 Widely
acknowledged as the man who gave
our
music the name, "rock 'n' roll," with it,
Alan Freed also gave us the gift of the most
powerful and long-lasting, unifying force of any
single generation in history. He came to New York
City from Cleveland and began broadcasting there on
1010 WINS AM radio on September 7, 1954.1
Within
weeks, he was the dominant force on radio there,
attracting a huge, racially mixed, youthful audience
and, although he inspired many imitators, Alan Freed
almost single-handedly brought radio back
from the near dead.
Known for his
rapid-fire delivery, for his endless dedications
like those from February 1955 that you should be
hearing now (you would think from this that every
teenage kid in New York City must have been Italian),
and sometimes pounding on a telephone book or ringing a
cowbell to keep the beat, Freed continually referred to our then
brand new, youth-oriented music as the
"Big
Beat in Popular Music."
He has
always been given the credit he deserves for doing
more than anyone to promote and popularize the music
that changed the world, music that he truly loved,
our music. He did it not so much because of his
radio
 popularity (which was local, of course) but,
in part, through
his 1957 nationally broadcast, albeit short-lived
(it was cancelled days before the national debut of
"American
Bandstand"2),
TV show on the ABC network, "The
Big Beat," later broadcast locally in New York
on WNEW-TV,
through his live rock 'n' roll stage shows, some
that traveled to other cities and others that
attracted lots of tourists in New York City, but
mainly through five movies released in 1956-1959,
beginning with Rock Around the Clock,
in all of which he played himself, the only adult
who understood the teenagers and their (no, our) new
music.
It was only much later,
though, that he was also
widely recognized for his enormous role in what was
soon to become known as the civil rights movement in our
country. He was not just a hero and champion to the
youth of America, both black and white, but he also
opened doors to scores, maybe hundreds, of black
performers and songwriters who, mainly because of
Freed, now had opportunities to share their talents
with the world and to make a decent living in the
recorded music business. It has been said (by
Little Anthony,
when interviewed in the 2020 musical documentary,
Streetlight Harmonies
(click on trailers))
that his best friend, Frankie Lymon, was the Jackie
Robinson of popular music. Whether that is so or
not, Alan Freed was surely its
Branch Rickey, the
brave Brooklyn Dodger manager who enabled Jackie
Robinson to "break the color line" in 1947 and take
his place in major league baseball
— and civil
rights — history
forever.
Freed was
most closely associated with 1010 WINS, which he helped
to dominate the New York airwaves beginning in 1954 but was there only 4
years during which time he accomplished almost all he
ever would. His career was fraught with legal and other
difficulties including a 1958 arrest in Boston for
inciting a riot with one of his live rock 'n' roll
stage shows
(although the charge that was subsequently dropped, it
nevertheless resulted in his being
fired that year from WINS) and, ultimately, relentless
persecution from the so-called "payola" hearings in
congress, which caused him to be fired again in 1959
for standing up for his principles in that regard, this time
by 770 WABC. (And at the time, the
pejoratively-termed "payola" was, in fact, a perfectly
legal, common industry practice, always done openly,
until 1960.) But despite all these obstacles, he
remained still optimistic when, on November 21, 1959, he
said what would be his final New York on-air radio farewell
(you can hear it by clicking below) to his loyal music
business supporters and fans upon leaving WABC. Freed
said, ironically, "This is not goodbye; it's just
goodnight, and we'll see you soon."
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Sadly
and alas, however, it was goodbye. Alan Freed's
last appearance on New York TV (WNEW) was six days later
on November 27, 1959. The '50s were over. Alan Freed never
worked again on New York radio or TV.
Tragically, the father of rock 'n' roll music
died little more than five years later on
January 20, 1965, heartbroken, penniless and
alcoholic. He was only 43.
But we had him every
night for
little more than five years, coincidentally, almost
exactly the same period of time that the class of 1960
spent every day together as such. More than anyone else,
he helped bind us together forever with our music, and
so he was a part of us and,
after 50 years have passed,
that is why
(and how) we remember him and why we honor his memory.
Alan
Freed's memory has also been honored, and the importance
of his achievements during his all-too-brief career
acknowledged, in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (an
original inductee, 1986), the Radio Hall of Fame (1988)
and on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (1991). |
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