WLS...An Old Friend Remembered...

Growing up, we all have dreams. Maybe it's being a pro athlete. Maybe it's following in the footsteps of a parent or another relative. It's why we sometimes see a family filled with police officers. Or firemen. Or generations of Military Service. Maybe you have an aptitude for math, although I don't recall anyone I knew wanting to grow up and create insurance actuarial tables. One of my classmates wanted to be a rock star. And he made it. Others became teachers, band or choir directors. Many served their country proudly. A few chose a life of crime or came to sad endings. One of my kids always liked "twisting" hair. And she has become a successful hair stylist and makeup artist. Another planned for a profession in the medical field. And now she's home with three kids and makes quilts, and I'm sure there are plenty of ouches and boo-boos to tend to and band-aid.

I was raised by an educator and an office worker. Our situation was humble, but we never went without. Well, except for that Honda motorcycle I always wanted. And still do. We had a small AM radio, no big stereos. In fact, FM had been around for a while before we got an FM radio. No large collection of record albums. Mom and dad just didn't make that a priority. Although we did have music, and thankfully, my older sister loved listening to the radio. We would often get together with my cousins at my grandmother's house, load up way too many kids in the porch swing. and sing. We downloaded music differently in those days. We'd sit by the radio with our cassette player/recorder, waiting for our favorite song, and rush to push "Play" and "Record" at the same time, and pray the DJ didn't screw up the recording by what I later in life learned was "stepping" on the lyrics. One year for Christmas we got an Admiral AM/FM/Cassette recorder. Portable. Used 2 or 3 "C" batteries. Really changed the quality of our "download". And we had options. Instead of recording our newest favorite song, we could head down to White's Auto. They had records you could listen to before you put down your .39¢ or .49¢. for the latest and greatest single. You remember 45s.

Somewhere along the way, I decided I wanted to be a DJ. We had our local radio stations, KIMP 960 AM and KPXI FM. Seems I barely remember that KPXI was originally KIMP FM. Maybe not. It was small town Texas radio, and since we initially didn't have an FM radio, KIMP was our local choice. Now, it may have been primarily a country & western station in those days, but you could hear Donny Osmond, Edwin Starr, The Supremes and many other pop artists of the day. We were lucky to also be able to hear WFAA and KLIF out of Dallas. And as cool as Dallas radio was (Gordon McLendon of KLIF is recognized for perfecting "Top 40" radio format, which introduced legions of teenagers to the latest hits), the night time brought in other options. WNOE out of New Orleans. WOAI from San Antonia. KOMA out of Oklahoma City. And what I then, and, still, regard as the "Holy Grail" of radio, WLS, Chicago.  When you grow up in small town Texas, a moderate size town or city is interesting. But this was coming from Chicago. I'd only seen pictures. The music. The voices. Commercials for places you could never visit. All pumped out by a 50,000 watt AM "flame thrower" radio station. The announces didn't have accents like our local guys did. And they used a little reverb for effect. I was hooked. I had found my dream. My chosen profession had been discovered. I wanted to spin records and have fun. Play music and get paid! How can that be bad? Those guys were amazing. Steve Dahl. John Records ("Yes, Records truly is my middle name") Landecker. Larry Lujack, Phil Duncan. WLS Music Radio. The Big 89. And WLS was rockin'. Until it wasn't. WLS Music Radio was the ultimate Top 40 station, but it's demise was already being planned.

In 1986, WLS Music Radio would cease to exist. It would be a great ending to the story if there had been a week or two of buildup, "Hey, things are gonna be changing", whatever. But as happens so often in the radio world, or used to, it was abrupt. Without warning. And so secretive. Phil Duncan was on the air. And while playing his next to last song for the evening, he got the word. One more song and WLS Music Radio would cease to exist. Gone. Finished. Kaput. No big goodbyes. No planned exit strategy. Just one last song, a newscast, and then on to... talk radio.

Below is a link to the final words ever spoken on WLS Music Radio. And a very brief explanation of how things went down that night. Click the link, read the short story, and play the short audio clip. WLS made a difference for me. Maybe it did for you, too. Or you have your own "WLS" station.

In life, things change. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes not. But you can't hold onto a memory. Or, maybe that's all you can hold on to.

The End of WLS Music Radio