About a week after I moved back home I had a couple of responses. To make a boring story shorter, one was for an off-air job in a mid-sized market and the other was on-air in a market too small to be classed as a small market. We're talking tiny. Now the mid-sized market could lead to on-air job eventually and clearly was the smarter way to go. But the other one was out West in the shadow of the Rockies and meant being on the air every morning-- I gave them a call.
Turns out the guy I was calling actually owned the station. We talked for a while and he finally said, "Look, I can't be flyin' you all the way out here just to interview. I'll hire ya sight unseen if you promise that even if ya hate it here you'll give me six months." That sounded great to me. After all, I was young and dumb. I had to move myself out there, a very long two days of driving, but my new boss, Uncle Bobby, was going to front me $100 towards the move. The rate of pay? Well, I could have made as much mowing yards. But as the old punchline goes, "What, give up show business?!?"
Plus, Uncle Bobby knew how tough it was to find housing in his windswept paradise so he was going to let me use a place he had for just $15/ month. I don't have a picture of that palace but here's a reasonable facsimile.
OK. It might have been a little nicer...
Now I know what you're thinking.
A place like that?