[Dtb-talk] Article about Ed Walker
David Andrews
dandrews at visi.com
Wed Aug 12 01:21:34 UTC 2009
>
>I thought some of you would find this interesting It was taken from
>the Washington Post. John
>
>Ode to Joy Boy;
>
>DJ Ed Walker Is Up for Election Into Radio Hall of Fame.
>
>Steve Hendrix.
>
>On a recent afternoon at WAMU, an engineer cues some melodramatic theme
>
>music -- the swelling strings and sonorous piano of a more earnest age
>
>--
>
>and the smooth man in smoked shades leans into the mike. Hello again
>
>everybody," he croons. My name is Ed Walker and this is 'The Big Broadcast.'
>
>" Walker has been doing this every week since becoming host of the popular
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>old-time radio series Sunday nights on 88.5 FM almost 20 years ago. He
>
>roooounds his vowels and pops his final T's and K's, just as he's done
>
>throughout a career of talking on the radio that spans nearly six decades.
>
>And he smoothly runs two right-hand fingertips over the bumpy sheets of
>
>Braille that help him negotiate his world -- a unique realm of rich sound,
>
>high drama and absolute darkness -- just as he has done since the day he was
>
>born in 1932. We'll have another episode of 'Johnny Dollar,' America's
>
>fabulous freelance insurance investigator; we'll have 'Dragnet' and
>
>'Gunsmoke,' the 'Adventures of Philip Marlowe' and then 'Gangbusters,' "
>
>Walker says, setting the stage for his weekly, backward-facing cavalcade of
>
>pop culture from a time when the gumshoes were tough as 20-minute eggs and
>
>dames were to be trusted only as long as it took to get one in a lovebird's
>
>clinch. Right now, it's time to forget everything except the nostalgia of
>
>old radio," Walker purrs, "as we go back into the '30s, '40s and '50s and
>
>bring back . . . The Big Broadcast. Swoon, violins, swoon. Is it easier for
>
>a sightless man to look back? For Walker, the answer is usually no.
>
>Despite
>
>his role as undisputed dean of long-gone radio, the 77-year-old is typically
>
>too busy to be mired in rear-view longing. The husband of 52 years and
>
>grandfather of five still plies the city via MetroAccess, traveling each
>
>morning to NBC's Washington bureau, where he works part-time answering
>
>phones for his lifelong friend and radio partner, Willard Scott, who still
>
>does occasional weathercasts for the "Today" show. Walker is fully wired,
>
>surfing the modern world with text-to-voice software and scanning the skies
>
>of satellite radio. Now, Walker is poised to ascend into the Radio Hall of
>
>Fame in Chicago, awaiting the outcome of an online vote
>
>(www.radiohof.org)
>
>that ends Aug. 1. As the well-wishing e-mails and calls have poured in,
>
>Walker has spent a lot of time lately pondering a life of broadcasts gone
>
>by. Radio has been everything to me," Walker says, sitting in the office he
>
>shares with Scott at NBC studios on Nebraska Avenue NW, its walls lined with
>
>sombreros, banners and the other goofy souvenirs of Scott's zany "Today"
>
>show career. When I was a kid, radio was my comic books, movies, everything.
>
>Now I look back and marvel that I was able to make a career out of it for 50
>
>years in one market. I've gotten to interview all the people I used to
>
>listen to -- Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby. It's just amazing.
>
>Since
>
>he and Scott signed on as a DJ duo at WOL in 1952, Walker's voice has been
>
>heard on Washington radio more than just about any sound short of the
>
>emergency broadcast test signal. He's been a big band jock, talk show host
>
>and, most famously, half of the "Joy Boys" tandem through which he and Scott
>
>dominated Washington airwaves for nearly two decades. Each day on the old
>
>WRC, the two buddies sang their theme song ("We are the Joy Boys of radio,
>
>we chase electrons to and fro!") , voiced a multitude of silly characters,
>
>ad-libbed clunky sound effects and riffed seamlessly about everyday
>
>absurdities, a pair of Siamese jesters joined at the mike. That was the
>
>best," Scott says. That was the most fun I ever had in this business.
>
>Anybody who saw Eddie work, they just marveled at him. But getting that
>
>first chance to prove himself was anything but easy for a young blind man in
>
>the early 1950s. Walker had been obsessed with radio almost since he was
>
>born, completely blind, in Forrest, Ill., during the Depression.
>
>According
>
>to family lore, little Eddie's first words were "Turn the radio on. His
>
>mother told of how he once snooped out the big Delco portable she had hidden
>
>in a closet awaiting Christmas Day. She would say, 'You'd think it would be
>
>easy to hide something from a blind kid,' " recalls Walker's daughter, Susan
>
>Scola, 51, a teacher in Potomac. But not a radio. When the neighborhood kids
>
>were outside playing ball, Walker traveled with the Shadow, Fibber McGee and
>
>Jack Benny to a world where he had the eyes of a fighter pilot. Not many
>
>people get more from radio than Eddie," Scott says. What do they call it,
>
>theater of the mind? That's perfect for him. Soon after his family moved to
>
>Washington, Walker's parents turned him from listener to broadcaster by
>
>giving him a phonographic oscillator, a kind of low-watt toy transmitter.
>
>Walker hooked it up to an outside aerial, boosting its range to the end of
>
>the block, and his radio career began, at age 8. I had my own show on that
>
>thing," he says. After finishing his schooling at the Maryland School for
>
>the Blind, Walker was ready for the real thing. He applied to American
>
>University's new broadcasting program, the first of its kind in the country.
>
>He had the voice, but not the eyes. The District's rehabilitation agency
>
>would pick up tuition for a radio major only if Walker could produce a
>
>professional willing to vouch for the concept of a blind person functioning
>
>in a broadcast booth. Everyone said it was impossible," Walker remembers.
>
>They wanted me to be a social worker or a piano tuner. That's what blind
>
>people did. He finally found a program director willing to call Walker's
>
>ambitions feasible. He became AU's first blind student, helped launch WAMU,
>
>then a tiny AM campus station, and hit it off with Scott, a fellow student
>
>broadcaster. We were doing satire from the first words we ever spoke to each
>
>other," says Scott, who once let Walker take the wheel of his car on
>
>Whitehurst Freeway to satisfy his friend's curiosity about driving.
>
>We're
>
>like brothers, only better. We really love each other. For years, they
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>scrounged on-air gigs. Walker found ways to accommodate his blindness.
>
>His
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>father dictated commercial copy as Walker typed it in Braille. At one
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>station, Walker would deliver the headlines by listening to the news
>
>broadcast of another station in his headphones and repeating the information
>
>into his own mike. Like an interpreter, "he did it instantly," Scott says.
>
>One day, he put the headphones on and it was the 'Bible Hour. They'd screwed
>
>up the schedule. Ed said, 'Due to technical difficulties, we won't have the
>
>news at this time.' " The pair hit the big time in July 1955, when WRC
>
>signed them as the "Joy Boys. They were so popular, kids reenacted their
>
>skits the next day in many a local classroom. Their theme song was hummed
>
>everywhere. Their guests got bigger and bigger: Don Adams wrote a skit for
>
>them; Bill Cosby dropped by. Scott went on to play Bozo the Clown and Ronald
>
>McDonald on Washington TV, and to become weatherman and funnyman on NBC, but
>
>he and Walker have remained a team off the air and both look back at the
>
>"Joy Boys" time as a creative high point. That was a wonderful time,"
>
>says
>
>Walker's wife, Nancy, who is sighted. We were invited to Constitution Hall
>
>for concerts, movie premieres at the Uptown. I was always amazed at how many
>
>people we met who had no idea Ed was blind. Scola says her father has always
>
>hated to be shut out of any arena or activity just because he walks with a
>
>white stick. She remembers long games of hide-and-seek with him. You could
>
>hide from him right in the middle of the room," she says. I would always
>
>giggle, but my sister could be absolutely still. Walker doesn't often talk
>
>about his blindness on the air. His official biography at WAMU doesn't
>
>mention it at all. Those who know him say he's spent his life making sure
>
>his achievements, which included shows on WMAL (630 AM) and NewsChannel 8,
>
>are measured on their merits, not by his disability. I don't want to get an
>
>award because I can't see," Walker says. It's not important. A blind person
>
>can do just about anything, except drive a car or fly an airplane. And
>
>Willard let me drive once, so maybe I can do that, too.
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