More strange tales: In 1980 I was working at W-4, an old funeral home in downtown Detroit converted into a rock & roll station. Howard Stern was the morning man, Mark McKewen was the music director, and I did late nights. For whatever reason we seemed to attract a lot of groupies, My favorite was a woman who called herself 'Clitoria'. Her real name was Janice, and she was a hot blooded (literally) Irish Catholic girl who was determined to screw as many DJ's as possible. I met Janice one night when I came into the studio and found her under the console table lending a hand to the guy on before me. We had a gay program director back then who didn't like me much, and liked me less after a party at my house one night. Clitoria was pretty drunk when she decided the thing to do was sit on the guys lap and see if she could get his motor revved. When she noticed he was ... non responsive, Janice announced in a VERY LOUD voice: "What are you, some sort of Fag?". I got transfered to the overnight shift the next week. Whoops. Speaking of questions, I was in the studio one day when Ted Nugent asked our beautiful afternoon lady (my friend Lynne Woodison) if she would like an "oral pap test"... radio silence followed.
There was another groupie who would ring the front bell wearing a long fur coat (with nothing on underneath) and ask if Eric Clapton was there. I would always say that he'd just left, but might be back any time..so perhaps she'd like to come in and er..take her coat off.
Also that year I recall doing an on air interview with the Ramones. When I asked Joey how the tour was going he just nodded. More radio silence.
W-4 changed me in many ways, I met Nicki with her ribbons and bows in that place, and I was working there when my mother died. I was not the same when I left that house of ghosts as I was when I arrived, but as Clitoria would have said: It was a fuck of a good ride.
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