Greetings, Laguna Lunchers!
During the show, I will often reference MTV and its importance for the kids of the 1980s.
So influential was this television network; I remember the day it arrived on Smith’s Bayou.
Early in the decade, my brother had mounted several unsuccessful campaigns to get my dad to spring for cable TV.
My father’s bone of contention was that cable was “nothing but smut,” and my brother only wanted it to watch dirty movies.
One day, my dad relented and agreed to get cable for a week.
As my brother was thrilled by the “high quality” programming available at 215 in the morning on a school night, my dad held firm to his opinion about this little tan box on top of the Zenith.
The tide turned during dinner Saturday night when my father was flipping through the channels, telling us what a waste of money cable was (14 bucks a month back then), and just as he was coming to a crescendo and solidifying his argument, he stumbled across Georgia Championship Wrestling on Superstation WTBS Atlanta.
With the look of a man who discovered a long-lost friend, my dad softly said, “ok, we’ll keep it.”
July 1985.
I am trying to remember the exact date, but the events of that day are clear.
A sunny summer afternoon found me, a rather large and unattractive child floating in an innertube on the bayou behind the house.
Drifting amongst the pond scum, thinking of Star Wars, video games, and snack foods, the air shattered with a piercing cry,
“Bear, we got MTV! Get in here!”
It was my brother bellowing from the storm door that led into our bedroom, the “original” basement.
As I went ashore, my mind flooded with possibilities of what was on the mystical channel.
We had heard about MTV and had friends who had seen it in other states, but for little old Ferrysburg to have this ticket to pop culture oozing out the boob tube, well, it was on the heels of Christmas morning for childhood awesomeness.
Upon reaching our room, my brother had the TV on full blast.
He sat on one bed and me on the other, our eyes peeled and mouths agape, like the guy in the old Maxell Cassette magazine ads.
I remember the first video we saw was “Money For Nothing” by Dire Straits, followed by “Sharp Dressed Man” by ZZ Top.
After that, the endorphins kicked in, and I don’t know what played, but it didn’t matter; we had MTV in Ferrysburg! What was next? A Howard Johnsons?!
From that day forward, it was a part of my daily routine.
MTV exposed you to an eclectic music presentation and so much cool stuff.
Whether it was the Video Music Awards, 120 Minutes, or The Week In Rock hosted by Kurt Loder (which was pretty much the education I put into my “World’s Greatest Rock N Roll DJ” days,) MTV was my beacon to follow.
They were irreverent and fueled by the slogan, “I Want My MTV.”
Most of us 80s kids still do, but we want THAT MTV, not the shell it has become.
This television channel, programmed like a radio station with VJs talking up tunes and sharing music news, was what we didn’t know we needed and could never happen again.
It was a considerable influence on the 1980s and my life personally.
In my various guises over these 24 years at One South Harbor, I cannot tell you the number of times I have referred to MTV. Citing something I learned there when describing my love of music, band histories, what brand of cigarettes the producer smoked, and millions of details only gleaned from memorizing album liner notes or growing up glued to Channel 23 on Westmark Cable.
To paraphrase The Buggles, who had the first video ever played on MTV back in 1981,
“Video didn’t kill the radio star; it gave him life.”
Graphic Courtesy Paramount Global.
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