CELEBRITY TALES..........AS I REMEMBER THEM: WHAT A SURPRISE

Robert Hall was not only a clothing outlet where you could get a decent suit for cheap but one of the pioneers at Satellite Music Network. He was the guy who hired me for an experimental project in satellite radio programming in 1981. He was the program director of my format and the midday disk jockey as well. That was before we grew into the ABC Radio Network and he came off the air to handle his duties as vice president of programming. He was also my friend and we acted accordingly, even in the professional atmosphere of radio where the “grown up” thing to do in, say, an inter office water fight, would be to go out and by a big boys' super soaker. We played racquetball and ate kimchee at a Korean restaurant almost daily. On a few occasions when I was in need of video equipment, for one reason or another (I had kids), Robert would give me the key to his house and tell me to just go get his camera, which was, almost every time, set up, strategically, over his bed (he didn't have kids). We were friends to the extent that he once told me that, as long as he was working there.......I had a job. He was there until he lost his hearing. Before he left the industry forever, he gave me a hug and said, “There's just no place in radio for a deaf guy.” It was one of the saddest days of my career. I never saw him again. Robert was unmistakable in his size, shape and color. He was a tall blonde guy whose hair was long enough go just past his collar. He had a mustache and was quite pale. He was very easily recognized from the front, back and all sides. You always knew when Robert was in the area. He could cast a mighty shadow. So, there it was.....a normal day at the network. We had most of the practical jokes out of our system and were getting about the business of entertaining the masses from our little studios in Mokena, Illinois where there was a sticker on the console that paraphrased ZZ Top and read: “We're bad........we're nationwide.” I was walking down the long hall in the bank building that was now housing our studios and production facilities in North Dallas. A door opened in front of me and out walked two very recognizable figures with their backs turned to me as they headed off in the same direction I was walking. The shorter guy was Lee Abrams. Lee was not too tall, starting to gain weight from all of his forays to exotic restaurants and had, what was then, long-ish, dark, curly hair. Next to him was the aforementioned tall blonde guy with hair reaching just past his collar. It was Lee and Robert, walking down the hall in front of me, giving me the perfect opportunity to hit my fellow practical joker with a “zinger” before the end of another broadcast day. I would sneak up, quietly behind him, I strategized, and put my knees into the back of his knees, which is a sure fire way to get someone to lose their balance and tumble to the floor. It's pretty funny when you are young and silly and find things like that funny. I took a deep breath and quietly tip toed behind the tall blonde guy until my knees were in the perfect position to deliver the defining blow of the “bit.” As I started driving my knees past the point of no return, I noticed Robert Hall walking towards us with a look of panic on his face. Down went my victim. I had just sent Justin Hayward of The Moody Blues to the floor like a sack 'o' rocks. He was Robert Hall's doppelganger. He looked up and, as I apologized profusely and held out a hand to give him a lift, very appropriately said, “Hey.....What did I do? I'm just a singer in a rock & roll band.” I had just traumatized a Moody Blue. From that point forth, I was always extremely careful with my at work acts of whimsy and mirth. I didn't want to “take out” any more rock stars, authors, politicians, actors or any other dignitary who happened to be at the network to grace our airwaves with whatever they happened to be plugging at the time. From that point forth, I never attacked from behind.