Elvis and the Volunteer

After two horrifing years in Dallas, Texas, I found myself at the PBS station in Cleveland, Ohio producing membership drives and auctions. In October of 1997 I came to the Land of Cleves' for a one week trial period at my potential new station. The city was in the midst of the Cleveland Indians second World Series visit in three years and I instantly took a liking to the city.

The final night of my one week visit I found myself acting as not only producer but as on-air talent as well. As I stood in the phone bank near the volunteers there were three lovely ladies seated next to me, all dressed in red. 

Between breaks I would usually go to the break room for some snacks and refreshments but for some reason I never went for a break that night. I stayed and talked to one volunteer who was seated next to me. We talked and talked and laughed and the night just flew by.

For most of the night the crew kept urging me to ask her out. I had never gone out with a volunteer before and didnt see the need then. But something kept me glued to that studio and talking to that volunteer.

At the end of each night I would go to the front door of the studio and say goodnight and thank each volunteer for coming that night. This night was no different.

As that one volunteer made her way down the hall and towards the exit, behind her I could see the creew peering around the corner, mouthing the words "Ask her out!" As she walked past me I said "Goodbye, thank you for helping tonight." I watched in silence as she walked to her car, kicking myself for not saying more.

As she opened her car door she stopped and turned and saw that I was still watching her. She walked back to where I was standing and handed me her business card and said "If you'd like to have coffee sometime, give me a call."

We've been together ever since.

We been through almost all the vows - In sickness and in health; 4 bouts with cancer were she survived them all. For richer and for poorer; unemployment, economic hardships, ups and downs and she is still my rock.

After being together for nearly seven years she finally said yes and so nine years today at the Parma Relay For Life not only did we set the Guiness World Book of Records for The Most Elvis' Singing Viva Las Vegas, we raised nearly a quarter of a million dollars for cancer research and with 107 "Elvi" as our wedding party we got married. It seemed only fitting that we share our special day with all of the more than 3000 attendees and 300 other cancer survivors.

It was hot and muggy but with me in a cherry red Elvis jumpsuit and her in a poodle skirt and Keds we were married. The next day we were all on the front page of the newspaper - Elvis would have loved it.

 

Happy Anniversary to the "Lovely Nina."

Happy "Sweatest" Day

“Mmmm. Move over, eggs.

Bacon just got a new best friend - fudge.”

- Homer Simpson


 

This weekend I celebrated Sweetest Day with my wife. For the first time REALLY celebrated it, with all of the things that I knew my wife would enjoy. I gave her a card, a present and candy(corn) and a promise to take her to brunch on Sunday. I've lived in NE Ohio for almost 14 years and two things still amaze me, lightning bugs and Sweetest Day!

Okay, that and maybe the city’s love for the beleaguered Browns. HEY! I spent almost 40 years, that’s all of my childhood and most of my adult life waiting for St. Elway to part the Rocky Mountain headwaters and finally win NOT one but two of the big ones for the Mile High City. Forget the “Drive” and the “Fumble,” I know suffering too pal.

Back to my two amazement's however. The first is easier to understand than the second because while I never actually saw a “lightning bug,” “fire-fly,” “June Bug,” until I was in my forties, I did know about them from things like Disney movies. These cute little Jiminy-esqe creatures would be crammed into a mason jar and used to light up the country side for miles and miles.

The first time I actually did see one, I was on an early evening walk with my wife. This mini-firework nearly flew into my face. "WHOAAA!" What the heck was that?" "It’s a lightening bug," she says, like she was teaching a three year old about nature. "You've never seen a lightning bug?" Surprised at just how incredulous she is, I had to come back with something. "Well you’ve never seen a buffalo named Ralphie?" “I thought buffalo were called bison.” “They are, except when they’re the University of Colorado’s mascot … Ralphie the Buffalo! They named it after the kid from A Christmas Story." Not getting the joke, she misses a lot of my jokes, she swells with pride and says to me “You know I saw them film that movie…” “… downtown at the soldier thingee” I finish for her. I’d heard the story a dozen times before. “The Higbee Building,” she corrected. I didn’t answer because I was busy chasing another firefly down the street. Trying to catch one between my cupped hands and peer into it to watch the greenish glow.

The second thing that amazes me and I had NO idea what it was, until moving here, is Sweetest Day. Sweatest Day!?!? Who celebrates perspiration? Ooops I read that wrong. The ad read Don’t Forget Sweetest Day! "Huh? What?!? Is this new, like Grandparents Day, Bosses Day, and Secretary … I mean Administrative Assistants Day. We never had this in Denver. We had the perfunctory Valentines Day, Mother’s Day, Grandparent’s Day, Bosses Day, but no Sweetest Day.

As if I were a foreigner in a strange land, surrounded by kindly strangers, I’m met with advice. It’s advice from those wanting to keep Snidely “A.G.” Whiplash, or Boris “Hallmark” Baddanoff from parting me from my money.
"It's a way for American Greetings to make MORE money" someone tells me.
"It was invented by Hallmark" says another.
"The candy companies, they're to blame ... BLAME THEM! Gather the pitch forks and torches and KILL them, kill them all!
“We never celebrate it!” “Why isn’t there something for single people?”

Sweetest Day, a "concocted promotion" created by the greeting card and/or candy industry solely to increase sales of their products. Why else would I hear radio spots urging me to make the trek to stand in line for porcine products layered in chocolate and salt. "Hey! Let's go get sweet, sickly Aunt Barb some chocolate covered bacon to perk up her spirits, sodium and cholesterol count!"

If I were to listen to these people, well than obviously I’m to believe that Sweetest Day is a fake holiday wrapped in a flying saucer shaped Jiffy Pop pan.

Wikipedia tells me that Sweetest Day is an observance celebrated primarily in the Great Lakes region and parts of the Northeast United States on the third Saturday in October. Once known as a day to spread love and cheer to the unfortunate, this popular, or unpopular, depending upon whom you ask, holiday in the northern U.S. is now known as a day to show affection to the loved ones in your life.

It is described by Retail Confectioners International as an "occasion which offers all of us an opportunity to remember not only the sick, aged and orphaned, but also friends, relatives and associates whose helpfulness and kindness we have enjoyed.

Geee … now wasn’t that just like holiday dinner where you meet your sister’s fiancee, a new convert to Catholicism, fresh from catechism class. The one who knows all of the scripture from the Bible, can name all the apostles, list all mortal AND venial sins AND knows the Ten Commandments both backwards and forwards! Or the new American Citizen who knows all of the branches of government.

But … once again I digress. So, as promised, my wife and I go to a wonderful restaurant for Sunday Brunch and as we drive home together, life is good.

Wait for it … wait ….

That is until my wife, a four time cancer survivor, begins to have pain. Pain as she describes it, ranging in scale from 2 to 8. Two being a slight pinch, like when I prick my finger to test my blood sugars. A ten is like how I heard someone once describe childbirth. "Take your left thumb and forefinger and grab your lower lip, then do the same with your right thumb and forefinger and grab your upper lip. Now PULL your top lip over the TOP of your head!"

You can never know the agony that you experience, the chill that goes through you when you think that perhaps the “C” word has reentered your life and the lives of those you love until you have been around someone who has fought the brave fight against cancer.

After spending a grueling seven hours at the hospital, it turns out that she may have had just a severe case of acid reflux. There will likely be more tests, there are always more tests. But for tonight, most of us can almost sleep peacefully.

Almost …

It’s 3:00 in the morning and my wife is asleep. Sweetest Day has come and gone, I'm writing and eating candy corn.


Click BANG C’ya Bye!

Happy Birthday Donny Osmond

Every picture tells a story

won't you listen to mine ?

I'm searching for the answer

but it's so hard to find.

You'll see much deeper when you read between the lines 'cause there's a fire burning in my eyes.

Like a thief in the night who can't get enough I am willing to fight 'cause I'm a soldier of love.

Soldier of Love - Donny Osmond

It was a dark and stormy night ... no really ... IT WAS!

During my tenure as pledge drive producer for a number of PBS affiliate stations, I had the pleasure of meeting and working with some of the entertainment industry's nicest (and not so nice) performers. The list is really amazing to me still. Many of them filled my record collection as a kid and many I watched as I would lay on the floor in front of the TV. They were the Moody Blues, Fleetwood Mac, Peter, Paul and Mary, John Denver. Mr. Rogers and the original "The Donald," Mr. Purple Socks, Donald Clark Osmond, other wise known as Donny.

So on this, his birthday, I thought I would share a story that to this day, Donny probably has no idea that it happened.

You have all seen a pledge drive for public television. You're enjoying your favorite episode of Mystery, Barnie, NOVA or one of the other wonderful shows when suddenly there is a host asking you, imploring you to support YOUR public television station. "And for $60 we'll send you this beautiful coffee mug that you can enjoy your coffee in while watching your favorite ..." and so on.

For nearly 15 tears I was either in front of the camera asking for that support or behind it putting the show together.

When word got out that Donny Osmond would be visiting our station you would have thought we were a store on black Friday and we were giving away free TVs.

Hours before he was scheduled to arrive, cars full of his fans arrived at the station parking lot, lining up to get a glimpse of the "Puppy Love" crooner. whenever a new car or van would pull into the lot, the doors of the cars would open and the "gophering" would begin with people sticking their heads out of their cars just far enough to see over the other cars, like gophers in a field.

A slight rain began to fall as I received word that Donny's limo was right around the corner. Earlier I had instructed the production assistant, Kelly, to wait in the parking lot and guide the car to the back of the building and into the station garage. I paged Kelly over the parking lot loud speaker and let her know that the car would be coming into the lot at any moment and to guide them into the waiting car bay... forgetting that EVERYONE else could hear my instructions also!

As I opened the garage door, I was was met with the sight of a long stretch limo headed for me. Running desperately behind, like someone trying to catch a train was Kelly the production assistant, followed by about 20 shrieking female fans of all shapes and sizes.

I have an image that still haunts me today ... as the limo made it into the garage I hit the close button and the door came down slowly.

Like Chief Brody in the movie JAWS as he watched in horror as boat capn' Quint slips into the giant shark, I closed my eyes as I watched as the throng began to engulf Kelly. I turned and began to walk away from the door and to the limousine to greet Mr. Osmond.

My last sight of Kelly was as I watched her shoes disappear at the bottom of the garage door, I heard the pounding of her fists on the door, heard her plea to let her in and heard another woman scream ... a bloodcurdling scream ... "YOU BITCH!"

Behind the closed garage door the lightening flashed and the thunder cracked as I lead Donny to the green room.

Kelly escaped unscathed.

That night, Donny, or should I say, Mr. Osmond, couldn't have been a nicer guy. When the rain came down he asked if we could bring those waiting outside to get a glimpse of him, indoors. He signed autographs, posed for pictures and did everything I asked of him that night, including raising a lot of money. Having been in show business since he was a toddler, he had learned his craft and was a true professional.

When the last photo was taken and the last tee shirt signed we began to walk to the garage to the waiting limo. There were only four or five of us who walked Donny back to his waiting car, myself and two or three other staff members. The staff photographer snapped the pic of Donny and I that I posted at the top of this blog, I shook his hand thanked him and he got into the limo with his back facing the garage door.

Safe and secure in his ride, we opened the garage door only to find a large late model Cadillac parked lengthwise across the opening. The limo and this strange car formed a T keeping Donny' s ride from leaving.

The driver of the blocking vehicle had his head back on the seat, limp to one side, his eyes closed and his arms and hands laid out across the top of the seat by the headrests.

A million things ran through my head in an instant. Was this a robbery, kidnapping, was the driver dead, QUICK close the door ... CALL THE POLICE!!!

The next sound I heard was BANG BANG BANG BANG.

It was a dark and stormy night, a shot rang out?

No it was the camera operator Tom banging on the roof of the blocking car. "MOVE THIS F*#%ing CAR" Tom yelled as his fist pounded again on the car.

What we saw next will forever be burned into our brains. The driver, who an instant later had seemed to be dead, snapped his head forward, grabbed the steering wheel and started the car. It was only then that we all saw the head of a woman pop out of his lap and scream!

The car quickly sped away into the rainy night and we all stood there frozen in disbelief of what we all thought we had just seen.

Donny and his driver slowly backed out of the garage and headed for his hotel. Since they both were facing the other way in the garage they were completly unaware of what had just happened. As I closed the door, we all waved goodbye and in my head I started to sing "... and they called it puppy loooooove!"

See the Soldier of Love video.

I Love You Bronco Billy

"I love you Bronco Billy"
- Sondra Locke to Clint Eastwood in Bronco Billy

What do Clint Eastwood, Sondra Locke and Bronco Billy all have in common with me, a kid from the projects of north Denver? Stick around and I'll explain.

I never imaged that I would end up as a professional fundraiser. It's not that raising money to find a cure for cancer or diabetes isn't worthwhile - it is. Or that pitching coffee mugs and concert tickets to help keep the likes of Barney, Big Bird and Lawrence Welk on the air wasn't an honorable profession - it was. It paid the rent and didn't keep me up nights. I believed then and still do today, that I was doing something good for children and their grandmothers alike.

But I started out as a disc jockey, DJ, announcer, record spinner -- ahem -- radio broadcaster and I never intended to help raise money for charitable causes. Ever since I could remember I had listened to the jocks on the classic AM radio stations broadcasting in Denver and dreamed of being one of them.

There was 85 KOA with the perennial Bob Martin calling the play-by-play of the Denver Broncos long before anyone had ever heard the name John Elway. Back in those days the Bronco's were coached by Lou Saban, were dismal at best and the only bright and shining light was running back Floyd Little. The overnight host at KOA was Alan Berg. Alan was an attorney and former clothing store owner who would make national headlines after he was was shot 13 times and killed by members of the white supremacist group "The Order." In 1988, Olive Stone directed the film "Talk Radio" which was based on Berg's death. I had the pleasure of meeting Alan and while he could raise the ire of his listeners with the simplest topic discussion, like which way the toilet paper roll should go -- over or under -- I never imagined that someone would murder him as brutally as they did. Sitting in his studio while he interviewed a friend of mine, a local up and coming singer, I knew I wanted to be in radio.

Over at 630 KHOW was Hal & Charlie and a young John Lanigan before he made the trek east and became an institution in Cleveland radio. You can hear Hal & Charlie in the 1980 Stanley Kubrick film "The Shining" as one of the characters listens to their show while navigating his way up the mountain road during a blizzard.

Every morning my radio alarm would wake me up for school just in time for me to hear Harry Smith signing off from his all night show. Harry would always sign off with the last few lines from the Beatles song "The End." "... and in the end the love you take, is equal to the love you make..." Harry would later go on to be a program host on A&E and a news anchor and morning show host at CBS television.

BUT - the Mother of 'em all, the Queen of Denver radio was off the shores of Sloans Lake in Denver ... 95 KIMN AM! K-I-M-N was THEE radio station in Denver in those days. It was how I imagined radio was in Philly, Detroit, Cleveland and New York. It was "personality" radio with names like Danny Davis, Robert E. Lee, Pogo Pog, Paxton Mills, Gary Owens (who later became the announcer on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In) and the Denver radio giant, Jay Mack.

All those announcers became my inspiration for wanting to be on-air and so when I had the chance, I did. For eight glorious years I spun records (no Cd's until my last year) did remote broadcasts, read the news, put President Jimmy Carter on hold more than once (read the blog I Am the Morning DJ for that tidbit) gave away stuff and had the time of my life.

All that changed one day when a flyer was mailed to the station. The local PBS station was looking for "celebrities" to work their televised auction. So I volunteered.

The next thing I know, I'm being asked to come back and do more auctions and pledge drives, then I'm interning, then I'm helping to produce and then I'm hired on as an Associate Producer (or Ass. Prod. as it showed up on my check stubs) and that's how my fundraising career began. from talking on the radio to talking on TV.

TALK TALK TALK TALK TALK TALK TALK!

I learned that I had the gift of gab and could sometimes manage to put two sentences together so as to make a compelling presentation as to why you should support my career non-profit du jour.

I was soon courted away from Denver's PBS to the one in Dallas and then to Cleveland where on my very first night there I met the future Mrs. JT aka my wife. Then one day American Heart Association in Nashville Tennessee came calling and off I went again -- packing my belongings into yet another U-Haul and headin' off to another adventure.

Nashville, Music City USA, Home of the Grand Ol' Opry, the Ryman Auditorium and Music Row. All of that tied together with my love of music had me in heaven. You never knew who you would run into while walking around town. I ran head first into Vince Gill at the local pancake house, sat back-to-back to country legend Eddy Arnold while eating lunch and while shoppping at the local record store looked up and there was Emmylou Harris standing across from me, seperated only by a row of Waylon and Willie records. At the Nashville airport one day, I picked up my suitcase, spun around without looking and knocked singer Kathy Mattea over her guitar case and flat on her backside.

I learned to speak "Southern," ate at some terrific local BYOB cafes and met country music legend Brenda Lee at the Bell Buckle RC Cola & Moon Pie Festival. As Burt Reynolds said in "Smokey and the Bandit" she was a spinner. The people were great, my co-workers terrific and the volunteers were generous and giving beyond belief ... some of the best I've ever had the pleasure of working with.

There was one volunteer in particular named Dwight, or if you spoke "Southern," DEE-wight. DEE-wight would go with me on sponsorship calls to local businesses like Jack Daniels, yes thee Jack Daniels, the makers of smooooth sipping whiskey in Lynchburg, TN and then take me to lunch at a local restaurant in Shelbyville. At one time Shelbyville or "The Pencil City," was known for being the center of the pencil making industry but was now better known for the Tennessee Walking Horse National Celebration that has taken place there since 1938. For 11 days every year people from around the world gather to name World Champions.

One day DEE-wight and I were in the diner seated at "The Table." Every small town has their version of "The Table"... it's the one table located in that one restaurant that everyone goes to for lunch. "The Table" is usually reserved for the dignitaries like the Mayor, the Bank President and on that day, me, since I was a guest of DEE-wight.

But I digress ... so we're sitting having lunch at "The Table" and I feel pretty proud of myself. DEE-wight and I had just secured a major sponsorship from Jack Daniels, the event was on track to hit it's goal, the sun was bright and shining and I was at -- "The Table" -- when a man walks over dressed in clean but worn green workers pants and green denim shirt with a matching green ball cap, sort of like the garb a gardener might wear.

The guy waves at DEE-wight, sits down next to me, says "Hello" and pushes his beat up ball cap back on his head.

Now I learned along time ago that you never judge a person's wealth or stature in the community by his clothes. I had met many high end donors who at first glance resembled something out of the painting "American Gothic, " the famous 1930 Grant Wood painting of an elderly couple on the farm with the farmer holding a pitchfork. So when this guy sat down next to me at "The Table" I didn't give it a second thought

As the waitress poured him a cup of coffee, DEE-wight says to me "Have you ever heard of Sondra Locke?" Hey, my biggest love, next to music was TV and movies and movie and TV trivia. I had played on a team at the University of Colorado's TRIVIA BOWL. The Trivia Bowl is the annual gathering and competition that pitted teams against each other to see who was had the best trivia knowledge in the ENTIRE WORLD!

My head is like the big warehouse scene at the end of "Raiders of the Lost Ark." With each one of those crates filled with useless knowledge about who starred in this movie, what line was said by whom, what was this actors real name. My wife gets annoyed because I speak the dialogue to movies before they actors in the movies do.

So when DEE-wight asked me about Sondra Locke, phffffft, that was easy... a snap ... child splay.

"Sondra Locke!" I said "Sondra Locke, the actress?"
"The one who lived with Clint Eastwood for years and then ended up being his stalker?"
"The one who was in a ton of his movies, like Bronco Billy?"
"I read that when he had broken up with her he had to change all the locks on his house and get a restraining order to keep her away."
"Then she took him to court several times for palimony and breach of contract and sued the movie studio too!"
"Sondra Locke, the one who directed one of the worst movies ever -- RAT BOY!"
"The story around Hollywood is that she's difficult, overbearing, hard to work with and just plain crazy!"

I felt like I had just scored triple-points at the Trivia Bowl.

Feeling proud of myself and trying not to dislocate my shoulder by patting myself on the back, I said "That Sondra Locke?"

"Why ..... ?"

"Well ... " DEE-wight slowly drawled, placing his hand on my arm, this BIG grin slowly making it's way across his face ... trying hard not to laugh.
"What ...?" I said, puzzled.
Bursting out he says "That's her brother sitting next to you! AHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

Shocked! Afraid to move, afraid to turn and face the man seated to my left, my eyes slowly turned as far as they could in their sockets so that I see his reaction without moving any part of my body. Looking down at the table I saw the cap he had been wearing that was now next to his coffee mug and emblazoned on the cap above the brim were the words Locke Heating & Cooling.

"AHHH Haaaaa haaa haaaa haaaa haaaaa" continued DEE-wight! Other customers now turned to see what was sooooooo funny.

Slowly turning in my seat, I came face-to-face with Mr. Don Locke, lifelong resident of Shelbyville, TN, owner of Locke Heating & Cooling and brother of the previously mentioned "crazy" actress Sondra Locke.

"Mr Locke, please forgive me, Sir please accept my apology, I am soooooo sorry Sir!" The words just fell all over themselves trying to escape my mouth. All the while roars of laughter came from DEE-wight while his huge left hand slapped me on the back! His feet now stomping the floor as he nearly feel out of his chair.

I watched and waited for the tirade to come from this southern gentleman who's sister I had slighted, who's family name I had made fun of ... it never came.

Picking his cap up off of the table and putting it slowly back on his head, Mr. Locke leaned forward towards me, looked me sternly in the eye ... winked ... and said "She is crazy!"

I've learned several important key points as a fundraiser, always ask for more than you want, never leave any money on the table, always order more port-o-potties than you need, never judge a person's giving capacity by what they're wearing ... and ALWAYS read the logos on their cap and shirt.

The Hit Man's First Shot

So here goes ... "It was a dark and stormy night, a shot rang out, a woman screamed" ... no that's not right. "He looked into her eyes and his heart raced."" He was sweating more than a beach full of albino's on the 4th of July" ... nah, I don't think so.

Look who am I kidding? The reason I decided to start my own blog is because I want to share my fundraising experiences with you. Whether you are a veteran fundraiser or just starting out, there are things that you may or may not have thought about. We'll touch on everything from grants to sponsorship asks, working with board members to forming a committee. So check back and maybe you'll have a topic that you'd like to discuss. I will try to get to them all. It's not like my musings, collective thoughts and ramblings are going to make War & Peace read like Horton Hears A Who! But maybe, just maybe you can learn from my mistakes and have a succesful event too.

I will promise to try and keep it light with no over the top political or religious commentary. I'll leave that to the Bill Maher's, Olbermann's and O'Reilly's of the world. They are much better at it than I ever could be.

But I will share with you some of my fundraising tips and secrets. Like how did I become a professional fundraiser and how did I come to name this blog the HITMAN, or how did I run myself down with my own car? Or maybe I'll just share my love of music with you.

Leave a comment if you like and we'll take it day by day

"JT says C'ya bye!"