Hoot's Drunk a Blog

Persia Anyone? part IV

June 10, 2010 on 11:12 am | In Law, alcoholics, alcoholism, binge drinking, codependent, drinking, drunk, elder drinking, marijuana, police, probation, recovery, underage drinking | No Comments

Welcome to the screwy, dangerous, city of Tehran, Iran. 

Click for audio by “Hoot”  Persia Anyone Part IV The Radio Station

The story continues as Hoot and Michael are introduced to the staff and radio station.  The audio portion of this offering is ten minutes in lenth.  The broadcast studio was unique as well.  We had a German control board, Italian cartridge machines and French turntables, all installed by Iranian engineers.  It was functional, but getting each element on the air was tantamount to figuring out “Rubik’s Cube.” 

For instance to use the turntable, I had to disable one of the cartridge machines temporarily so I could cue up the record.  That meant I had to make sure nothing was playing in the cartridge machine I was disabling, where we usually played some kind of a recorded promotion, “Serving Tehran, Isfahan, Tabriz and the entire Persion Gulf, you’re listening to the National Iranian Radio and Television Network from Tehran on (Jingle) NNNNNNN  – IIIIIII – RRRRR – TTTTTTTTTT…..” 

If the cart machine was playing and I had to play the song, a lot of the time I just put the needle on the LP and let it cue to the song while I talked it up.  All the while thanking my mentor, his majesty, “Emperor Bob Hudson.”

Ted Anthony, from San Francisco, was our morning man.  He immersed himself into his show and the Iranian culture for about two years and fell in love with and married an Iranian woman. 

She was an exotic beauty, who could blame him.  When Tehran fell to the Ayatollah Khomeini, Ted was the last guy out and had to be air lifted off the roof of NIRT and taken directly to a plane waiting at Mehrabad Airport. 

Ted would later resurface at WWWW radio station in Detroit.  He told me later that the helicopter that came for him was almost shot out of the sky during his escape.

John Colson and Frank Carpenter were two of the personalities from Sheffield, England they hired two years before.  Colson was a cool, but younger Englishman that would “follow directions” when told to.  He was a blond haired blue eyed kid of about 24 or 25 years, about 5’ 9” and thin. 

He was well dressed, but had teeth that looked like a picket fence, with a few of the slats kicked aside so someone could sneak into the yard.  He immediately latched onto Michael and me because we were “Big Market Yanks” coming over to save the day. 

Mashayekhi told us they made a mistake hiring small market Englishmen to be their radio Dj’s.  No one could relate to them as they were so stiff.  We had to be careful not to cross over the line, which in an Islamic society, is easy to do. 

Frank, on the other hand, was as rigid as a corpse.  We called him Ichabod, as in Ichabod Crane from the legend of Sleepy Hollow.  He was tall and gangly with a large amount of hair on top of his head that he swiped aside covering half his face.  His neck stuck up from his shoulders and looked like it was at least twice as long as it was meant to be, and when he spoke, his very large Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and I couldn’t help but stare! 

It was Frank’s job to show Michael the ropes at 5 O’clock, when the Rock & Roll show, began.  I pitied him, because Michael was one of the innovators of the “Rock” format in America.  Frank had been playing the “mellower” Rock previous to our arrival, but that was about to change. 

My first day on the air went well.  The people of Iran were not used to real personable human beings chatting with them on the air. 

I remember some of the songs I played on my debut that day.  “So Into You,” The Atlanta Rhythm Section, “I Like Dreamin,” Kenny Nolan, “You Make Me Feel Like Dancin,” Leo Sayer and tunes from Hall and Oates and other AC songs that the ladies liked in the late 70’s.  I loved them too, so it all worked out.

I got a call that first day on the air from a cute sounding girl who said,

“I’m so excited about you being on the station, you sound so good.”  Then she asked if I’d play something for her by Cliff Richards. 

“I love your voice I hope you look as good as you sound!”  I told her I didn’t think she’d be too disappointed if we did meet.  Always keeping in mind the “sounds good, add 50 lbs rule.” 

Her name was Sarah, her father worked for the Shah in an executive position and her two sisters were just back from the Sorbonne in Paris where they had gone to school. 

I soon found out that this family was very close to the Shah and that Sarah and her sisters were the Debutantes of Tehran.

When Michael hit the airwaves, his first set was cool, wrapping up with Frampton’s “Oh Baby I Love Your Way,” So Cool that Iranians were practically running out of their houses, pouring into the streets in jubilation. 

Michael was a musical genius, and his “Pipes,” which always maintained an extraordinary cool, blew everyone away.  Frank practically pooped his pants!  He thought Qu Mogadam, our program director, was going to come down there and behead someone! 

Frank wanted Michael to lighten up on the music.  Michael said not to worry about it and followed it with one mind blowing set after another.  That night, people were waiting for Michael at the MarMar hotel.  Two guys offered Michael some Hashish, which he declined, oh so reluctantly. 

The desk clerk had a list of favorites he wanted Michael to play the next night.  It was amazing, with that list of songs, by the way, was the clerks gift of some hashish for Michael that he did except. 

As it was, the hash coming in from Afghanistan was plentiful and potent.  Michael couldn’t wait ‘til the next day so he could go to the bizarre and buy a hash pipe. 

I, on the other hand was about to get my gift as well.  Michael and I had scored fast and furious with the Iranians and the people were ecstatic to have a radio station they could dig even though we were programming it for the English speaking faction working in Iran.

I told Michael and Stefano about Sarah and her sisters.  They had described themselves thoroughly and I liked what I heard.  I wasn’t sure if I’d have to “add 50 lbs” this time because they were young and hip.  I asked them to meet us in the lobby of the MarMar and that we’d go out to dinner. 

Michael and Stefano were excited, but nothing like when the girls walked into the lobby.  They were pretty.  Not beautiful, but pretty non-the-less. 

Sarah was small and exotic.  Beautiful oval eyes that looked like she was a model for Thailand travel posters, not Pakistani as she said they were.  She was wearing a full skirt that seemed to go well with the skin tight pull over blouse she was wearing.  Her skin looked tan, but it was a dark tan which made her green eyes stand out all the more.  She fixated on me.  I was reluctant because she appeared and later turned out to be only 18 years old. 

Her sisters, both nice looking, were taller and lighter skinned and well cultured.  Both were dressed in jeans and heels and had great happy looking faces.  They all spoke English with a British accent.  We got acquainted and apparently, each of us passed the “Okay test, you look good, so let’s go to dinner.” 

Linda and Tamara were the older sister’s names.  Odd, I thought, that all would have American names, but we were off in what I believed to be some kind of Russian car that we could all fit into. 

Sarah tried to manipulate herself next to me, but had to sit next to Stefano instead.  As it turned out, we went to a Mexican restaurant, being that we were in Tehran, Iran it was quite a surprise. 

It was also strange because we went to a building, with only a few cars parked close by, the street was dark and there were no signs indicating there was a restaurant anywhere near.

We walked into the foyer and there was a small neon sign that said, “Mexican Food.”  Then, there was a stairway going down to what appeared to be a dark basement.  As we opened the door that didn’t appear it would lead anywhere, we found ourselves in a very busy, loud, restaurant.  Unbelievable.  Where did all these people come from?  It was fun and festive.  Just the right atmosphere for all of us to get acquainted.  Sarah had finally muscled her way next to me and was very warm and friendly. 

The restaurant was decorated very nicely with a Mexican motif and they were playing Mexican music through the sound system, but the enchiladas I ordered bore no resemblance to any enchilada I had ever tasted.  Good though, I guess.

Michael and Stefano hit it off with the older sisters while I was swimming in Sarah’s exotic beauty and we all enjoyed the time.  On the way back, the girls pointed out a park and said we should stop and play “hide and go seek.”

Wow!  That was different.  So we played hide and go seek.  As soon as everyone took off, we realized it was a ruse that the girls had concocted so we could pair off and do a little innocent kissing. 

Sarah and I found ourselves on a ledge behind a very large bush.  I gently turned her beautiful little face to mine and kissed her softly.  Her response caught me totally by surprise.  She wouldn’t stop kissing.  She wanted it deeper and deeper and then I noticed she was rubbing her body against mine in an erotic gyration that got my attention. 

I carefully put my hands up and under her full dress.  She wasn’t wearing any underwear.  I was nervous though.  We’re in Iran!  If caught they would put me in jail for certain, but a hard-on knows no fear. 

I pulled her dress up, turned and put her on the edge of the ledge and softly took her.  I had one eye closed and the other looking for anyone who might catch us. 

I almost fell to the ground my legs were so weak.  We had to snap out of it quick, though, as we were joined in moments by the others who never again mentioned “hide and go seek.”

When we got back to the Marmar Hotel, I wanted to tell the guys what happened, but didn’t even though the two of them suspected I’d “gotten lucky.”  Michael broke out his brand new “hash pipe,” loaded it up with the stuff the desk clerk gave him and off we went. 

Michael, would soon be in a new dimension.  Getting him too stoned was near impossible.  It would be like trying to bring down a water buffalo with a 22 rifle.  It just isn’t going to happen.  You might stagger him, but…