"Jamboree"

Every July since 1977, WWVA –Radio in conjunction with Jamboree USA has broadcast a live country music festival, “Jamboree in the Hills”.
By 1982 when I was working at WWVA-Radio, “Jamboree in the Hills” was acknowledged to be the unofficial “super bowl of country music”, and its popularity was soaring. The attendance that year was in the 60,000 range, and by 2009 attendance had grown to over 100,000. The headliners in 1982 were first rate, Carl Perkins , Jerry Lee Lewis, the Oak Ridge Boys and Loretta Lynn.

Jamboree in the Hills brought celebrities, their entourages, and a lot of excitement to the Ohio Valley all summer long. Every town in and around the northern panhandle of West Virginia geared up, spruced up, and happily cashed in on the event, especially Wheeling. In addition, in 1982 country was very cool nationwide. John Travolta, Debra Winger had recently starred in “Urban Cowboy”. Mechanical bulls were in the every other bar and club. Tony Lama boots were a status symbol. Every singer wanted to record a song that could be considered country crossover. In fact, one of WWVA’s taglines that year was, “We were country before country was cool”. And, the WWVA sales staff was right in the middle of it.

The sales staff got free VIP back stage passes to the event for themselves and their immediate family. In my case that meant two passes. Everyone in West Virginia wanted one of those VIP passes. This pass not only allowed you to hang around the green room with the performers, you also got to eat and drink the same things they did, for free. By 1982 word got around that the WWVA sales staff got these free passes and we were stars ourselves every July. When the guys went to lunch at the diner next to Ron Small’s Mobile Homes they were stared at and whispered about, like the Rat Pack must have been in the 1960’s.

I secretly thought this was silly. As much as I tried, I never liked country music, even crossover, and the idea of listening to country music for a couple of days straight in the July heat didn’t appeal to me, even if I could hang out backstage and eat and drink the same things as Ronnie Millsap. But since it’s almost unpatriotic to admit to you don’t love country music in West Virginia, I tried to keep my lack of enthusiasm to myself.

In the summer of 1982, Joe, one of the salesman who has an unfortunate habit of setting his hair on fire with his cigarette, was at the very bottom of a three year sales slump. He had an target on his back, or he was on the bubble, or his stock was low, all phrases I’ve heard to describe a salesman who’s under scrutiny for underperforming.

Of all the salesman, Joe would take getting fired the hardest. WWVA was his life. He swore if he ever got fired he’d join the service if one of the branches would have him.

Harry didn’t want to fire Joe. Joe and Harry went back a long way and had been known to get a little over exuberant together after a good show at Jamboree USA and a few beers. So when Joe asked him if he could have his tickets early to use as give-aways at a remote broadcast he was trying to sell to Chickies’ Used Kitchen Dinettes, Harry made a very special exception for him and gave him his tickets three weeks ahead of time. All the other sales staff’s tickets stayed locked up in his office, in his desk, as they did every year, until the day before the event.

But somehow Joe’s tickets went missing the day before the remote. The details surrounding their disappearance always remained fuzzy. I heard something about a gambling debt, but more than likely he sold his tickets and gave the money to one of the club acts he booked on a part-time basis, to help them over a rough spot.

When the remote was a few days away, Joe had to face up to the reality of his situation. He simply had no tickets. So he went to Charlie, our senior salesman with his problem. Charlie went to Doug, the sales staff’s acknowledged voice of reason with the problem, and Doug, surprisingly, went to me.

“If we can get our hands on your VIP passes right away, would you give them to Joe to help him out?”

Doug must have had a hunch I wouldn’t be heartbroken if I didn’t make it to Jamboree in the Hills ’82, because normally asking someone to give up back stage passes to this event would be like asking someone to give up a kidney.

“Sure.” I said without hesitation. There was a collective sigh from the rest of the sales staff who were pretending not to listen.

It was decided Doug and I would do the actual taking of the tickets. We all called it “taking”, because no one wanted to say “break into Harry’s office, and his desk, and steal the tickets”. Since we all worked for the station, and went in and out of Harry’s office every day, we really weren’t breaking in. We were just going in his office very quietly after hours. We weren’t stealing the tickets either, because they were going to be mine anyway, eventually. We just wanted them earlier.

The day before Joe’s remote, Doug and I hung around after hours in the announcer’s booth recording and re-recording the one commercial we lent out talent to: Valley Discount Furniture. I was flattered to play the role of Ima Hogg to Doug’s Ura Hog. I believe the point of the spot was that Valley Discount Furniture’s sofas were sturdy enough to hold the whole family Hogg family, Ima, Ura and little Whata Hogg.

After we were sure Harry had left and the place was mostly cleared out, Doug and I went directly to the sales department. The door to the bullpen was left open but Harry’s door was locked.

Doug easily jimmied open Harry’s door with a credit card, “You just know he left his desk unlocked, don’t you? He was in a hurry to meet Lucy at Elby’s Big Boy tonight for strawberry pie.”

Lucy was Harry’s wife, a great looking blonde with a top heavy figure and dainty feet who owned the only Christmas store in town. This made her something of a celebrity, because Wheeling was the kind of town that prepared for Christmas all year long.

Doug was right, Harry’s desk was unlocked. We quickly rifled through papers, folders and half finished crossword puzzles until we found the manila envelope marked VIP PASSES. Just as Doug grabbed the envelope, we heard foorsteps. I choked on my spit and half whispered, “Doug, what’s that?”

“Don’t know. Get behind the door.”

I got behind the door we’d just jimmied open , and pressed myself against the wall.

“Hey, Doug! What are ya- sales manager now?”

It was my old friend, the elevator operator.

It was true that ever since the station held the big meeting about what does and what does not constitute a hostile work environment my old friend had stopped cursing at me whenever I was in earshot. But I could tell every time he looked at me he was swallowing bile.

‘Yeah Carter!” Doug said. “Didn’t ya hear? Lucy’s openin’ a big Christmas store in Pittsburgh and Harry’s moved up there to help get it open.”

I noticed for a country boy, Doug was pretty cool under fire.

Carter grunted. “Yeah, right, Harry’s gonna trail around after a woman… All though I have to admit, that Lucy is…”

While Carter went on about Lucy, I heard Doug slide the desk drawers shut. I figured if I could just stay pressed against the wall long enough for Carter to dissect Lucy’s anatomy to his satisfaction, he’d wander away, and Doug and I would be home free. But just as Cater finished his analysis of Lucy’s ankles, the air conditioner fan kicked in, and the door I was hiding behind swung shut. I was exposed as the VIP pass “taker” that I was.

“Hey!” Carter shouted, clearly in shock. “What’s going on here?!” For a guy who weighed close to 250 pounds, he could really jump.

“Hi Carter!” I waved, and smiled. “How are things going in the elevator? Everything OK?”

But Carter was not to be charmed. He directed his attention to Doug.

“Doug! Does Helen know about this?”

“Know about what?”

“This! Her! The lady salesman.”

I think Doug actually staggered at this point. “Whoa Carter! It’s not what you think…”

“Well what is it then? Me finding you in here alone after five o’clock is one thing. I know you Doug, almost from Kindergarten. But you bein’ in here with her! And her hindin’ behind the door! That’s another thing!” Carter’s shock had quickly turned to righteous indignation.

Look,” Doug said. “we were just checking for some ad copy we needed right away for a spot we’re doin’. Harry forgot to give it to us. See?” Doug picked up a piece blank paper, folded it, and put it in his back pocket. “Come on Carter, you said you knew me from Kindergarten!”

“That’s right,” Carter went on, “And I’ve got to say I’m surprised at you.” He pointed in my general direction. “But I’m not surprised at her!” Then he whispered, “She’s not from around here.

Stepping closer he zeroed in on the envelope in Doug’s hand. “What you got there? Are those Jamboree in the Hills tickets? Did she make you in here and get ‘em for her?, so she could sell ‘em or somethin’? Give ‘em to her friends?”

For once I wished I’d spread it around that I hated country music.

“What these? Oh, yeah, they should be in Harry’s desk.” Doug pulled open a drawer and threw them in.

“See? They’re in the desk,” Doug pointed, “where they should be……. So that’s it Carter. We have the copy we need so we’ll goin’ now.”

“What just a second, Doug.”

Doug waited. I did too.

“You know I work hard.” Doug nodded. I did too.
“You know no one loves country music and Jamboree in the Hills more than I do. Hell, I spent the night in a sleepin’ bag waitin’ for the openin’ of Jambo two years ago, so I could be part of the Redneck Run an’ stake out a spot near the stage. Broke my foot while I was at it.”

Doug nodded. This time I didn’t bother.

“And now Jambo’s so popular I can’t even afford general admission tickets, forget about me ever getting VIP passes.” He looked sideways at Doug.

This conversation was not headed in a promising direction.

Carter continued. ”Ya know, I’d hate to upset Helen, us goin’ back so far and all. And it’s not like I’m one to pass judgement, or anything like that if somethin’ really is goin’ on with you two…”

Carter paused for six excruciating seconds.

“ but I sure would love to hear Jerry Lee Lewis sing Great Balls of Fire while sittin’ next to Ronnie Milsap backstage.”

Doug hissed. “Carter, what exactly do you want?"

“Nothin’ much. Nothin’ you can’t get your hands on.” Carter pointed at Harry’s desk, then looked at his feet and shuffled a little before continuing.“Just two VIP tickets.”

Reluctantly, Doug went back to Harry’s desk, took two VIP tickets out of the manilia envelope and handed them to Carter. “Carter, for the record, nothing is going on here.”

‘What?” Carter asked, transfixed by the two tickets in his hand. “Yeah, oh sure. Right. Hey Doug! Do you think I could get one more for my niece, she loves Carl Perkins.”

“Don’t push it Carter.” Doug said.

“Ok, Ok,” Carter said quickly, fondling his tickets. “Just thought I’d ask… Well, like you said, looks like we’re all done here, so let’s lock up and get out of Harry’s office. Anybody for strawberry pie?”

Carter looked over at me and smiled. “Ladies first.”

And so Carter, the elevator operator who looked like he was tasting bile every time he glanced my way, ended up with my two Jamboree in the Hills VIP passes.

And Joe was still balancing a bubble that was about to burst. But we came up with another plan.

Early the next morning the sales staff convened at RAX Roast Beef. We had some thinking to do.

Charlie got right to business. “Joe, you’ve got to forget about VIP passes for your remote. It’s just not possible.” We all murmured in agreement. Joe took a gulp of coffee and started looking weepy.

Benny said, “You’ve got to come up with something else. You’ve got to figure a way to distract Chickie so she won’t ask about the passes. Boom! Maybe you bring in some kind of act! If you could, you’d be golden! Problems, over! Boom!!”

Joe just stared down at his coffee, lips quivering. The rest of us sat in silence.

“Finally Charlie spoke up, “Joe, what about Box Car?”

“Box Car Willie? Are you kidding? Maybe I can bring in one of the acts I book at the truck stops, but a real star?” Now the tears really flowed.

I spoke up. “It could be OK, Joe. I don’t think Charlie means the real Box Car. I think he means, you know… the other one.”  I asked Doug if he would get Joe a refill and maybe grab a couple of napkins, since no one had any tissues.

The fake Box Car Willie was located twenty miles north in Steubenville, Ohio hanging around a giant flea market/bake sale held for the benefit of some striking steel workers. Joe got him to promise to show up at Chickie’s Used Kitchen Dinettes in a freshly washed set of overalls and a clean red bandana by 9 a.m. the next morning. All the fake Box Car, or FBC, as we sales people began to refer to him, wanted in return were albums, hot dogs, chips, soda, and it went without saying, a solid dose of attention. The entire sales staff planned to show up at the remote to take turns fawning over him.

Because we ushered our Fake Box Car in with such fanfare, and because he hit the microphone with such gusto, Lou, the announcer on the remote never bothered to ask the normal screening questions. In fact, FBC did such a stupendous job, cracking wise, blowing his whistle, and calling the Ohio Valley into Chickie’s Used Kitchen Dinettes, people said they never saw such a turn out for a kitchen dinette remote, much less a used kitchen dinette remote.

But the regular WWVA listeners weren’t the only ones tuned in that morning.

A last minute Jambo replacement, recruited to fill in for Mayf Nutter (the man who wrote and recorded the Jamboree in the Hills theme song back in 1977, but who had been forced to cancel that year because of a nasty encounter with a patch of poison ivy) was on his way to Wheeling and he was also listening to WWVA. In fact, he was listening with such interest, he asked his driver to make an unscheduled stop just outside of Wheeling at Chickie’s Used Kitchen Dinettes.

At first no one noticed the big white Lincoln town car with blacked out windows that pulled up in front of Chickie’s. But as soon as the real Box Car Willie stepped out of his town car, and struck a few poses in the parking lot, people took note.

“Hey, you must be the fake Box Car we heard about!”

“Have you ever been arrested for impersonating Box Car Willie?

“Aren’t you afraid to stop here when Box Car Willie’s doing a remote inside?”

It took only one or two of these comments for the real Box Car Willie to work up a solid head of steam. He brushed past the hecklers and threw open the door to Chickie’s with such force, two of the more lightweight dinette chairs near the front of the store flipped on their sides. He knocked over a couple of more walking back to our remote set up to see just what the heck was going on.

When the real Box Car Willie first laid eyes on our FBC he stood and stared for a few seconds, checking out his outfit, taking in all the details.

Then he started in. “I don’t wear a red bandana anymore you fool! That’s for hobos! I dress more like a railroader.” Then he paused, and added, “Idiot!”

I was hanging around the storage area in the back of the store with the rest of the sales staff listening to Charlie noodle on his banjo at the time, so I heard this go out over the air, along with what came next.

Bang! Thud! Scrape! “Holy Mother!” someone shouted. And then a sound like a microphone hitting the floor. Finally, dead air.

Since the only reasons for dead air in radio are serious technical difficulties or a comatose air personality, and we had reason to suspect both, we made it to the remote set- up in less than three seconds.

Doug grabbed the mike off the floor and handed it to Lou, telling him for the love of Pete, say something, while Charlie grabbed the real Box Car and led him to a seat at the featured dinette- a Danish modern that could seat eight. I led our FBC out of harm’s way to the back of the store near the “Make Me an Offer I can’t Refuse” corner.

Fortunately for all of us, Charlie, Grand Old Opray veteran that he was, and the real Box Car Willie shared a musical history; both started out playing for tips at volunteer firemen conventions, so Charlie could talk his language.

Rough translation of their conversation?

Don’t screw up this broadcast, just play along, and primo dates at Jamboree USA can be yours. After this conversation, the real Box Car Willie got that Wheelin’ Feelin’ and took command of the microphone like the professional trouper that he was.

“We had you fooled by golly! Ol’ Box Car had you fooled! My twin, my what do you call it ,my doppelganger showed up for me this morning here at Chickie’s Used Kitchen Dinettes, and I’m glad he did, because old Box Car was sleepin’ in, after a big night of celebratin’! That’s right! Ol’ Box Car Willie, the one and only Box Car Willie is gonna’ be performin’ at Jamboree in the Hills 1982! So let’s thank my stand in and give him a round of applause.”

The small crowd gathered around the real Box Car Willie cheered.

“Now my old friend Charlie here who works as a salesman at WWVA, home of Jamboree USA, where I’ll be playing several times over the next year, dates to be announced, is going to accompany me on the banjo while I sing a few of my greatest hits. We’ll start with Hank the Hobo.”

At the sound of applause, FBC came out of the stupor he had fallen into, cracked a smile and blew his whistle. He crept over to Charlie and the One and Only Box Car Willie and started to sing back up.

Of course Chicken couldn’t have been more thrilled. Customers started pouring in as soon as the music started. In fact, so many people came in, the dinette salesmen stopped taking “ups”, a system designed to force salesmen to play nice and take turns, and instead the salesmen chased the customers around in survival of the fittest mode. With all this business, Chicken never even mentioned VIP Passes.

Best of all, Joe got the cash for the remote that day, the full amount. Joe may not have been the greatest salesman in the world, but he was salesman enough to know it was best to ask for payment when the customer is most excited about his purchase, and before he’s had a chance to examine it too closely. In this case Chicken was most excited when FBC and the real Box Car Willie broke in to two part harmony during their finale, Divorce Me C.O.D.

After that Jamboree in the Hills, things started to change for me at the radio station. It got so the guys helped me out with everyday things on a regular basis, and I always tried to repay their kindnesses.

Charlie called the Animal Hospital for me when the vet wouldn’t treat my cat until I gave him the name of a man responsible for payment. I was married at the time, but Charlie knew I made more money than my husband and was just as responsible. He set the vet straight for me.

Benny went to a car dealer with me and made believe he was my husband so I could get someone to talk to me about a new car when my AMC Concord died. At the time a car salesmen wouldn’t waste their time on a woman who showed up without her husband or father.

Doug vouched for me with the investment counselor when the man from Prudential wouldn’t take my check to start a mutual fund account, and insisted I bring in cash instead. His policy was never to take a check from a married woman in case she was investing without permission from her husband. The husband might put a stop payment on the check, and it wasn’t worth the hassle.

It took a while, but eventually I became accepted as a member of the sales staff and the guys talked to me all the time. I almost fancied myself the Shirley McClaine to their Rat Pack.

But I knew I was really accepted as a full member of the sales staff when the bar at the corner would cash my paycheck--a privilege afforded only the mayor of Wheeling, the on-air personalities, select sales staff of WWVA-Radio, and of course the real Box Car Willie.