KMAC

I may have been one of the earliest broadcast interns in San Antonio. While still a sophomore at Saint Gerard’s High School, I approached Tony Bessan, the program director at KMAC. Tony was gracious enough to take time from his busy schedule to talk with me. It quickly became painfully obvious that my request for a job was going to be denied, so I quickly changed my approach to "Would it be possible for me to come to the studio several nights a week to observe the operation?" Rather than flatly turning my request down, Mr. Bessan said he would have to confer with the owner--Howard Davis. To my total surprise, several days later, my request was granted. My observation time, for the next two weeks, was spent filing records (78 rpm) and 16-inch transcriptions (33 1/3 rpm).

I was again surprised, when I received a phone call inquiring if it was possible for me to run the audio board and announce the evening KMAC programs. With the confidence and enthusiasm of a 16 year old I quickly answered, "Yes, sir. No problem." Before I continue, I need to explain that this was 1943 and most young men either joined or were drafted into the service. The two men who worked the KMAC evening shift had been drafted. I was to be their replacement. I was thankful that my voice changed early, so it didn't give away my true age.

I was only at KMAC for a few months. However, those months provided me with three memories that I never will forget.

KMAC was on the 12th floor of the old National Bank of Commerce Building. If you were part of the air staff, it was very important to know that there were no restrooms on the 12th floor.

The "Old Fashioned Revival Hour" which aired Sunday mornings on KMAC was not a "live" program. Reel-to-reel tape had not yet become the norm, so the program was comprised of both sides of two sixteen-inch transcription disks. Disk one contained sides one and three, and disk two contained sides two and four, with each side containing fifteen minutes of the program. The trick, was “knowing” when to segue into the next disk. One Sunday morning, the man on duty started disk one. Because "nature" was calling, and he had, at least, twelve minutes, he made a dash down the hall and up the stairs to the bathroom. He returned to the control room with plenty of time to spare, but was horrified to hear what apparently had been going on for some time over the air, "You will go to Hell" repeating over and over and over.

He was sure he was going to be fired...He wasn't.

Malcolm Bozarth hosted a program called "Of Words and Verse" evenings at ten thirty. He was a true gypsy, with long straight shoulder-length blonde hair. He liked to sit at the studio console controlling the background music while he read love poetry. The console was on the opposite side of the control room facing the large tilted glass windows looking into studios A and B. Late at night, when the studio lights were off, these windows became mirrors. Malcolm loved to gesture as he read his poetry, and the window-mirrors provided him with a large amount of visual feedback as he read the poetry. One night as he was ending the show, I carefully sneaked up behind him with a vinyl transcription fully charged with static electricity. Malcolm was so into his poetry reading that he was completely unaware of my presence. I quickly placed the disc above his head, just high enough not to be seen reflecting in the "mirrors." All he saw and felt was his alfalfa field of hair standing straight up. Malcolm let out a loud yell while simultaneously swinging his arm, which knocked the pickup arm off the record that was playing the closing theme--Intermezzo. Since I was young, I could run faster than he could. Later, we actually became friends.

Malcolm also did a nightly remote from the Turf Club, which was an upstairs bar on Soledad Street, only a block from the studio. The main feature of the club was the music of recording artist Vernon Guyer at the Hammond electric organ. The Turf Club was owned by the renowned gambler, Red Berry. So...you know there was plenty going on in the back room while the organ music played. In the middle of a remote one night, the club was raided, and Malcolm, along with quite a few club patrons, was hauled off to jail. He wasn't released until mid-morning the next day. Needless to say, Malcolm was not a happy camper.

Bill Kiley

Tony Bessan

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