Word: glick
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...just before 1 a.m., any 1 a.m. from Monday through Saturday, and the din from the next-door Bowladrome has died away when Larry Glick climbs to the second-floor studio of Boston's WMEX ("the ever-new Wee-Mex, Home of Modern Radio"), eases himself into his chair, its torn plastic cushion oozing sponge rubber. Around him are ashtrays half-filled with cigarettes left by the daytime rock 'n' roll D.J.s. Staring at him is the control panel held together with electrical tape. On the scarred horseshoe table sits a six-line beige telephone, equipped with...
...right. Just as right as it can be. Ladies and gentlemen, you're tuned to the new WMEX in the new Boston. The station in a growing Boston, headquarters for the nighttime Glicknics. A Glicknic is a thing called happiness, and happiness is a thing called Larry Glick...
...This is Glick's signal to turn himself on, and hunching toward the mike, a big smile spreading over his face, he greets the great unseen listening audience in his deep, friendly baritone: "How do you feel? I really mean it. How are you getting along with your wife? How are you getting along with your boy friend? We'll discuss all these things. CO 2-9600. You call us. You're the star of this show." And before he is done, the lights do go on. The fans are calling in, and Larry Glick...
...Years on the Bottle. Glick's telephone call-in program is just one of dozens that are proliferating across the U.S., giving the platter parades and baseball broadcasts a run for the ratings. Glick, 43, now with his eighth radio station since 1953, has become a glib, gemütlich master of the new formula. All he has to defend himself against his telephone callers is a tape-delay device, which gives him a four-second time lag in which to erase obscenities from the air. To ease the strain, there is an occasional celebrity visitor such as Songstress...
People are consumer products to Sammy Glick, and when he has consumed enough-script writers, girl friends, studio chiefs-he reaches the projection room at the top of World Wide Studio. At musical's end, he is faced with the topman cliché: "You're all alone, Sammy Glick." As Sammy, Steve Lawrence moves with the wary savage grace of a jungle cat, and when he claws, he claws. Bernice Massi, the banker's daughter Sammy marries, matches him in velvety ferocity. In a subplot romance, Robert Alda and Sally Ann Howes seem to be going through...