage rock and treated every artist—from James Brown to The Beach Boys—as worthy of the same enthusiasm. He was the connective tissue between scenes, sounds, and people.

🎶 Lasting Legacy

Wolfman Jack passed away in 1995, but his legend never stopped howling. He’s been inducted into multiple halls of fame, and his recordings still circulate among collectors and fans. His voice is sampled, mimicked, and remembered in songs, films, and TV shows.

And every time you hear a gravel-voiced DJ with a little extra personality, you’re hearing an echo of the Wolfman.

🐾 Final Howl

Wolfman Jack wasn’t just part of the Golden Age of Rock—he helped create it. He was the underground railroad of rhythm, the howling heartbeat of a restless generation, and the man who turned radio into an instrument of rebellion, joy, and connection.

So next time you’re out late, windows down, radio on, and the perfect song hits just right—give a little growl. Somewhere, the Wolfman is smiling.

🎙️ “Goodnight baby… and don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

Scandal – Payola

August 30, 2014Music BizOld Rocker

Payola wasn’t new to the music industry when Rock and Roll arrived. Several factors seemed to come together at the same time, leading to a blowup that radically changed the course of Rock and Roll.

The term Payola is a contraction of the words pay and Victrola, a popular brand of record player. Sometimes called Pay To Play It’s the illegal practice of record companies paying money for the playing of records. This made a record appear more popular that it might have been, giving the artist more exposure, a better rating on the charts, and influencing other radio stations that might be on the lookout for the next hot record. It’s not as common or outright now as it was in the past, or maybe it’s just hidden better. The law prevents record companies from paying directly, but still allows payments through intermediaries.

At most radio stations now, a music director or manager selects the songs to be played and, frequently, the order and time where they will be played. It was mentioned earlier that the Payola scandal arose due to several factors that came together at the same time. Consider these cultural changes:
Rock was new, popular with the kids, and generally disliked by their parents.
The two large music licensing companies, ASCAP and BMI were at odds. They were always competitive, but ASCAP had a slow start in the Rock and Roll business and possibly saw a way to get even with rival BMI. One can only guess that they saw Rock and Roll as a passing fad!
Technology was giving power to the independent radio stations. Radio was previously confined to the home where family standards controlled the dial. Introduction of personal radios, clock radios, and the portable transistor radio gave teens their own dial to control.
By the late 50s, the post-war baby boomers were a sizeable economic force, and advertisers found that Top 40 radio was a good way to target them, leading to a boom in independent stations.

The inexpensive, newly introduced 45 rpm single allowed teens to purchase popular hits on a limited budget. Also, consider that the Payola scandal came along at a time that elected officials were just learning how to get free publicity from holding high profile hearings. This was the time of the McCarthy Hearings, and the Payola inquiries were carried out by the same commission that was working on the television game show investigations.

The Payola Congressional Hearings

Twenty-five witnesses were called, the most famous being Alan Freed and Dick Clark, and the list included other notables such as Les Paul, Bobby Darin, and Murray the K. Ironically, at the time, Payola wasn’t actually against the law, although Alan Freed was eventually convicted on 2 counts of commercial bribery.

Much has been written about the difference between Freed and Clark. Alan Freed resisted testifying on principle, claiming that he never played a record he didn’t actually consider worthwhile, no matter what was given to him. His attitude didn’t play well with the industry, and he was essentially blackballed, ending his DJ career. Freed died a few years later, broke, alcoholic, and depressed in 1965.

Dick Clark, on the other hand, testified freely and even brought a statistician with him to prove that payola had not affected the sales of records with which he was affiliated. He had sold his music related interests before the hearings.

His testimony included “I have not done anything that I think I should be ashamed of or that is illegal or immoral,” Mr. Clark said, “and I hope to eventually convince you of this. I believe in my heart that I have never taken payola”. At another point in the hearing, Representative Steven B. Derounian quipped “You say you did not get any payola, but you got an awful lot of royola”.

Others caught in the fray include Les Paul and Bobby Darin, both charged with paying to perform on Freed’s ABC television show, and DJs Joe Niagara (WIBG, Philadelphia), Tom Clay (WJBK, Detroit), Murray “The K” Kaufman (WINS, New York), Arnie “Woo Woo Ginsberg WMEX, Boston), and Stan Richards (WILD, Boston).