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Forks in the Road: Chapter 10 IN THE CLEAR BY THE FIRST OF THE YEAR The title of this chapter comes from a family slogan. Just about every year from our 1947 marriage to our Lubbock move in 1963, we had dreamed of catching up financially to where we truly would be “in the clear by the first of the year”. Every time we approached that goal, another baby or another job change would come along. And, of course, it would always be difficult for any family to be in the black on January 1 if they indulged themselves in grand Christmases such as was always the case with the Windsors.
The group of stations had been purchased, a year or so before my advent, by a company called Grayson Enterprises, Inc. Sid Grayson was an aggressive manager from Wichita Falls who talked himself into an equity position when he lined up the major financing for the Lubbock acquisitions. That money came from the principals of Lee Optical Company, a large regional firm operating hundreds of optical shops throughout the Southwest. To be specific, the investment was placed in the name of the Lee Optical Company Pension Plan and Trust, of which Theodore Shanbaum and Dr. Ellis Carp, the heads of the company, were the trustees. There was soon a falling-out between manager Grayson and his backers, and Grayson got into some trouble which ended up in his incarceration. Shanbaum and Carp needed another manager to head up the group. They knew the situation called for a knowledgeable broadcast executive, and somebody with a squeaky clean image. I seemed to fill the bill. We sat in their office in Dallas as they told me they knew nothing about broadcasting, that I would be their expert, and I would run the show. They laid out a plan of compensation that assured me of a salary considerably greater than I had “enjoyed” in Shreveport, with a big bonus waiting at the end of the year if a specific goal was met. The combination would total $50,000 or more if the goal was met and the bonus earned. I was named Executive Vice-President and General Manager of the group. And a handsome company Cadillac was turned over to me. They gave me very little advice. For one thing, they disapproved of Grayson having womanized to the extent that there was a secretary in the station making double what the other secretaries were paid. I was instructed to fire her, and to observe an old Jewish proverb that they quoted to me, which, in somewhat more delicate words, translates to “Don’t have a bowel movement where you eat.” They were very high on the fellow who had been Grayson’s sales manager and was now acting general manager, Stuart Klein. Trouble is, they had led Klein to believe he would get the permanent job, then neglected to let him in on my hiring. Thus began the key negative in what in many ways was a very affirmative experience in West Texas.
The home we bought in Lubbock was in a “condominium” arrangement, the first time I had become aware of the word. But, unlike today’s use of the term, Haversham consisted of a square block of large homes, with the core of the block containing a clubhouse, pool and other amenities that were shared by the residents of the houses. The central area was surrounded by a tall wood fence; each lot had its own gate with egress into a grassy walkway that took you to the recreation area. It was a wonderful arrangement; the neighbors were good folks, and Mary and the kids loved and thoroughly enjoyed it. The increased income and enhanced lifestyle combined to make our lives very pleasant. I tried to keep from them the fact that, underneath it all, there were underlying problems with the business that were most difficult for me. I found that Klein’s success with sales was chiefly the result of over-commercialization of KLBK-TV, the main property. Abilene and Big Spring were in reality satellites of Lubbock, although they did some local programming and sales. The radio stations were marginal at best. But the billings, and therefore the profits, of KLBK-TV were immense. And I was expected to improve them! The station was affiliated with both CBS and ABC, there being only two stations in the market at the time, ours and KCBD, the NBC affiliate. There was a funny coincidence with regard to my competitor. While at Shreveport, I had formed a great relationship with our outstanding national sales representative firm, Blair TV, and with its executives such as Harry Smart, Steve Beard, and H. Maier. Blair wanted to sign KCBD and recruited me to use some persuasion on Joe Bryant, the head of KCBD, who had become a friend of mine through industry activities. I did so, and Blair got the contract. Just in time for me to move to Lubbock, lose the Blair representation, and have to compete against it. I was mighty happy when I was reunited with Blair, after leaving Lubbock, for the rest of my career. As a result of our dual affiliation, it was possible to juggle programs around by utilizing film and tape so as to have the strongest possible schedule. But the Grayson-Klein formula called for extended commercial breaks between programs. Where there was normally a thirty second break between shows, KLBK took two minutes or more. The net result each night was that the 10 o’clock news came on at about 10:20. There was also some clipping of network credits and promotional material at the end of programs to open up still more commercial time. And a pet sales trick was to oversell a highly-rated break to proportions roughly double, then report “technical difficulty” or other excuse for missing the spots that failed to run, arranging “make-goods” at other less saleable times. My natural inclination was to clean this mess up and operate with total integrity and legitimacy; but how was I to do that and maintain an earnings improvement to justify my compensation? Even aside from basic honesty, there were the prospects of (a) the network catching on to the clipping and misscheduling; (b) the FCC learning of the other misdeeds; and (c) a third station coming on the air in the market to affiliate with ABC and leave us with just one network and the inability to perpetuate our bizarre sales practices. I was in a quandary. The first year I made the goal and earned the fat bonus. We were, at last, in the clear by the first of the year. But the price to my self-esteem was steep indeed. Couple that with the fact that Shanbaum and Carp, having been invited by the networks to sit in on the annual affiliate gatherings, became overnight experts in television. They intruded themselves in most every phase of operation until I became a virtual puppet on a string who couldn’t make the tiniest decision without approval from Dallas. They never provided me with financial statements; much like Hussman, they told me to keep the sales up and the rest was their business, which eventually meant that I couldn’t give a woman in the office a nickel an hour raise without submitting it in advance to Dallas for approval.
I obtained some relief from the pressure by becoming involved with the Lubbock Theater Center, where I performed in some shows and eventually became president of the organization. When I appeared in Anniversary Waltz, the script called for my character to kick in a TV screen, not once but twice, which was the source of considerable jocularity as well as publicity. I was also required to kiss the leading lady soundly. Mary was in the audience, seated near the pastor of our church. He reported that, after a few seconds of osculation, she whispered under her breath: “That’s enough!” I also played roles in Stalag 17 and See How They Run. I had a truly grand office at KLBK. It was L-shaped, with a reception area at one end, a conference room at the other. At the juncture was a huge desk. There was a private restroom and a private dining room for entertaining customers and guests. The office was created for Dub Rogers, and one of my first ideas was to partition it off and make better use of the surplus space, but Dallas disapproved. On November 22, 1963, I was seated at my desk working; the TV monitor was on CBS and the program was interrupted for the news that John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. The next several days were painful and memorable for all of us as we watched the drama unfold through Kennedy’s death, Johnson’s inauguration, Oswald’s arrest, Ruby’s shooting of Oswald, the Kennedy burial. Whenever I think back to the days in Lubbock, this brief period somehow always is the principal memory.
Living in Lubbock was considerably enhanced by the presence of Texas Tech University. The access to major college sports events and various cultural attractions was enriching, and it was not too difficult to overlook the fact that the “high plains” had nary a hill for miles around. The altitude made for a pleasant climate, of which the only really bad feature was the occasional sandstorm. The windows of our house were caulked shut so the dust could not get in. We enjoyed visits from the family and various friends. One Christmas we had the whole brood from Danville plus Hazel and Pat and their family from California. I hired Ralph to manage the radio operation. On the surface, all was well. We enjoyed having the Burgess family with us, both professionally and socially. On one occasion when Mary and I had the opportunity to enjoy one of the annual ABC-TV meetings in California, Ralph and Frances made it possible by staying at our home and looking after the Windsor kids. They found out how much advantage had been taken of Mary’s generous food policies. Every time Frances finished cleaning up the kitchen, the boys got hungry again. Finally she hung out a sign - KITCHEN CLOSED. When the Texas Tech football team won a trip to the Gator Bowl at the end of the 1966 season, it appeared that there would not be funds available to send the outstanding Red Raider band to the game. We conceived a Band-a-thon, which I emceed, and raised the money needed. As a result, I was invited to fly to Jacksonville on the charter plane with the band, and this was a very enjoyable experience. Our football star was Donny Anderson, who was set to sign a contract with the Green Bay Packers right after the game. I covered the signing and interviewed the new Packer. Shanbaum could be a very friendly and charming guy. He had a nice wife and family, and a huge beautiful home in Dallas, to which my family and I were invited frequently. At these times, he would seem like the most congenial employer a man could have. But he could get me on the phone the next day and read me the riot act in some of the coarsest language imaginable. Carp was a peculiar guy; his “doctor of optometry” designation was the raison d’etre for the whole operation. His main job was to periodically ride the circuit around to all the stores to check their operations. The broadcasting company was thus visited just like one of the stores. He was a married man with a family, but he also had a Mexican girlfriend, who usually joined him on these trips. The first time he brought her to KLBK, he gave all of us an insight into what kind of person he was. One of our people was showing him and the senorita through the TV station, and he explained how an audition was accomplished. “Do you suppose I could get an audition?” the girl playfully asked. “Honey,” the good doctor cut her off, “the only talent you have can’t be shown on television!” Another problem I had with Shanbaum was caused by his somehow learning that Frances Burgess’ maiden name was Windsor. They were convinced I had hired my brother-in-law, so they took a very negative attitude toward Ralph, which eventually resulted in his resigning to take a radio management job in Panama City, Florida. It finally became obvious that I wasn’t going to make any progress in the right direction as long as Klein was there. I had been forced to regard him as a sort of “sacred cow” because of the support and entree that he enjoyed in Dallas, but I fired him. I halfway expected the axe to fall on me, but it didn’t. However, Shanbaum insisted on screening my candidates for Klein’s replacement. He scared some good prospects off, and he was not enthusiastic when I eventually chose John Vera. He disapproved from the start, and, when figures started decreasing as I tried to attain legitimacy in a gradual manner, he demanded that I fire Vera and re-hire Klein, who had been with a local ad agency in the meanwhile. I refused. Late that night, anticipating a possible showdown, I went to the office, loaded some of my personal belongings in the car and took them home. The next morning during another of his telephone tirades, Shanbaum said that he knew what I had done the night before. “I have ways of knowing everything you do out there, he shouted. “I even know when you take a shit!” “Of course,” I retorted, “I have to ask your permission!” That did it. He and Carp flew in the next morning, and it was merely a formality for me to receive my walking papers. They did permit me to say it was a resignation. Klein was hired to replace me. But I was, after nearly four years, able to look myself in the mirror without flinching.
Preface |
Dedication
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