IT DOES HAPPEN
Regardless of what occupational field you have been pasturing in over the years, you must have noticed from time-to-time that the grass does, indeed, seem to grow greener and taller on the other side of the fence.
In some cases it may be real, but it may also be an illusion founded in the fact that there are fewer occupants feeding on the forage over there. Changing location is not always a sound idea.
I have a sterling example in mind, as I issue a note of caution.
I worked for a little over three years with a man we shall call "Bud". Actually, we called him "Uncle Bud", for the simple reason that he was a bit older than any of us. Bud had actully been on the staff of twenty-eight radio stations in his careening career. Two of his locations had been "home" for a little over one week; several more were month- ong stays. The fact that he had been so many places came to light when he celebrated the longest residence of his career in radio on his second anniversary with us.
I came to know Uncle Bud quite well during that long stay. He had a varied background in just about every phase of radio broadcasting in the 1930's in to the leading edge of the '50's. Well, not engineering. He stayed clear of that end of the business, but had been an announcer in the days when everything was live. He had a dry sense of humor about him. He was a natty dresser and he had a natural gift of gab, and all of that lured him into better money as a time salesman. He remembered the "good ole days" of radio and fashionied much his life after a program you will not recall named "Tony Won's Scrap Book, I think. Uncle Bud wrote verse he called "poetry". He had three volumes of his verses printed in hard cover editions, and one of the first things he sold as a time saleman, was himself reading his verse over soft music. The move-again mania began the first Christmas after he and his wife were married. She always gave him a year's subscription to BROADCASTING magazine without ever realizing that she had opened the gate once more. Uncle Bud turned to the back of the book each week - to the "Help Wanted" columns and wallowed in green pasture lures until one of them got the better of him.
They hit the road again!
A.L.M. November 2, 2003 [c-438wds]
