the rix mix

In 1999 I had known Glen  Jones for many years, but not really. He was large personality at WFMU with a huge audience.   I was a DJ who liked tucking myself  away on the fringes of the schedule. The only time I was interested in the size of my radio audience was at annual fund-raising time, which is too late to do anything about making it bigger.

The first really personal, relaxed chat I had with Glen was in Jersey City. Following a staff meeting in the uncompleted studios, before we moved, I wandered into a bar around the corner. From the outside it looked quiet & insular, neither up nor  downscale, & I thought it'd be nice to sit there for a little while & nurse a beer. Many of the other staffers had gone to the Flamingo Diner & I   wasn't in  the mood for the noisy push-the-tables-together  thing, waiting half-an-hour for a toasted corn muffin & bad coffee I didn't even want.   The bar was quiet & nearly empty. But over at  a little round bar  table sat Glen Jones all by himself. We exchanged little  waves &  he waved me over. We were in exactly the same mood, both a bit unnerved by the new location & feeling uneasy about  The  Big Change to come - although JC was a much more convenient location; both Scorpios, in our individual ways  creatures of routine & tradition;  & both familiar with the other's radio style.   This surprised me.  I hadn't figured Glen ever listened to me. We weren't so different. We liked to play a generous amount of music & then reward ourselves for choosing such wonderful records by speaking into a  microphone about whatever happened to be on our minds.  I don't remember what we talked about that night, probably our favorite old sitcoms, boardwalks,  & the decline of common courtesies like helping old folks across the street.

After awhile we felt better & left, Glen in one direction I suppose  to the PATH station, me in the other to my car parked around the corner (we were sober).  On that muggy, chilly, deserted Jersey City street, around midnight, outside a bar two blocks from the Hudson River, I suspect Glen & I walked away with a melancholy Sinatra song from the  50's as our soundtracks.  I don't know if Glen recalls this encounter, but I sure do.

Anyway, I became very fond of Glen, &  his WFMU accomplice X-Ray Burns. His girlfriend Gina is one of my dearest friends now. I knew her slightly because she was  a longtime WFMU supporter & an attractive woman, but had no idea she lived nearby until one afternoon I ran into Glen walking from the train station to her house.

Labels: Mahalo, WFMU