What I Didn't Do

I was talking to an old friend of mine from the music industry the other day. We've kept in touch over the years, ever since the days when he was a record promoter and I was a music director. As we took a trip down memory lane, we kept coming back to how much radio and the record biz have changed, and we remarked upon all the people we knew back then who are no longer here. 

The conversation brought back a lot of memories. I remember that so many of the people we knew in the '70s and '80s were heavily into partying. In fact, I remember being offered just about every kind of illegal substance imaginable-- and being ostracized by certain people because I didn't do any of those things. I think I'm one of the only people I know who got fired from a radio station for not getting high. The folks at one of the stations where I worked said I was standoffish, and I just didn't fit in; and that was the end of my time working there. 

It was a recurring pattern-- I didn't always get fired, of course; but a lot of my colleagues really disliked me, because I was so different from everyone else. I probably seemed like I was being judgmental of them or thought I was better than they were. But the truth was I just felt awkward and out of place; I didn't come from a world where drug use was the norm. Plus, as one of the few women working in rock & roll radio, I wanted to make a positive impression and not do anything foolish. It was a great time to be in radio: I loved playing the hits, I loved breaking new bands, I loved going to concerts, I loved meeting the fans. But the rest of it-- the parties especially-- just felt uncomfortable, and I didn't know what to do. So I mostly kept to myself. 

Fortunately, many of the record promoters were kind to me; agreed, they were doing it for a reason-- they wanted to get their records played, and it was in their best interest to humor me. But a few seemed to like me for who I was, and those are the ones I still talk to, even 40 years later. Meanwhile, I was disappointed, but not surprised, when I found out that some of the folks I had worked with said (and wrote) some very unkind stuff about me. Perhaps if I had been more like everyone else, folks might have had a more favorable view of me. But I couldn't do it. And while I don't regret being myself, I understand what it cost me.  

What helped me get through those times was my friendship with Rush. They never mocked the fact that I didn't drink or smoke or do drugs; nor did anyone in their management or at their record company. The folks in the Rush universe always treated me with courtesy. Five decades later, they still do. The same was true for a few other musicians that I met along the way (Bruce Springsteen comes to mind). But when I think back on the places I worked, more often than not, I didn't make many friends.

Today, I still have a lot of great memories about my time in broadcasting, and I still miss being on the air. Attitudes have changed-- it's no longer considered weird to avoid drugs and alcohol, and many folks prefer a healthier lifestyle. In spite of not being especially popular with most of my colleagues, the listeners seemed to like me, and some of the happiest days of my life were spent as a deejay. But even now, when I think back on those days, I remember how lonely I often felt. And I wish I could have found a way to fit in, without having to compromise who I was...