Old Radio Guys Never Die...

...they just get tuned out.

Once or twice a year there is a gathering of radio veterans who still possess a pulse. The event was conceived by Red Robinson, and it's known as RPM. This stands for Radio Performers Membership, but we prefer to think of it as Red's Post Mortem.

The most recent party (a luncheon happening, as many have to get home for an afternoon nap) was a fine, collegial occasion. Much happy camaraderie, even though some of the guests were once fierce rivals, ready to cut each other's microphone cords for better ratings. It was an event that would have been well chronicled by Denny Boyd or Jack Wasserman. Malcolm Parry, the current Vancouver Sun party columnist, would not have attended, as no one there looked rich, and there was a complete absence of cleavage.

There were, however, a lot of white beards. The George "Gabby" Hayes look seems to be trending. Exceptions were the onetime DJ who resembled Digger O'Dell, the friendly undertaker, and the police beat reporter who looked remarkably like Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Our friend the one-armed writer-lawyer, surveying photos of the event, remarked that if the participants were to march into any Vancouver radio station and take over the microphones, audience ratings would double in twenty-four hours. He also said, "That crowd should be entitled to have a whole generation of Vancouverites pick up the bill. There is no way anyone there should be paying for their own drinks."

Not sure about his first point--but agree enthusiastically with the second.