7/25/1994
The largest contingent of radio and record people in the country got together last week in Fargo, North Dakota. That should have been the tip-off. We were al supposed to be in Minneapolis. But such are the stories that make the Conclave what it is. Don’t press me on an exact definition.
But, there we were. In Fargo. On the taxi-way. Waiting for the weather in Minneapolis to break. Planes and people from all points west. Los Angeles…San Francisco…San Diego. In Fargo. In the rain. In a plane. What a pain!
I could look out the window and wave to Dave Sholin. He was in another plane. On the same runway. Waiting. Like me, not happy. Unlike me, he wasn’t as vocal about it.
This story will tell you a thing or two about the Conclave and the people who attend. There is a point and I will get to it…eventually. On my flight, among other luminaries, was Laura Henson of Island. I didn’t know Laura very well when we boarded. After Fargo, I feel she is one of my closest friends. Three hours in Fargo does, after all, seem like a lifetime.
Our plane was due to arrive in Minneapolis at five o’clock. After the thunderstorms, tornadoes, hail, fire and brimstone closed the airport, we were informed that our flight wouldn’t touch down in the Twin Cities until ten-thirty. This is five-and-a-half hours after our scheduled arrival. Both of us were being met by radio programmers. During our sojourn in Fargo, after the second (or was it the third?) double-vodka, we figured that our rides had long since given up hope that we would be arriving within a reasonable waiting period and had returned home. We would be left to fend for ourselves.
Not that we were nervous about it. Minneapolis, though quite off the path beaten to death by all of us in the business, still provided taxis. I was sure of it. Not positive, mind you, but pretty sure. Rumor had it.
Anyhow, we decided to share a cab once the plane landed. Of course, that was assuming we would ever leave Fargo. And we did. Eventually. We landed in the Twin Cities at ten-forty-five.
So what’s the point?
The radio people who promised to meet us were there waiting. Both of them. Smiling.
Tell the truth. Have any of you reading this ever waited for over five hours at the airport to pick up anyone other than a close family member? Don’t even think about it. You know you haven’t. But that’s the Conclave. And the people who attend it. And, I guess, the people of the Midwest in general.
My only question is are they really this nice or is Minneapolis so boring that waiting at the airport is more exciting than just about anything else there is to do?
The answer is yes. The face it, they really are and it really is.
So why go to the Conclave? Hey, for one thing, we’ve had about a convention a month this year and I wanted to make sure Network Forty was represented at all of them. No matter where I had to travel. Besides, the Conclave is fun…sort of. The people are nice. And it is the only place that you can really sit down, meet new faces and have a dialogue that is meaningful. If only you didn’t have to fly Northwest.
Minneapolis is a trip in itself. Full of very white people who breathe through their mouths and have a lot of space between their eyes. And their teeth. My kind of folks.
The Conclave has meetings that begin at nine in the morning. And they’re full. What’s wrong with this picture?
Minneapolis has to be the only major city in the country where the O.J. Simpson trial wasn’t the main topic of conversation, thank God. Actually, there wasn’t a main topic of conversation. Come to think of it, there wasn’t a lot of conversation, either.
But where else can you drink for two hours with 12 guys at the bar and the tab comes to $55? The biggest rumor at the Conclave was that TGI Fridays was closing. Steve Leavitt usually hosts a dinner for radio people there and this year he didn’t make it. That caused a lot of forlorn faces. Mark Gorlick more than made up for it, however, and in the process spoiled a lot of programmers with the MCA dinner at Ruth’s Criss. That TGI Fridays ruse won’t work next time, Leavitt.
The Conclave is a little quirky. It reminds me of Ocean Spray cocktails. They both mix odd combinations of fruits. At first glance, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but once you experience it in total, it’s tangerine!
Where else could you find a panel that consisted of legendary programmer Paul Drew and soon-to-be-legendary Jerry Clifton? It was 20 years ago this summer when Drew pulled Clifton from oblivion and hired him to program the RKO station in New York City. Drew asked me to spend some time with Jerry to teach him the RKO way. WE both got dead drunk. I would like to take credit for teaching Clifton a thing or two, but I honestly think he already knew how to drink.
And where else could you find me agreeing with Joel Denver? (Almost. About monitored airplay. In a meeting hosted by Dave Sholin. What can I say? I got confused. It happens in meetings with Sholin.) I just feel that in many cases, the record industry is placing importance on radio stations for the wrong reasons. All to often, a stations becomes important because it is monitored…not because of an aggressive music policy or because it sells records. It reminds me of the Parallel System the industry fought so hard to lose. We should be careful to judge each radio station’s worth on individual merits. Not because of ordained status.
Hey, it’s just my opinion.
As at just about every convention, some of the panels went too long and some of the speakers were a bit boring. I even left my panel early, so I can’t blame everybody else. But taken as a whole, the Conclave remains unique among all conventions. Unique enough that I’ll go back next year and give it another shot.
Maybe they should hold it in Fargo!