Brushes With Greatness, Extended Dance Mix

In the mid-1980s, when I was in college, Providence-based radio station WHJY ran a “WKRP in Cincinnati” themed Thanksgiving promotion in the parking lot of a Rhode Island shopping mall.

The event was based on the classic “WKRP” episode where the station decides to give away live turkeys by dropping them out of a helicopter. (“As God as my witness,” said station manager Arthur Carlson, “I thought turkeys could fly.”) WHJY—which I guess didn’t want to anger PETA—opted for paper birds instead, and hired actor Richard Sanders, who played newsman Les Nessman on the show, to recreate his commentary. (“Oh, the humanity! The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement! Not since the Hindenberg tragedy has there been anything like this!”)

My friend (we’ll call him Vivian) heard about the promotion on the way to campus that morning, and burst into the college newspaper office, insisting that I go with him. Since I had nothing else to do other than go to class or study, I said sure. After all, my parents were paying for me to get an education, and what could be more educational than this?

We took off for Warwick, first making a detour to Vivian’s house. I waited in car while he went inside to “pick up something.” About 10 minutes later Vivian emerges, clutching a tape recorder and decked out in full Les Nessman regalia—sport coat, classes, bow tie, the works.

We were running late and listened to the event beginning on the radio as we pulled into the parking lot. On cue, we could see the paper turkeys drifting out of the helicopter—disappointingly nothing like wet cement.

Vivian parked the car and started desperately looking around the parking lot for Sanders. As we darted between cars, he kept yelling, “C’mon Bailey, hurry up!” (With my long brown hair and bewildered expression, I guess I looked the part.)

Finally, we got up close to Sanders, who was sitting in the back seat of a car, ready to escape the silliness. Vivian knocks on the window, thrusts a microphone in Sanders face and says in a psychotic voice, “Mr. Nessman, I’m your biggest fan!”

Clearly, Sanders had never had a stalker before. A look of fear crossed his face as he croaked out “thank you” and rolled up the window.

I’ve never looked at a paper turkey the same way since.