Five the Hard Way in Detroit's Gamble for Casino Gold

Detroit like almost everywhere else has a long history of gambling, but when it came to approving Las Vegas-style casinos within the city limits, it took voters five propositions and twenty-two years for supporters to outvote the opposition. Detroit's religious community mounted a campaign against what they felt was the moral decline of the city. Because Detroit's mayor Coleman Young was the spokesperson for the legislation to legalize casino gambling within the city limits, he became the focus for everything that was wrong about Detroit.

Mayor Young was confronted by a $44.3 million budget deficit by the end of the 1976 fiscal year, the largest operating deficit ever run by the city. To avoid the anticipated layoff of city workers, wage and hiring freezes, and incentives for early retirements, something decisive had to be done. The proposal to legalize casino gambling in Detroit was dubbed "the Circuit Breaker Proposal." It was sponsored in Lansing by Michigan House of Representive Democrat Casmer Oganowski.

The proposal called for a state casino gambling commission to license and regulate games of chance, namely blackjack (21), baccarat, keno, craps, roulette, wheel of fortune, and slot machines. It was not as if gambling and betting parlors were unknown in the city. Cards, dice, and other games of chance like flipping coins, pitching pennies, shooting pool, three card monte, and sports gambling were commonplace among Detroit's blue collar workforce. 

Three Card Monte

In the inner city, "playing the numbers" had long been part of the urban experience where bettors had much better odds of winning than in the Lottos run by the state of Michigan. In addition, backroom club gambling and poker rooms have always operated just below the surface of polite society for people who could afford losing money. Those who could not were soon given the bum's rush.

Many churches have long raised funds by hosting bingo nights and casino gambling charity events to add to their coffers. But Las Vegas-style casinos in one of America's largest cities posed a major threat to a city already struggling with more than its share of urban problems.

Fears of more organized crime, public corruption, increased poverty, prostitution, alcoholism, drug abuse, and immorality were the powerful talking points of the opposition. Because of the heightened emotion connected with this issue, Republican politicians and the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press came out firmly opposed to the proposition.

Supporters of casino gambling touted how many thousands of jobs would be created in a town with high unemployment and poverty. First, construction jobs would be created, and once the casios were operational, thousands of permanent jobs would be created. Casino gambling would revitalize Detroit's blighted downtown cityscape by generating an estimated $200 million in taxes with increased business revenues generated.

The day before the election, the Detroit Free Press urged voters to vote "No" on the advisory question to allow up to six state licensed and regulated casinos in Detroit. Voters defeated the gambling advisory referendum by 59% for a decisive win. Republican Governor William Milliken and the Detroit Area Council of Churches were the most outspoken opponents advocating the referendum's defeat. Michigan House of Representative Cass Organowski and Mayor Coleman Young vowed to continue supporting casino gambling within the Detroit city limits.

The day after the vote, the Detroit Free Press pronounced on its editorial page that the voters rejected "the siren song of the casino gambling backers. The idea that gambling would help the city renew itself is misleading and diverts attention from tackling the real problems of crime, poverty, and affordable housing."

Snake Eyes

***

Since Detroit's casino gambling proposition was defeated in 1976, supporters of the proposition believed that the current economic climate was favorable in 1981 because of the prolonged tailspin of the auto industry and the election of conservative Republican Ronald Reagan, who vowed to cut federal aid to cities. The budget deficit for Detroit was projected to be $135 million for the 1981 fiscal year and $147 million for 1982.

There were no easy options for Mayor Coleman Young. He recommended that the City Council consider tax hikes, deep budget cuts, across-the-board layoffs of city employees, and the sale of city-owned assets and properties. Mayor Young also renewed his request for legalization of casino gambling to generate income for the city.

This new push for casino gambling was once again sponsored in Lansing by Michigan House of Representative member Casmer Oganowski, Democrat from Detroit. To help with public relations this time was Tom Wishart from the Association for Casinos and Tourism. He was hired as a registered lobbyist. 

On the expectation that casino gambling would build tourism, increase convention business, and reduce unemployment, the proposition was supported by Detroit Police Officers' Association, the United Automobile Workers, the AFL-CIO, the airlines, taxi cab drivers, restaurateurs, hotel operators, and tourism and convention promoters. 

Proponents claimed that casino gambling could raise $50 to $75 million in taxes for the city creating 8,000 high-paying construction jobs and 25,000 hospitality and service jobs for city residents. In a rustbelt town with 13% unemployment, the prospect of creating jobs was a strong talking point for a yes vote.

Vocal opponents of the proposition were popular Michigan Governor William Milliken, Attorney General Frank Kelly, the Metropolitan United Methodist Church, the Council of Baptist Pastors of Detroit, and Detroit's two major newspapers. The governor and attorney general believed legalizing casino gambling would increase organized and street crime, and it would raise property taxes driving the poor and the elderly out of their homes. The city's clergymen denounced the casino gambling proposal on spiritual and moral grounds. The Detroit Free Press called the ballot proposal "An exhumation of a dead issue, and it smells."

Mayor Coleman Young

In March, Mayor Young made an appeal to a skeptical group of Black ministers to support the gambling proposal to help solve the city's problems. Young told the Council of Baptist Pastors that "The state of Michigan is the biggest gambling house operator in the nation right now. You can go into any grocery or liquor store and bet any amount of money you want on today's number, look on television to see what the winning number is that day, and be paid off tomorrow."

The pastors were not swayed by the mayor's argument. Reverend James E. Lewis, the group's spokesperson, said emphatically that his group was totally against gambling. "We are acutely aware of the economic conditions of the city. However, it is our honest conviction that casino gambling would further erode the moral, spiritual, and economic fiber of our community."

After the gathering of pastors, a reporter asked the mayor why he did not campaign more vigorously for the proposition. In what may be the most inscrutable statement Mayor Young made regarding this issue, he replied, "I'm not interested in fattening frogs for snakes." Nobody knew exactly what the mayor meant beyond expressing his frustration.

Proposition C asked: Should the City Council be able to approve a limited number of hotel casinos to be licensed and regulated under State Law with one half of the proceeds of a tax to be imposed on casinos' gross revenue and paid directly to the City of Detroit?

The Detroit News and the Detroit Free Press ran daily diatribes against Proposition C and daily horror stories about how casino gambling ruined Atlantic City in god-forsaken New Jersey, all the while getting paid for running Michigan Lotto numbers over the banner of their front pages. Their hypocrisy could not be denied.

On November 3, 1981, the day of the general election, Prop C was defeated for a second time by a similar 3 to 2 margin, slightly larger than in 1976. The wording of the proposal was short on specifics. Surely, casino gambling opponents in Detroit believed this was finally a dead issue.

***

In January 1988, Mayor Young's opening salvo to try for a third time to get Detroit voters to approve casino gambling was a press conference telling reporters, "Detroit never came out of the last recession. We need to take radical steps to preserve this city. Within days, I am going to set up a commission to study casino gambling and make a recommendation to the Detroit City Council." Political pundits were surprised the mayor would defy the two previous voter mandates against casino gambling.

In February, Mayor Young announced at City Hall that the members of the 60-plus committee ranged from top movers in corporate Detroit to little-known community activists. Former Detroit WJBK-TV Channel 2 anchor Beverly Payne was chosen by the mayor to be the commissioner in charge of administrating the $150,000, three-month study on the feasibility of casino gambling and its probable impact on Detroit.

After the press conference was concluded, Pastor John Peoples of the Calvary Baptist Church told the assorted press that "You can't ride to heaven in the devil's chariot. There is no way you can reconcile an immoral seed to produce a moral one." Reverend William Quick, pastor of the Metropolitan United Methodist Church added, "I think the issue of casino gambling is the Sword of Damocles that hangs over Coleman Young's head." 

Casino gambling supporter and committee member Patrick Meehan told the press, "To think the Almighty is foursquare against casino gambling, yet he winks at the state lottery, horse racing, and bingo, I just find very hypocritical."

When questioned by the press, Jay Berman, spokesperson for the Archdiocese of Detroit said, "In traditional Roman Catholic theology, there is nothing intrinsically evil about the act of wagering. Catholics are free to make up their own minds about casino gambling in Detroit." 

The Reverend Samuel White III of Scott Memorial United Methodist Church got in the last word, "It appears that some of the clergy are hypocritically and immorally supporting Coleman Young's casino gambling proposal. One has to question our appalling silence in the face of such flagrant evils. Gambling is sinful because it fosters avarice and idolizes mammon. It can make us greedy and worship the almighty dollar. The religious community of churches needs to have moral integrity to take a prophetic stand against casino gambling."

The essential issue and the players remained the same this time around, but religious casino opponents agreed to consolidate their efforts under an umbrella committee named United Detroiters Against Gambling to rally the religious community.

Their public relations campaign began with a color poster of Roman soldiers playing dice on the robe of Jesus at the foot of the cross. The caption read, "Over the years, some very influential people have looked down on gambling." The plan was to distribute 2000 of these posters, mostly to Detroit churches.

The opposition got some unexpected support from officials representing the Detroit Race Course, Hazel Park Harness Raceway, and Northville Downs. They came out united against casino gambling because they feared it would drastically affect their business and possibly lead to racetrack closures. They contributed a large chunk of money to the anti-casino forces. In politics, an enemy of my enemy is a friend of mine.

The mayor's committee considered European-style casino gambling which is usually kept small, requires identification, registration, and an entry fee. Most European gambling spots operate only 12 to 14 hours a day, and they offer no free drinks, no free meals, and no credit. One faction supported Las Vegas-style casinos but not wide-open like Vegas, where gambling dominates the landscape and the local economy. The issues of the number, size, location, and how the tax revenues would be used needed study and discussion. 

Some socially conscious committee members wanted tightly controlled casinos discretely tucked away on the upper floors of existing hotels to bring business into the city at minimal cost. The Vegas-style casino faction won out because they favored 24/7, easy access casinos as a way to bring thousands of people into the city to create new jobs.

On June 8, 1988, forty-six casino gambling committee members voted to approve casino gambling, fifteen voted against, and three abstained. The committee was discharged of their duties. Now, the issue was in the hands of the City Council. Proposition Y was drafted and read: "If casino gambling is approved by state law, then it shall be prohibited within the city limits of Detroit and Belle Isle."

Critics of how the bill was worded noted that a yes vote is against casino gambling; a no vote is for casino gambling. The mere mention of Belle Isle was a dog whistle for opponents who were likely to vote yes. It was a red herring for supporters who needed to vote no. Because of strong opposition, the idea of using Belle Isle for a casino site  was discarded five months earlier in February by the gambling committee.

Emotions were running high on both sides. Opponents ran a media blitz of full-page newspaper ads and radio spots everyday leading up to the August 2 primary election. Three days before the election, supporters and foes went head-to-head in a chant-down at Kennedy Square in a rally staged by casino supporters but disrupted by pro-gambling demonstrators.

This exercise in democracy resembled a "Tastes Great, Less Filling" shouting match in the bleachers of Tiger Stadium. Nobody got hurt except for Attorney General Frank Kelly's ego. He was shouted off the podium.

When voting day finally arrived. Detroiters voted for the third time another 3 to 2 margin against casino gambling (61%/39%). Mayor Young's throw of the dice crapped out. After voting, the mayor was exhausted, felt weak, and had a headache. His cousin and personal physican Dr. Claud Young took Coleman's vital signs and recommended several days of rest. "The mayor's condition is not serious," Dr. Young said. "For once, he decided to do what I told him to do."

Box Cars

***

On March 23, 1992, the Windsor, Ontario city council voted unanimously to approve a bid for casino-style gambling to bolster its sagging economy. If approved by Ottawa, Canada's capital city, the downtown Windsor riverfront casino could draw an estimated 50 million people annually from the United States and Canada. Detroit casino gambling supporters across the Detroit River saw Windsor's potential windfall gain as Detroit's loss of income. Ottawa approved the measure to legalize casino gambling in 1993. On May, 1994, Windsor opened a temporary casino called Caesar's Windsor.

The prospect of a Canadian riverfront casino re-ignited the debate over legalizing casino gambling in Detroit. Proponents estimated that Detroit casinos could generate as much as $26 to 50 million in yearly income for the city. Although Mayor Young was still an avid supporter, his ill health became a factor. After failing in four previous attempts, Young decided to allow other people to actively promote the gambling proposition.

When the mayor was asked to comment on plans for casinos in Windsor and Chicago, he took a jab at opponents of casino gambling. "All I can say is, 'I told you so'. If Detroiters did not approve gambling, some other city would emerge as the gambling capital of the Midwest. Casino gambling could be a source of 40 to 50 thousand jobs in this city, not to mention increased tax revenue and increased tourism."

Leading the movement to legalize casino gambling in Detroit in 1993 was sixty-three-year-old, retired Detroit Water Department employee David Greenidge, coordinator of the grass roots Citizens for Casino Gambling. Greenidge wanted to do something to help the city secure new jobs and increase its tax base. "Without those," he said, "we are nothing." He and several of his friends circulated petitions and secured enough signatures to place the measure on the June 2, 1993 Special Election ballot.

The major opposition came from Detroiters Uniting for Open Government, a religious coalition led by Reverend William Quick of the Metropolitan United Methodist Church, who helped defeat the previous attempts to open the city to casino gambling. The group was confident they could once again turn out the vote.

Public opinion appeared to shift in favor of casino gambling in Detroit after the move by Windsor to establish a riverfront casino on the Canadian side of the Detroit River, reducing the stigma for some voters. Windsor hoped to open a temporary casino in the fall.

Also softening public opinion towards casino gambling was when the Detroit City Council voted to allow real estate developers Ted Gatzaros and Jim Papas to place in trust 0.7 of on acre of their own downtown property to the Sault Ste. Marie Chippewa Tribe for an Indian-run casino, pending United States Department of the Interior approval under the "sovereign nation" statute. This move took the issue out of the hands of the voters. Eight Indian casinos already operated legally on reservation property in Michigan under federal agreement.

Caesar's Windsor Casino

Political consultant to Mayor Young, Adolph Mongo, believed the voters were not as emotional this time about casino gambling because it was the fourth time on the ballot. After the blood sport of the last election, voters were weary and more complacent than ever before. Tina Lam, staff writer for the Detroit Free Press, noted "with less than three weeks left before the June 2nd vote, both sides in this quiet campaign have raised little money, generated little heat, and shown little evidence of organization."

After Proposition A went to the voters, the measure went down in defeat by a thin margin of 51% to 49%. In the three previous losses, each measure won by a two-digit margin rather than a 2 point margin. Supporters were edging closer to the victory they craved. 

The Detroit Free Press attributed the close vote to low voter turnout, weariness over the casino gambling debate, and public resignation after the Windsor, Ontario City Council announced it was building a riverfront casino. The Free Press editorial page took a last shot at casino supporters, "Casinos are what you turn to when you are bankrupt of ideas and unable to tell the difference between blackjack and an urban renewal strategy."

On September 16, 1993, the Michigan House Oversight and Ethics Committee approved a resolution to ratify the Indian gambling compact signed by Governor John Engler. The Greektown Chippawa Indian Casino was a fait accompli and out of the hands of local leaders and Detroit voters.

Greektown Casino

***

In 1996, for the fifth time in twenty-two years, casino gambling was on the Michigan ballot. A coalition of well-funded supporters rallied under the banner of Michigan First. Their proposal was more specific than the four proposals that came before.

Proposal E would:

1. Permit up to three gaming casinos in any city that has a population of 800,000 or more and is within 100 miles of any state or country in which gambling is permitted, and has casino gambling approved by a majority of voters. [Detroit was the only city in Michigan that qualifed, allaying the fears of other communities across the state.]
2. Establish a state-controlled Gaming Control Board to regulate casino gambling and keep organized crime out of casino operations.
   
3. Impose an 18% state tax on gross gambling revenues. [In Vegas, this is called "skimming off the top." In this instance, the process is public and above board.]
   
4. Allocate 55% of tax revenue on gross gambling revenues to the host city for crime prevention and economic development.
5. Allocate 45% of tax revenue to the state for public education.

Michigan First projected that construction of three casino complexes would cost $1.8 billion, creating 11,000 permanent jobs and requiring tens of millions of dollars in locally-sourced goods and services each year. The pro-gambling group ran television and radio spots which focused on how well Caesar's Windsor Casino and the Northern Belle Casino, a paddle-wheel boat docked within walking distance from Caesar's, were doing raking in Michigan dollars.

After the first year of Windsor's casino operations, an Ontario provincial government-sponsored study showed:

• The six downtown hotels with a total of 1,171 rooms showed an increase in business from an average of 500 rooms rented to around 900 rented a day.
• Visiting gamblers, mostly from Detroit and its suburbs, spend $29 million on local Windsor businesses.
• Forty-five percent of Casino patrons ate in Windsor restaurants.

A boatload of money was floating around the Michigan airwaves. A WXYZ-TV advertising executive said they were selling twice as many ads than they had in the 1992 campaign. The WXYZ-TV morning news hour ran no fewer than eighteen political ads. 

Reverend Calvin Zastrow, a thirty-seven-year-old Assemby of God minister who lived in Midland, Michigan, actively worked against the casino proposition. The motivated anti-gambling activists were affiliated with churches that viewed gambling as inherently immoral and unethical. Zastrow's mantra was that gambling creates "Neighbors robbing neighbors, husband's beating wives, entrepreneurs declaring bankrupcy, lives being ruined, and souls being lost."

Casino spokesperson Roger Martin called Reverend Zastrow's repeal movement "a small coalition armed with half-truths and scare tactics supported by right-wing extremists from other states that declared war on Michigan voters and 15,000 jobs in Detroit.

Detroiters Uniting for Open Government centered their efforts on the greater Detroit religious community and through extensive advertising on radio, Black radio stations in particular. The governor and the attorney general were still lobbying against casino gambling in the state of Michigan.

Both major Detroit newspapers still ran endless diatribes against gambling, all the while earning revenue from running the State Lottery numbers in their papers and running ads for Vegas get-aways, Windsor gambing weekends, and cruise ship tours with casino gambling featured. The Detroit News and the Free Press benefited financially from the gambling advertising, yet they used every fear tactic they could to defeat Proposition E.

The anti-casino gambling proposal ran out of time and money. It fell short of the 247,000 signatures needed to qualify for the November ballot. Now in favor of the casino proposition, Mayor Dennis Archer flipped his opposition when he realized that license fees alone could top $100 million yearly from each of the three casinos. That kind of money could pay for a lot of city services that the city could not otherwise afford. 

Turnout in Detroit for the November 2, 1996 statewide election was stronger than expected due to a bear hunting proposal and a measure to approve the Foxtown Stadium Complex, a dual stadium project (Ford Field and Comerica Park) downtown. Also there was something about the Windsor casinos vacuuming up $1 million a day of Michigan money that did not sit well with Michigan voters.

Finally, after twenty-two years of struggle, five gambling propositions, and untold millions of hours and dollars, Proposition E won by 59% to 42% in Detroit, a 17 point victory. The statistics further revealed that Wayne County voted 79% to 21%, a whopping 58 point margin. The three casinos granted licenses were the MGM Grand Casino, Motorcity Casino, and the Greektown-Chippawa Indian Casino. By the turn of the millenium, all three casinos were operational and earning income for the city of Detroit.

 

Detroit's Early Numbers Racket 

Beverly Payne--WJBK-TV Channel 2 Trendsetter

Beverly Payne Eyewitness News Publicity Photo

 

Beverly Payne was not a native Detroiter, but fate brought her to Detroit. She was raised in San Francisco and went to college there earning English and foreign language (French and Spanish) degrees. In 1968, she and her husband Harry R. Payne, an executive director of an international arbitration association, moved to Japan for his job.

In Japan, the Paynes hired a housekeeper. Soon boredom set in for Mrs Payne, so she began to study Japanese and picked up enough to teach Japanese businessmen how to speak and pronounce English properly. This led to Payne being interviewed on Japanese TV, which in turn, led to a job teaching English classes on her own educational TV program. After three years in Japan, the Payne family moved back to the United States, so Harry R. Payne could take a job in Detroit.

Not long after the family moved to the area, a friend suggested that Beverly (26) audition to co-host a new program at WJBK-TV Channel 2 in Detroit named Focus: Detroit. It was a public-affairs program that discussed issues important to Detroit's minority community, a largely ignored and underserved television demographic. 

Payne was hired to begin on July 1, 1973 and teamed with experienced Channel 2 newsman Woody Willis for the Sunday morning program. Management wanted to see how she performed in the ratings rankings. Her numbers were positive.

In a move to capture a larger share of the housewife 18-to-49-year-old television audience, coveted by advertisers because they spend most of the household income, Channel 2 quickly promoted Payne to co-anchor the station's new 7 to 8 morning newscast and the noon news with Channel 2 veteran Vic Caputo.

Two years later, Beverly Payne was moved to the 6 pm newscast with Joe Glover, making her the first African American woman to co-anchor a prime time broadcast and gain celebrity status in Detroit. At the time, she was only one of four Black women in the country to co-anchor a daily, prime time newscast.

Eyewitness News print advertisement

Although Payne's meteoric rise appears to be seamless, she had a difficult hurdle to overcome. Detroit Free Press TV critic Bettelou Peterson explained in her column, "The housewife 18-to-49 demographic that Channel 2 wants to attract is also the most critical of women on the air.... Let a woman come across as aggressive and women resent her as do some men. Let a woman on the air seem too intelligent and she is disliked. But worst of all, let her look sexy, and she is unwelcome in the family living room where the housewife watches with her husband. Beverly Payne passes all the tests of being acceptable to men and women viewers. She projects an image of sincerity, trustworthiness, friendliness, and attractiveness."

Simply put, Payne was non-threatening to the Detroit viewing audience. Women began writing Channel 2 saying they watched solely to see what Beverly Payne was wearing. In response to that, Payne admitted in a fluff Detroit Free Press feature article that she spends "an inordinate amount of money on her wardrobe. I like simple clothes and designer clothes. I wear Halston and Geoffry Beene a lot. I see buying clothes and looking nice as part of my job."

When asked in the same interview if she found television glamorous, Payne candidly admitted, "The only time I feel glamorous is when I go to the bank.... People think television is glamorous, but there is incredible tension. We come across cool, but believe me, there is nothing glamorous about doing a live news show."

With television news celebrity comes great responsibility. News anchors are required to make personal appearances, host charity auctions, attend community service group events, and accept awards, that is, in addition to working their scheduled assignments. More often than not, the celebrity's personal life suffers.

Television news is a goldfish bowl inside a pressure-cooker. It requires its on-air talent to lead a somewhat schizophrenic life. Coming into people's homes everynight exacts a personal price. People feel like they know you which entitles them to violate the celebrity's privacy. Everywhere they go and everything they do in public is fair game for newspaper columnists. So even in their most private moments, celebrities have to be guarded with their behavior. Especially so for women.

The demands of celebrity must have weighed heavily upon Payne's domestic life, though she insisted "(her) chosen career was not responsible for the breakup" of her marriage. She and her husband Harry Payne Jr. divorced in mid-March of 1976 after twelve years of marriage. Beverly retained custody of their three sons Harry Payne III (10), Mark (8), and David (6).

In the year since Joe Glover was teamed with Beverly Payne, Channel 2's market research found they were reaching younger viewers without turning away their core audience. This news teaming had a calming on-camera chemistry.

In a business where your career hangs in the balance with every ratings report and the cold calculus of the station's earnings, Glover and Payne competed favorably for market share against Channel 4 in the ratings race, while Channel 7 remained far and away the ratings leader.

Beverly Payne being interviewed behind the scenes.

All seemed fine until June 15, 1977, when Beverly Payne abruptly quit her $80,000/year job in protest over a live phone interview with the head of the Nazi movement in America. She was nursing a cold at home watching Channel 2 news when she saw her co-anchor Joe Glover allow a hate-filled rant against Jews, Blacks, and immigrants go unquestioned.

The 90-second interview with the national coordinator of the National Socialist White People's Party of America was allowed "to spew his hate over the TV2 airwaves without any balance." Payne criticized her colleague for not asking any probing questions and for the station not having booked a spokesperson from an opposing group for rebuttal. "I may have washed my career down the drain," Payne said in an interview, "but I have my integrity and my dignity."

Station manager Bob McBride refused to issue a public apology over the incident but also refused to accept Payne's resignation. The station continued to honor Ms. Payne's contract which had two years left to run. The station gave Payne a temporary leave of absence to allow Glover and Payne to soothe their egos.

Bob McBride

Payne's fans stood solidly behind her, and they made it known to the station. Two weeks after her protest against WJBK, Payne returned to the Eyewitness News desk to co-anchor with Robbie Timmons while Joe Glover was on temporary assignment elsewhere. Station manager Bob McBride opened the Wednesday night broadcast apologizing to the audience for the offensive interview.

In September of 1979, Ms. Payne's agent negotiated a three-year contract with a substantial salary increase from $80,000 per year to $120,000. WJBK-TV management, not known for their generosity, realized Payne was too important to the station and its image. They did not want to take a chance on losing her to WXYZ-TV Channel 7, which had poached several of their top ratings earners in recent years like John Kelly, Marilyn Turner, and Al Ackerman.

Beverly Payne was the Channel 2 golden girl until November of 1979 when she was one of several journalists invited to a briefing session at the White House with cabinet members and President Carter. Channel 2's conservative management refused to let her attend calling the invitation "public relations puffery."

The decision was typical of WJBK management's failure to capitalize on an opportunity that would enhance Payne and the station's local stature. When she complained that if her co-anchor Joe Glover had received the invitation, the station would have sent him with an expense account. Her statement reopened old wounds. Management began to see Payne as a "troublemaker."

In November of 1980, the station sent Payne on a two-week charity mission to help feed starving Somalian children in Africa. She was able to raise $40,000 from Detroit viewers for the project. Her mission of mercy was filmed by a camera crew and later compiled into a WJBK-TV feature story. When Payne returned home, she was hospitalized at Mt. Carmel Mercy Hospital for dehydration and exhaustion. Her doctor ordered three weeks of rest.

When she returned to work, Payne announced her engagement to Guy Draper, a former chief of protocol in the Carter administration. The couple met at the Democratic National Convention in New York City. They wed on June 20, 1981, in Washington D.C. at St. Albans Church on the grounds of the National Cathedral. The bride wore a street-length, eggshell-colored lace gown. The reception was held at the Shoreham Hotel. 

Beverly Payne and Guy Draper

Payne decided to use her husband's surname on the air beginning July 6, 1981. WJBK management was bewildered and miffed after all the years and money they spent promoting Beverly Payne to their Detroit audience. Payne insisted on using her married name--Beverly Payne Draper. She continued to work at the anchor desk until December 1982 when WJBK-TV suspended her without pay for an unspecified reason. Rather than buckle under, she resigned her position after nine years with the station.

In 1985, Payne launched a new career as a consultant and official spokesperson for the Michigan Commerce Department. Two years later in March 1987, after six years of marriage to Andrew Gay Draper, Beverly divorced him and dropped his name from hers. The reason was once again held private.

In an unexpected turn of events, Detroit Mayor Coleman Young nominated Beverly Payne in February 1978 to serve as administrator of the Casino Gambling Commission and its $150,000 budget. The 35 person committee was charged with studying and drafting a recommendation whether Detroit should allow gambling casinos within the city limits. A proposal was written which the voters rejected in a special election.

Glad to be free from her gambling commission duties, Ms. Payne began a consulting firm for small businesses named Beverly Payne & Associates in June 1988. A year and a half later, Ms. Payne announced her engagement to Michigan Senator Morris Hood (D-Detroit). In no apparent hurry to tie the knot, they were married twenty months later in a private, civil ceremony performed by Recorder's Court Judge Geraldine Bledsoe-Ford.

At some point, Beverly Payne moved back to her hometown of San Francisco to be close to family. She passed away at home on November 12, 1998, of complications from cervical cancer at the age of fifty-four. At Ms. Payne's request, there was no memorial service. She left behind three grown sons, five grand kids, two sisters, one brother, and her mother Virginia Wroten.

Beverly Payne's contribution to Detroit television history is that her success opened doors for other women and minorities at news desks across the city: women like Diana Lewis, Doris Biscoe, Robbie Timmons, Kathy Adams, Linda Wright-Avery, Carmen Harlan, Kai Maxwell, and Terry Murphy.

"These women were transformed by the power of television. Deserved or not, a certain glamor and credibility is attached to these golden beings whose fate it is to be on-camera. It is magical!" wrote Detroit Free Press reporter Donna Britt.

Diana Lewis--WXYZ-TV's Grande Dame

Soupy Sales Late Night Detroit Variety Show

After serving twenty-six months in the United States Navy in World War II--twelve in the Pacific theater--Milton Supman took his G.I. Bill benefits and earned a master's degree in journalism in 1949. While attending Marshall College in Huntington, West Virgina, Supman was bit by the show business bug and began working part-time doing standup comedy in local nightclubs and dee-jaying a morning radio show on WHTN-AM.

Supman moved to Cincinnati when he landed a television spot on WKRC-TV hosting a teen dance show called Soupy's Soda Shop--the first in the country. Supman worked under the stage name Soupy Hines. When his show was cancelled, a friend at the station told Soupy about Detroit station WXYZ-TV that was looking for live entertainers to round out its local programming schedule.

The unemployed, twenty-seven-year-old performer legally changed his stage name to Soupy Sales; took his young wife and baby to stay with relatives in Huntington, West Virgina; and drove to Detroit with $10 in his pocket. He auditioned for Channel 7 general manager John Pival to host a daily, children's lunchtime show. Pival was impressed and hired him. Soupy used his fast-talking, improvisational skills to good effect and soon made his program a success. Soupy wanted to show he had the talent to attract more than a kiddie audience.

When an 11:00 PM slot opened up unexpectedly two months later, program director Pete Strand reserved the time slot for Soupy to do an adult-focused, variety show of comedy and music entertainment. Soupy's On debuted on November 10th, 1953.

 

Unlike his lunchtime show which was roughly outlined and ad libbed giving it a spontaneous flair, the evening show was scripted and well-rehearsed. Soupy and his stage director Pete Strand wrote the nightly opening monologue and comedy sketches each afternoon for the evening broadcast. The show opened with Soupy doing a standup routine followed by a cutting-edge comic sketch and live guest performances by some of the best jazz muscians of the era.

Soupy was a jazz lover living in a jazz town. Detroit at that time was the home to twenty-four jazz clubs before urban renewal in 1959 wiped out the Black Bottom and Paradise Valley neighborhoods where most of the jazz clubs were located. Soupy's nighttime show soon became a scheduled stop for jazz performers like Dizzy Gillespie, Lionel Hampton, Billie Holiday, George Shearing, Della Reese, Charlie Parker, and Miles Davis, who was living in the Detroit area at the time.

Soupy's house band "Two Joes and a Hank" led by Hal Gordon had some chops too. Guitarist Joe Messina and drummer Jack Brokensha later became members of Motown's Funk Brothers. Rounding out the group was Joe Oddo, who played bass, and Hank Trevision, who played piano. Soupy's theme song was Charlie Parker's "Yardbird Suite."

Soupy portrayed an array of comic characters like belching Sheriff Wyatt Burp, European crooner Charles Vichysoisse, Colonel Claude Bottom, and Western cowboy hero The Lone Stranger. Other performers were Clyde Adler who played Indian mystic Kuda Dux and Mississippi gambler Wes Jefferson; character actress Bertha Forman, with fifty years of show business experience, played Soupy's mother-in-law; attractive blonde Jane Hamilton played ditzy literary critic Harriet Von Loon and hip-swinging floozy Bubbles, Soupy's on-screen wife.

 

Detroit's most recognized voice actor Rube Weiss--announcer for Detroit Dragway commercials and the official Hudson's department store Santa for many years--played Charlie Pan and the Lone Stranger's sidekick Pronto.

Rube Weiss

Soupy and his troupe pioneered late-night comedy shows and paved the way for programs like Saturday Night Live. His show was before the age of videotape and only one Kinescope segment (a fixed 16mm camera filming a TV program directly from the screen) survives from the show which is linked below. Soupy interviews trumpeter Clifford Brown at the end of Brown's performance.

The final episode of Soupy's On aired November 27, 1959. Soupy had done 3,300 morning and evening shows for WXYZ in six years when his variety show was cancelled. At the time, Soupy was the highest paid celebrity in Detroit television. When the station declined to renegotiate Soupy's contract, he was free to shop his talents in Hollywood.

In a statement to Detroit local media, Soupy took a moment to make it real. "I've been working in a state of exhaustion for years. My workday begins at 9:00 am and ends at 2:30 am. I get three hours of sleep at night and another two hours in the afternoon. You wear a little ragged after awhile. I see my fans more than I see my own family," Soupy said. "But let's face it. Here in Detroit, local live television is dying because the networks are producing more of their own programming and crowding out local talent."      

Soupy Sales relocated to Los Angeles and appeared in some television episodes and several movies but never became a television or movie star in Hollywood. He wasn't leading man material, and his face was too well-known for him to be a convincing character actor. But he recreated himself as a "TV personality" and made a steady living as a panelist on the game show circuit doing programs like Hollywood Squares, $20,000 Pyramid, To Tell the Truth, and What's My Line.

Here is the only surviving clip of Soupy's On from 1956 featuring jazz great Clifford Brown.

Lunch With Soupy 

West Dearborn's Muirhead's Department Store

Mrs. Alberta Muirhead

If you grew up in Downriver Detroit in the 1950s or 1960s, after the Hudson's Thanksgiving Day parade on Woodward Avenue, you had your heart set on a visit to Santa's igloo at Muirhead's on Michigan Avenue in West Dearborn. Baby Boomers have precious memories of riding the rails in Santa's sleigh with their parents and siblings to get their photo taken with Santa Claus. Over the years, several men have donned the red suit and white beard. Early on, Mr. Muirhead played the role, but succeeding Santas were Bob Oxley and Tim Pryce. There may have been others.

In 1946, John Muirhead married Alberta Jamieson, and they opened a neighborhood department store featuring women's clothing and a toy department. Dearborn resident Jon Jahr explained that his father drew up the blueprints for the original Muirhead's building which was on three levels.

"The basement was the storeroom, shopping was on the street level, and the Muirheads lived on the second level. As their business grew, they expanded the footprint of the building, and in the early sixties, they built a new building around the old building, replacing the street facade for a modern, upscale look." By then, John and Alberta lived in their own home, creating more sales space on the second level.

Mrs. Muirhead - 1971

Lynn Richards Tobin worked at Muirhead's in 1961 and 1962. She remembers, "Mr. Muirhead was in his early sixties. Mrs. Muirhead was younger, maybe in her forties.... She always wore the cash register key around her neck. She took care of their customers and oversaw sales on the main floor. Mr. Muirhead spent most of his time on the second floor in the stockroom and oversaw employees to make sure everyone was working and not goofing off. 

"The main floor was girls and teen clothing in front and children's clothing in the back. A customer service center was in the middle of the sales floor where shoppers would take returns and ask questions. There was a cash register station near the front door and one near the parking lot exit in back. An elevator and a stairwell led to the second floor where the stockroom and business offices were. Dolls were sold upstairs including the exclusive Madame Alexander dolls. Another stairwell on the ground floor led to the toy department in the basement which featured bicycles."

My family in 1957. I'm sitting next to my mother.

During the Christmas season, Santa's igloo sleigh ride in the basement was the big attraction. As far as I have been able to determine, the sleigh was manually pushed back and forth on a rail track. Jon Jahr remembers seeing the sleigh in the Muirhead's warehouse in the early 1970s. Jahr asked Mr. Muirhead if he might bring the sleigh out just for Christmas photos, but he was done with it by then. I wonder if the sleigh is somewhere in Dearborn waiting to be rediscovered.

John died in 1983 at the age of eighty-three. Alberta operated the store by herself with the help of a dedicated band of loyal employees for seven more years. Then, she closed the popular store after forty-three years in business. Competition from shopping malls and Crowley's on Michigan Avenue off Outer Drive in particular cut into her business.

Alberta's story did not end with the closing of her boutique department store. Mrs. Muirhead--as most people called her--became a model for philanthrophy. She believed in giving back to the Dearborn community who had supported her and her husband John, making their business a success. Alberta devoted her later life to Dearborn and its people.

Alberta Muirhead parlayed her charismatic personality and charitable spirit to become Dearborn's biggest benefactor and philantropist since the Ford family. For starters, she donated her three-level building to the Oakwood Health Care Foundation for their data-processing center.

An avid believer in public education, Alberta became the namesake for Dearborn's Teacher of the Year award established in 1997. She supported both Henry Ford Community College and Rochester College giving generously to their scholarship funds to help needy and struggling students. Dearborn Public Schools awards an annual scholarship in her name.

In 2007, Alberta Muirhead established the Oakwood Healthcare Foundation with a $500,000 gift to support nursing education and advanced nursing degrees for Oakwood Healthcare employees. Many a nurse owes a debt of gratitude to the generosity of Mrs. Muirhead. Her support was not limited to people. Alberta was a supporter of the Dearborn Animal Shelter and received their Big Heart Award in 2006.

After the death of her husband, Alberta and Russ Gibb--of Grande Ballroom fame and Dearborn High School teacher--became friends. How and when they met is unclear, but Gibb was a deejay at WKNR-FM which was next door to the department store. They became lifelong friends and companions for nearly thirty years until Alberta's death on January 14, 2011 at the age of ninety-one. "Alberta put so many people through college," Gibb said. "She was a great, generous lady and I loved her dearly."

Ford Rotunda Christmas Memories

Eastern Michigan University Student Queried - "Is Paul (McCartney) Dead?"

The biggest hoax in the history of Rock & Roll is surely the "Is Paul Dead?" controversy. On Sunday afternoon, October 12, 1969, Thomas Zarski, an Eastern Michigan University student, called [Uncle Russ] Gibb, a concert promoter and popular D.J. for Detroit's underground music radio station - WKNR-FM.

On the air, Zarski asked Gibb what he knew about the death of Paul McCartney. This was the first the D.J. heard of it. "Have you ever played "Revolution 9" from the The White Album backwards?" Zarski asked.

Gibb hadn't. Skeptical, he humored his call-in listener and played the song backwards. For the first time his audience heard, "Turn me on, dead man." Then WKNR's phone started ringing off the hook.

Apparently, the rumor started when Tim Harper wrote an article on September 17, 1969 in the Drake University (Iowa) newspaper. The story circulated by word of mouth through the counter culture underground for a month until Zarski caught wind of it. He called Uncle Russ asking about it. Gibb had solid connections with the local Detroit and British rock scene because he was a concert promoter at the Grande Ballroom--Detroit's rock Mecca.

University of Michigan student Fred LaBour heard the October 12th radio broadcast and published an article two days later in the October 14th edition of The Michigan Daily as a record review parody of the Beatles' latest album Abbey Road. This article was credited for giving the story legs and was the key exposure that propelled the hoax nationally and internationally.

The legend goes that Paul died in November of 1966 in a car crash. The three categories of clues were:

1. Clues found on the album covers and liner sleeve notes,
2. Clues found playing the records forward, and
3. Clues found playing the records backwards.

The clues came from the albums:

1. Yesterday and Today,
2. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band,
3. Magical Mystery Tour,
4. The Beatles [the White Album], and
5. Abbey Road.

Some people thought the Beatles masterminded the hoax because of the large number of clues. They thought there were too many for this story to be merely coincidental. 

The story peaked in America on November 7th, 1969, when Life magazine ran an interview with Paul McCartney at his farm in Scotland, debunking the myth.

For more detailed information on the myth and the clues, check out these links: 

http://turnmeondeadman.com/the-paul-is-dead-rumor/ 

http://keenerpodcast.com/?page_id=602

Video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqBf6iNPVOg

Detroit's Shock Theater

In 1957, Universal Pictures syndicated a television package of fifty-two classic horror movies released by Screen Gems called Shock Theatre. The package included the original Dracula, Frankenstein, Mummy, and Wolfman movies. Shock Theatre premiered with Lugosi's Dracula in Detroit on WXYZ channel seven at 11:30 pm on Friday, February 7, 1958.

Each syndicated television market had their own host. Detroit had one of the first horror movie personalities in the country. The show was hosted by Mr. X--Tom "Doc" Dougall--a classically trained actor who taught English at the Detroit Institute of Technology and moonlighted as a vampire on Friday nights. Unlike later horror movie hosts who would spoof their roles or riff on the movies they showed, Dougall was grimly serious and set a solemn tone for what was to follow. What most people don't know about Professor Dougall is that he co-wrote several Lone Ranger and Green Hornet scripts for WXYZ radio.

The opening of the show was memorable, but I was only nine years old when I started staying up every Friday night to see the classic monsters and mad-scientists--The Invisible Man comes to mind. This is how I remember the opening:

The show's marquee card came up with ominous organ music and a crack of thunder in the background. Replete in vampire garb with cape, Mr. X walked slowly on screen holding a huge open book announcing the night's feature in a scary voice. Next, he would say, "Before we release the forces of evil, insulate yourself against them." With a sense of impending doom, Mr. X continued, "Lock your doors, close your windows, and dim your lights. Prepare for Shock." The camera came in for an extreme close-up of Mr. X's face, more lightening and thunder effects, and finally his gaunt face morphed into a skull. Then the film would roll.

There was something positively unholy about the show which made it an instant success with my generation of ghoulish Detroit Baby Boomers. The show's ominous organ music set the mood for the audience. The piece was listed only as #7 on a recording of Video Moods licensed for commercial television and not available to the public.

No video link to Detroit's Shock Theatre's opening has surfaced, but the above newspaper ad for the show gives an idea of the facial dissolve special effect. If anyone knows where I can find a link, Gmail me so I can add it to this post. Thanks.

Detroit's Baby Boomer Kid Show Hosts:
https://fornology.blogspot.com/2017/12/detroit-baby-boomer-kids-show-hosts.html

The Women Pioneers of CKLW AM Radio--Jo Jo Shutty and Rosalie Trombley

When we Detroit Baby Boomers were in our teens, CKLW-AM radio was known as "The Big 8." The station broadcast out of Windsor, Ontario, and they had offices in Southfield, Michigan. The Canadian station's 50,000 watt transmitter dwarfed everything within its broadcast signal, making CKLW the dominant AM station in the region on both sides of the Detroit River. 

During the day, CKLW's signal could be heard throughout Southeastern Michigan, much of Ohio, and beyond. In the evenings, the station directed its signal to a northeastern nightime signal, so it would not interfer with powerful Mexican AM radio signals to avoid static overlap. The Canadian station could be heard as far away as Des Moines, Iowa; Cincinnati, Ohio; Toronto, Ontario; and the Eastern Seaboard. On a good night when the atmospheric conditions allowed, CKLW could be heard in Scandinavia.

The station first broadcast in 1932 during the Great Depression. With the growing popularity of television in the 1950s, CKLW radio began to lose its traditional adult audience base. A decision was made in 1967 to target a younger demographic. CKLW-AM began programming locally-based disc-jockeys playing Top 40 singles for their younger listeners. The management commissioned the Johnny Mann Singers to produce an upbeat, youthful-sounding station ID jingle. Three months later, CKLW became the number one pop radio outlet in their market and one of the top ten AM stations in North America.

To complete the station's makeover, management hired twenty-two-year-old Byron MacGregor as their news director, the youngest in the station's history. MacGregor was known for his deep resonant voice and high-energy delivery. The news was repackaged as 20/20 News because they offered their news programing at twenty minutes after the hour and twenty minutes before the hour. When all the other radio stations in town had their news at the top of the hour and half-past the hour, CKLW was playing music.

The Big 8's newscasts were delivered in a rapid-fire manner to make the news sound more sensational and exciting. The sound of a teletype machine clicking audibly in the background gave the news the sound of immediacy.

Another news innovation at CKLW-AM was having North America's first female helicopter traffic and news reporter, Jo Jo Shutty. Jo Jo, as she was popularly known, spent up to seven hours a day reporting live on Detroit traffic. As a news person, Jo Jo would often be the first reporter on the scene of breaking stories where she would do live remotes. Jo Jo became an instant celebrity.

Jo Jo Shutty grew up in West Bloomfield, Michigan. At nine years old, she became a world champion baton twirler, and at seventeen while a student at Berkley High School, she became Miss Teenage Detroit. Jo Jo went to Michigan State University graduating Cum Laude with a bachelor of arts degree in television, radio, and film.

Jo Jo Shutty was twenty-six-years-old and single when she was hired to be the "Eyes in the Sky" for CKLW-AM radio on Monday, September 9, 1974. News director Byron MacGregor thought he had hired a helicopter traffic reporter, but soon discovered she became a radio personality much loved in the Detroit and Windsor area. Jo Jo's feminine voice was a welcome change from the deep-voiced, male dee-jays who dominated the radio airwaves. Her starting salary was $20,000 with an attractive fringe benefits package.

Six months later, Byron MacGregor married Jo Jo Shutty at Marygrove College in their Sacred Heart Chapel. They were both twenty-seven years old. Just shy of twenty years later, Byron MacGregor died unexpectedly from complications of pneumonia on Tuesday, January 3, 1995, in Detroit's Henry Ford Hospital.

The real powerhouse behind the Big 8's popularity was a woman unknown by most people outside the radio and music communities. Rosalie Trombley was CKLW's music director from 1967 through 1984. She had an incredible ability for recognizing talent and hit singles, earning her the title "The Girl with the Golden Ear."

Rosalie Trombley with Bob Seger on the occasion of Seger's 1978 album "Stranger in Town."

Trombley helped the careers of many Detroit and Canadian musicians by debuting their music over the airwaves: artists and groups like Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, the Supremes, Little Stevie Wonder, the Funkadelics, and many musicians like Bob Seger, Mitch Rider, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Gordon Lightfoot, Paul Anka, Joni Mitchell, and Anne Murray to name just a few.

Trombley chose the right blend of pop music that appealed to young Black and White audiences on both sides of the Detroit River. On the CKLW television side, dee-jay Robin Seymour hosted a popular afternoon dance program named Swinging Time, giving many of these artists their first television exposure as well.

The rise of FM stereo radio and album-oriented programming in the 1970s began eroding CKLW's youthful audience. Rock & Roll grew up and so did its audience. The Big 8 Top 40 format was abandoned in the 1980s, replaced with fully-automated programming of jazz standards and Big Band music for an older demographic. The station's Golden Age was over.

 

Rosalie Trombley passed away on November 23, 2021 at the age of eighty-two. At her funeral, Jo Jo Shutty called Trombley "an important mentor whose power as a woman in a male-dominated industry commanded respect." Trombley was posthumously inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame as a legend of AM pop radio.

 

Because of Trombley's importance and influence in the pop music business, the Windsor, Ontario City Council approved $100,000 for the creation, installation, and unveiling of a life-sized, bronze statue of Trombley leaning against a big 8. The statue was unveiled at Windsor's Riverfront Park by artist Donna Mayne on September 18, 2023, to coincide with Rosalie's eighty-fourth birthday.

Swinging Time's Robin Seymour

CKLW Jingle