History of WOAY-TV, Oak Hill
Love Reminisces as Oak Hill Station Celebrates Anniversary
This article appeared in the (Beckley, W. Va.) Raleigh Register on Dec. 2, 1984. The photo shows Mr. Love in 1977 or 1978.
By VAUGHN RUDY 1954. It was a time of live television, a time when an announcer had to be quick on the microphone, a time when watching the test pattern on a small box was a novelty, especially to families in the Oak Hill-Beckley area. It was in the fall of that year that WOAY-TV, Channel 4, came into being after being little more than a dream of Robert R. Thomas Jr. Despite some skeptics who believed Thomas had made a bad business decision, WOAY was born, a television station to serve Southern West Virginia. It's still going strong today. If there was ever any doubt about that, no one certainly told the hundreds of people who showed up Friday night at the television station's 30th Anniversary Celebration at the Ramada Inn in Beckley. Even ABC's One Life to Live soap opera stars Steve Blizzard, who portrays Brad Vernon, and Shelly Burch, who portrays Delilia Ralston Buchanan, took part in the festivities. The celebration, a combined anniversary and premiere party honored not only the station's future but also its past—a past filled with fond memories for at least one station employee. At the time WOAY went on the air, Shirley Love was working for Thomas' WOAY radio station. After finishing his radio shift, Love would go over and watch the television announcers. "Some of the announcers liked to leave early, so I would read the copy for them," he said. "My voice became familiar on the air." Love also would run the teleprompter machine for the announcers when they would do commercials. After WOAY had been on the air for about six months, one of the announcers for whom Love operated the teleprompter was fired. The announcer did not want to stick around for the extra two weeks. "He (the fired announcer) said, 'If I had someone to do that commercial, I'd just walk out now,'" Love said. "I said, 'Go ahead, I know it.'" Love did the commercial to the delight of his superiors and thus began his television career at WOAY. "WOAY probably is the most unique television station the whole United States," Love said. "WOAY was the only family-operated or one-man owned television station in the United States that anyone knew of. Most of them are owned by corporations or groups of individuals. "The station also was unique in that it didn't have a network when it came on the air. We signed on at 4 'clock in the evening and would sign off at 11 o'clock at night," he continued. "If you talk to anyone who lived in the area 30 years ago when television first came on, just watching the test pattern was novelty." For years the station was independent, but then joined what was known as the Dumont Television Network. Later the station became affiliated with CBS before finally becoming affiliated with ABC, its current network, in 1967. For awhile, even though the station had joined ABC, it continued to telecast Walter Cronkite's CBS newscast and "Captain Kangaroo." Doing live television is one thing Love remembers most about the history of WOAY. Local shows such as "Jukebox Dance Party," "West Virginia Bandstand," "The Chapel Hour," "Friday Night Barn Dance," and "Saturday Night Wrestling" were live and immensely popular. Students from different area high schools would appear on "Jukebox Dance Party," an hour show airing Saturdays, and "West Virginia Bandstand," a half hour daily show similar to "American Bandstand." "It was community involvement," Love said. "People got used to seeing people they knew; people got used to youngsters who were popular in their respective high schools, those who were the top teens, the class president, the top football and basketball stars. We even talked to some coaches and teachers. This was good because it explored that particular school, and the people in the community were more accustomed to what was happening in the school just through the involvement of those youngsters on television." Similar activities took place on "Friday Night Barn Dance," a country-western dance show that gave many local performers a chance for recognition. Many country-western stars such as June Carter Cash, Little Jimmy Dickens, Charlie McCoy and others also appeared on the show. "If someone came along and they played a good banjo, or a good violin or had a good quartet, then they would be invited to appear on "Friday Night Barn Dance," Love said. One of the first live shows on WOAY was "The Chapel Hour," which was shown daily from 4 p.m. to 5 p.m. and featured local guest ministers, according to Love. But probably the most popular live show on Channel 4 was "Saturday Night Wrestling," which featured famous professional wrestlers and local talents in matches performed first in the station's studios and then in an auditorium adjacent to the original WOAY station. The show lasted about two decades. "This was probably the most watched show," said Love, who announced the matches for many years. "People would come from Virginia, Kentucky, even Ohio. ... People watched it for the wrestling itself, but other people watched it to see the people. Folks would get carried away, jump into the ring, and they'd do their thing, too. They would actually want to fight and a lot of them did fight. "We would have wresting bears," he said. "We would have the top wrestlers in the country in that auditorium. We're talking about Argentine Rocko, Gorgeous George; we had them all when wrestling was in its heyday. The excitement that wasn't there, we'd create." Hundreds of people would fill the auditorium every Saturday night to watch the matches, Love said. "What made it the most popular here was interviewing the fans in between bouts. You talked to children, you talked to senior citizens, you talked to people from out-of-state, and often people would get carried away and forget they were on the air. Sometimes you had to be quick on the microphone trigger because anything could go across the airways, and did many times." Love believes the local programming is what made WOAY popular with area viewers. "When people remember and think of Channel 4, these are the things that pop into their minds, not necessarily a James Bond movie or a Jackie Gleason show." The auditorium in which the matches took place first served as a skating rink and was part of a recreation complex that included the old TV Lanes Bowling alley and restaurant. Channel 4's television and radio studio was destroyed by fire in September 1977, just two months after the station's founder and owner had died, leaving his children, Robert R. Thomas III and Leah Thomas to take over the operations of the TV and radio stations. Both WOAY-TV and WOAY radio were back on the air within less than a month. The auditorium was renovated to house the new studios. Later the radio station moved above the bowling alley, replacing the former restaurant called the Terrace Room. The stations today are in the same location. From the station's beginnings when its shows, newscasts, commercials and even station identifications were live, WOAY advanced as new broadcasting technology developed. Polaroid photographs and quick camera work were the order of the day when the station first started doing newscasts. Then, with the advent of color television, the station would use colored chalk to turn a black-and-white picture from a newswire service into a color photo for broadcast purposes. Eventually black-and-white video tape came into use, followed by color, microwave capabilities and other advances. Love said WOAY usually was a few steps behind in getting the latest equipment, but modern technology eventually would reach the station. "Today we have as much of a modern station as any station in the state of West Virginia, and we're really proud of it," he said. WOAY's history is part of the heritage of many people in the Oak Hill-Beckley area, according to Love. Its future also will be a part of the area's future, he said. "Channel 4 will be the voice of Southern West Virginia as far as programming in this area because now it's caught up with the times," Love said. "Channel 4 will grow with the times. As modern technology progresses, so will Channel 4, and with it the people will be better informed of what's going on around them." The station's current general manger, Curtis Butler, agreed. "We're certainly hoping to expand the audience considerably through better programming, more local programming and through finding out what the audience in our demographic area wants," Butler said. "As far as the future of the station is concerned, we're on a growth pattern." Butler said he hopes WOAY will be able to cut out the Charleston and Huntington television stations' influence on this end of the state. He said Channel 4 is committed to serving Southern West Virginia for years to come. "WOAY is gong great, and we'll be here at least another 30 years," Butler said.
Pictures
Fire-Ravaged Station Back On-Air in 10 DaysThis article appeared in RCA Broadcast News, March 1978.For 193 ABC network affiliates, televising the first game of the 1977 World Series was an exciting event, with excellent ratings. For one ABC affiliate—WOAY-TV, Oak Hill, West Virginia—it was a miracle. Just ten days earlier, September 30, the WOAY broadcast facility—AM, FM and TV—was totally destroyed by fire. Getting the station back on-air in less than two weeks in a new building took super effort, total dedication and decisive management. It also required quick, compassionate response from suppliers and fellow broadcasters. Five Transmitters Destroyed Lost in the fire was the entire WOAY broadcasting facility—TV, AM, FM—burned to the ground. Irreplaceable personal record collections and audio tapes; the station records; film and tape programs and commercials all were reduced to ashes. The entire equipment complement was destroyed, including five transmitters, one of which was a brand new TT-25FL ready for installation and test. The response to the disaster was swift and positive. RCA had a TT-25FL 25 kW transmitter ready for tuning and test at Meadow Lands for another customer. It was diverted and shipped to WOAY on Sunday, October 2. A BTA-10L, 10 kW AM Transmitter and a BTF-10E, 10 kW FM Transmitter were also sent from Meadow Lands to replace the burned-out units. Another shipment of needed equipment was loaded in RCA, Camden and dispatched to the station. All of this equipment was accumulated and loaded for shipment before an order was signed, on the premise that the station would rebuild. Robbie Thomas III, General Manager of WOAY wasted little time in deciding. An RCA proposal was reviewed and approved on Saturday, Oct. 1, and the action began at the new installation site. Even before the conclusion of negotiations, it was decided to relocate the WOAY broadcast facilities to an adjoining Sports Arena/Auditorium which was also owned by the Thomas family. The first priority was to get on-air with the television operation, to generate network revenue. This happened in just ten days. Transmitters Installed First RCA Project Implementation personnel were already on-site; made a rough layout and quickly cleared an area for the transmitters. The TV, AM and FM transmitters were moved into the auditorium on Saturday and Sunday and positioned in the selected area which was to be a temporary location. The three transmitters were arranged in a line, resting on top of the existing hardwood floor. Assembly began at once—with many minor and major problems, one of which was a lack of power. With a massive effort, the power company got full power to the building in just five days. The new TT-25FL transmitter got maximum attention. All new transmission line was required and this had to be cut, fitted and optimized on-site. The transmitter had to be tested and tuned on-location and under trying conditions. While the transmitters were being worked on, the WOAY personnel and contractors were busy ripping up the hardwood floor of the arena, removing the stage, pouring concrete, erecting partitions and preparing for the installation of studio equipment. Sawdust, crates, boxes and debris were everywhere. Breaking In A New Chief Chief Engineer Jim Martin came from educational station WMUL-TV in Huntington, West Virginia, and was scheduled to start work on TV-4 on October 3. It was an unusual introduction to a new job confronted with total destruction and the need to rebuild fast, without benefit of advance plans. "All of the manufacturers involved were just great. They recognized our need and responded to the emergency, giving us excellent cooperation and service. Other stations in the area helped out with loans of equipment. Within a week, network lines had been installed by AT&T." "Our Competitors Are Also Our Friends" Bob Brown, Station Manager of TV-4, was amazed at the reaction to the station being off-air. "People act like they've lost a friend," he said. "WHIS-TV in Bluefield has been tremendous, giving our WOAY news team five minutes a night on their station for Fayette and Raleigh County news coverage. I've been in this business for 30 years and am finding out that our competitors are also our friends. And that's a great feeling." Unrealistic Target Date Jim Martin is young, energetic and unflappable, and needed all of those attributes to get the WOAY operation back on the air. "The whole process was fantastic—just unbelievable for anyone who has never had the experience. We were hoping to be back on-air with basic radio and TV broadcasts within a month or two—which was a difficult goal. "Our unrealistic target date for returning on-air with TV was under two weeks. It was October 10, the opening game of the World Series. The official sign-on came at 5:58 P. M. on October 10, operating at half power (with special permission from the FCC). "That night," Mr. Martin recalls, "we were flooded with calls from viewers complimenting us on the excellent pictures they were receiving." There has been no RF problem with the television transmitter, even though all three transmitters are located close together in the same area. Jim Martin attributes this to the excellent RF shielding of the transmitter and to the groundstrapping of all the transmitters. A Long Way To Go Getting on-air with network programming was just one major milestone in the reconstruction of WOAY. It was still a long way from a normal—or even basic—broadcasting facility. The AM-FM studio control room and announce booth were completed quickly and served as the TV "studio" for the first newscast after resuming broadcasting. The 20-foot ceiling created an unusual "boomy" effect on audio, but getting it on was the name of the game. A new telecine system with TK-28 camera, two TP-66's and a TP-7 were installed and operational in less than a week. This was a key item, Jim Martin says, since it gave TV-4 the flexibility for airing local programs, commercials and ID's. The video tape machines—two TR-22's—were brought in one day, and were used on air the next day. (A TCR-100 "cart" machine and a TR-70 tape recorder are on order for early 1978 delivery). Also within the first week of resuming television operations, local commercials were being produced, using ENG cameras and videocassette recorders. The two quad VTR's and the 3/4-inch videocassettes are used for production as well as for on-air operations. A limited spot reel is made up for some tape commercials, but most are aired individually. Film commercials and PSA's are not dubbed to a spot reel, but are aired separately. AM-FM Broadcasting Resume Once the TV transmitter was on-air, action shifted to the AM and FM transmitting systems. WOAY-AM resumed broadcasts on November 6, and FM was back on air November 14. By the end of 1977, WOAY was in full operation, with major construction completed, but still with a sizable backlog of projects, especially in the technical area. The next phase is to get back into production. The new studio—40 x 60 feet—is being readied, with the lighting grid already in place. "Better Than Ever" Rebuilding an entire TV/AM/FM broadcasting facility in three months time is a challenge few broadcasters face. WOAY General Manager Thomas is rightfully proud of this achievement, particularly of getting the TV operation on in less than two weeks. "There was no way that we could meet this schedule—but we did. It took a lot of hard work, long hours, cooperation and plain good luck to carry it off, but our WOAY staff made the impossible dream of telecasting the 1977 World Series come true. We passed the test, and our station is better than ever."
Saturday Night Wrestlin’—A West Virginia LegendThis article appeared in the Register-Herald on Dec. 25, 2004.By MANNIX PORTERFIELD OAK HILL—Burdened with steaming bowls of mashed potatoes, half-runner green beans, fried chicken, and similar staples of Appalachia-style cuisine, the denizens of Hacker's Valley descend on a neighbor's house for dinner on the grounds. Appetites sated from a sumptuous pot-luck meal spread on three picnic-style tables, two on the porch, the third resting in the yard, the diners then repair to the living room until all space is occupied. When no one else can squeeze inside, those left outside take up positions at windows, venetian blinds up, curtains drawn aside. All eyes are riveted on a small, black-and-white television set for a weekly ritual. This was "Saturday Nite Wrestlin,'" perhaps the most enduring of local shows fledgling WOAY-TV offered in television's crib days of the mid-1950s. Hacker Valley sits in rural Webster County, a long drive from population centers in those days, but WOAY was known for its powerful signal that penetrated deep inside the hollows across a huge swath of West Virginia. Gone the way of eight-track tapes (they died about the same time), the wrestling fare attracted an audience like no other—a social phenomenon that would, to paraphrase Sheriff Andy Taylor's observation of bumbling Deputy Barney Fife, make a good study for a psychiatrist ... if only Mayberry, or, in this case, Oak Hill, had one at the time. Longtime emcee Shirley Love drew such an analogy based on how the 90-minute wrestling show—which aired for 20 years—often turned erstwhile timid souls into rowdy spectators. "You couldn't get a psychiatrist to open those people up the way that show did," he mused. "I always wondered how long it would take a psychiatrist to sit down in a session and get all the tension out of someone that the wrestling program did in an hour and a half. "I've seen very reserved people come into the studio and you almost had to look them directly in the eye to just speak to them, and then they would only nod." Love figures some devotees suffered an inferiority complex. Whatever their hangup, the wildness of Saturday Night Wrestlin' had its own curious way of loosening inhibitions. "They would sit there the first 15 minutes among themselves," Love recalled. "Then the wrestling match would start. In about 10 or 15 minutes, they started to move. In another 15 minutes, they were on their feet. In another 15 minutes, I mean they were running up and slapping the ring. And when they left the building, they were just yap, yap, yap. This tension in them was just loosened up." Many of the wrestling fans at times "opened up" a bit too wide to the point of becoming unhinged, passing from the stage of mere vocal critics to would-be ring participants while pro wrestlers—remember Jan Madrid, Chief Black Eagle, the Sheik and the Cuban Assassin? - entertained them. Love's daughter recalls him coming home from work every Saturday night, his standard white shirt drenched from cups of soft drinks that fell a few feet shy of their intended mark in the ring, hurled at an unpopular grappler. This was, after all, a live take on the old western movie themes. Good Guys versus Bad Guys, distinguished not only by personality but, seriously, to the point of black and white trunks. "It was a fake," Love says with no apology. "It was show biz. We ran a disclaimer that cautioned everyone it was 'pre-arranged for your entertainment.'" No sooner had the show hit the air than the state Athletic Commission sent word it wanted to sanction matches and charge the station a fee for providing referees. Failure to comply would bring the commission down on station owner Robert Thomas with a court order. Thomas would have none of it. "This isn't an athletic event," he protested. "This is strictly entertainment." So, on the next Saturday night, the resourceful owner prefaced the show with this: "Ladies and gentlemen, the following program is not an athletic event. The following is pre-arranged for your enjoyment." Even the marquee outside was altered to read, "Saturday Nite Wrestlin,'" omitting the "G" in the word "wrestling" to pacify the athletic commission. Few paid any heed, as things developed, and the vanguard of the show's following took the wrestling as real as life itself. "Those old mountain boys up some of the hollows in West Virginia believed the wrestling was for real and quite a few of them at times would hop into the ring," Love recalled. Love had misgivings about his new assignment. First off, he wasn't up on all the wrestling vernacular, but agreed to give it a whirl, once the game plan was announced. All he had to do was wing it, using the basics, like a headlock, leg hold, arm lock, etc. Who cared if he got one of them wrong, anyway? After all, his forte was in the between-bouts interviews, when folks let down their guard. Nothing shook off society's accepted restraints any more than the interviews with members of the audience. Back then, Love was young and quick, but at times even a steady hand and cat-quick reflexes weren't enough to yank a detachable cord from his hand mike and muffle a salty-tongued spectator before he laced the air blue with expletives. "A lot of times, I purposely let it happen," Love acknowledged. In one memorable surprise, a tiny, gray-haired woman—the prototype of everyone's little grandmother—shocked Love by referring to a villainous wrestler as "that dirty S.O.B." Love had no chance to silence that one. One night, on the opening of squirrel season, Love asked a hunter how he had fared. "Just fine," the man replied. "I got 12." Love tried to smooth things out, in case a conservation officer was tuned in, asking, "You mean four, don't you? That's the daily limit." "I got 12," the man said. "Sir, I don't think you understood me, you see, the daily limit is four," Love drilled. "Oh," the man deadpanned. "I got four." To enhance the dramatics in the ring, some athletes broke apart small capsules of dye concealed in their trunks, or a razor blade wrapped in tape so that only a tiny pinpoint was exposed. Under the intense heat of television lights, all it took was a quick jab, and real blood oozed onto the forehead. Love was no small part of the act. By a simple signal he flashed, usually the universal thumbs-up gesture, one wrestler would fling an opponent onto his broadcast table at ringside for dramatic effect. This little dimension at times got out of hand. On one occasion, two midgets wound up on Love's table, and one of them leaped on his back, slugging it out in hand-to-hand combat with the other. If there were more commercials in the script than normal, and a break was in order, all Love needed do was tug at an earlobe or rub his nose, and the referee would exercise a quick decision. Wrestler down, wrestler pinned, wrestler decisioned. And now, a word from our sponsor.
“Wrestlin’”— Shirley Love's Musical Talent Led to Broadcast CareerThis article appeared in the Register-Herald on Dec. 25, 2004.By MANNIX PORTERFIELD OAK HILL—Shirley Love's odyssey into the world of broadcast had its genesis as a youngster singing in church. As a teen-ager, his voice touched R.R. Thomas Sr., a member of the Methodist Church, so much that the enterprising television-radio station owner made a point to call in a $100 pledge to hear Love sing a spiritual song in radio telethons carried in town. "Well, let me tell you, $100 back then was a lot of pledge," Love recalled. Thomas was organizing his own radio station at the time and he wanted to hear Love's voice on the airwaves as an announcer. An audition led to a 5-9 p.m. evening gig over WOAY-FM. Before long, Love was called upon to extend his talent to the broadcast booth in area high school football games, an assignment that produced more than a few chuckles until he got the hang of it. At the outset, it was almost a disaster. "I didn't know all the ropes about calling a game," he acknowledged. "When the quarterback handed off and the running back broke loose, I'd say, 'he's up to the 30, the 40, the 50, down to the 60, the 70 and so on." Love saw his chance to move up in the world when the fledgling WOAY-TV debuted in 1954. "I would slip over on the television side after 9 p.m., because some of the guys liked to leave at night," he said. Love gleefully filled in for them, doing station breaks and maybe a promotional or two. "I started getting my voice familiar on that," he said. "I'd do the announcing for them when they would leave." Fate intervened for the budding announcer when a station manager found himself in the doghouse and the boss issued him his walking papers. "He was supposed to leave on a Friday night, but he told me on Wednesday that if he didn't have to do the commercials Friday, he would just leave tomorrow," Love said. Love knew the commercial scripts by heart from turning the teleprompter so announcers could read them on the air. The lame-duck manager was hesitant to let Love take over until he recited them verbatim and he was satisfied Love wouldn't confuse refrigerators with used cars, or anything else the station was selling. So, at 6:30 p.m. that night, Love put on a tie and jacket, but still had one more barrier to cross—the program director. "You can't do that," he told Love. "Sure I can." "Well, you're responsible." When the new week dawned, the replacement manager approached Love with high praise, and an invitation, "You want to do them again?" Love's real break came when he was offered the job of emceeing the "Friday Night Barn Dance." From there, he anchored another popular local show, a spinoff on Dick Clark's "American Bandstand," an afternoon dance fare for area schools. In one enduring anecdote, Bob Pruett, now the head football coach at Marshall University, was on the track team at Woodrow Wilson High School in nearby Beckley. Seizing on a chance to be on television and mingle with new girls, Pruett and his fellow trackmen convinced then-coach Jerome Van Meter they could shape up better if someone drove them over to Oak Hill, dropped them off and let the athletes walk the 14 miles or so back to Beckley. "What they were doing was stopping by the television station for 'West Virginia Bandstand' for three or four minutes, then going on to Beckley," Love said. "They really had it made." That is, until Van Meter's wife happened to tune into "Bandstand" one afternoon and the camera panned the dancers. "After that, when they passed by, you couldn't get them to even look at the building," Love said. "Van Meter put the word on them." In his heyday, Love was one of three announcers for both radio and television. "I did whatever Mr. Thomas said," he recalled. "He was a very smart man. He was in business to make money. Quality wasn't his foremost concern. Making money was his first concern." In his 43-year career, Love started out with a 75-cent per hour salary, minimum wage at the time. Then, the pay shot up to $1.24 an hour. "I never asked him for a raise, because he gave me the opportunity to sell advertising and he was the boss, and he put me in a position to where I became my own boss," he said. "I only had to answer to him." In fact, the mainstay of Love's livelihood in those salad days came from peddling Electrolux floor cleaners door-to-door. "It came to a point in the '60s I was selling vacuum cleaners and making three times as much as I was at the television and radio station," Love said. Love threatened to leave WOAY, telling Thomas he had two children on the verge of going to college and had just been offered the post of assistant branch manager for Electrolux. Thomas insisted he stay on, reminding Love of his side income in selling advertising. Trouble was, Love explained, each time he lassoed a new account, some hustling co-worker snatched it away. Thomas then made him an offer he couldn't resist—10 percent of all TV ads, and 15 percent for radio beyond the first $800 in sales. "If an account is out there and it's not on the air, you get it, and you'll keep it," Thomas promised. "If you have any problems, tell the other fellows to see me." Thomas stood by his pledge, and Love parted with Electrolux. "That's the way it was until Mr. Thomas died," Love said. "I made a lot of money selling advertising."
NotesOn March 24, 1949, an Associated Press story reported that Robert R. Thomas Jr. of radio station WOAY announced today that he had applied for a television station on Channel 6 with 2 kilowatts of radiated power. He said that to his knowledge Oak Hill is the smallest community in the U. S. to make application for a TV station.WOAY-TV broadcast its first test pattern at 5 p.m. on December 3, 1954, and broadcast several hours of programming on December 14, 1954. WOAY's Shirley Love was elected to the West Virginia State Senate in 1994 and 1996. His legislative biography says he was born in Oak Hill on May 15, 1933. Russ Turner (russt@flex.net) wrote me on Oct. 31, 1997:
I enjoyed your web site very much! |
