Before there was an iPod there was the I-Man. Don Imus. He left the air in 2018, and swooped the planet (to use a Lord Buckley) phrase, at the tail end of 2019.
“Imus in the Morning” was a ritual for quite a lot of people, with his first exposure coming at KXOA in Sacramento. It was there that he won notoriety for his phone gag of calling up a fast food joint and requesting "1200 hamburgers to go." He was probably happy when the FCC singled him out for complaint, and made a big stink out of his burger gag. The FCC even enacted a new rule to foil other wiseguys like him, insisting radio personalities must identify who they are when making "prank" calls. Just how often they did, and what the fines were if they didn't, I have no idea. He joined WNBC radio (or as they insisted their disc jockeys pronounce it, WNnnnnnnBC) in June of 1968, and after a long run, bounced to WFAN and then had his final stand at WABC from 2007 to 2018. Like any number of radio shows or even TV talk shows, his appeal was “now,” and had nothing to do with posterity. You had to be there.
Like chewing gum instead of sitting down to a fine meal, he was more a time-wasting habit than substantial. Is it possible to put together a memorable hour or two from his FIFTY years on the year? Maybe an hour. Maybe not. But when you consider how tenuous the memory is on David Frost, Mike Douglas, Jack Paar, or even Craig Ferguson — you realize that there were, and are, people who are amusing today, even if what they did is forgotten tomorrow. Frost, Douglas, Paar — what survives are a few highlight high-profile guest spots, but the percentage is very low, and gets lower as fewer and fewer care about Nixon, Yoko Ono’s cracked coffee cups, or “leaky Jack” sparring with an Oscar Levant, Judy Garland or Mickey Rooney.
When he was hot, late 60’s and early 70’s, he made a few record albums. Imus dusted off well-worn comedy topics like the windy preacher (Dr. Billy Sol Hargus) and the zany put-on phone calls and his fans loved it. Mostly, they just loved a guy who was grumpy, insulting, and so COOL about saying stuff you weren’t supposed to say on the air. “Shock jock” was a phrase invented about him, before his shocks were absorbed and made much more colorful by his rival Howard Stern.
Stern was gleeful about beating out the old man (not older by THAT much) in the ratings, especially, it seemed, because Imus was typically disdainful of Stern when he arrived, and curmudgeonly about sharing anything with the newcomer.
“If I’m being honest,” most of this was of little interest to me, as I wasn’t awake when Don and Howard were pranking and smirking and getting guffaws from their listeners. I met Howard only once, at a David Letterman annual party, and my encounter with the I-Man was probably very typical of anybody’s. I was headed up to Doubleday, to discuss my newest book (“The Comedy Quote Dictionary”). The office was in the 666 building. “Imus in the Morning?” There was Imus in the elevator. I got in, pressed the button for my floor, and on my second glance at Imus, I noticed he had slumped against the back of the elevator, and dropped his cowboy hat over his eyes. It was the ultimate “don’t talk to me” pose. I didn’t blame him, since I’m sure every day was loaded with cretinous fans shouting stupid greetings to him or pestering him for one inane reason or another. Oh yes...about the cowboy hat; he had an honest reason to wear it, having grown up in Arizona on a cattle farm. He took a variety of menial jobs including railroad work, before turning up in California and getting his first radio gig. In later years the cowboy hat fit in well at his "Imus Ranch" in New Mexico, where he ran a charity that gave kids with cancer a chance to enjoy the Western lifestyle.
I was usually up by the time Stern and Robin Quivers were doing the “news” segment, and I enjoyed that. Later, when you could download Stern’s shows off the Net, I’d sometimes enjoy his interviews, but not the endless squabbling between him and his nitwit call-in pals and cohorts, or the boring, if not “retarded” phone calls he’d take from his “wack pack.” As for Imus, once in a while he’d get a phone call from Mort Sahl. I remember the very sad day when Dick Cavett subbed as the guest, because Mort’s son had died. I instantly called Mort to offer my condolences. “Ya heard,” he said. Well, yes, Cavett and Imus were talking about it.
Eventually Mort would be disgusted at the very mention of “The I-Man,” annoyed that he was not getting the air time he used to. He questioned Don’s “loyalty.” Not that this was unusual for Mort, who routinely would insult his supporters (including Steve Allen and Dick Cavett) and expect total support for being an "iconoclast." Perhaps Imus used Mort less and less because Mort's particular brand if iconoclasm didn't include blunt insults, the kind Don's high percentage of pinhead listeners loved so much.
Some listeners didn't care who Don Imus attacked, as long as he attacked. Their misfit dissatisfaction with being jealous non-entities made Imus a hero. All he had to do was call Hillary Clinton "Satan," and he'd get approving snickers. If Don attacked an actual conservative, like "war criminal" Vice-President Cheney, well, that was ok, too. Freedom of Speech was a good defense against calling somebody a "senile old dirtbag," but as with Howard Stern, the executives at the stations Don worked for were sometimes pretty nervous and sometimes had to pull the plug on him. Still, radio was his media and whether he was at WNnnnnnbc, or WFAN or WABC, his fans found him.
Attempts for Imus to cross over into stand-up, or to become the “king of all media” or author a best seller never happened. One brief moment of promise came when something called “MTV” became popular. The notion of the “vee-jay” (as opposed to the “va-jay-jay”) led to a new type of “celebrity.” When MTV started up their sister VH1 network for more mature viewers, Imus was tabbed as their star attraction. His TV commercials promised that “pork faced Yuppies” need not tune in. As it turned out, stone-faced aging Imus was not the face anyone was looking for.
While Howard Stern's face was made for radio, Don Imus, usually looking severely pissed off, was hardly a poster boy either. He also didn't have the self-effacing buffoonery of Stern, who eventually found his way to high TV visibility via "America's Got Talent." Imus remained a voice.
Like Carson to Cavett, or Graham Norton to Jonathan Ross, Stern was the superstar and Imus was only drawing enough die-hards to stay on the air. The “king of morning drive-time” was unquestionably Howard Stern. Howard famously got his deal with satellite radio, able to end his fighting and feuding with censorship and the PC brigade. Imus was not so fortunate, and in 2007, his shock remark about the Rutger’s female basketball team nearly ended his career. Egged on by his “go too far” fans, Don was always prone toward mean remarks, but this one got few laughs: “That's some nappy-headed ho's there, I'm going to tell you that.”
Was he a racist? Of course not, he was a provocateur. An “equal opportunity offender” (as they used to say about Mort) but times were changing. And this was AM radio. “Nappy headed,” some were quick to point out, was “sometimes” used as a term for blacks who wore Afros or more Buckwheat-styled or Don King-styled wilder do’s. As for “ho’s,” well, that term was on every rap record it seemed, and Jay Leno would often use the word simply as a cheerful synonym for whore or prostitute, regardless of color. I remember TV Guide once talking about Cosby’s hair style being “nappy natural.” Still, in 2007, and coming from the sour, craggy-faced shock jock, it seemed far more offensive. He was suspended.
Imus redeemed himself, for some, by his laudable charity work, and even if his show was not much of a factor anymore, he made it to his 50th anniversary, even if his somewhat choked-up farewell hardly got the media attention of Carson’s final broadcast. For those who were listening to Stern, or Mancow or Opie and Anthony, Imus was irrelevant. His shows were offered not only to radio listeners but to viewers via a Fox cable channel (he'd earlier been on the more liberal MSNBC) but how many really wanted to see his rather craggy face? Even with careful lighting? Imus seemed especially haggard in his last decade, perhaps due to prostate cancer (which he insisted he was not treating with radiology) and emphysema. It was the latter that forced him off the air for a while in 2017, and led to his decision to retire the following year.
Well, those are my thoughts on the I-Man. Unlike the NY Times, I don't write obits in advance. In fact, I usually don't write obits at all, just some words if the passing of someone moves me and my memory.
Is it likely that the “vaults” will open and any radio station will be offering “the best of Don Imus?” Is anyone going to re-issue Don’s old RCA albums as some kind of boxed set, with a few bonus CDs of “rare and outrageous moments” from his radio shows? Not likely. Still, Don Imus was a legend in his own time, and for quite a few years, especially back at WNnnnnnnBC. He’s got fans who miss him, and many who are having a post-Christmas downer because his retirement years turned out to be few. In the Radio Hall of Fame, the short name of Don Imus still means some big achievements.
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