New Yorkers will remember this chatterbox well. I grew up on his constantly cracking voice, spinning the hits on 77WABC. When they shitcanned the music on that radio station, Cousin Bruce Morrow went off to the oldies-laden WCBS-FM, where his Saturday night dance party thrived for decades. The problem always was that it's tough to dance when the DJ doesn't shut up and spin the platters.
I've rediscovered Cousin Brucie one more time now that I have Sirius Radio in the car. His Saturday night soiree is on the Sixties Channel and it is weird to drive around LA and listen to this quintessential New Yorker. Still, whenever I tune in, I am taken back to days of my youth.
And an infamous day in my young adulthood. When I got into an argument with Cousin Brucie.
It was early in my own radio career and back in New York. In those days, local radio stations actually had money to promote themselves. And, once a year, there was a big event where they each participated in a carnival at some hotel ballroom. They'd set up booths and you're join in on the spinning wheels, games of chance, dunk tanks, etc.. It was a lot of fun.
One year, Brucie was promoting this group of NY suburban stations that he owned. Naturally, it was ideal for him to set up a booth which he himself manned. With a simple enough game. On the wall was a big map of New York State with big red dots on those towns where Brucie owned a station. You had to take a dart and throw. If you landed on one of the red dots, Brucie would present you with a new Sony Walkman.
As I ambled by, Brucie beckoned me over like a gypsy in a rundown storefront.
"Come on, Cousin, let's see what you can do."
Given I'm not either Irish or English and given that I rarely frequent pubs in the countryside, I'm not a dart thrower. But, back then, a new Sony Walkman was a beautiful thing. I walked to the counter and grabbed a dart.
It landed not directly on the red dot, but the dart was certainly touching the little decal. Even the folks I was with acknowledged that I was a winner. Brucie, however, begged to differ.
"Sorry, Cousin, thanks for trying."
I suggested that I could do little to improve what I had achieved. A dart touching the red dot.
"Not close enough, Cousin. Maybe later."
I realized that Brucie had brought along ten Walkman devices for the day and was intending to go home with just as many. Cheap bastard. I asked him how much closer I needed to be to get that Walkman.
"Cousin, you've got to be better than that."
Huh? The dart was resting on the red dot in a better fit than that toupee had on his head. We went back and forth and it got a little louder. He kept calling me "Cousin." I had to wound him.
"Brucie, I've got six cousins and you're not one of them."
The man looked destroyed. He could not respond. I walked away, Walkman-less. With a smile on my face. I had finally achieved the impossible.
Cousin Brucie was speechless.
Dinner last night: Eggplant parmagiana at Miceli's.
2 comments:
I had a very nice rapport with Brucie during an internship. I schlepped along while he did puff pieces for NBC. This afforded me the chance to meet the then-new duo, Hall and Oates, and a very drunk Charley Pride who insisted that I was the interviewer not Brucie. It was an early glimpse of show biz and Brucie was affable if bald.
I absolutely HATE this guy! I have had a Sirius subscription since 2005 and he used to be on the 50's on 5 channel where I never had to listen to him. Then in some "genius" move, they decided to put him on 60's on 6. He apparently gets paid by the word and plays 50's, 70's and 80's music on the 60's channel. I am close to canceling my subscription. They have him on four or five times per week, and I want to shoot my Sirius radio! The local commercial 60s/70s station talks less and plays more 60s music per hour than Bwewsie does on the 60's channel on Sirius. And they're FREE!
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