Play Doubleheader For Me

 

Jessica Walter and Clint Eastwood in Play Misty for Me (1971)

It's the sound you don't want to hear.

I got to WGCH in the early afternoon. I brought lunch with me and hoped to eat while nosing around the world for things to talk about on the show.

But I was greeted by the sound of a piercing beep.

It was the dead air alarm. We were off the air.

I did the first thing I could think of, which was to get something on. 

Anything.

First, it was a few commercials while I thought about what to do. We could do anything that originated from the studio and that would be on the air.

Then, I turned on the mic and spoke while I loaded last week's Greenwich/Darien game. That would buy us upwards of three hours.  I could keep that going, basically, until my show was over at 5 p.m. After that, we'd potentially be back off the air.

The issue we were having was with the internet and, as such, we couldn't get the programming that should be on. An Optimum technician had been called before I got there and was at the station a few minutes after I arrived.

It took a little work but we were back on the air. I was able to go on the air at 4 p.m. for my show.

With both station engineer Clark Burgard and business manager Joy Marshall having left, I was alone.

I've been alone in radio stations before and, to be honest, they can be creepy.

I've literally been in radio stations at all hours. 

I made sure to lock the office door and get the show started. Though, to be honest, the door lock can be wonky.

I talked about sports and whatever other nonsense was on my brain.

Then, just after I came back from the break at 4:22 p.m., I noticed movement outside of the studio.

A ghost?

It was a woman.

Like, what? I'd locked the door to the office. At least I thought so. 

She strolled by the door several times as if she was investigating the rest of the suite.

My mind raced. I clearly struggled to make any sense on the air. Was she a contest winner? Was she there to complain about something? A disgruntled listener?

Was she a deranged fan, a la Play Misty for Me, the 1971 Clint Eastwood/Jessica Walter thriller about a radio DJ and a dangerous listener? 

She was starting to stalk the studio door, which was open as I prepared for the 4:30 break.

I turned off the mic.

"Does anyone else work here?" she began.

"No," I said. "Everyone is gone for the day." 

"I thought you'd at least have a nice receptionist," she countered.

"It's just me," I said with a smile, also recognizing that I was in a short break before I had to go back on the air.

There was honestly no need to explain why I was alone. She didn't need to know why Bob Small wasn't in the office or that the internet issues emptied the place out. We don't have a big staff. In fact, we haven't had many people around the office at 4:30 in the afternoon in years at this point.

She got to the point quickly. She was there because she had a flyer about a holiday bazaar from a local organization. 

"Would you promote the event and us?" she asked.

Sure. Of course, I would.

To be clear, I was never in any danger. In fact, this kind (though slightly befuddled) woman struggled to get to the second floor of the building, given we have no elevator in the building. I apologized for that.

She left the office and I continued the show. In fact, I promoted the bazaar upon coming back from the commercial break. I wrapped it up, got us to the network news at 5 p.m., and made sure programming ran without any issues.

No dead air. We were good. 

It was time to go home.

I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. I opened it.

It was locked. Just as I thought.