Bill Fraser—of Wit and Radio by Angie Klink (Jefferson H.S. 1977)

What is radio but words? Words that paint pictures in the theater of the mind. William S. Fraser, 81, my Jefferson High School Radio and TV instructor from 1974 to 1977, died on Saturday. I realize now, his quick-witted verbiage was the pablum, vitamins and minerals, from which my writing career found nourishment. “ Cooperate and graduate! Did you get a hair cut? No, I got them all cut. Take a shower lately? Why, is one missing?” These corny, Bill Fraser quips still float up from my high school days and insist I think of the then-balding, fiftyish man with dark-rimmed glasses. Mr. Fraser lobbied for a student-run radio and TV station when Jefferson High School was built in 1971. He retired in 1984, and in 2002, the studio was named the William S. Fraser Radio-TV Center. Mr. Fraser was not a prim and proper teacher. He was a let-experience-and-fun-be-your-guide mentor.

He made me laugh, taught me about the “good old days” of radio and provided hands-on training at WJEF. He was a salty radio warrior from the Golden Age, who spun “A String of Pearls” on 1940s turntables and announced late-breaking news on boxy, Philco microphones. “It’s Fraser as in eraser” was Mr. Fraser’s famous line. Calling him .;Fra-zsher was a major no-no. As a green sophomore in 1974, I walked through the swinging door of WJEF and asked to be on staff. Mr. Fraser invited me into his radio-memorabilia-filled office, lit a Camel and asked me several personal questions. To audition, I read aloud a news story ripped from the teletype machine, and that was it. I was welcomed into the Broncho Broadcaster fold where I found radio people to be intoxicating—witty, irreverent, high-strung, sailor-mouthed and fun. The atmosphere shimmered around microphones, turntables and modulation. “Big Band—it’s coming back!” At the height of disco, Mr. Fraser swore the Glenn Miller sound would push the Bee Gees aside and reemerge for another go-around. He only allowed “Middle of the road”—MOR—tunes (think “Elevator Muzak” or “Muskrat Love”) on WJEF. Mr. Fraser said my maiden name, Lipp, was a great radio moniker, and suggested a show called “A Tip from the Lipp.” It never happened, but I did host “Listen Ladies.” I read fluff—household and beauty hints—that came click-clicking over the Associated Press wire. The instrumental music that played from a “cart” during the show was “Lay, Lady Lay. Lay across my big brass bed.” By “running a control board,” producing sports, news, promos and television shows, many Fraser students later became professional broadcasters.

After I graduated in communications from Purdue, my first job was at WASK-Radio as an advertising copywriter. Brian Lamb, C-SPAN founder, is one of Mr. Fraser’s proudest accomplishments. “That’s my boy,” he would puff over his former student. I asked a friend if she remembered any Fraser wisecracks. She couldn’t. Instead, she analyzed: “You remember what he said because you are more into words.” I am not a Fraser “success story”—not a newscaster, sportscaster or disc jockey. I did not found C-SPAN. It seemed I only experienced WJEF for the hoots and the hollers. But, now I see those droll times as fine starter solution for a writer. Words are what I gleaned from Bill’s company.William Fraser spiced my adolescence with spunk and absurdity. (“You can lead a hor-ti-culture, but you can’t make her think.”) He inspired me to kindle a bolt-from-the-blue thought or snicker.So, signing off, Mr. Fraser, here’s your “Tip from the Lipp”: You stirred many with the love of the airwaves, and the world will forever feel your infinite reverberations.