Gary James' Interview With Roadie / Truck Driver / On Air Personality / Concert Promoter / Author
Ronnie Rush



Ronnie Rush is a master of all trades. He's been a roadie, a truck driver, an on-air personality, a concert promoter and an author. He's seen the world of Rock from all different angles. He's the author of the book Life Of A Roadie: The Gypsy In Me and he's currently working on his second book.

Q - Ronnie, let's talk about the radio business today.

A - When radio went automation and they didn't need twenty or thirty jocks, and Bill Clinton deregulated AM and FM, now you can't go down the dial because each station is owned by the same company now. So, if you got fired by 92.1, you can't go to 96.9 in the same town because the same corporation owns it. That's where it became an monopoly. Bill Moyers, God bless him, the journalist, he was on P.B.S. for a long time, tried to tell Congress, "Hey, there's a monopoly here! Clear Channel has got three thousand stations. They got all these concert venues," but he didn't get anywhere with them because we were at war, 9/11. They had other big fish to fry. Before, you could only have one FM and one AM. Before Bill Clinton deregulated everything. So, you could go down the street, maybe a mile away there's another Rock station you could work at, a Top 40 station, oldies station. You had to have a jock because it was twenty-four/seven. It was all individually owned. There was no corporation back in the day. You needed the jock to put the cart in the commercial. You needed the jock to put in the CD or put on the turntable and play the 45 or 33. So, the jock was needed twenty-four/seven. Then corporations came in and they figured out a way to use the computer, someone created the software to where it would have memory to hold all the music. Now the d.j. is standing there, while you're talking you're loading up the carts for the commercials, but there's no need to load up the music because the Program Director, who's really a geek. Tommy Lasorda of the Dodgers is like a player's manager. Well, when you got a geek who's a Program Director, these guys have no feeling for anybody. They're beyond narcissistic. They're like computer nerds. Those were chosen to load up the computers. So now you've got these computer guys loading up the music. Then they found a way to load up the commercials. Then they said, "Let's save more money. Let's buy the company that sells the computers and then we'll own that and then we'll just put a computer in every room and every studio, in every production room across the country." Basically once they got 'em all installed they sent someone from Chicago to California and said, it's a girl, "Ronnie, it's a touch screen. You push this, you go to this. Push that. That goes into commercial. Then you hit the screen again and then you start talking over the music." "Okay, here's Hall and Oates", or whatever. But, they figured out a way that you didn't need to touch the screen anymore. Somebody created the time. So, somebody in Texas could be the d.j. as long as you didn't give the time and the weather. "We'll put you on thirty-five stations in eleven western states. So now, you don't need those d.j.s.

Q - As a concert promoter, you were going up against Live Nation. How do you compete with those guys?

A - Well again, when this started happening I saw the writing on the wall.

Q - If I'm a band or a manager, I don't have to worry with Live Nation. I know that everything I've asked for and need is going to be there.

A - I know. The thing is, I would bring in Chuck Negron of Three Dog Night, The Grass Roots, America. Remember, I played these guys, '60s, '70s and a little bit of the '80s on the air. I played the stuff for twenty years on the air in Sacramento. So, people knew Ronnie Rush. I thought, what am I going to do? Ronnie Rush productions. I'll bring the artist to town. Coming Saturday, Memorial Auditorium, America. So, I wrote the commercial and I would pay the station to run it. It would run every hour on the hour because that's what we did back in the day. I've got three concerts under my belt and I'm at the grocery store. So, Ronnie Rush was on the air and Ronnie Rush Productions is bringing concerts. I'm in the middle of a recession, 2008, 2009. I'm standing in the grocery line and this girl comes up to me, "Ronnie, we heard your commercial on the radio." I said, "You gonna go?" "We'd love to, but I don't know if my husband is going to be working next week. We have kids. We really can't afford the tickets." I go, "Well, I made sure the the general admission tickets were $25." She goes, "I know, but if my husband loses his job, we have to feed the kids." I'm thinking, what the hell is going on? It takes a lot of work to put on a show. It's almost like landing a 747 the day of. The trucks have to arrive. The backline has to be there. The sound guy had to show up. All these people. The lighting guy. All this stuff has to be done. Food for the musicians. Go get the guys at the airport. Bring 'em to the hotel. There's a lot going on the day of the show. It's eight months of hard work, 24/7 and then landing a 747 the day of. Everything just fits in like a puzzle until the last speaker is loaded up on the truck at midnight and then you're done.

Q - The way the agencies have the contracts worded today it would seem near impossible to make any money. Did you in fact make money?

A - No, no. Back to the lady in the grocery store who couldn't afford the general admission ticket. There was probably two thousand seats that you could pull in late, find a parking space and your seat was waiting for you, empty. Assigned seating. You charge probably $22.50 for general admission. You could charge $30, $35 for front row. What was happening was, I realized; now remember I was a roadie, I was on tour. I got per diem. I know that when I was on the road with Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds, I'm the one that was driving the truck, the Suburban with all the equipment in it. So, there was no backline back then. There was no Playboy Records, which is the label we gave them a number one record, the first number one record to Hugh Hefner because Barbie Benton wanted to sing. Hefner goes, "Okay, Seventh Floor is the record company." Hamilton walks in to to the record company. He's going up and down Sunset Blvd and Herb Alpert, A&M Records, Capitol Records. Look, you're done. You had one hit, "Don't Pull Your Love". Playboy in 1974 said, "Okay. We hear something there. Go into the studio. Here's some money. Make it a hit," and they did. It went to number one. But the thing is, that's what they did back in the day. Artists twenty-five years later were having to bring in a complete song. Done. Everything. Ready to go on the radio. That's expensive. So, even the record companies were shying away from giving you money, spending studio time, back when Three Dog Night, The Grass Roots...

Q - Are you promoting those people today?

A - No, not today. I did.

Q - You no longer have a concert production company then?

A - No, not now because when that girl in the grocery store told me that she wanted to go but she wasn't sure if her husband would be working, I thought I've got to find out what's going on here. I'm breaking even on the shows, but the thing is you have to build trust up with the audience that when they go to these shows there's gonna be a show and the group walks out onstage. I made sure the group walked out onstage. The promoter has to pay the deposit. The road manager has his hand out when he gets off the plane. I said, "I'll get you to the hotel. I'll get you to the sound check and then I'll pay you." "Oh, okay." "Ronnie knows I'm not gonna pay you 'cause you just got off the plane. I brought the backline for you. It's all set up, the drums, the keyboards. All the stuff is all set up for you guys." "Oh, okay. Right." "Do the sound check and then I'll get you back to the hotel and then you guys come and do the show."

Q - You had this knack for picking what songs would land on Casey Kasem's Top 40 Countdown. That being said, why didn't you go into radio immediately? Why did you become a roadie?

A - On, no, no. I didn't get into radio until I came to Sacramento. As a roadie I worked for a lot of groups before Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds. I was pulled from the abyss because the group I worked for knows Joe Frank, and Joe Frank had called them saying, "We're looking for a roadie." They said, "We got a guy here, Ronnie, and he sets everything up by himself. He tears it all down." I would set everything up and tear it all down and go to the next armory or whatever we were playing, college basically.

Q - You were working for local groups before Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds?

A - Yes. I was doing the roadie thing for several years. I was with Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds for seven years. That was the peak of being a roadie. Before Joe Frank made the call; well, in between, Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds had "Don't Pull Your Love" in '71 and then they broke up in '72. Then a few years later, Alan Dennison came into the picture. Baby Grand piano. He has a classical background. We had something chemistry wise. Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds-Dennison. And that was when "Fallin' In Love" was climbing the charts. When Joe played that song for me, they're in the studio. I was in the mid-west somewhere. '71, '72 I went back to the three piece band I was a roadie for and they opened the show for Lynyrd Skynyrd. And so, Joe hadn't called me yet to tell me, "Ronnie, I'm going to hold the phone up to the speakers and I'm going to play a song for you and you tell me if it's a hit." (laughs)

Q - When I think of Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds I think more of a studio band. You're saying they did a lot of road work?

A - Oh yeah, they did. Now remember, I'm twenty-two, twenty-three. Joe Frank is like thirty-two, thirty-three. I'm ten years younger, maybe eleven years younger. I'm still in my prime, in my twenties. Hamilton is a few years younger. He was the lead singer and the writer, a few years younger than Joe. Joe was the oldest. When we were on the road Joe would teach the road manager thing as the years progressed. Tommy Reynolds played ten instruments on stage 'cause I set 'em up. He played congas, flute, timbalis, vibes, mellotron. All this stuff. He'd go from one instrument to another during a solo. That was Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds. Before they had "Don't Pull Your Love" they were a studio band. "No Matter What Shape Your Stomach's In". I was just a kid. Probably twelve years old.

Q - After Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds, did you then decide to go to the National Broadcasting School? What was your course of study?

A - Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds and Dennison broke up. Hamilton is gone. He passed away. That was twenty-five years ago. There is no Hamilton, Joe Frank And Reynolds. He called me before he went into the hospital and said, "Ronnie, I want you to get the group back together." I said, "Okay." He went in to get this operation and he never made it. He died on the operating table. So I'm thinking I got to find something else to do now. When the group broke up in '76, I went to see the movie Rocky and I was so inspired. It was a big deal. He's got a shot. When I left the theatre I wanted to give the cashier five dollars because I was so inspired. I was inspired to do something. In '77 I met a truck driver. I was at a restaurant, taking a break from my apartment which had all of Hamilton's guitars, amps, recording equipment where he would record all his stuff that I would engineer for him. To cut to the chase, I went on the road for three years. It was the greatest thing for me. It was almost like an angel on my shoulder. I needed to be moving.

Q - You know what they say, the manager gets the money, the group gets the applause and the roadies get the girls.

A - (laughs) I take that as a compliment.

Q - But, back to the broadcasting school.

A - I'm on the road three years, driving a truck. Then I did some local work driving a truck in Los Angeles. Hamilton was still around, doing a solo album, so I hung around with him. Then, I met this girl, the love of my life, my first love. I know it sounds funny, a roadie saying it. I fell in love a lot on the road, but I was local then. We're in a night club in 1982. And I know I always had this voice. But we're in a club and we're sitting there. She's visiting from Los Angeles and I'm living in Simi Valley. She bumped me with her elbow and says, "You could do better than that guy (the disc jockey). That triggered something in me. It's 1982. I've been around the country. I drove truck in all forty-eight states and Canada. I've seen a lot. I'm like twenty-eight, twenty-nine. And remember, when the group would go on tour we would go into the radio station. I had a little feel for radio. I was exposed to radio that way. The female programmers would say, "I really your voice, Ronnie" I'm just at the doorway. "Well, take care. We'll see you tonight at the show." The sister of my first love asked the club owner, because she worked there, if he was looking for another d.j. He said, "Yeah. We're looking for another d.j." So, I started that way. I'm thinking I'll have a Program Director come in with his girlfriend or whatever, have a few drinks and he'll hear me talking on the mic and I'm playing the music. After about five or six nightclubs, Stuart Anderson's, Howard Johnson's and other nightclubs in Los Angeles, it wasn't gonna happen. I realized that. So, Leah (the love of my life) came back to Sacramento and she said, "Why don't you come up here?" I said, "I don't have two quarters to rub together. What do you mean? I'm gonna leave Hollywood and come up to Sacramento?" "Yeah. Yeah. I'll find you a place. There'll be a lady with a house. She rents rooms out." This is 1984. My father had passed away in '79 and then my step-father had passed away in '81. It was like, okay, there's nothing going on here really. My Mom's still alive for a few more years. She passed away at fifty of breast cancer. I thought, okay, I'll come up there, but I've got to have a job. I called Howard Johnson's in Sacramento and said I want to move up there. They said, "Yeah, c'mon up. We can use you." So I came up with fifty dollars in my pocket. I didn't know anybody but her. Now I know everybody but her. Do you like that one?

Q - That's good.

A - No. Do you like that one? That was clean. I could say that on the air. So, that's how I got out of Hollywood. I never understood how a band would struggle for years and years, then, make it big, then, break up

Official Website: RonnieRushProductions.com

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