Like DFW Airport is to travel, the ubiquitous ABC Radio Network is an international hub for standardized radio formats. And like DFW Airport, and unbeknownst to the listening public, the ABC Radio Network is based here, quietly nestled in North Dallas. The stations that broadcast from here are syndicated in hundreds of markets, though most of their programs do not, in fact, air in Dallas. No matter, for they are generic formats with market-tested playlists set in stone, relevant to anywhere and nowhere.
In a nondescript building, they are lined up like fast-food chains: Country Coast to Coast, Star Station (Adult Contemporary), Hot AC (which reaches for a younger demographic), classic rock and oldies radio. And the list goes on and on.
Jerry Thomas, starting his career in Houston, when oldies weren't oldies yet
Jerry Thomas, starting his career in Houston, when oldies weren't oldies yet
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Dial up
www.wdmx.com to hear Jerry Thomas' show on Saturdays from 7 p.m. to midnight.
During one particular Sunday evening, each station's DJ can be seen through the door window, huddled alone over the controls in a private world, no engineers or sycophants present. It appears to be a sterile, soulless, corporate environment, an assembly line of identical studios. Even the security guard doesn't know one station from the other, as the night man attempts to lead the way to oldies radio.
But upon arriving, you quickly learn that, at oldies radio, all the soul you need is in the records.
"Radio is a theater of the mind," veteran oldies DJ Jerry Thomas says, a man who has been in the business for nearly 40 years. Alternately known to his listeners as "Jerry Thomas, the semi-legendary, almost king of rock and roll" and "Jerry Thomas, the cool fool," he announces his favorite tag line over the air: "This is Cruisin' USA, where we take you back to when the cats wore ducks and the chicks wore poodles and the cars wore skirts."
Thomas speaks to me between spins, as he serves up the most versatile playlist in the oldies business. Each Saturday, from 7 p.m. to midnight, Cruisin' USA goes out to 141 affiliates through the ABC Network, and to the Armed Forces Radio Television Service, known by the unfortunate acronym, AFARTS. It does not, however, air in Dallas. Since DJs never mention Dallas on air, most of the 800-number request-line callers, from 141 different locales, presume it broadcasts from their own downtown.
"I still have a vision of playing this music when it was new," Thomas says, earnestly reliving his youth. "I try to get listeners in a state of mind that they're back in time. My show is basically pre-Beatles. I like to stay down in the '50s."
The once-vinyl 78s and 45s he plays, now digitally transferred, provide instant access to the past. Danny and the Juniors' "Rock 'n' Roll is Here to Stay," a bit too common for play on Thomas' show, remains the most prophetic song of the 1950s.
Except, not all rock-and-roll records are here to stay. "You're dealing with program directors who are 23; they don't know this music from beans," Thomas explains, with a subtle Texas drawl he loses once on the air. "All they're going by is some consultant's list. They weren't here when this music originated; they weren't even born in the '50s. They don't have the knowledge of the music. Unless you're there to live it, you don't get it. They don't know Sammy Turner and the Twisters."
He does live the music. A muscular, silver-haired 58, he looks just as cool as the '58 Chevy Impala with gulf scallops (named Christine) he exhibits at vintage car shows. And he also drives it to the grocery store. His cat's name is Speedo (but his real name is Mr. Earl). He attended Thomas Jefferson High in Dallas with future-Monkee/Liquid Paper heir Michael Nesmith. Encyclopedic on doo-wop and rock and roll, he is empowered with the clout to play what he chooses, a rarity in commercial radio.
Little Richard, for instance, gets play mainly with "Tutti Fruiti" and "Long Tall Sally" in these modern times. Thomas, however, spins "Miss Anne" and "The Girl Can't Help It."
"I've heard 'Tutti Fruiti' to death," he complains. "These songs are in a burn-factor situation. You only hear Buddy Holly's 'Peggy Sue' or 'Every Day.' I play 'True Love Ways' and 'Not Fade Away.' I have nothing against Dion, but instead of just 'Runaround Sue,' let's play 'Dawn of the Prima Donna.' Let's include 'A Teenager in Love.' A better example is Tommy Edwards' 'All in the Game.' Well, he also had 'Sunny Side of the Mountain.' I like to deal in depth of the artist."
Thomas plays "Cry, Cry Baby," a three-minute spin. "I gotta get three minutes in to cover these clowns in El Paso who don't have automation," he mutters to himself. He's always on the lookout for the rare three-minute 1950s record. It also allows time to take a piss, something that DJs in the '50s didn't have time for, with all the two-minute songs. Thomas makes a run for it, and since there's no engineer, and we are alone at 10 p.m. on Saturday, I'm tempted to run to the controls and throw on a British record.
