BEHIND THE SCENES AT GARY BURBANK’S LAST DAY AT WAKY RADIO

Me, Gary Burbank, In Slightly Younger Days

Recently Dan O’Day posted an aircheck of my last day at WAKY/Louisville, when I said goodbye by getting myself “shot and killed” on-air.

WAKY Program Director Johnny Randolph had always urged me to entertain every time I turned the mic on. He always said, “There are no ‘throw away’ breaks.”

When I was going to leave for New Orleans, Johnny told me, “The last thing you do has to be the best, so don’t just say how nice it was to be here for five years; entertain even then.”

Killing myself on the air seemed to be an entertaining idea. Johnny wasn’t sure. He reminded me that we had a showcase window to the control room and if it was going to sound real , even with a disclaimer, I’d better be prepared to take a bullet from some well meaning citizen trying to save my life.

Or worse, he said, “What if I’m just standing in there with you, and this well meaning hero mistakes me for the culprit? When Orson Wells did his ‘War of the Worlds’ invasion from outer space they did disclaimers, and still some people believed what they were hearing and jumped from tall buildings to their deaths.”

I was moved, and I asked if he really thought people might care enough for me to jump from a tall building to their deaths for me. Johnny said, “Well, maybe from the first floor.”

He was pointing out that since this bit had repercussions outside the “theatre of the mind,” I’d better prepare for it.

At first, my idea was to leave the control room drapes open and get a radio time salesman to play along, by standing there with a gun in his hand pointed at me. That would take care of part of the problem, and no one of consequence would be injured.

As far as people jumping from buildings, my idea was to stretch nets around any building in Louisville over two stories tall. It was told by management that it wouldn’t be practical. I remember thinking, “This is how those bastards quell the creative juices!”

Johnny, however, simply called the police department and told them what we were doing and that we would close the drapes and lock the doors.

They said, “Go for it. We’re busy.”

I thought, “Those fools don’t realize the mayhem and chaos that will result from my perceived death.”

We pulled it off. No one tried to rescue me. No one even futilely jumped off a desktop. I don’t think anyone even called to inquire.

But, we all agreed, it was a hell of a bit, and a cool way to exit.