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Hollywood Russell and The Case of Dead Air in Studio Two

25 Sep

September 25, 2015

We’ve got something a little different for you tonight. Please read the addendum at the bottom, and enjoy!

HR Dead Air

The radio studio was pitch black. The only window didn’t look out on the New York skyline but instead gave a view to a very small and cramped control room. The gauges and dials, which usually gave off a small electric glow even when the studio wasn’t in use, were invisible. The room was soundproof but the quiet was broken by the very slight creaking of a door hinge. Normally, leading to a broadcast studio, the doors would be oiled regularly to keep any stray sounds from going out over the air in a live broadcast. A hand groped through the doorway and found the light switch, which the hand flipped on with an almost, but not quite audible click. The station manager, Jim, walked in and stood just inside the entrance. “This is it,” he said. “Was it, I mean.”

Behind him walked a man in a trench coat and fedora. A private detective, he looked very much like a fictional shamus whose adventures had been broadcast from that studio for almost two decades.  “This isn’t how I imagined it.” Hollywood Russell took off his hat and laid it on a small wooden chair near the door.

“It’s not how anyone imagines it. You’re not supposed to imagine it. This isn’t a broadcast studio, it’s Fibber McGee’s closet. It’s The Shadow’s inner sanctum. It’s the Daily Planet.” Jim looked around. “It was my home for a long time.”

Hollywood stood among the double rows of folding chairs where an occasional audience sat. WJP wasn’t a large station and never hosted the game shows or big network programs that audiences flocked to. He paced the length of the small studio, mentally estimating the length and width, and stopped in front of the cluster of microphones, set upon a small stage, where the actors had yesterday performed their last show. It was an afternoon soap opera fittingly called “One Man’s Passion.”

The station manager let out a small sigh. “People want television. It isn’t enough to hear words from a box, they need to see things too. Whatever happened to imagination? All we’re raising is a generation of children who will have their eyes plastered to the images on the screens in front of them.” Then, more darkly, “I’ve heard that some families even have two.”

Hollywood, who didn’t own a television himself, merely grunted and sat down in the chair directly in front of the main microphone. It stood about 5 feet high, with a brass plaque that read “WJP” in art deco style. He shut his eyes and saw a somber man announcing that war had broken out in Europe. He saw a trio of sisters singing about a bugle boy in Company B. He saw a man of mystery in a beautiful black car. He saw another man, in shirtsleeves, feverishly working his Rube Goldberg-like instruments and franticly switching from one odd looking device to the next, all the while creating the sounds of a rocket ship about to take off as the countdown commenced from X minus three, two..

“I’m really glad you came, Russell. I’m not sure I’d be able to do this myself.”

Hollywood roused himself and looked around once again. For a second he was sure he was in a peaceful town where the great water commissioner was about to fall in love yet again, but just for a second. He blinked and it was back to the solid concrete walls and softly carpeted stage, but he was sure he saw a single page of a script fluttering to the floor, just out of his line of sight, and when he turned he was just as sure he heard, however faintly, a mocking laugh out of the shadows.

The manager glanced around. “I hear it too. I hear all of it. Everything.” He sighed. “And now it’s gone.” Jim turned his back almost angrily on the empty studio and his eyes fell on the wall calendar. It had a picture of Louis Armstrong, telling the world that a certain brand of cigarettes soothed his throat. With a “hrmmpf” Jim pulled the hanging page off the calendar. It was September 7th.

“Lock up for me, will you Hollywood? This is all too much for me. Shut it all down and lock it up tight. Kill the power to the microphones. I’ll meet you downstairs in the bar. Don’t mind if I start without you.” Jim tossed the key on a chair and without a glance backward, left the studio. “I’m never coming back here again” he said to himself as he slowly walked down the hall.

A small smile played across Hollywood’s face. “Well now, I wouldn’t say that.”

He took one last, slow look around. He made sure the switches were off, that the microphones were closed and that everything was in order. Jim didn’t need a detective, he just needed someone to do what he couldn’t. And isn’t that all that a guy like Hollywood Russell really did?

Hollywood walked to the door, grabbed his hat, shut the light and walked out. A couple of seconds ticked by on the clock, and the door reopened. In the darkness, Hollywood found his way to a small desk off to the side of the microphones. On one side stood a very old cathedral-style receiver, a relic radio; on the other a small gooseneck lamp. He turned it on and aimed its beam right at the WJP plaque. Its reddish-yellow letters gleamed like the sun in the blackness.

Lights out, everybody.

But not for Relic Radio.


This written in response to the sad news that the Relic Radio forum was shutting down. While the main site,, will continue providing a great selection of old time radio shows (and you can find them on iTunes), the message boards are now gone. This story is a tribute to Jim, who runs the whole show, but also to the shows we loved. And as such, there are a few tributes to Old Time Radio in the story. I’ve listed many of them for you.

“New York skyline.” This might be the first Hollywood Russell story to explicitly state that it is set in New York. I did it intentionally in this tale because NYC was the home base of the Mutual Network, broadcasting out of WOR (which still exists) and was where Superman and The Shadow, among others, originated.

“Slight creaking of a door hinge.” Inner Sanctum famously began with the creaking of a door hinge.

“Fictional shamus wearing a trench coat and fedora.” Take your pick- Sam Spade, Phillip Marlowe, Richard Diamond, etc.

“It’s Fibber McGee’s closet. It’s The Shadow’s inner sanctum. It’s the Daily Planet.” Fibber McGee and Molly, The Shadow, Superman.

“A trio of sisters singing about a bugle boy in Company B.” The Andrews Sisters and their most famous hit, “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B”

“A man of mystery in a beautiful black car.” The Green Hornet and his car, the Black Beauty.

“The countdown commenced from X minus three, two…” X Minus 1, famous adult sci-fi program.

“A peaceful town where the great water commissioner was about to fall in love yet again.” The Great Gildersleeve.

“A mocking laugh out of the shadows.” The Shadow.

“Well now, I wouldn’t say that.” The Great Gildersleeve.

“Lights out, everybody.” Horror program by Wyllis Cooper and Arch Obler.

There is also a very slight and subtle Star Wars reference that you will either spot or you won’t. You may not think a Star Wars reference fits but it does because A- there was a fantastic radio version of Star Wars broadcast over NPR stations in the 1970’s and B- searching for info about that show was how I found Relic Radio.

I put in one or two personal touches that I’ll keep to myself, but, the date on the calendar- September 7th– was the last day of the forums. The call letters of the station mean something too, but I’ll leave that little wink and nod to the fellow forum members. And Jim.

John Newly Has A Crush (Lying Awake with John Newly #10)

25 Jun

June 25, 2015

ANNOUNCER: That’s the news at 1 am, more news at the top of the hour

Eerie sci-fi music starts, goes on for almost 3 ½ minutes

ANNOUNCER: This is Lying Awake with John Newly. And here’s your host, John Newly.

Thank you! Tonight we are privileged, honored and privileged, actually, to have as our first and only guest, one of our Lying Awake favorites. And just between you and me, she’s one of my favorites too. We’re going to talk numerology with Linda McCandles. Let’s jump right in. Hi Linda!

-Hi John! So great to be back!

Linda, I just love the nights that we have you on!

-That must be why I’m on almost every week!

Oh Linda, you are so smart, and so beautiful! We’ve got your picture up on the Lying Awake website so our listeners can see you too. They can print out your picture if they want to. I’ve got it taped up over my microphone.

-Well, ok. (nervous laugh)


Let’s talk about the Presidential election. I understand you have some unique numerological insights.

-That’s right John. I’ve found that if you were to add the numbers in the birthdays of any President, then divide it by the number of months he was in office, the number you produce is even almost half of the time.

Really? That must mean something.

-Yes! And what’s more amazing is that it works regardless of if the President was a Republican or a Democrat.

Wow, I guess that goes to show you that we really are all the same, no matter what we believe. This proves the brotherhood of man, don’t you think?

-I do!

Linda, whenever I have you on, my thoughts always come back to love. Can we talk about that?

-Um, ok…

What number- and it has to be a number found in numerology, right? What number found in numerology is a good love number?

– Well John, 8 is always a signifier of new love.

Linda, I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s 8 minutes after 1 right now.

-My clock says 1:12.

No, no, it’s 1:08. I just set my watch to that. I made it 1:08.


-Yes, yes, well… oh! Did you know that if you want to know how lucky a year will be, you just need to add up the numbers in the year?

Hmm, let’s try that. This is 2015. So that’s 2 plus zero, that’s zero, no, I mean two. And then you add 1 and 5 or should I add them together and make 15?

-You should add 2 plus 1 plus 5.

OK, just give me a second………………………………………. What’s that? My producer tells me that he’s done it and those numbers all add up to 8. And you know what that means Linda, hmm?

-Sure, it means that this will be a year of change.

Love, you mean love.

-No, we’re doing the luck calendar. Eight is a number of unlucky change.

But we came up with the number of love a few minutes ago. Eight!

-Numerology is-

FINE! My buttinsky producer Fast Eddie tells me that we are very late to go to commercial and we have to take a break. And when we come back, we’ll talk more about this big number eight controversy and maybe even make some diner plans with Linda. What? Eddie, stop talking to me while I’m trying to talk to Linda. No, no, I told you my wife is very sick. We’re separated, going to get a divorce. It’s an open marriage. I really want to talk to Linda about this, maybe plan a trip to Maine with her. I bought her this lace-


What? We’re still on? You heard that? Eddie, go to commercial!




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