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(Text of News Story on Now Explosion August 3, 2000)

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Years before MTV, an Atlanta TV show created its own music videos. It was psychedelic. It was far out. It was the . . . 'Now Explosion'

BYLINE: Miriam Longino, STAFF
DATE: 08-03-2000
PUBLICATION: The Atlanta Journal and Constitution

Music video channel VH1 says Aug. 1, 1981, is a landmark date in rock history. Airing "The 100 Greatest Rock and Roll Moments on TV" this week, the self-appointed rock historians noted that it was the day when MTV launched the nation's first music video television show.

(Sound of needle being ripped across a vinyl 45.)

Well, not exactly.

(Scratch, pop, hiss. Turn up the spacey, distorted guitar intro of the 1970 Norman Greenbaum hit, "Spirit in the Sky.")

Let's set the record straight. The nation's first music video show didn't start in New York in 1981, and it wasn't MTV. An early chapter in the video revolution happened right here in Atlanta, over a fleeting, nine-month period in 1970, when a group of young disc jockeys and film producers (eventually with the help of Ted Turner) launched a 28-hour weekend block of music videos called "Now Explosion."

Now Explosion (echo: explosion, explosion, explosion, explosion...).

Imagine the psychedelia of Austin Powers blended with the trippy light shows of Filmore West with a little "Laugh-In" bikini dancing sprinkled into the mix: Hippies frolicking in Piedmont Park to the Plastic Ono Band's "Instant Karma." Traffic speeding past the Varsity to the sounds of "Vehicle" by the Ides of March. Bikini clad young girls --- surrounded by floating blobs of paisley --- dancing to Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Lookin' Out My Back Door" at the Channel 36 studios.

"I was 16 and thought it was the closest thing to rock 'n' roll heaven that I would ever get," says 47-year-old Alice Walker of Gay, Ga. "I can still hear my mother saying, 'Are you watching that rock music show? Turn it down!' I envied the dancers."

One was 48-year-old advertising executive Lori Krinsky, who hopped in the car with a fringed-vested friend one night in 1970, wound up at the Channel 36 studios and danced on-air to "Spirit in the Sky."

"I don't remember much," she says with a laugh. "It was kind of cool. We waited for hours, then they said, Come on in and dance.' They did that weird photography that shows just your shadow and outline in psychedelic colors. What a riot."

The mere mention of the words "Now Explosion" send Dan Turner, a 47-year-old jazz pianist from Conyers, into a retro stream of consciousness: "The fog lifts. . . . Lazy days sitting around watching TV. . . . My friend in knee-high moccasin boots. . . . Staring at the background stuff on the screen all day in between runs to the Krystal. . . . It was way ahead of MTV."

Sam Judd, 47, of Douglasville says, "When MTV came along, I tried to explain that this type of programming had already been tried in Atlanta, and no one remembered it but me."

Just how did one of the nation's first music video experiment wind up in a then-sleepy Southern town? The story, which stretches from March to November of 1970, goes something like this:

"Now Explosion" was the brainchild of a flamboyant Philadelphia businessman named Bob Whitney. With a background in radio (reportedly as a producer for Dick Clark), Whitney came up with the idea of broadcasting Top-40 radio on television --- TV you could not just hear but watch. Or as the promotional brochure said at the time, "TV so turned on you can't turn it off."

After supposedly bankrolling $25,000 to launch his concept, Whitney tapped two Atlanta deejays, "Skinny" Bobby Harper and Bob Todd, to host the show and introduce records. The two had been top jocks on WQXI-AM ("Quixie in Dixie"), Atlanta's only rock and roll station throughout the '60s, and were primed for the job.

"We were the first video deejays," says Harper, 61, now a communications consultant for the Georgia Student Finance Commission (HOPE Scholarship Program). "We didn't have videos handed to us; there was no such thing back then. We had to make them all."

Todd, 54, who now lives in Ocala, Fla., recalls the days when UHF stations (these were the high-band channels long before cable) were desperate for programming to fill their air time, especially on weekends. "We used the studios at Channel 36 during the middle of the night when the station was dark. It was a non-union facility, so we could play with all the equipment."

Getting the music was no problem; "Now Explosion" simply used records of the day (without notifying any of the licensing agencies, such as BMI. It was the era of love and peace, after all.). But getting visuals to air over the songs was a challenge.

The job of creating the look of Now Explosion was handed to a 28- year-old television producer named R.T. Williams. The brash young broadcaster had begun his career on a more traditional route, as a producer for Atlanta's channel 11. But when Whitney laid his new concept of a music video program out on the table,
Williams took the bait.

"It was so incredibly simple, but so different," he says today, peering over a pair of glasses under a head of graying hair. "You never know that history is being made when it's being made. We were really the first to do that kind of interpretive video to music."

Williams quit his mainstream job, grabbed a Norelco PCP 90 portable camera, and starting filming. His job: to produce five original videos for each song aired on the program.

"When you look at music videos today, keep in mind that MTV doesn't produce any of this stuff. We had to hatch and fry the eggs that we made."

Williams and crew turned to the psychedelic images of the day, and their own imaginations, to churn out what amounts to an estimated 1,700 hours of primitive music videos in all. Many were filmed on location here in Atlanta: street scenes of girls in jeans and gingham dresses from the "hippie" district between 10th and 14th streets; shots of students in big Afros coming and going at area high schools; politically-themed segments, such as "Bridge Over Troubled Water," played over film of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech; dancers gyrating in front of a blue screen filled with special effects --- girls that Todd says he and Harper "picked up down on Peachtree."

"We would carry an empty, 2-inch videotape cannister with an ABC- TV sticker on it, and ask pretty young girls if they wanted to come down to channel 36 at midnight and put on skimpy outfits and dance," Todd now laughs. "And they did."

Occasionally, Top-40 acts would drop by the studio to lip synch their hits, such as Kenny Rogers and the First Edition, who interpreted "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" for Now Explosion.

"Oh, yeah, I remember it," Rogers says. "I had this long hair, a big bushy beard, rose-colored glasses and an earring. I actually thought I looked good."

But this was no "American Bandstand."

With no blueprint to go by, the crew literally made up the groovy look of Now Explosion with a series of special effects that Williams still gets excited about today.

"There was the 'rhythm zoom,' where the camera would zoom in and out real fast," he recalls. "Then we did the quad split,' where we'd show the same image in all four corners of the screen. The 'reverse chroma key' was like they do now with weathermen in front of the weather map, where we would have a negative outline of a dancer."

Now Explosion was only on the air for a few weeks when trouble erupted. According to the then-staffers, the company that owned channel 36 was threatening to take over the show. Williams remembers that Whitney called a secret meeting in a room at the Emory Sheraton Hotel on Clifton Road.

"It was a raid-planning party," he says. "We rented some trucks, and went over to the station (channel 36) about 3 a.m. It was a driving rainstorm, and there were still two people working in master control. We went in and started hauling out all our tapes and loading them into the trucks. Finally, a guy got wise to us and picked up the phone. Next thing, we saw the lights and heard the sirens."

But the Now Explosion crew somehow avoided the law, and smuggled the tapes to Florida.

Days later, the program premiered on channel 17, a new UHF station owned by an entrepreneur named Ted Turner. Turner quickly signed on to air Now Explosion all weekend, and also agreed to dub the videos in his studio on West Peachtree Street for syndication across the country.

Eventually, Now Explosion wound up on 111 UHF stations, including stations in Philadelphia and New York. But like the Woodstock era that spawned it, its life was short. Mounting bills and an incredible demand for video footage caused Whitney and crew to throw in the towel in November 1970.

Williams went on to manage production for the channel 17 superstation, WTBS. Harper worked as a spokesperson for Delta Airlines for many years, while Todd and his son started a video production company in Florida. No one knows what happened to Whitney, who was last seen in San Francisco around 1974.

As for the Now Explosion tapes, they wound up in a garage in Coral Gables, Fla., where they were reportedly destroyed in a flood around 1972. It's not likely any of the dubs exist either. Williams says they were shot on expensive two-inch, quad video tape.

"A 10-hour reel cost $20,000," he says, noting that television stations were likely to tape over the footage as soon as it was obsolete.

Todd still owns a one-hour tape of the show, which he dug out of a box in the attic to share a snippet of it with the AJC. Williams once had two reels, but left them in his office at WTBS when he departed in 1984. "Who knows what happened to them," he says today.

Though just a blip on the pop culture meter, Now Explosion left lasting impressions. In the early '80s, a funky, kitschy local band , led by Clare Butler, adopted the name and toured the East Coast. Others who watched the show say it had lasting effects on them, too.

"I was in the 7th grade, and can still see some of the videos," recalls Leza Young, 42, of Chamblee. "Bobby Sherman dancing in front of four large studio panels to "Easy Come, Easy Go." The clip for "Little Green Bag." The woman dancing to Freda Payne's "Band of Gold." The poor hitchhiker standing in the rain in "Kentucky Rain." So much of my taste in music developed as a result of that show --- I now have a degree in rock radio and was a deejay for several years."

"I think one reason I got so interested in music and do what I do today came from sitting around all
weekend watching that thing," says Atlanta concert promoter Peter Conlon. "They played songs that you
couldn't hear on the radio here, like "Little Green Bag" and "Fire" by Arthur Brown. It was kind of like FM before everybody had FM radio."

(Photo In a scene somewhat reminiscent of "Laugh-In," Atlanta's "Now Explosion" featured dancers (above)
with its logo. / Video images courtesy of BOB TODD Photo Repeating patterns was one of the show's regular special effects. / Video images courtesy of BOB TODD Photo Repeating patterns was one of the show's regular special effects. / Video images courtesy of BOB TODD Photo "Now Explosion" veterans: Bob Todd (left) has a video production company. / MARLA BROSE / Special Photo Bobby Harper is a communications consultant. / GAVIN AVERILL / Special)

Reprinted with permission from The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Consitution. Further reproduction, retransmission or distribution of these materials without the prior written consent of the Atlanta Journal and the Atlanta Constitution, and any copyright holder identified in the marterial's copyright notice, is prohibited.

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LETTER TO REPORTER RE. NOW EXPLOSION STORY

Letter re. Atlanta Constitution Story about the Now Explosion in 1970

November 4, 2000

Ms. Miriam Longino
Editorial Department
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
P.O. Box 4689
Atlanta, Ga. 30302

Dear Ms. Longino,

You certainly wrote an excellent feature that appeared August 3rd. It was particularly significant and exciting for me since I am that "flamboyant Philadelphia businessman" who brought the Now Explosion to Atlanta in 1970.

I am now retired at 71 and live in Reno, Nevada. I discovered your story while compiling materials for a memoir covering some forty years, which I hope to produce in the next year, or so. Your story was called to my attention by Atlanta resident, Steve Farrington, who is ­ as you may know - a collector of radio and television historical materials including hundreds of broadcast audio and video tapes. His e-mail is: farrandco@mindspring.com.

I'm really curious about how you happened to dig up all the information, get in touch with that great old crew and do that fun story. And how did you find the viewers and dancers? You certainly researched it beautifully. Your tale is accurate; it is entertaining, and is certainly a terrific contribution to an understanding of how things really happened at the beginning of "music video."

Perhaps you could help me. I would like to contact my old colleagues: R.T. Williams, Bob Harper and Bob Todd. My address information is below. Also - I would very much like to have a copy of the AJC edition that included your story. Can you suggest the best way to find one?

I have sent an e-mail to your Stacks department asking for permission to use your story on my personal web page. I am not in business in this regard. I am sharing information and gathering background documentation for a personal memoir.

Atlanta energy and creativity did indeed launch the music video genre a full decade before MTV. It originated in Atlanta but was far from confined to your city.

For approximately 26 weeks, for example, it was broadcast by WPIX-TV in New York for five hours surrounding Yankee Baseball on weekends. This was mainstream VHF television in the world's largest advertising market. Everything seen by those New Yorkers - and by other nationwide viewers - was completely originated by R.T. Williams and that creative Atlanta crew that included Bob Todd and Skinny Bobby Harper doing their extemporaneous deejay routines often recorded in the middle of the night.

Hundreds of Atlantans contributed to the unusual video imagery. I personally felt the result was mainly superb, groundbreaking, and worth doing. I stayed up late into the wee hours with that unique bunch helping them invent the future of music video on many occasions when I probably should have been out selling the idea to advertisers. I remember the period, though, as the very best of times.

Even with unusually high ratings for the time period, the WPIX-TV sales department - and others in similar circumstances ­ were just not prepared to define or describe the new concept's value in contemporary advertising terms and our hopes for commercial acceptance were not realized soon enough for us to survive. We had figured that if there were national exposure in New York where major agencies could experience the concept that the commercial recognition would extend to the benefit of distant markets. Obviously, those struggling outlets were hoping so also. Although WPIX-TV was the significant outlet for us, there were other important markets - and of course, many minor UHF stations who, like channels 36 and 17, regularly used the program for as long as 12 to 15 hours at a single stretch.

We were encouraged by a number of things: the excited audience reaction and acceptance in Atlanta, the attempt by channel 36's parent company to take over, and Ted Turner's willingness to help us out when we got into that jam.

The special effects that were the program's hallmark were not always easy to come by and continual invention was basic to the program's continued popularity. I walked into the control area one day to find our technicians running expensive videotape that had just been recorded onto the floor. They ­ then - guided the moving tape - while still being recorded - across the room to be played back on a second machine seconds later. The image from the second machine was then combined with new images from the first machine, which again crossed the room and were re-entered into the program yet again. The effect ­ never before seen ­ created many dancers out of one in an eerie montage which made the dancers seem to grow new bodies while they danced. Such things are simple today with digital equipment but were pure, off-the-wall inventions in 1970. (Or would it be off-the-floor inventions.) You can imagine what the traditional channel 36 employees thought when they saw videotape running along their less than spotless floor from machine to machine. The effects created were very effective and fit the music that was popular at the time. It was all very new, very different and very stimulating.

Although minor in importance, a couple of clarifications and some further information may be of interest to you:

Channels 36 and 17 in Atlanta, and all other outlets for the program, were fully licensed by BMI and ASCAP for broadcast of all music we played. Fact is, I don't believe there was a category for producer fees for playing commercial records in a syndicated TV show when the records (and implied free use) came from producers of the music. You might say we were a radio operation in a TV world and no one had figured out how to relate to us. Some producers even sent the artists around to perform as you point out. I don't know where the music-licensing question came from, but to my knowledge, we never kept secrets from anyone including BMI and it was not an issue.

In the case of the "raid" of channel 36 in the middle of the night to reclaim our property, your report is absolutely accurate. Unexpectedly, we had been locked out of the channel 36 facilities and denied access to the materials used in the program, which absolutely belonged to Whitney Television Productions, Inc. This was quite an exciting adventure. We had researched the legal aspects of our ownership claim and planned the surprise "raid" very quickly as a pure matter of survival for our venture - but we had proceeded with diligence.

Our Philadelphia lawyer (who was our main investor) flew to our side and was with us on the "raid." When the police and sheriff's departments arrived in droves at Channel 36 that rainy night, we showed them our legal papers and waited while the officers made radio inquiries and woke up officials by phone (I believe it was between 3 and 4:00 a.m.) to find out what to do with us. We thought we were probably going to jail. But, apparently, the right people had been contacted and it was decided not to interfere with our "raid".

We went back to loading the trucks with our cumbersome, expensive two-inch videotapes. A couple of cops who were now Explosion fans even helped me carry some boxes. Then they turned off the flashing lights and disappeared into the early morning fog. We "escaped" to Florida where we had negotiated heroic arrangements to continue production in the hours just previous to the raid. I think we had to get there overnight to start turning out programs which were due for broadcast the following week across the country. We planned the programs as we drove, soaking wet, through the rest of the night and all the next day. I believe RT and some others flew ahead to scope out the new and totally unfamiliar facilities. I drove one of the trucks. There was no time to sleep or even get a hotel room on arrival. We were "seeing double" without video effects when we went to work. And, yes, - we actually did (but just barely) get the next week's programs out to the stations by Fed Ex and then several of us collapsed on the sands of Ft. Lauderdale beach, where the cops kicked us off when the sun went down ­ and we went back to work. I can't believe we did it.

Channel 36 with the help of a couple of mutineers from our former crew attempted to produce and syndicate their own version of our music video concept - assuming, I presume, that we would collapse completely. Not quite!

I flew back to Atlanta to see Ted Turner. He signed on for the program and offered his facilities for duplication of our Florida productions. RT went back to turning out music video in Atlanta, also in Florida and even in New York City. Atlanta continued to enjoy the Now Explosion ­ now on Ted's Superstation. And tapes for distribution flowed out of channel 17's back door.

We were able to continue for a few months but, as you report, the end was not far off. It just didn't work economically. The Now Explosion was - I believe - truly ahead of its time - at least as a business ­ certainly as a technology ­ maybe as an artform.

Now it's all a distant memory for me, which you have revived to my great satisfaction. I'm sure my colleagues from those early days share my feelings and I would like your help in contacting them.

Please feel free to share this letter or use it in any way you wish.

Thanks so much for documenting the origin of music video. As you report, it did happen, homegrown, in Atlanta in 1970. And, just as you sayIt was psychedelic. It was far out. It was...the Now Explosion.

Sincerely,

Robert V. Whitney

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