Thirty years ago this month we lost the brilliant radio DJ Allison Steele.
It's hard to think that the NYC airwaves have been without her soothing voice and gentle wisdom for so long. Since 1995 to be precise. I listened to her in high school and she died just after I started college. There was something about her death that marked for me, in a away, the end of my childhood.
But let's not dwell on that. Let's remember how long we had her. Let's go back in time to when Allison was at her height.
It was another September just like this, in the fall of 1972. Like in 2025 or 1995, summer was ending. The leafs and moods were changing, the autumnal equinox was nigh, and Allison, in her wonderful way, helped us say goodbye to summer.
So as we say goodbye to summer now, let's remember when Allison did it for us 53 years ago this month.
Allison, like summer, may be gone but will always be remembered.
Back in the 1990s my go-to radio station was 92.3 K-Rock ("Howard Stern All Morning, Classic Rock'n'Roll All Day). I even blogged about what was a kind of radio golden age back then -- Howard Stern, Allison Steele, and other great DJs of the day who were all on the station at the time.
The only exception to this was the bizarre presence of the Greaseman who broadcast at night from 6-10 PM on the station. It's hard to describe the Greaseman's DJ act -- it was all wild shtick, all over-the-top babble. He couldn't speak clearly or complete a comprehensible sentence, and he'd spout gibberish like "Waddle-doodalay, its da' Grease!" or "Hahahha Bone-Dry!" Weird. He'd burst into song (I remember one about the OJ Simpson trial done to the tune of "Georgia on My Mind" -- that was ... odd) and he'd take calls where he'd give shticky answers -- the whole act was a mess.
The thing about the Greaseman was that he wasn't actually broadcasting in NYC -- apparently he was in Los Angeles doing an afternoon show that was simulcast into other markets in the evenings (his humor was decidedly not New York-ish humor, it was some kind of redneck/middle America stuff that's beyond me). The idea, I suppose, was to have him on nights in NYC and make him a kind of evening bookend to Howard Stern in the morning -- but it didn't work. Howard ruled the NYC morning ratings while "da Grease!" was a ratings flop at night. And Howard haaattted him, ranting about how embarrassed he was to be on the same station as Grease ("I am steak and he's ... a paper cup!").
Still, as awful as his show was, he was a part of something great -- and then it all came to an end.
Eventually Greaseman lost his syndicated show and was off the air in NYC. This was clearly the highpoint of his career and it's now long in the past. "Da Grease!" wound up in Washington DC doing a local show -- and got fired there when he made a joke about how if more black people were killed by being dragged from the backs of trucks, we'd get more national holidays. Yeah, that was a baaaaddd and he's bounced around the radio dial from tiny station to tiny station ever since.
So that's the (short) story of when the Greaseman graced the airwaves of NYC, a bizarre moment in time that only Mr NYC could possibly remember.
Though they couldn't be more different, two events happened this week that marked the passage of time, the end of eras in the history of NYC culture.
First, the passing of legendary stage, screen and TV actress Angela Lansbury. What can one say about this amazing talent who could sing and act like no one else, whose career spanned from roughly 1944 to 2018, who appeared in brilliant films like Gaslight(1944), The Manchurian Candidate (1962) and Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971, one of my wife's favorites), a decade-plus run on TV with Murder, She Wrote (1984-1996) -- and multiple roles on Broadway including Mame, Sweeney Todd, and Blithe Spirit (amongst many others) that won her a total of 5 Tony Awards? She was an acting legend's legend, someone who made Broadway the truly "great" White Way, and we'll probably never see her likes again -- we only got to enjoy her talent for almost 80 years.
Second, the news that the "news" will be replacing the music on that spot on the NYC radio dial 92.3 FM. It's been a music station for decades starting in the 1940s, and in the 1970s it became an all-disco station (WKTU) before becoming K-ROCK, a classic rock station in 1980s -- the station that thrust Howard Stern into the cultural firmament of NYC, then the rest of the country (I blogged about this in 2019). Howard went to satellite in 2006, and K-ROCK floundered, changing formats to "hot talk" then back to music, finally becoming "Alt 92.3" -- but now the station will dump music altogether and instead simulcast its sister station 1010 WINS, the "all news, all the time" station that keeps NYC moving (plus they "give you the world" in 22 minutes). K-ROCK was also the station of Allison Steele, Vin Scelsa, and lots of great music so it's sad to see it vanish into the ether, to become essentially an FM-offshoot of an all-news station -- but in this era of podcasting, streaming, etc. radio is in decline, and this just proves it. RIP 92.3 FM, and thanks for the memories.
Thirty-years ago this month a little arthouse movie opened that portended a cultural revolution: Reservoir Dogs, the debut of director Quentin Tarantino, was a smart, violent, funny, thoughtful look at a bunch of professional criminals carrying out a jewelry heist that goes very wrong. It was a 1990s movie inspired by a 1970s grindhouse aesthetic, and a rare film where the storytelling and dialogue were as compelling as the action.
There are many memorable moments in Reservoir Dogs: the opening where "the dogs" sit around and talk casually about Madonna and tipping waitresses before going to commit a violent crime; the gruesome, infamous ear-slicing scene; the "commode story" sequence where one of the characters tells a tall tale, and an enormous amount of tension is built up, about something that actually never happened; the debate about how "black bitches", unlike "white bitches", don't tolerate abusive men, along with a reminiscences of 1970s show Get Christy Love (catchphrase: "You're under arrest, sugah'!"); the assignment of the characters names like Mr White, Mr Blue, Mr Orange, and Mr Pink ("'Cause you're a faggot alright!"). And, of course, the brutal ending.
For me, however, the best part is "K-Billy Super Sounds of the '70s", a radio show that plays throughout the movie and introduces the various songs we hear. K-Billy is voiced by a super-deadpanning Steven Wright, a flat monotone that contrasts with the hyper-violence and over-the-top behavior we see throughout the movie.
When this movie came out, I was in high school, and had fallen in love with the idea of being a "personality DJ", a voice that haunted the city and that gave resonance to the music being played. This was the time of Allison Steele and Scott Muni, and when Howard Stern was at his most outrageous self. This was before corporate-consolidation and voice-tracking and podcasts drained the life out of music radio -- the voice made the music, the music became something deeper, and it did so brilliantly in Reservoir Dogs.
When you have a city of more than 8.5 million people, you're going to have a lot of different voices speaking in a lot of different languages. (In fact there are 637 languages spoken in NYC, as blogged about here). Anywho, for all the different tongues and babble that occurs simultaneously every day in this town, very few voices get the honor of being amplified above the din, of being given the chance to rise and communicate with the rest of the city.
Those voices are the few, the happy few.
Some of these chosen voices are obvious: politicians get a big public voice, as do radio and TV broadcasters, as well as rich and famous and notable people around town. They get the honor and the rare chance to talk directly to us, to share their ideas and opinions to the rest of us, to influence how this town thinks and feels about things, to permeate the consciousness of the city.
A few offbeat exampples:
It was just announced by the MTA that a variety of NYC celebrities like Jerry Seinfeld, Whoopi Goldberg, Awkwafina, even Judakiss (!) and several others will start making the routine announcements you hear on the subways and buses every day -- but with a funky, distinct, NYC personality-driven twist. This is a big, new, fun project to lighten up and uplift the citizens of NYC as they commute from place to place. These are a bunch of creative NYC voices that will be telling us to do routine things like watch our step, stand clear of the closing doors, socially distance, etc.
Then there are the politicians: did you know that NYC has a cable channel and livestream devoted to the City Council? You can watch Councilmembers speak on the floor of the Council at City Hall or watch their hearings all day, every day. These are the voices that make the laws that we all live under, the voices that decide how much and on what the city's monies get spent. These are the real voices that command us -- and, if you so choose, you can listen in.
But not all the voices that command us do so to tell us what to do or what they are going to do to us. Sometimes the voices that command us do so by moving our spirit, inspiring our souls. For example, Allison Steele, the late great briliant radio DJ that I've blogged about several times. You can just go and listen to some of her old clips, from back in the days when she ruled the overnight NYC airwaves, and her gorgeous voices married to her kind words and gentle messages, forced people, in a good way, to feel better about themselves and their fellow human beings. Now that is a part of the NYC cacophony that we should cherish, always and forever.
These are but a very select few examples of the NYC cacophony, the voices that command us but that can also inform, help, educate, and sometimes even soothe us.
Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet, "Perchance to dream." In NYC there is no greater honor than "Perchance to speak, perchance to be heard."
P.S. I'm not really using the word "cacophony" correctly here (it means a mixture of harsh, discordant sounds) but it's one of those fancy sounding SAT words that I learned in days of yore so I'm shamelessly using it here.
- Glenn Frey's 1985 video for his song "You Belong to the City", a sexy and gauzy dreamscape of NYC at night (never mind the screenshots of Miami Vice, it was because this song appeared in the then-hit show).
- An odd commercial starring our favorite NYC DJ Allison Steele who makes me want to go back in time and buy the stereo she's selling.
- And, finally, a behind the scenes look at the making of the 1989 movie Slaves of New York. You can also find a longer look at creation of this clasic NYC flick the here.
I was obsessed with radio as a teenager -- my childhood dream was to become a hotshot DJ/personality who was as funny and wild as Howard Stern, as thoughtful and smart as an NPR host, and as souful as Allison Steele. Oh, and I wanted to play music -- lots of different kinds of music, from the Beastie Boys to Led Zepplin to James Taylor to King Missile to Mozart to Bing Crosby, whatever I thought was good or funky at the time.
Basically I wanted to be a free form radio host.
I tried my hand at it in college -- I had a short-lived free form radio show that was on at 6 AM every Tuesday. No one listened to it and, after one semester, I didn't have any more time for it (although I still have tapes -- yes, cassette tapes, remember those? -- of my old shows).
But it made me appreciate just how hard it is to do a good, entertaining radio program, free form or no. Sitting behind that microphone, talking into the ether, trying to entertain everyone and no one, might seem really easy but it's not. It's hard, brutal work, it demands everything of your brains and emotions. And knowing what kind of music to play takes some skill -- fortunately I had a friend who gave me all sorts of weird music (like Shonan Knife!) that gave my show some hipster cred. Otherwise, I was an awful DJ, a blithering, unfunny mess. It was an acid test of my total lack of natural performative talent. In part, that's why I started this blog -- it allowed me to do something creatively free form that more suited by meagre skills.
Free form radio barely exists anymore, if it ever really did. College and non-profit radio are the only places it ever really thrived. Even 25 years ago it was a strange offbeat thing. In these days of consolidated corporate ownership and public radio mega-organizations, the idea of free form radio is more unthinkable than ever. It doesn't really exist at all.
But there used to be one huge, great exception.
For roughly forty years a guy named Vin Scelsa hosted the ultimate free form radio show in NYC -- "Idiot's Delight." This show bounced around the NYC airwaves for decades, starting at non-commercial WFMU, migrating to commercial radio at WNEW and K-ROCK, then to its natural habitat on college radio at WFUV where it ended its long run in 2015. It was the ultimate free form show -- a quiet, well-spoken, very informed guy, Vin would play lots of different kinds of music and interview singers, musicians, filmmakers, writers, cultural leaders of all stripes. The show was never about Vin -- in fact, he was very unassuming. Instead, his focus was always on the music or his guests, and that made it wonderfully rich.
I started listening to "Idiot's Delight" on K-ROCK back in high school. I remember it was through this show that I first discovered the filmmaker Kevin Smith who was promoting his first ever movie, Clerks (I didn't understand why "37" was so funny until I saw the movie!). I remember it being such a great, relaxed, extremely interesting conversation -- the kind you hear on every podcast today but was unusual to hear on the radio, or anywhere, back in 1994. In fact, the show was basically the forerunner to podcasts with long form, intelligent, in-depth interviews.
Vin was a great host and always featured interesting guests and topics -- and he had the time to do it. On K-ROCK, the show was on Sunday nights from 8 PM until 2 AM so he had lots of time. This show was a miracle and it's unbelievable that it was ever on commercial radio -- then or now. I miss it to this day. I never understood, but always loved, Vin's intro to the show. He would state, simply, at the start of every show: Respect the elders. Embrace the new. Encourage the impracticable and improbable. Without bias. This ... is "Idiot's Delight."
P.S. I actually tried to interview Vin for this blog but he never answered my emails. Maybe, if he sees this post, he'll change his mind.
Even though I wrote it almost ten years ago, one of my most popular blog posts remains the one about Allison Steele, the legendary radio DJ who ruled NYC overnights for decades. She died more than 20 years ago but, amazingly, people who listened to her back in the day still remember that gentle, beautiful voice. In tribute to that post, I've decided to give Mr NYC readers yet another listen to the wondrous sound and soul of Allison Steele.
Sad news in the world of NYC radio: legendary rock DJ Pete Fornatale passed away the other day.
Back when rock ruled the airways and DJs were stars who educated their audiences about music, Pete Fornatale was one the best. Listening to him, you could hear his love and encyclopedic knowledge of rock'n'roll in his every word. It burst through the radio and infected his listeners.
Along with the late Allison Steele, Pete Fornatale was one of the last great rock DJs in NYC.
Pete had a long career in NYC radio. He bounced around the dial, from the old WNEW, K-ROCK, WFUV and others. He was on the air at the time when rock was redefining itself constantly, and Pete one of the people who redefined radio in the 1960s and 70's by introducing audiences to the gods of rock: Bob Dylan, Elton John, Buffallo Springfriend, and so many more. For Pete, rock wasn't just the music he played to collect a paycheck, it was his life.
I became familiar with Pete Fornatale in the early 1990s when he was on K-Rock, still a classic rock station then. He was on during mid days (after Howard Stern) and sometimes I would listen to him during my free periods in high school on my old-school Walkman. Pete Fornatale, along with Stern and Allison Steele and Dave Herman and Maria Molito, made K-Rock easily the best station in NYC at that time: great music with great hosts. It was a tiny golden age in NYC radio that is, sadly, long gone.
So here's to Pete Fornatale. Your legacy will always be remembered, and your love of music will live on.
My previous re-post about Alison Steele, and a comment by the great blogger Zen Denizen, triggered a flood of nostalgia in me for the old 92.3 K-Rock. It was the only radio station I listened to in high school during the early 1990s, and it used to be the classic rock station in NYC. While everyone else in my school listened to Z-100 or Hot 97, I was one of only a few who listened to K-Rock all the time. I even remember the line-up:
Howard Stern, 6-10AM Pete Fornatel, 10 AM-2 PM Dave Herman's Afternoon Rock'n'Roll Show, 2-6 PM The Greaseman, 6-10 PM Maria Molito or DeaSnee, 10 PM-2 AM Alison Steele, the Night Bird, 2-6 AM
I don't know why I still hold such affection for, of all things, a radio station line-up. Maybe it's just part of getting older and something like this reminds me of a simpler time in my life. Or maybe it was just that it had Howard Stern and my favorite kind of rock music on the same station. But I think what I liked about it most was that Pete, Dave, Allison, and Maria were classy DJs who you could tell really loved the music they were playing and seemed to respect their audience. And in this time of radio consolidation and voice-tracking, etc. they were people who made radio an art form and a community ... the way it used to be.
This is probably my favorite blog post of all. A year about I wrote about Allison Steele, an old-school New York radio DJ who did overnights on the old WNEW and K-ROCK for over 20 years. She was a phenomenal talent who had a voice that was truly magical. She died of cancer in 1995 but I've never forgotten her.
For those of you old enough to remember, you'll recall that Howard Stern had a local show on Channel 9 late on Saturday nights. It was on for less than two years but it was raw, edgy, and funny as hell -- everything you'd expect Howard to be. It was far ahead of its time.
This is actually the first episode that was broadcast in 1990. Howard makes reference to the Zodiac killer who terrorized this city in the summer of that year. It's also really nice to see the late, great Allison Steele on this show -- even if Stuttering John is being a jackass to her.
It's fun to watch this since it was before Howard was REALLY big and famous. He had to start somewhere.
“The flutter of wings, the shadow across the moon, the sounds of the night, as the Nightbird spreads her wings and soars, above the earth, into another level of comprehension, where we exist only to feel. Come, fly with me, Alison Steele, the Nightbird, at WNEW-FM, until dawn.”
With those angelic words, Alison would begin her overnight broadcasts. She would then play some of the greatest rock n'roll ever: the Stones, Dylan, Led Zeplin, The Who, The Doors - you name it. Her silky voice, seductive in its maturity and wisdom, reassured you that there was someone kind out there, making you feel safe during the small hours. She was the grand dame of the New York night, her gentility soothing and smoothing the edges of a rough city. Her gracious audio presence would nurse her listeners through the darkness, into the first blushes of day.
In her later years, Alison migrated to 92.3 K-ROCK, going off the air at 6 AM, right before the raucous Howard Stern would rouse the city. I first encountered Allison's voice in the early 1990s when I was in high school. I would wake up around 5:50 or 5:55 AM in order to listen to Howard and Allison would usually be closing out her show. As a song by Yes or The Police would end, Alison's lovely voice would come on, wishing listeners like me a good morning. Then she would leave us with a parting thought, a little piece of wisdom, usually conveyed in a quotation from one of the great poets like Edgar Allan Poe or William Wordsworth. And then the Nightbird would fly away, leaving us to our usually tumultuous days.
What a great, sweet memory.
Sadly, Alison is no longer with us. All the greats leave before their time. She passed away on September 27, 1995 from cancer. I remember that I had just started college and this news was one of the first things I learned on this then new Internet contraption. It's so hard to believe that she's been gone more than twelve years because it feels just like yesterday that I was waking up to her voice. Like Jean Shepard, she was a genuine radio artist. And in this era of radio consolidation and voice-tracking, it's doubtful we'll ever see her likes again.
But at least we had her when, a small burst of light in a dark place. Let's remember and thank Alison Steele for the comfort she brought this city. In this bitter world, even a decade on, let's remember someone pretty sweet.
