DISCO DEMOLITION 43 Years Ago Tonight Disco Demolition 43 years later: That's the way I liked it
By: Steve Dahl
https://www.dahl.com/
July 12 will mark the 43nd anniversary of Disco Demolition. Here's the story of how it all came about.
STAYIN' ALIVE
At some point during the annual coverage of the event you may hear it being referred to as racist and homophobic. It was not.
Christmas Eve 1978 found me standing in the office of Jack Minkow, general manager of WDAI-FM/94.7. I had just finished a live man-on-the-street show three floors below the studios on Wacker Drive. I was wearing a Santa suit.
Mr. Minkow informed me that due to the station's ratings, WDAI would be ditching its position as Chicago's pre-eminent rock 'n' roll FM station and becoming the city's first disco station, Disco DAI. Merry Christmas. Ho. Ho. Ho.
I had been married four months and had moved my new wife away from her family in Detroit. She quit her job and law school there and had sold her condo, so we both had a lot at stake. Still, I didn't feel that spinning disco records jibed with my vision for a contemporary FM morning talk show. So I quit.
I drove home to Bolingbrook, still dressed as Santa, and delivered my news to Janet. My situation grew more dismal: I had unwittingly signed a noncompete contract that prohibited my return to Detroit. Janet and I were stuck in Chicago during one of the coldest and snowiest winters ever. We shared 88 inches of freezing misery, with plenty of time to shovel.
Chicago's Best Rock WDAI became Disco DAI at midnight in 1979. They closed out their rock 'n' roll tenure with “American Pie” and kicked off the new format with the Bee Gees' “Stayin' Alive.” I was collateral damage.
I WILL SURVIVE
ABC had lobbed the first shot in the disco-rock war, and I was the first casualty. They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and the ridiculous winter gave me the homebound time to plot career revenge.
WLUP-FM/97.9 took a leap of faith with me, and I was back on the air that spring. I started tossing insults back at my former employers, encouraging my fans to show up at WDAI appearances and throw marshmallows at the station's van. Soon I was “blowing up” a disco record every day on the air with the help of a needle scratch and explosion sound effects. I had tapped into something. People loved it. It was fun, stupid and completely spontaneous. It was “yes to Old Style and T-shirts” and “no to choreography and three-piece suits.”
My anti-disco army was called the Insane Coho Lips. It made no sense, but it was fun. WDAI had interrupted the soundtrack of our lives, and we wanted our pound of vinyl. I did some successful bar appearances, which caught the eye of Mike Veeck, and he persuaded his dad, Bill, owner of the Chicago White Sox, to turn July 12 from WLS Teen Night into Disco Demolition Night. For 99 cents and a record to explode, Comiskey Park became Coho Headquarters.
DISCO INFERNO
At 6 p.m. that day, Comiskey was empty, and I felt like a fool in my military getup and Jeep. By 7, the seats were full. By the time the records blew up in center field (spectacularly, I must say), thousands of fans were climbing over walls and spilling onto the field in a joyous heat- and beer-infused celebration. No one was injured; no one was insulted. The Tigers grabbed a forfeit because there was scorched earth and fans to clear via Chicago's finest on Chicago's finest horses. Records work well as Frisbees, and the Tigers decided they did not wish to test their mettle on the field.
It was one of the greatest radio promotions in history, but it effectively ended the Insane Coho Lips. No bar would take a chance on overflow crowds, and honestly, how could I top it?
My career on Chicago radio continued for another 30 years. I shifted from rebellious Coho Commander to a storytelling Everyman on the air, tamed somewhat by three sons and time. In rich irony, ABC rehired me in 1981, and we enjoyed five years of detente. (All my station managers would say I retained the rebellious nature.)
I presented my kids' births on the air, had a live vasectomy, held star-studded “It's a Wonderful Life” and “A Christmas Carol” plays, and traveled all over with the first satellite remotes. Disco Demolition faded as a defining moment for me. It was a lap on my journey in radio.
ROCK THE BOAT
So how did racism and homophobia get attached to Disco Demolition?
In 1996, VH1 was attempting to expand from the music video template of MTV by creating documentaries and original programming. One of their first was “The Seventies,” a look at the decade in popular culture. A producer asked me to contribute a commentary about Disco Demolition. I saw the event as a romp, not of major cultural significance. I had no interest in claiming responsibility for killing disco. My target was Disco DAI, which was smothered in spring of 1980. The interview coincided with my quitting WMVP (a story for another day). I missed it.
Blowing off that interview was a mistake. The producers reframed the event through the lens of 1996 sensibilities. For the first time, the event was labeled racist and homophobic. It was a cheap shot, made without exploration, and it served as a pivot point for their documentary. It has lived on, thanks to Google.
I put out a record parody of Rod Stewart's “Do Ya Think I'm Sexy,” called “Do Ya Think I'm Disco” in 1979. After many Kafkaesque years of trying to defend myself against the racist/homophobe charges, it occurred to me to let the lyrics of my anti-disco anthem make my point for me.
I wear tight pants
I always stuff a sock in
It always makes the ladies start to talking
My shirt is open
I never use the buttons
Though I look hip, I work for E.F. Hutton
(Chorus)
Do ya think I'm disco
Cuz I spend so much time
Blow drying out my hair
Do ya think I'm disco
Cuz I know the dance steps
Learned them all at Fred Astaire
Not a masterpiece, I know. But not exactly a racist/homophobic manifesto, either. We were a bunch of disenfranchised 20-something rockers having some laughs at the expense of older brothers who had the capital and the clothing to hang with the trendy social elite. We were letting off a little steam. Any statement to the contrary is just plain wrong.
