Larry King

Larry King is the host of Larry King Live on CNN





By Rick Kaempfer


In the fall of 1993, America was debating the merits of NAFTA. One of the champions of NAFTA was former Vice President Al Gore, and the biggest opponent was Ross Perot. Larry King scored the coup of having the two men on his show to debate the issue on national television.

I scored the coup of getting Larry King to appear on the John Landecker show the day before the debate. He happened to be in Chicago promoting a book, and I booked him to appear in our studio--which I thought was a pretty big deal at the time.

When Larry arrived, I got a call from the front desk of the radio station. I immediately ran out to get him--and when he saw me, he handed me his overcoat and said "cream, no sugar." (Or something like that. I can't remember the exact coffee order--I just remember it was made without even saying hello.)

I brought him right into the studio, and took my usual place--sitting next to John. The interview was off to a pretty good start when I saw the face of our general manager through the glass in the newsroom. He looked incredibly ticked off, which truth be told, was his usual demeanor. He wiggled his finger toward me.

I thought I shouldn't get up and leave in the middle of the conversation because I was sitting between John and Larry, so I signaled with one finger that I would be there in a minute. I was going to wait until the commercial break.

Twenty seconds later, he came into the studio itself--which he had never done while the microphones were on, and gave me the same finger wiggle. This time both Larry and John saw him do it, and they were struggling to stay on topic. I had no choice but to get up, and when I got near him, he grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into the hallway.

"What the f*** are you doing?" he screamed after the door closed behind us.

"What do you mean?" I asked, truly having no idea what he was talking about.

"Larry King?" he spat.

"Yeah, tomorrow night he's got..."

"I don't give a f*** if he's got Jesus F***** Christ on his show tomorrow night. It's after 8:30. We should be playing music right now."

I couldn't believe my ears. I looked at him, shook my head sadly, and walked back into the studio. I knew this dispute wasn't over, but I also knew John needed me in the studio, and this was too big of a deal to be wasting my time in the hallway explaining why. I figured it could be handled after the show. I didn't know our general manager well enough at the time to realize that wasn't going to be an option. (Keep in mind we had only been at the station for a few months when this occurred.)

Sure enough, Harvey wasn't going to just let this drop. This time he waited until the commercial break to come into the studio, but he walked in again. He was obviously pissed off.

"Rick, can I talk to you in the hallway again," he said through gritted teeth. He was trying his best to sound like he wasn't mad, but he was notoriously bad at doing so.

"Harvey," I said. "Have you met Larry King? You guys have something in common. You're both from Brooklyn."

"What part of Brooklyn?" Larry asked.

That started the conversation between these two guys--who were about the same age and from the same neighborhood, and within moments there were smiles all around--Harvey and Larry were laughing and reminiscing. When the commercial break was ending, John practically had to shoo Harvey out of the studio.

"You still need to talk to me in the hallway?" I asked.

Harvey waved me off. "Nah," he said. "We'll talk about it another time."

We never did.

That next night on CNN, Larry King got one of the biggest audiences of all time (a cable television record at the time), and made the front page of every newspaper in the country. Because we had a preview of that historic night on our little local Chicago radio station the day before, excerpts of our interview were quoted in both Chicago newspapers.

But we probably should have been playing "Build me up Buttercup" for the one thousandth time.

Charmian Carr

Charmian Carr played the part of "Liesl" in the Oscar winning film "The Sound of Music."






Last time in Celebrity Snippets, I wrote about my encounter Julie Andrews, but these are the essential ingredients of the story for you to understand the significance of my encounter with Charmian Carr.

When I was growing up, the Sound of Music was a very important film in our house. My father came from Austria and he forced us to watch it so many times that we knew the film by heart. After he died, The Sound of Music reminded us of Dad even more.

I made the mistake of telling John Landecker about this, and he thought it was hilarious that a 30-something straight male loved that movie. He brought me along to an interview with Julie Andrews to embarrass me. He thought I was in love with her--but I confessed after the interview that I was actually in love with the girl who played Liesl, Charmian Carr.

As it turns out, telling that to John was an even bigger mistake.

I figured the odds of running into her were minimal, but wouldn't you know it, she came to Chicago just a few years later to promote a sing-a-long version of "The Sound of Music." When John heard she was coming, he insisted that I book her to appear on the show.

I did. But I knew I was in for it.

He wouldn't tell me what was going on in the days before the interview, but I heard a lot of whispering between John and the other members of the show. Whenever I walked into the room, they shut up. Or they laughed. I was bracing for the worst.

On the morning of the interview, I was unbelievably nervous. John had even been warning the audience about my childhood love of Liesl, and that something truly memorable was about to occur.

She arrived at the studio about fifteen minutes early, so I met her at the door and brought her to the green room. I must say, she was still quite beautiful. I know she's easily fifteen years older than me, and I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I couldn't even bring myself to shake her hand. I had sweaty palms.

I tried to warn her that something was going to happen. I told her that John had been teasing me about my love of the movie, and described our Julie Andrews experience to her. She seemed amused by it all, but I must admit...I had a difficult time maintaining eye contact.

Take a look at those eyes.

When I brought her into the studio, John was nearly bouncing off his seat with excitement. Within seconds, he was handing each of us a script, and explaining to the audience what was about to occur.

He had transcribed the love scene between Liesl and Rolf, and wanted to know if Charmian would recreate that scene live on the air, with me playing the part of Rolf. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life.

She was obviously a little taken aback by this, but after looking at me, shrugged her shoulders and said "Sure, what the heck."

John cued the music, and boom, we were acting out the scene. I was sitting five feet away from the real Liesl, and she was calling me "Rolf" with love in her voice. I stammered through my first line, which sent John into convulsions, and onto the floor, but it didn't stop Charmian. She was such a good sport about it.

We did the entire scene. For those two or three minutes, she was sixteen going on seventeen, and I was the blond-haired Austrian teenager she was in love with.

Can I confess it now?

It was probably one of my all-time favorite moments in my radio career because it was such a unique and personal experience.

Don't tell that to John, though. It would ruin the moment for him.






How many people have both of these autographs on their "Sound of Music" soundtrack?

Julie Andrews

Julie Andrews has won an Oscar for best actress for her performance as "Mary Poppins." The following year she was also nominated for best actress for her role as Maria in "The Sound of Music."




My father grew up in Austria, so the movie "The Sound of Music" was very special to him. He was about the same age as the Von Trapp children during the war, and it struck a chord. We went as a family to see it in the movie theater, and then we watched it together every time it was on television. It was not optional viewing.

In the summer of 1974, he even sent my sister and I to spend the summer with his old school chum in a small town outside of Salzburg…the very same hills that were alive with the Sound of Music. After my father died in the late 80s, the movie took on added significance to me. It reminded me of Dad.

Somewhere along the line during my years with the John Landecker show, I made the mistake of telling John about this. He thought it was hilarious that a 30-something year old straight man loved "The Sound of Music." He filed that little bit of information away, just waiting for an opportunity to use it.

That opportunity came soon enough.

When Julie Andrews came to Chicago in the mid-90s to star in the Broadway-bound "Victor-Victoria," I spent weeks setting up a special one-on-one interview for John. When I finally did secure a taped interview at the theater, he got a little twinkle in his eye.

I knew I was in trouble, but I figured it would be worth it. Our audience was Julie's audience, and vice versa. It was a no-brainer for the show.

The interview was actually quite entertaining. Her husband Blake Edwards, the director of the film Victor/Victoria, was sitting by her side throughout the interview and he was on a comedic roll—totally dominating the discussion. I was enjoying it tremendously as a fly on the wall.

I can still picture it vividly.

I was sitting just a few feet away from Julie Andrews, and I have to say, she looked fantastic. I was so impressed by her in so many ways. She seemed unbelievably nice, plus she was really showing me something by laughing at the ribald humor of her husband. In fact, I was enjoying it so much, I had completely forgotten about the butterflies in my stomach.

They came back quickly, however, when the interview was wrapping up. John pulled a CD copy of the Sound of Music soundtrack out of his jacket, and my face immediately turned bright red. I knew what was coming next.

"That's my producer, Rick," he said, pointing to me, "And he's been in love with you since 'The Sound of Music' came out. Would you mind autographing this CD for him?"

She looked at me and smiled, genuinely flattered. I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl under my chair.

"Do you run into a lot of 30-something year old straight guys who loved the Sound of Music?" he teased.

"Don't let him get to you, Rick," she said, handing me the CD. "He just doesn't get it."

I still have that CD. On the way back to the studio, I didn't even realize I was clutching it tightly to my chest. John laughed out loud.

"You really were in love with Julie Andrews, weren't you?" he asked.

"Actually, no," I foolishly corrected him. "I was in love with Liesl."

Boy, would I come to regret that little confession. In the next "Celebrity Snippets," I'll tell you why.

Mary Tyler Moore & Valerie Harper

Mary Tyler Moore was the star of the iconic "Mary Tyler Moore" show. One of the co-stars of that show was Valerie Harper. Mary and Valerie are the best of friends off-camera too.





By Rick Kaempfer



I wrote about the joint appearance of Mary Tyler Moore and Valerie Harper on the John Landecker show in my book "The Radio Producer's Handbook." The fun part about that interview was that Valerie knew Mary would be on, but Mary had no clue that Valerie would be there....

Mary Tyler Moore was appearing via satellite on a publicity tour. She had no visual contact with us for what was scheduled to be a ten-minute interview. Mary knew that she was going to be interviewed by a man and a woman (John Landecker & Vicki Truax), but that was all she knew. As soon as the interview started, the female interviewer (going by the name of Vicki) started getting belligerent and questioned Mary Tyler Moore’s sincerity. Mary got upset. She started to go after Vicki, until she began to sense that something strange was going on. After a few more seconds, she recognized the voice. It was her good friend and former co-star Valerie Harper, who happened to be in town doing a play. The awkwardness of the first few seconds of the interview led to a truly special interview that Mary probably remembers to this day.

The visual memory I have of that day is the evil expression on Valerie's face. She was really getting into the "character" of Vicki. The real Vicki was sitting right next to her, enjoying the moment silently.

Michael Dukakis

Michael Dukakis was the presidential candidate for the Democratic Party in the 1988 election vs. George H.W. Bush.




This excerpt from "The Radio Producer's Handbook" details the single worst moment of my broadcasting career. It shaped me for years to come...

Depending on the number of shows on your station, the secret in-studio phone number (commonly called the hotline) may not exactly be a secret. During the 1988 presidential election, Michael Dukakis was in Chicago attending a fundraiser. One of the writers of this book (OK—it was Rick) had unsuccessfully attempted to get him on the show he was producing.

As the traffic reporter was discussing the traffic created by the Dukakis motorcade, the hotline rang. It was someone claiming to be in the limo with Dukakis. He said that Dukakis wanted to get on the air to let Chicago know he was sorry for the traffic delay. Because Rick had made several calls to the Dukakis campaign, he believed the caller.

The hosts (Steve Dahl & Garry Meier) were pleasantly flattered that a presidential candidate would be calling the show, and they believed it too. However, about three seconds into the Dukakis call it became obvious that isn’t wasn’t Dukakis. It was a hoax. If Rick had insisted on speaking to Dukakis himself on the phone before he told the host, the entire situation could have been avoided.

I was lucky that Steve & Garry made a bit out of my stupidity that day. The show wasn't ruined (only my reputation was). However, that moment also turned me into a different producer. I vowed never to let anything like that ever happen again.

About a month later when Steve & Garry were at a live broadcast somewhere, the hotline rang again. I was back at the studio running the controls.

"Hey, who's this?" the caller asked.

"Who's this?" I challenged.

"It's Jim Belushi," he said.

"Right."

"No, really. It's me. Jim Belushi."

"Yeah, and I'm Michael Dukakis."

I hung up on him. He sounded like an imposter to me.

About twenty minutes later I was listening off the air to Steve and Garry during a commercial break. (The sound still came back to the studio, but it wasn't going over the air).

"Hey Garry," Steve said. "Look, it's Jim Belushi."

"Hey guys," Belushi said. "I tried to call you at the station to find out the address of this place, and some guy hung up on me."

Sigh.

I got much better with experience, but every time I hear someone mention the names Michael Dukakis or Jim Belushi the hair still stands up on my neck.

And it's been nearly twenty years.

Elvira

In the 1980s actress Cassandra Peterson became nationally known as “Elvira; Mistress of the Dark.” She continues to play that role to this day.





The year was 1989.

It was right around Halloween, and I thought it would be fun to have Elvira on the Steve & Garry show to talk about the holiday.

Steve & Garry weren’t exactly huge fans, but I convinced them that it was thematically appropriate to have Elvira on the show during the last week of October. They agreed, but they did so grudgingly.

When she called from her home in Los Angeles the day of the interview, I answered the phone, and the conversation went something like this…

“Hello this is Cassandra calling the Steve & Garry show.”

“Elvira?” I asked.

“That’s a character I play,” she said. “Please call me Cassandra.”

“OK, Cassandra. You’ll be on the air with Steve & Garry in just a minute. Obviously we’ll be talking about Halloween. Please hold.”

I put her on hold for a second and stared at the phone. I had that queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I picked up the phone again.

“You will be going by ‘Elvira’ on the air, right?” I asked.

“That’s not my name,” she said. “My name is Cassandra. If they want to discuss the character of Elvira, and how I get into the character, I’d be happy to do that.”

“OK, thanks,” I said. “Please hold.”

That’s when I knew it was going to be a horrible train wreck. Steve & Garry had an incredibly low threshold for actors who took themselves too seriously. I walked into the studio during the commercial break, and prepared to take my punishment.

"Elvira's on hold," I said.

“Tell her we’ll get to her after the commercials,” Steve responded, barely looking up at me.

I cleared my throat.

“Actually…there’s something you should know before we put her on.”

Steve looked up. His radar was beeping.

“What?”

“Um…well, she wants you to call her... Cassandra.”

Steve gave me the classic “Bye Bye Now” flight attendant wave.

“Get rid of her?” I asked.

"No," Steve said. The sarcasm was dripping. "I'm sure our listeners would love to hear all about someone named Cassandra."

And that was that.

I thanked Cassandra for calling and apologized that we had run out of time.

Mike Royko

Mike Royko was a legendary newspaper columnist in Chicago for the Chicago Daily News, the Chicago Sun-Times, and the Chicago Tribune. He passed away in 1997.





In the mid-90s the John Landecker show was co-hosted by Vicki Truax, who was married to legendary Chicago TV sportscaster Tim Weigel.

Through Vicki, Tim became a friend of mine. Tim was a gregarious guy, and it seemed like we were invited to parties at his huge Evanston mansion all the time. The guest lists at these parties read like a who's who of Chicago's media, including one of Tim's very best friends; Mike Royko.

I grew up reading him, and I considered him one of America's greatest living writers, but he was not exactly known as a warm and fuzzy guy. I was actually scared to death of him. Whenever I got into a conversation anywhere near the man, I just prayed I didn't say anything stupid. I respected his talent so much it would have killed me if he thought I was an idiot. (And he thought just about everyone was an idiot—he was famous for his ability to slice and dice with an effortlessly tossed barb.)

Therefore, whenever Royko was around, I was mute. I just liked standing near him and listening to his stories. I was pretty sure he had no idea who I was, and I liked it that way, but I was pretty sure it couldn't last forever.

I was right.

At one of these shindigs I was talking to Tim about something we had done on the radio show that week. It was a wacky parody song about John Wayne Bobbitt, the most famous man in America at that time. (Remember him? He was the guy who had his thingee cut off by his wife.) Tim really thought the song was funny, and asked me if I wrote it.

While I was in the middle of openly admitting that I wrote a wacky parody song about a guy who had his penis cut off, I didn't see America's most respected newspaper columnist walk up next to me. When I saw him, my heart sank. He was clearly listening in on the conversation.

At that moment I knew I would no longer be able blend into the walls and just listen to Royko.

"You wrote that Bobbitt song?" he asked me.

I gulped and braced myself for the slapdown king's inevitable slapdown.

"Yes he did," Tim answered for me. "Did you hear it?"

Royko nodded. "Yeah, my wife had it on in the car," he said. I could hear the disdain in his voice. I knew he wasn't a regular listener of the show.

Tim asked him the one question I never would have asked in a million years. "What did you think of it?"

Royko looked at me, and just for a second, a crooked little grin formed at the corner of his mouth. "I thought it was genius," he said.

I don't remember anything else that happened at the party that night. I don't even remember leaving the party, or getting home. I might have flown home, I'm not sure. But I'll always remember that one little moment when the wacky parody song writer was given the momentary seal of approval from one of his idols.

On the other hand, as my wife always points out when I tell this story, "He was hitting the gin pretty hard that night."

As if that matters.