They called it THE BIG 97 and it’s fun to remember just how big it really was. KAKC was at the top of the hill when AM radio was still king in Tulsa, and the images in Steve Clem’s new book are reminders of the impact of radio and the excitement created by the deejays working the shifts.
Pretty straightforward title: Tulsa’s KAKC Radio: The Big 97.
Some of you will say, Wait a Minute! KAKC was at 1300. True, but that change came later and is covered in Clem’s book. In fact, a lot of territory is covered but easily digested in the photo-heavy format of Arcadia Publishing’s “Images of America” series. (Shameless plug: Arcadia was the publisher of my little book on McAlester and Pittsburg County, Oklahoma.)
When I was a yoot in my yoot-full days, I relocated to Tulsa in hopes of securing the easy life of riches and fame by playing music. Got an apartment. Got a day job building bicycles, working next to KOTV alum Jim Kudlacek. Scoped out places where the band could play – there were plenty of spots back then.
Bang!
The band broke up. There were several reasons, but the effect was the same. I was in a six-month lease and paying rent by assembling Schwinn Continentals.
It was KAKC on the radio when I drove to work. KAKC on the drive home. Mike McCarthy, the Morning Mouth. Scooter B. Segraves. I sold the Chevy van I’d needed to haul the band’s equipment around and bought a Triumph Spitfire. It was brilliant red and so low to the ground that I could only pick up KAKC in certain parts of town. Linda Ronstadt and “You’re No Good” coming out of the tiny little speaker.
I was living large on minimum wage.
My car in high school was tuned to KOMA in Oklahoma City and I constantly mimicked a fellow named Jim St. John, who worked afternoons, if I remember right. Between my practiced impression of him, my hours listening to the KAKC crew, and the broadcasting-insider stories of Sir Kudlacek, I landed myself a desk at a broadcasting school and a twenty year career in radio and television.
Never did get rich or famous. Looking over the KAKC book reminded me how it was easy to spend all that time doing that kind of work. It was fun. Later, it wasn’t as much.
Things changed. And not just KAKC’s frequency jump from the Big 97. There is still fun in the media, to be sure. It’s just a different level than the times depicted in the pages of Tulsa’s KAKC Radio.
Underneath those rock-and-roller-hairstyles are plenty of smiling faces, from the first image in the book to the final picture – a snapshot of the author with Scooter Segraves. Mr. Clem has captured the excitement that filled that era in Tulsa, when radio was a part of people’s everyday lives with music and concerts and contests.
And smiles.
It’s a fun book, too, for media fans and former KAKC listeners. Makes me want another low-riding British sportscar.
Probably couldn’t get into it.
Come visit!
McHuston
Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow, OK!
