R

ock and roll’s mid-

1950s explosion

made instant stars

of the genre’s

groundbreaking

first generation.

Those icons weren’t

the only dynamic voices that teenagers

dug daily over the American radio

airwaves. A battalion of mellifluous, motor-

mouthed DJs spun the latest hits and

promoted the latest discoveries, their manic

patter complementing the savage music

they championed.

Those major-market disc jockeys wielded

incredible power over what aired during

their shifts. They could instantly make or

break a new act because the majority of

them programmed the records they played

during their airshifts. It soon became

apparent to a lot of them just how much

money could be accrued under the table

from the hordes of independent record

labels and distributors eager to lock down

crucial airplay that would make their

records national hits.

At the time, no Federal laws prohibited

what became known as “payola”. A public

uproar happened anyway when publicity-

hungry legislators and stodgy defenders

of middle-of-the-road pop music decided

that rock and roll had become a full-fledged

threat to the status quo and decided to make

pariahs out of a handful of leading rock and

roll DJs by dragging them into court and

congressional chambers to testify to their

alleged transgressions.

Quite a few popular jocks lost their

jobs and careers across the United States

in the wake of the investigations, whether or

not they admitted to receiving payoffs.

Alan Freed, responsible more than any

other American radio personality for

tirelessly promoting the rock and roll

cause over the airwaves, was ruined by the

allegations and died a broken man a few

years later. Dick Clark, host of the nationally

televised daily record hop American

Bandstand, got off scot-free and endured as

a ubiquitous television presence for another

half-century.

Though not the first, Freed had been

one of the earliest white DJs in the US to

exclusively play rhythm and blues on his

nightly show over WJW radio in Cleveland,

where he was billed as “Moondog”. It took

a while for white teens to catch on to what

he was doing, but eventually they did. Freed

augmented his income by promoting R&B

concerts, managing vocal groups, launching

his own record label and distributorship,

and dubiously claiming songwriting credits

on platters by his two main acts, The

Moonglows and The Coronets.

WHEN THE EXTROVERTED DJ

moved to New York in the autumn of 1954

to broadcast over WINS, the presence of

an eccentric street performer also calling

himself “Moondog” forced Alan to use his

real moniker on the air. But his big beat-

driven formula continued unabated, now

promoted incessantly by the jock as rock

and roll. As rapid as Freed’s rise to fame in

New York was, so was the speed with which

he milked it for all he was worth. Leonard

Chess curried favour by handing him a

piece of the songwriting credit on Chuck

Alan Freed was one of the great champions of rock and roll,

but would become engulfed in scandal in the late 1950s...

P

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WORDS^ B

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AHL

QUITE A FEW

POPULAR JOCKS

LOST THEIR

JOBS IN THE WAKE

OF THE

INVESTIGATIONS

The payola scandal