“I’ve always been of mind that if something is worth doing, then it’s worth overdoing,” -Sir Bryan May astrophysicist/guitarist
Those words have been my mantra ever since I was a teenager and first saw that quote in “Guitar Player” magazine.
The year was 1991, the year that I started working for WGAC radio. Matt Stovall had relented to my pestering when I was still in high school and told me that when I could bring him a diploma, he would hire me and he was true to his word.
That was a fun summer. We watched as the Braves went all the way to the World Series, something no one thought could happen in our lifetimes.
WGAC had begun to experience a bit of a resurgence in listenership, thanks to the Braves and a nationally syndicated show that the station had just brought aboard, the Rush Limbaugh Show. In fact, for a 5,000 watt AM station, ’GAC was cranking along quite well.
In my first job, I was allowed to read the occasional news report and they let me deejay an hour long music show and “host” the Swap Shop on Saturday mornings.
The coolest thing though, is I was able to work with George Fisher who was on the retirement side of his career (although he never retired), which meant that he was much more laid back than his earlier years and willing to be a bit of a mentor.
Matt had, for years, tried to get George to switch over to CDs instead of the poppy LPs he had owned since the 1950s. Finally, Matt took to pulling the styluses out of the record players to force George into the late 20th Century.
It took Matt quite a bit of time before he figured out that I kept a stash of record needles in my desk and would replace them for George so that he could play Frank Sinatra his way.
That was how George and I bonded.
That same year, I was thumbing through a bunch of old photographs they stored in a file cabinet at Reese Library at (then) Augusta College when I came upon a picture of the intersection of Broad and Seventh streets.
Pictured in the faded out photo was the old Commerce building and, on the side of the structure hung our call letters W-G-A-C.
After a little more research at the Augusta Chronicle’s archives, I found out that the station was started in 1940, to great fanfare. Virtually everyone who was anyone across the state made appearances in Augusta to celebrate the station’s first day of broadcast.
It was true that we had missed the 50th anniversary of the station by almost a year, but I thought that the timing couldn’t have been more perfect for us to celebrate at the end of the 50th successful broadcast year.
The station’s owner at the time, Bob Beckham, liked my idea to “recreate” the first day of broadcasting as if it were 1940 and he gave me a tiny, and I do mean tiny budget to make it happen.
I had run across the name of J.B. Fuqua as being the man who had the idea for and created WGAC and learned that he still lived in Atlanta, so I contacted him and he invited me to come up to his house for an interview and to see his mementos from those early years. Being a teenager, I had no idea exactly who I was calling when I fished his phone number out of the Atlanta directory.
My car was not in the shape to handle Atlanta traffic, so I asked Bob Beckham if I could borrow one of his cars for official station business. The conversation went something like this:
“What business do you have in Atlanta, young man?”
“I have a meeting with a Mr. Fuqua, he lives there.”
“Fuqua, do you mean J.B. Fuqua?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He started WGAC and agreed to meet with me.”
“THE J.B. Fuqua agreed to meet with you? Scott, do you own a suit? You know he lives next to the Governor’s mansion, right?”
Mr. Fuqua and his wife Dottie were perfect hosts and it didn’t really hit me until I was seated in their living room that I was sitting back and chit-chatting with the father of the modern corporate conglomerate as if this were just normal.
Part of my plan for the 51st Anniversary celebration was to recreate the gala that was held on premiere night and there was only one place that, in my mind, could serve as the venue, it was the place they held the original gala, the Bon AIr Grand Ballroom.
By then the Bon Air had been apartments for the elderly and disabled for many years, but the ballroom still had its original wood floors and art deco flourishes. All it took was a good cleaning and some tall plants borrowed from a local nursery and the giant room was transformed to look like a palm court straight out of 1941.
WRDW Television let us borrow their stage and sound equipment and sent a young Steve Smith out to put it all together.
Caterers and restauranters like Amy Bailey from Rhinehart’s traded with us for “authentically replicated” 1940s era commercials played on the radio next to the Glenn Miller Orchestra, and they provided a huge spread that would make Bobby Jones jealous. WBBQ station owner George Weiss donated several cases of fine champaign.
All along the walls were tables filled with exhibits such as classic radio microphones, UPI ticker machines and the restored original call letters that once hung outside the Broad Street building; all of these items I found by rummaging around in the attic of the old transmitter building.
Looking back, I am shocked that neither our business manager, Kelly Bailey-Meyer, or I were shocked to death navigating through 50 years worth of hot cables all over the floor of that attic.
On an easel, at the end of the ballroom, sat the framed original letter from Franklin D. Roosevelt congratulating J.B. Fuqua on the grand opening of station WGAC.
The program included a jazz combo with a special appearance by 1940s era radio band leader, or one of the nation’s first “disc jockeys,” Lonnie Moore. J. B. Fuqua spoke a few short words, George Fisher and Dot Scharf played played some hits from their heyday at the Miller Theater and I closed the show with a tuxedo- clad version of “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” complete with white gloves, a monocle and walking stick.
The night was a huge success, and many local radio aficionados agree that was the night that the “sleeping giant,” WGAC’s industry nickname, awoke. It was, for me, the night my media career really begun.
Nearly 20 years later, Debbie Van Tuyll would ask me to participate in a class project at (then) Augusta State University and we released the book, “WGAC Radio: The Voice of the Garden City for Seventy Years.”
That would be the start of Debbie and my professional relationship and was the first stepping stone in our journey that culminated with the creation of The Augusta Press.
So, I guess you can see why I hold a very special fondness for the Bon Air.
The last time I toured the building was with Catherine Smith-Rice two years ago. It felt like we were touring the remains of a once proud luxury liner that was about to be headed for the breakers.
The hallways, and especially, the stairwells reeked of urine. There were men who were obviously physically able to work lolling about aimlessly throughout the building and there were rooms on the first floor that were piled high with junk showing the remnants of rat nests.
“EXIT” signs that were supposed to be hung on the ceiling and lit-up were littering the floor in one room.
At one point, Catherine had to stop and we all walked outside for a breath of fresh air. I didn’t have the heart to look into what was once the grand ballroom.
There really is no excuse for what has happened to the Bon Air and the blame lies squarely with the owners, Redwood Properties. They have invited the vermin in and have, so far, taken no responsibility.
Thumbing through the police reports from several years ago, I ran across one page listing where the cops were called after a group of men ran across Walton Way from the Bon Air over to the Partridge Inn and, in broad daylight, brazenly took off with some of the veranda furniture.
A good combination of a concerned community demanding the government use their resources and copious amounts of Spic-N-Span can remedy the current situation, I promise you. We should not stand by idly as people destroy the place where so many great memories were made.
Fire with love…
A really fun part of my job is that I can publicly make fun of politicians and Al Mason has, over the years, given me plenty of fodder for my comedic routines.
When Al gets going, he rates better than any tent revival preacher I have ever witnessed and he dresses just as well as the best of them, ZZ Top could even write a song.
Throughout his terms in office, though, I have known Al as a humble, thoughtful and sincere man, not at all like the polished version we see all animated on TV. Al has never given me a reason to lose respect for him and, trust me, as someone who investigates politicians for a living, that is saying something.
I join the community in wishing former Commissioner Al Mason a return to health and vigor. My gut feeling is that he will be back with his cufflinks polished up before we know it.
Scott Hudson is the Senior Investigative Reporter, Editorial Page Editor and weekly columnist for The Augusta Press. Reach him at scott@theaugustapress.com
