The Morning After Blues

With New Years Eve approaching, and with it the temptation to coddle the bottle, I felt it was my duty to share this music video by Dr. Steve Greenberg & Rafael (Ralph) Murciano. Doc Steve was WCIX’s health reporter – and a master of creative storytelling--so this was not your usual “don’t drink and drive” message. Nothing preachy, no stiff talking heads, none of the usual TV clichés: Steve and Ralph instead decided to drive the point home, using music. Powered by a Willie Dixon blues riff, they wrote, produced, and directed the video you are about to see.

I opted to use the off-the-air version, because it includes the intro from weathercaster-turned-newsman Bob Soper. Some people have forgotten that he spent many years at Channel 6, following his stint at WSVN Channel 7. One of my jobs around this time was to work with Soper, showing him the ins-and-outs of news writing. Soper, as you’d expect, was a quick study, and made a rather seamless transition to the anchor chair.

The Say Six! Blog wishes all of our readers a safe and happy new year. If you must drink, then follow Steve and Ralph’s advice. And be sure to check out Steve’s Gadget Nation, for a look at his successful post-news career.

Say Seven?

Talk about going from one extreme to another! Before becoming the vanguard in slash-and-trash, if-it-bleeds-it-leads TV (ahem) “journalism”, WSVN (Channel 7 in Miami) was the tortoise/caboose/horse and buggy of local TV news. It was the old-fashioned, slower-paced, no-need-to-shout voice in the Miami-Fort Lauderdale market. It was, to today’s “standards”, boring at times, but refreshing in several more important ways.

The Great Channel Swap of January 1, 1989 changed all that. With the station losing its NBC affiliation to WTVJ Channel 4 (which lost its CBS affiliation to our beloved WCIX Channel 6), long-time owner Ed Ansin had a choice: show old movies and tons of reruns, and go further back into the past… or reinvent the station as a sleazy mini-CNN, pushing the envelope at every opportunity to do so. We all know which path he chose.

Ansin had already hired general manager Joel Cheatwood a year or so earlier, so he had the right man to lead the charge. Cheatwood and news director Mark Toney turned Sally Fitz and Penny Daniels from even-keeled anchors into hyperbolic Chicken Littles; they turned the news area into the larger-than-life Newsplex; they turned every mundane police perimeter into some scary, better-lock-your-doors clarion call of doom (with Rick Sanchez proving the perfect person to spread hype and hysteria, through his amazing Crime Check segments). It was a freak show that every other news operation in town looked upon with equal amounts of scorn and envy. Scorn, because it violated every journalistic instinct. Envy, because all TV news people want to report stories that are larger-than-life… and every story that came out of the Newsplex was made to seem that way. And damn if the viewing audience didn’t eat it up. Oh my God, there’s a robber on the loose! And he’s heading this way!





(Breathless Sally and Frenetic Rick)


The videos that follow are from that moment in time before WSVN’s transition. They had started to loosen up a bit, but the Freak Show had not yet begun. Several past and future WCIX employees can be seen in this blooper reel, including Bob Soper, Jill Beach, Susan Candiotti (who didn’t even work for Channel 7!), and Mike Mason. There’s even a spoof of former Channel 6 Night Owl Movies host Big Wilson… plus then-Governor Bob Graham’s comedy debut. Don’t quit your day job, Senator! This is a rare glimpse into a time when the Three Stooges weren’t named Rick, Sally, and Penny. I hope this brings a big smile to your face.






(Look for Steve Rondinaro, Sally Fitz, Mark Wolin, Dave Willingham, Bob Soper, Bob Gilmartin, Stephanie Stahl, Steve Dawson, Denise White, Jill Beach, Wayne Fariss, Rick Sanchez, Susan Candiotti, Tom Brokaw, George Waldroup, Mike Mason, and others.)

Ham-I-Am (Sorry Scripts, Part 2)

95 percent of the folks that write for newscasts get writer’s block from time-to-time. As for the other 5 percent… well, they’re lying.

I remember being a novice producer during the ’84 political season. There I was, trying in vain to write about one of the democratic debates, without resorting to stupid clichés. Then Walter Mondale just had to do it! He had to go and parrot the catch phrase from a famous Wendy’s commercial, meaning I pretty much HAD to waste precious time on the democratic frontrunner exclaiming “Where’s the beef” . As if it wasn’t already difficult enough summing up everything in 90 seconds! So I’m sitting there trying to write the lead, trying to grab our viewers, trying not to trivialize the event while not hyping it as well. And all that could come out of me was trivia… hype… clichés. That was one of the few times I ever let anyone else write the lead to the top story. To me, that is the producer’s job. The pre-show tease, the opening headlines, and grabber lead make up the most crucial minute of the entire show, and as the captain of the ship it was my duty to keep us on a bold course. Or so I always thought.

Then came… John Hambrick.





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“Hambone” was already a star in this market, thanks to his years at WTVJ. I was a fan. Hambrick was an actor before he was a journalist, and it showed. The man could really play the camera.

John could be a joy to work with, but he could also be a royal pain in the ass. One day John let me know that when it came to him, the rules were different. “They’re paying me a lot of money,” he told me. “Not just to sit at the anchor’s desk, but to put my brand on what I do.” It made sense to me. If things went wrong, it was John that the viewers saw, not some guy (me) behind a keyboard. So John got to put his stamp on the stories that he read, and that included writing the lead to the top story in the newscast.

Most of the time, it was not a problem. John understood the importance of writing in the active tense. He understood that a lead was meant to grab and entice. He understood the importance of making our viewers care, and selling that big, big story of the day.

But sometimes, like the rest of us, John would get writer’s block. Sometimes I would have to remind him that it was 10 minutes to show time, and the lead to the top story was not yet in. Sometimes John would then sit at his typewriter, and type WHATEVER. Oh it would be active, enticing, and big, but would it be coherent? Often there was no time to proofread his leads. The bosses would say that as producer, it was my responsibility to approve every script before it aired, but we’re not talking about any old script. This is Hambone we’re talking about. So occasionally, the news open would roll, the anchors would say hello, and John would read something like this:




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Oh… my… God. A 35-second lead! “The whooshing spew of water under pressure”! The word “ostensibly”, used twice (great word, but hardly conversational). In the quest to turn an early-morning fire into poetry, we completely buried the nighttime lead: that a suspect, taken into custody, had died. If this had been a newspaper story, it would have been different. The headline would reflect the breaking development, and the talk of “flames, smoke, sirens, determined shouts above the din of engines, generators, and whooshing spew of water” would paint a vivid picture of the scene, sans pictures, which of course is the world of newspapers. But for the lead to a developing story on a major market 11PM newscast? Ostensibly, it missed the mark.

Let’s be honest. TV news has really been dumbed down in the past decade and a half. I would love to see a more intelligent, respectful-to-the-audience’s-intelligence approach. We should not be afraid to use the occasional 40-point-in-Scrabble word, but only if it’s the best available word (and never, never, at the expense of remaining conversational). It’s all about connecting. While that connection can be broken through too much dumbing down, it can also be broken by giving the impression that the words are being spoken by the great and powerful Oz. There’s a balance in there somewhere. I hope to see that day when that balance, “ostensibly”, is rediscovered.

Let's Have Fun

Are you enjoying the excerpts from our old skit reels? I know I am! There’s plenty of time for the serious stuff, and I plan to tackle more of the tough times soon. But for right now, let’s have fun!

This next clip pokes fun at four former WCIX employees, who were a big part of the station in the late 70s and early 80s. The late Ted Adams was our general manager; Barbara Smith, his assistant, turned program director; Jack Cowart was our engineering guru, and as for Juan DeLaTorre… well, let’s just say if he was a song from the ‘70s, it might have been “Take The Money and Run”. Or so the always-reliable “sources” say!

Time now to turn the floor over to the one and only Desi Doodrop, who sets the scene for this week’s video clip: “Starting in 1978 Dan Brown and Jim Hayek were occasionally (or perhaps irregularly) performing as Danny and Desi Doodrop on Duck Duck Goose, singing the blues for kids. For the Channel 6 Christmas party in 1978, they decided to sing some tunes about the people at the station. At the party the usual amazingly funny skit reel played, followed by a live Doodrop Brothers show. It was a huge crowd pleaser. Tears, laughter, standing ovations, ladies underwear, the whole bit ensued. The next day Mike Cooper asked for a repeat performance in the studio to capture it all on tape. This video lacks the amazing crowd participation, but still has a nostalgic and goofy vibe that makes it worth a view.”

Moving (And Grooving)

This is a follow-up… about a follow-up. A sequel about a sequel. In other words, the type of thing we news types love so much.

If you haven’t already read the preceding blog entry, The Boys From Brickell, please do so at this time. Also take the 1:55 it takes to watch the embedded video. Then please return to this post, which will make a lot more sense at that time.

Oh yeah, The Boys From Brickell. It was a chance to show my creative side, and to poke some well-intentioned fun at some of my bosses. It also got a good response, so for the following year’s Christmas reel (1983), a sequel was in order. Presenting The Brickell Hillbillies: K-Tel meets Weird Al meets the Clampetts at a funny-looking cement pond, in an even funnier-looking round building!

The hardest thing about producing these musical parodies was finding willing vocalists. Some guys like Jim Hayek and Tom Kounelis had played in bands, and were comfortable lending their musical talents, but for the most part I had to beg, and beg some more, to get folks to agree to sing my stupid little parodies. So for the 1983 follow-up, I decided to produce fewer actual songs, and instead enlist the help of some of our on-air “franchise” talents – guys like Big Wilson, movie reviewer Don Stotter, and Miami Dolphins kicker turned football prognosticator Garo Yepremian. All of them were kind enough to help out, as was former Channel 6 reporter Marianne Murciano. Still, it’s the musical parodies that would make or break the piece, and once again I had a chance to “sing”. Like the year before, my target was the crappy food in our lunchroom sandwich machine, lampooned this time to the tune of the Police’s recent “Every Breath You Take”. Tape editor Jorge Hernandez had the privilege of tasting one of our hideous sandwiches, and the expression you see on his face wasn’t a put on! As graphic artist Ron Laffin expressed so brilliantly in an earlier skit reel: “These sandwiches are delicious!”

This piece (and the entire 1983 Christmas reel) came at a pivotal time for WCIX. The station needed to move, and the West Kendall Homeowners’ Association was waging a battle against us. They claimed radiation from our tower would endanger people’s lives, and that we would pose a hazard to planes flying in and out of Tamiami Airport. Eventually, Channel 6 would change its plans, and choose a site a little further north, in what is now Doral. But at the time there was lots of uncertainty, and we lost a lot of really good people while our fate was in limbo. So as you watch this piece, try to put yourself in our shoes, not knowing what the future would hold. It was both an exciting and scary time. Poking fun at it relieved some of the tension, which is what our Christmas skit reels were all about.

The Brickell Hillbillies: Written and produced by Jeff Lemlich, and edited by Gary Slawitschka.

The Boys From Brickell

Nowhere was the talent of our employees more apparent than in our often vulgar, yet often poignant Christmas skit reels, which the public at large never had the privilege of seeing. If it was WCIX Channel 6's most creative product, it was also, for obvious reasons, its best-kept secret.

I was blown away by the first skit reel I saw, at our 1980 Christmas party. Whoomp, there it was: our serious and self-absorbed bosses making fun of themselves, and allowing us to make fun of THEM. Behind-the-scenes folks stepping in front of the camera, mixing comedy, music, and sardonic satire. And people who may have been underestimated, throughout the course of the year, stretching out and showing just what they’re capable of doing, given half a chance.

Caution: baseball metaphor ahead!

Let’s say you’re a catcher, and you’re trying to get your coach to give you a chance to get on the mound and pitch. But several others want to pitch as well, and nobody else wants to wear a mask and squat for nine innings. So no matter how hard you try, and no matter how well you play, your team needs you to don the “tools of ignorance”, and get out behind the plate. It’s not just your job, it’s your identity. It’s what you do, and because you’re a team player, you do it, even though you know you have a killer fastball and can do a lot, lot more to help your team win.

I was that catcher, but in my case, I was a potential producer stuck behind Chyron IV. Since I could type (call the pitches) and spell (block the plate), there were those who would have loved for me to be a lifer on that super-generating contraption. After two-and-a-half years of electronic graphics, I finally had a chance to produce something: two segments for the 1982 Christmas skit reel. It was also a chance for my videotape editor, Gary Slawitschka, to show that he had skills that had not yet been displayed. People were surprised. By the following Christmas, I was a news producer. A good thing, because the chest protector and shin guards were getting awfully heavy!

The video that follows is “The Boys From Brickell”. Some of the lines may seem outdated now, and some of the inside jokes probably won’t resonate with many. (“Tanger’d Up In Blue”, for example, spoofed General Cinema Vice President Al Tanger. Trust me, it was funny at the time.) Still, I hope you get a kick out of seeing this. I even had a chance to sing one of the songs (“Tainted Lunch”). You’ll hear Jim Hayek and Mike Medrano among the vocalists, along with the inimitable Keith Moore performing “The Theme From Taft”. Makes me want to send $11.11 to 1111 Brickell Avenue. Void where prohibited!

Toole Time (Film At Ten)

So the Hollywood Police Department says compulsive liar Ottis Toole did, in fact, kill 5-year-old Adam Walsh back in 1981. Even though Toole recanted his confession, is known to tell tall tales about his killing sprees, and even though the best evidence in the case has… ahem… disappeared, the book is closed on the case. Next!




That announcement last month reminded me of WCIX’s first live remote, and the days when the station not only had no live capabilities, but was all-film. There was no such thing as rushing a tape back to the station, cueing it, and getting it right on the air. Film had to be developed! Every other station in town had made the conversion to tape, but not Channel 6 – not until February 12, 1982, that is, when we finally left the ‘70s behind. (Channel 10, I believe, was the first to make the all-tape move. Who could forget the infamous “you don’t have to take the film and develop it” promos, back in the Ron Hunter years?)

So while everyone was putting crisp, clear pictures on the air, we had… film flutter! The young’uns in the news biz have never heard of film flutter… or super slides… or 35-millimeter key shots! And you know what? They’re lucky! We may not have been technologically advanced in those days, but we all worked very hard to try to put a decent hour-long newscast on the air. Very hard! And we had to be super-diligent. Just look at what the associate director, and the audio operator, had to deal with.

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The notations on the left side were the A-roll. On the other side was the B-roll. Somehow we had to hit the B-roll at just the right point. At 27 seconds in, the audio operator had to turn the pot up, for the sound on film (SOF), then turn the pot down, then up again. There was so much going on in this 1979 Harlan Levy reporter “wrap” (we didn’t call them “packages” back in those days. They weren’t really “packaged”, like they later were on videotape.) The associate director (usually Rod Kerrison or Bob Rossicone) really had to be on his toes.

The individual photographer/editor filled out the film cards, and their writing wasn’t always very legible. CT-SIL stood for cart (which contains the reporter track) over silent film. The audio operator had to alternate between sound on film, and the reporter’s track (on cart), which meant it was crucial to get the outcues just right. Missing it could mean a meltdown for the rest of the story, and likely an angry reporter.

This card was a little more straightforward, and easier to follow. This was a Jill Beach wrap, shot and edited by Ira Lazernik. Since Jill’s track was over silent file footage, there was no half track, and only a sound bite to worry about. There was also no reporter stand-up, leading me to believe this must have been a wire story, turned into a local wrap with nothing but a little file film and one sound bite. Instant news, quick and dirty.

Communication would have been very important with this reporter wrap. The associate director had to communicate that the audio was hot, and that there was no pad at the end of the piece. That means the director had to “punch out” of the film, the very second Harlan Levy did his sig-out. If not, the screen would go to black, and the producer (probably Don Adams) would get louder than a Potamkin car commercial. In the years to come, we would crack down on pieces that had no pad, even going as far as freezing the last shot. Going to black is a cardinal sin in TV news. You just don’t do it!

As I mentioned, we finally went all-tape in 1982, and it would be another year-and-a-half before we had live capabilities. Mayco “Mike” Villafana (the future FPL/Miami-Dade Schools/Convention & Visitor’s Bureau spokesman) was the producer, and John Turchin had the honors of doing the first WCIX remote. The occasion? A news conference by the Hollywood Police Department. The story? A suspect was being named in the Adam Walsh kidnapping and murder. His name?


Ottis Toole.


25 years later, that classic line by the Talking Heads inevitably comes to mind.

“Same as it ever was.”

So This Is New Years...

(Push the button on the lower left to play the video)

There were dozens of people who made The Ten O’Clock News happen, but on most nights, only the producer and director received on-air credit. Once a week, we would remedy that situation with a credit roll, listing each and every person who worked on the newscast that week (plus the “regulars” who were on vacation).

What you see here is an interesting variation on the credit roll. On December 31, 1981, we sent cameraman George Buigas around the building to shoot film of all the behind-the-scenes folks who were stuck working on New Year’s Eve. We then edited the film, did some preproduction (supers, but not music) and bumped it to tape. The audio track ran live (off of a "cart") and unfortunately sounds sour, but that’s the way it aired, so that’s the way it’s being preserved.

A few interesting points about this credit roll:

1. Note the blackboard behind producer Arlene Ross. In those days the producer put the rundown of the show on a board, and it was everybody’s job to copy down the information.
2. Even Guy Thompson, the custodian, received credit that night. I’m sure it was the only time he was publicly acknowledged.
3. Several of the people in this credit roll are no longer with us, including Bob Hammerly, Ed Rehm, and Jerry Fisher. (Fisher was not acknowledged by name, since she was working as a reporter that night, and had an on-screen presence during the newscast. She can be sitting at her desk, behind Guy Thompson.)
4. The on-air team that night was Larry Klaas, John Loesing (sports), and Dave Corey (weather, substituting for Don Franklin). Corey was normally a booth announcer at the station.
5. It’s good to see Larry Wallenstein (Larry #3) in his role as assignment editor. He would exit in January 1984, only to return a few years later as news director.
6. Was that a space ship, or a news set? Beam me up!
7. I sure needed a haircut.

I hope you enjoyed viewing this rare artifact. Leave me some positive comments and bribes, and perhaps I can be persuaded to post some more clips from my Channel 6 archives. Send the bribes care of J. DeLaTorre (bad inside joke). Have a happy and safe 2009!

Chain Chain Chain

Just ten days after being named “news managing editor”, Larry Klaas decided to show us all who’s boss. Presenting: the infamous “chain of command” memo.

I know what Larry was trying to do. He was sending a message to the producer, assignment editor, and director that what he said GOES. He urged all members of the news staff to keep a copy of this chain of command on file for reference. Disagree with Larry? Unless you happened to be the news director, you didn’t stand a prayer. It’s right there, on an 8 ½” by 11” piece of paper.

The producers hated this! Not because of having to answer to Larry, but because in the Klaas command chain, they had no more authority than the assignment editor, and the nebulous “other”. The directors hated this, because under Larry’s law, they were equal to the assistant directors… the assistant producers… and, ahem… INTERNS!

None of that mattered to Larry. The moral of the story was “I am above all of you, and you will listen to me!” But in a newsroom where the producer had to have SOME authority over the assignment desk, and the directors had to call the technical shots during the show, this demonstrated a lack of understanding on several levels. After just ten days, hard feelings were already starting to form. It didn’t mean people didn’t like or respect Larry. They just wanted a little respect in return. By stating they wielded the same power as interns, the implication was the assistant producers, assistant directors, and even the directors were just bit players in the news operation. Of course Larry didn’t really feel that way, but this sure made it look that way, and did nothing for unity, morale, or inspiration in a news operation that needed it badly.

Where There's Smoke...

Life in a newsroom has changed in so many ways, and I'm not just talking about news content. In those days, people smoked pot out in the open, even in front of “adults”. Those that didn’t partake, usually looked the other way. Such was the way it was in the late 70s and early 80s.

I was ushered into the WCIX world of weed on my very first day at the station. Before I’d even known my way around that crazy round building, I was shown the ledge on the fourth floor, behind some of the big equipment in the engineering department. People visited that ledge at all hours of the day and night. I tended to wait until after the newscast to partake, but many people did it from the moment they arrived for their shifts. It truly was a different world then!

(Look carefully at the fourth floor. You never know who you’ll see!)

Another favorite spot was out on the dirt road along Biscayne Bay. Cars would park there every night after the newscast was through. It was a favorite way to unwind in those days, but there was always the fear of getting caught by the police. For a long time they turned a blind eye to our activities, but after the Luis Alvarez police shooting gave the department a black eye (and we reported it aggressively), they weren’t quite as accommodating, and we had to be a lot more careful.

Then there was the art room, on the second floor. One night in 1980, a bunch of us went there after the newscast, thinking our illustrious assistant news director had left for the night. You can imagine our trepidation when he walked into the art room, at the same time many of us were passing the pipe around. We thought we were all in big, big trouble! The boss man walked over to us, and without missing a beat, asked (to our surprise), “hey, would any of you like to buy some sinsimilla?” Whew! The “Newser” was a User! I guess that would describe so many people that I worked with. Not Bob Rossicone, though.

Rossicone, the tough associate director with a pronounced New York accent, walked in on security guard Lazaro C. and me one time after hours. Lazaro was paid to watch the building, but spent lots of his time socializing and getting high. With the smell of pot permeating the room, Lazaro was afraid Rossicone would blow the whistle and cost him his job. When asked if he was bothered by what we were doing, we were greeted by one of the funniest lines I’d ever heard. Rossicone just looked at us and said, quote…


“I don’t care if you burn the f*cking place down!”

And so it went in those days. Times changed, the station grew more competitive, and soon drug testing was the norm. Eventually I stopped smoking, and I’m sure so did most of the other Boys From Brickell. But for quite a number of years, lighting up was a big part of my Channel 6 experience. It helped me cope with the pressure and frustrations, and being a shy person by nature, helped greatly in social situations.

And no, we never burned the place down.

ANCHOR’S AWAY: THE PARTY (9/27/82)

Here’s a side of Larry Klaas we rarely got to see around the station. With his contract not renewed, and his career (at the time) hanging in the balance, he found himself able to just let go and enjoy himself at his going-away party, planned and hosted by his close friend, producer Arlene Ross. Here we see Larry and his wife, sharing a quiet moment. It’s the only time I’d ever seen him with his hair messed up.

Larry, opening one of his presents, with producer Jerry Fisher looking on. Jerry was a wonderful person, who a decade later would put up a valiant, but ultimately losing battle against cancer.

Dig the caricature of Larry on the piano, next to then-lovebirds Gary Slawitschka and Wendy Weisbrod. I don’t recall if it was Ron Laffin or Jim Hayek who created the portrait, but it’s a real beauty. To my eyes, it looks like Ron’s handiwork. Gary was a fellow Chryon operator at the time, before venturing into videotape editing. He was my best friend at the station, and is somebody that I think about from time to time. Gary, if you see this, please get in touch!

That’s Arlene Ross with her arm around Larry. These two had a lot of history, and were always very close. The big guy to the left and rear of Arlene is Tom Sedley, our ace (and under-appreciated) sports producer. Richard Chee-A-Tow from the engineering department is to the right rear of Larry.

John Loesing and his wife enjoy a piece of cake, while watching the frivolity unfold around them. John was very nice, but at times he might have been a little too low-key on the air.

I put down the camera for this group shot. That’s me on the far left, next to Arlene Ross, Gary Slawitschka, and Henry Rosenberg (videotape editor). Arlene’s future husband, director Dan Roujansky, is in the front. Can you guess which people in this picture are stoned?

Yeah, stoned. In those days, nearly everybody smoked pot, and the ones that didn’t, tolerated it. It was a generational thing that could never happen in this day and age. It was amazingly open, not just at parties such as this one, but all around the station as well. I think that’s going to be the subject of my next post.

Klaas Dismissed

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Was it Larry Klaas’ ego that got him fired? Was it an alleged demand for more money? Or was it that Dick Descutner (our news director) simply wanted to make a change, and Barbara Sloan gave him just that opportunity? It all depends on whom you ask.

There were mixed feelings around the station when we learned Klaas was being ousted. He had his supporters, led by producer Arlene Ross. There were also people who felt a sense of liberation when word filtered down. Klaas was stunned by the dismissal, and told The Miami News’ Tom Jicha he was considering retiring from broadcasting. Obviously he reconsidered, and made a new start (albeit a little rocky) at KGUN in Tucson

Everyone in the newsroom had a Larry Klaas story to tell. If he was having a bad day, you knew it. In 1981, when my father was dying, I told producer Jerry Fisher that I might need to take a few days off. Klaas sat me down the next day, and in a stern voice, asked me why I told Jerry and not him. (This was before I became a producer. I was still a lowly Chyron operator/film archivist). Well, Larry, it was late and Jerry was still at the station, working on her nightly discrepancy report. You were gone for the night. Sorry I stepped on your toes, big guy. Show a little compassion for a guy whose dad is dying, will ya?

Yet I liked Larry. He was quick to criticize, but unlike a lot of managers, he would also tell you when you did a good job. I wished him well, and I meant it.

You’ll notice in Tom Jicha’s article that Descutner “found” Larry’s replacement, Barbara Sloan, through a five-second lead-in on another reporter’s audition tape. That was sort of how it went down, but it wasn’t Descutner who found her. The reporter on that tape was a former colleague of mine at WNWS, prior to my coming to Channel 6. He and I had something in common: both of our lives changed on March 17, 1980. Someday soon I’ll tell you that story.

The 1980 Anchor Team

This was the main on-air team when I first started working at WCIX, on March 24, 1980. Larry Klaas took the anchor's chair once occupied by Prescott Robinson (whom I had previously worked with at WNWS Radio). John Loesing moved from weekends to weekdays, replacing Bob Sheridan (I believe). Don Franklin was a veteran announcer and a super nice guy. Klaas had come over from WCKT-Channel 7, and had quite a bit of Ted Baxter in him. He was basically a good guy, but what an ego! Loesing was low key and soft spoken, and I remember his wife was a fan of the group The Buckinghams. The things a record collector remembers!