Meet Jay Gordon - Host of Elvis Only Radio Program & Ultimate Elvis Fan!

Megan, thank you for your interest in me, and most importantly, my radio show, Elvis Only.  We’re heard for an hour once a week on radio stations across the US and Canada.  Our latest station lineup is available at http://www.elvisonly.com/.  I hope your readers enjoy my story.

In the spirit of Elvis’ 1969 monologues, I started out  – as a child.  I grew up in the early 1970s in Worcester, Massachusetts. My father was into Elvis, and he owned a small collection of the most recent albums.  We had one of those console stereos that were popular at the time.  He’d come home from work and relax by stretching out on the living room floor, with his head between the two speakers, listening to Elvis.  I was in grade school at the time, and I couldn’t help but hear the music that he played night after night.  I wasn’t an Elvis fan at that point, by any stretch, but I certainly knew more of Elvis’ contemporary music than my friends at May Street School, who were into KISS and Barry Manilow.

My father played a few of those records more than others.  I clearly remember the TV Special, Aloha, Memphis ’74 and Good Times being in heavy rotation.  Around the time that the Memphis album came out, Elvis’ tour schedule brought him to Providence.  My father had tickets, and asked if I’d like to join him.  I declined!  I’m sure I told him I would rather go to a Red Sox game.  He went without me.  He also saw Elvis in Springfield and in New Haven, also without me  By June of 1976, I smartened up, and accepted his next offer.  Elvis would play a matinee at the Providence Civic Center on June 26, and I was going.

In the months leading up to the show, I had begun listening to some of those records on my own.  The Boulevard album was new at the time, and there was something about it that grabbed me, even at the tender age of 11.  I played the record the morning of the concert, and hoped Elvis might include The Last Farewell, which was, at the time, my favorite track on the album.  (I am not now, nor have I ever been, considered hip or cool, when it comes to Elvis music or music in general.  I love the dramatic stuff that many of my messageboard buddies love to trash.)

My father had about a dozen tickets to the concert.  He invited my mother, some friends and a few clients.  I remember one person in particular.  She was the wife of a highly respected judge.  You wouldn’t have known it, though, from the way she screamed and carried on at that concert.  She carried a plastic bag into the arena.  It contained a pair of sneakers, which she would later lace up, in preparation for charging the stage.

I’ve tried, over the years, to separate what I actually remember about the show from the recordings, film, photographs and accounts I collected later on.  That day, nobody was talking about Elvis being sick or “on drugs.”  There was a good deal of chatter about his weight.  In fact, that’s the day I learned the word “obese”, because that’s what my mother called Elvis when she saw him take the stage.

This wasn’t just my first Elvis concert, but my first concert of any kind.  I remember my first impression, created the moment The Stamps came out to do the opener.  It was loud!  It is difficult to describe what happened when Elvis finally appeared.  We read about the tension building as 2001 plays in the darkness, followed by the flashbulbs and the ovation.  The way it really felt, playing out in front of me, was exponentially more striking.  The audience was stunned by his simple presence.  When he turned around, or played to one part of the arena or another, screams erupted from those sections and fans struggled with each other, trying to get closer to him.  They fought over the scarves.  They squealed when he goofed around and did his “Elvis moves.” 

The concert took place only a few days before the nation’s Bicentennial.  Elvis’ version of America was completely unexpected, and wildly received.  Another song that he took quite seriously that day was Hurt.  He did a full reprise (not just the ending, but the entire song.)

Sadly, for me, he didn’t sing The Last Farewell, and the show was over precisely an hour after it began.  There was a second show coming up in a few hours, and my father wanted to find tickets from the scalpers outside.  This time, when he asked if I wanted to see Elvis In Concert, I said “yes” without hesitation.  He and I stayed behind. My mother caught a ride home with her friends, and within a short time we had tickets in hand for the night show.

I mentioned the Red Sox earlier.  We used to go to Fenway Park many times each season, and I would roam around the ballpark, in search of an empty seat up close.  Once the evening show in Providence got underway, I brought my seat hopping ritual to the Civic Center, and found luck was with me.  For a good portion of the show, I sat in the front row, right next to the sound engineers, who’d taken a measure of pity on the little kid wandering around in the chaos.  There I was, not realizing that over the years I’d come to know the names of these guys that were running the soundboard, and collecting the reference recordings they were making from that console.  When Elvis strolled over to stage left, he was only a few feet away.  His hair was quite a bit longer than it was in the photos I’d seen.  And, yes, he was heavy.  What was that word, again?  It starts with an “O?”.  When Elvis was singing Can’t Help Falling In Love, I waded into the pandemonium at the front of the stage.  I was knocked down, at one point, by a woman in a wheelchair.  “Sorry, kid.  It’s Elvis Presley!”

Elvis returned to Providence less than a year later, on May 23, 1977.  It was the eve of my 12th birthday, and my father and I were in the building with Elvis for what would be the last time.  He wore the Sundial suit that night, and from our seats in the lower balcony, I managed to snap one decent photo of him, his arms outstretched with index fingers pointing up, in that type of bow that he always did at the end of the shows.

It’s been said that you didn’t forget where you were when you heard that Elvis passed away.  I didn’t either, but I wasn’t doing anything special.  It was late in the afternoon towards the tail end of summer vacation.  My father came home and said, “Guess who died?”  I took the bait, and he said, simply, “Elvis Presley.”

In the months that followed, Elvis’ voice and image were everywhere.  I remember browsing the bins at Strawberries Records, and discovering there were so many more Elvis albums than the relative few we had in the house.  And so began my life as an Elvis music collector.  While running through the original singles and LPs, I discovered the bootleg world.  While my friends were transitioning from Disco to New Wave, I was excited to find a copy of the Pittsburgh New Year’s Eve show.  I was preparing to go on an overseas school trip one summer, and asked my friend Rick to make a cassette dub of one of my latest boot, the audience recording of the 1977 Indianapolis show.  While we were taping, he said, “How can you listen to this?  He sounds like he’s a mile away.  Nobody’s gonna let you play this!”  No explanation was necessary, nor would one suffice, right?

I collected Elvis in high school.  I collected Elvis in college.  My father and I saw Graceland for the first time in the winter of 1982 (shortly before it opened as a museum.)  We returned a year later and toured the house.  Back then, as many fans will recall, there was only the occasional unreleased alternate take issued.  Most of us very rarely had the opportunity to see Elvis’ movies or TV specials.  It was a rare treat to attend a collector’s fair where someone would be screening Aloha, ’68 or Elvis In Concert.  There was no Ernst, no FTD, no Vic Anesini.  We are kind’ve spoiled nowadays, by comparison.

When I was a senior in high school, I enrolled in a popular internship program.  I signed up for the same reason most of my friends did – the opportuity to substitute an off-campus “job” for one of our major classes.  My internship was at a local radio station, where I soon learned the business of broadcasting, and was trained in the various Production and Music Department tasks and responsibilities.

I fell in love with radio, and went on the air for the first time the following year at the 10 watt station on campus at Brandeis University.  By sophomore year, I’d talked my way into a weekend shift at station back in Worcester.  A few months later, I found myself playing the Top 40 hits of the day (1985) on a 50,000 watt station in Boston, owned by CBS.  As college jobs went, this was far more enjoyable than busing tables in the Brandeis dining hall.

My passions for radio and Elvis were entirely separate at that time.  The stations I worked for either didn’t play Elvis in the format, or offered only the occasional Suspicious Minds or Jailhouse Rock.  That changed quickly and unexpectedly one afternoon in October 1987.  The Top 40 station had converted to an adult album rock format, and it was not bringing in the ratings needed to be competitive.  CBS blew it up one night, and adopted an Oldies format, similar to the programming they were currently offering in New York, on WCBS-FM. 

I walked down the hall, toward the General Manager’s office.  Turns out, he was already on his way to find me.  “We all know you’re into Elvis,” he said.  “Why don’t you put together a proposal for an Elvis show?  Maybe we’ll do an hour on the weekend, at midnight, or something.”

On Saturday night, January 9, 1988, I was living an Elvis fan’s dream.  I was handed responsibility for an hour of valuable airtime on a radio station worth millions of dollars, instructed only to “Have fun, make sure you play lots of hits, and mix it up with the songs you think people want to hear.”  You must understand, the days of major market radio jocks programming their own shows were long past.  There was too much money at stake to allow the disc jockey play “whatever.”  Yet, there I was, playing my own favorite music.  While a song was playing, I’d walk over to the station lobby, and listen to the music as it played over the intercom speakers. That made it more “real,” for some reason.  Elvis was on the radio, and I put him there.

“Elvis Only” received a positive response, and within a few weeks, E.P. and I were on the air every Sunday at midnight.  That summer, I moved to Sundays at 8AM, and I’ve been there ever since. The show brought in huge ratings, and soon attracted the attention of station managers in other cities.  I signed on with WMJI/Cleveland in the early 90’s, followed by Oldies stations in Los Angeles, Houston, Tampa and St. Louis.  Today, “Elvis Only” is distributed by United Stations Radio Networks, one of America’s top syndication companies, and is heard every weekend on more than 50 radio stations.  I’m coming up on my 23rd anniversary in Boston.  That level of longevity is rare in radio, and I’m extraordinarily grateful for the loyalty of the listeners and the support of the radio stations over the years

That’s my story.  And, if you think long hair and sideburns are freaky now…

You asked some specific questions.  Here goes:

What are my Elvis favorites? 

Not surprisingly, I’m most drawn to 70s Elvis, the guy I heard in my house and saw on stage.  I have the utmost respect for the timeless music Elvis made in the 50s and 60s, but when I listen to him on my own time, it’s most often the Elvis of the “modern era,” from the ’68 Special forward.

Have I attended Elvis Week every year? 

Years ago, yes.  Not anymore.  In 2001, I left my fulltime on-air position.  (Aside from “Elvis Only,” I handled a nightly shift at WODS, playing the regular format.  In ’01, I made a big change, and went to work for a major financial services firm, where today I manage retirement plans for individuals and corporations.)  From the mid 80’s to 2001, I went to Elvis Week just about every year.  I anchored daily reports for many of my affiliate stations.  I attended a number of Birthdays, as well.  As I got to know the staff at EPE, most notably Todd Morgan and Patsy Andersen, I found myself in a unique position.  I was a fan, like so many thousands of others, but I was also granted the media access afforded members of the press.  Some highlights:

…Covering the Elvis Stamp Unveiling and the First Day Ceremony (This was especially gratifying, since I’d spent years campaigning for the stamp – gathering petitions, appearing on TV and radio defending Elvis, all culminating with an interview with the elusive US Postmaster General, Anthony Frank.)

…Appearing as a featured extra in the ABC-TV series, “Elvis.”  (I’m in the “Grand Ole Opry” episode, playing a Presley neighbor listening to Elvis on the radio.)

…Attending the first “Elvis – The Concert” rehearsal, held at the Mid-South in August 1997, and watching with tears in my eyes as Elvis’ musicians and singers were reunited.  Many hadn’t seen each other since the last flight on the tour plane in ’77.  I remember listening quietly as they struggled to remember the ending of a particular the song, resisting the urge to stand up and yell, “It goes like this!”  Not good form for a member of the broadcast media. 

Priscilla, Linda or Ginger?                      

I’m a Linda guy, all the way.  I finally had a chance to have her on the show.  She was the special guest on our 75th birthday show, earlier this year.
·      
 ETAs?                            

Not my personal cup of tea, and not appropriate to substitute for the real thing on the radio.  I’ve worked with a few of the elite on occasion, though.  Tony Roi and Steve Connolly are the best I’ve seen, but I’m far from an expert in this area.

EPE and CKX?                            

To some degree, many fans are hypocritical, even if they don’t realize it.  We want Elvis’ memory to endure, but we cringe when the Elvis business does what it feels it must in order to accomplish that goal.  I’d rather hear the “real” Suspicious Minds than the Viva remix, but I get excited to hear “civilians” talking about the remix, and I’m happy to see the album make the Billboard charts.  Elvis has been a product since 1956, when Colonel launched the merchandising business.  It’s no different today.  If it stops, Elvis fades away.

What is it about Elvis that keeps people listening?                   

There’s no real answer to this question.  I remember Sam Phillips saying we wouldn’t want to know it if there was.  You never get tired of seeing a Key West sunset.  Chocolate Chip ice cream never goes out of style.  To some degree, there will always by an Elvis.

Thanks very much Jay! Great reading!
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