Nobody likes a whiner, but this latest setback is just about more than I can stand. About six weeks ago, the producer of “A Touch of Grey,” a radio talk show hosted by Carole Marks that airs on Sunday afternoons in Los Angeles, New York and a few other unspecified locations (see previous post), expressed Carole’s interest in having me on her show after I sent them my standard query. I also sent Carole a signed copy of Truth at Last when the producer requested such. A few weeks ago I was told my taped 15-minute segment would air Sept. 1, and I looked forward to the help that exposure in the New York and Los Angeles markets might bring to an unknown book struggling to sell a few copies each day.
I didn’t listen online on Sunday, Sept. 1, as I really don’t like to hear my own voice at this point, but my good friend Jack in Knoxville, an avid supporter of the cause, was tuned in to hear Marks and me discuss the Earhart case. When he emailed me with the news that my segment didn’t run, I was taken aback.
Not until today, Thursday, did I learn from the producer that my segment with Marks was in the SECOND HOUR of the program, which doesn’t run in Los Angeles or New York! Where the program did air, she didn’t say, but it was a very small town with few listeners. You can imagine my surprise to learn this happy news. Never did this producer ever tell me that the show was two hours long, nor did she say my segment wouldn’t air in New York or Los Angeles as we proceeded through the process.
This sort of unethical, uncaring and impersonal treatment has become much too commonplace in today’s marketplace, but I can’t just sit by quietly without complaint. I didn’t make much of a fuss with this producer in my reply, simply writing, “If my segment didn’t air in New York or LA, few if any were listening where it did air. I wish you had told me that before we started. I was led to believe the interview would go in LA and New York; otherwise, what was the point?” Of course the producer didn’t reply to my message.
I don’t have Carole Marks’ email or phone number, but I do have her snail mail address in Connecticut, and will register my dissatisfaction with her in this manner. This is but the latest in a long series of short shrifts I’ve experienced in my efforts to get the word out about the ongoing Earhart travesty. Even those who seem interested in helping this worthy cause often turn out to be insincere. When it comes to the truth in the Earhart disappearance, Rodney Dangerfield got far more respect than Amelia — much less an obscure writer — gets now.