No need to belabor the notorious air quality in Charlotte. WE’VE HAD “PURPLE” DAYS! What’s that? Is that worse than the worst or is it like “11” on the volume knob?

Actually, that last reference is closer to what I mean by “air quality”. Let’s talk about radio – or dearth of – in Charlotte.

Radio may be the only thing I miss about Chicago. No matter your taste, Chicago radio offers multiple choices in any category. In Charlotte, you can consider yourself fortunate if your preferences are matched by a single station.

Radio has been a not-so-small part of my life since pre-adolescence. I went from armoire- sized-tube-containing sets to non-amplified crystal sets to transistors hermetically sealed against my ear to whatever always came next. I remember when I thought the music was actually being performed by the artists in the studio. When the announcer said “ And now, here’s Danny and the Juniors”, I took him literally. So last week when my wife told me it was only a record, I was devastated.

I still vividly recall listening to Sandy Koufax’s perfect game against the Cubs. Am I the only one who remembers that the Cubs’ pitcher, Bob Hendley, only gave up one hit, and the Dodgers’ lone run was scored in an inning other than the one in which they got that hit?

The days of the “Silver Dollar Survey”, Tu-Lu Babies, Subterranean Circus, picking up KMOX when Harry Caray was with the Cardinals, and Jack Brickhouse and Irv Kupcinet destroying furniture and the English language in the Bears’ broadcast booth are etched in my gray matter.

In Chicago, you can land on a great station by accident. When Wally Phillips went on vacation, I became a Robert Murphy fan. Robert went on vacation and I was stuck on Johnny B. In Charlotte, consider yourself fortunate to find one station you can call yours and more than two you can label tolerable. On the plus side, this situation led me into the arms of NPR.

So it’s time to get to the point – the demise of the only “Golden Oldies” station in Charlotte. My radio weekday consists of “John Boy and Billy” in the a.m., Paul Harvey at noon, and NPR the rest of the day. On weekends it was oldies on Magic-96.1. Sundays was reading the paper while listening to “Beatle Brunch”, and “Sunday Night at the Beach” while preparing the pizza. Throw a Nextel Cup race in between, and Sundays were something to be cherished.

On one gloomy day in October, the music died again. Demographics reared its ugly head. Clear Channel changed the format to  #*!?#  (something more contemporary). This was truly depressing. Of course, if this were Chicago, my problem would be in trying to choose from the many other options. Now I’ll be back to trying to squeeze the dial enough to pick up a static- laden WBBM, WGN or settle for the BBC.

Copyright © 2004 Gary Erdakos