An Insider’s Look into Howard Stern’s and John DeBella’s Battle for Radio Supremacy

By GREGG KIRK
December 1994, Big Shout Magazine

Five o’clock in the morning is not the time any reasonably sane person should be waking up. For me, it’s usually the time of day I’m hitting the hay, or more often than not, stumbling home from work. The type of people who normally rise at this hour are either military personnel or Type-A human worker bees who lurch from their fitful sleep with the fear of pissing off their bosses. These are not reasonable people in my estimation.

So the fact that I was rubbing the sleep hockey from my eyes while trying to focus on the self-serve ticket machine in the middle of 30^th Street Station at this ungodly hour on Veteran’s Day should seem highly unusual. It would have been impossible, in fact, if my girlfriend Theresa hadn’t woken me only half an hour before in an effort to get us out of bed and onto the 5:15 train to Manhattan.

Why? Because we were in wartime and in a sense, we were military personnel making our way to the front lines to witness the final chapter of the Morning Radio Wars unfold. Former Zoo Keeper, John DeBella, was making an appearance on the “Howard Stern Show” at WXRK studios, and it would either signal DeBella’s obliteration from the radio business or the radio equivalent of the Berlin Wall tumbling.

Those who were close to the conflict were calling it a media event. Even those who had, until now, looked on with only passing interest were viewing the spectacle with the ambivalence of someone who can’t help looking as they drive by a particularly grisly auto accident. You would’ve actually had to have made an effort to ignore the bloody battle that had ensued on the radio waves when New York DJ Howard Stern’s morning show moved to syndication and all barrels were trained on Philadelphia more than six years ago. John DeBella’s “Morning Zoo” was the top-ranked show and had been for several years when Stern made the declaration that not only would he topple the Zoo Keeper in the ratings, he would make Debella lose his job, his wife, and Debella would never find serious work in radio again unless he humbled himself on Stern’s show.

It took three years, but listeners witnessed in awe as each of Stern’s predictions came true. When Stern beat DeBella in the ratings, he came to Philadelphia and held a mock funeral for the Zoo Keeper. When DeBella and his wife split in 1992, not only did Stern hold a “DeBaldy Divorce Party” in the rain across the street from WMMR Studios, he added insult to injury by having Annette DeBella as a guest on his show as well as having her go on a date with No. 1 Howard Stern fan and notorious prank caller, Capt. Jenks, for a video sketch. Things got relatively quiet after Annette apparently committed suicide and DeBella later resigned from his afternoon slot on WMMR.

Out of the blue, Stern made the announcement the week before Veteran’s Day that his fourth and final prediction was coming to be – DeBella would appear on his show. All that week, his clan of Robin Quivers, Jackie “the Joke Man” Martling, Gary Dell’Abate, Fred Norris, and “Stutterin’” John Melendez, wrung their hands and cracked jokes about the things they would do to him on the show. Listeners called in to relate negative Zoo Keeper stories – the most outrageous of which had DeBella changing his line of work to landscaping. It seemed like the last nail was being driven into the coffin, and Stern was living up to his self-proclaimed title of “King of All Media.”

I admit I am a skeptic, and I was looking above the puppet heads in this media sideshow to see who was pulling the strings. Word on the street was that DeBella would be taking an afternoon slot on WYSP. It was therefore easy to assume the whole thing would be a setup and that no real punches would be thrown… the two would exchange initial barbs, eventually pat each other on the back, and call an official truce.

But I wasn’t thinking about these things at 5:10 a.m. Instead, I was wondering how we were going to make our train in five minutes when there was nobody behind the ticket counter to sell us a ticket. We spotted the self-serve machine, and Theresa raced downstairs to hold the train. Three minutes later, after I coaxed the machine to spit out one ticket, she blustered upstairs shouting, “The train’s here! It’s waiting for us to leave!” I squeezed out one more ticket, and the two of us acted out a frantic pantomime all the way to the first available train car. It took us a while to settle into our seats; I took a deep breath, and looked to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything. No sooner than five minutes passed when Theresa nudged me and pointed, “Isn’t that John DeBella up there?” I craned my head and looked up the aisle to see the former Zoo Keeper quietly sitting five seats ahead of us. “It’s going to be a weird day,” I said.

It wasn’t the first time I’d met DeBella face to face. In late October of 1990, the managing editor was doing a lengthy interview with John DeBella for a piece we were planning to run about DeBella hosting a TV show. The Zoo Keeper was at the top of his game at the time. Not only was his morning show easily holding its place at No. 1, DeBella, himself was looking for outside projects in television and possibly even movies. He had already appeared as a featured guest on NBC’s Crime Story, and now he had negotiated a spot hosting his own variety show that would be filmed locally but test-marketed nationally. If all went well, there was talk that he would jump into the prime-time talk show fray and be picked up by a major network.

We decided to make this our cover story for the month of November. For the cover itself, we thought of mixing the ideas of Thanksgiving and DeBella’s TV show by having the Zoo Keeper pop out of a cartoon television while chomping on a cartoon turkey drumstick. The idea was to burn the words, “TV Dinner” over the photo. A local artist provided us with the props, and a local photographer agreed to meet us at the WMMR studios to photograph DeBella. Apparently, DeBella had agreed to be on the cover, but he would not travel to Delaware to shoot the cover shot in a proper studio. We were informed that we were to set up the props in a hallway in the building and that DeBella would only give us five minutes. We were irked at this treatment, but the deadline approached and we had no other options at the time.

On the day of the shoot, the managing editor, photographer and I set up the staging in the hallway at WMMR, and after waiting for about half an hour, DeBella was escorted into the shooting area. He put on his best face when the shutter clicked, but as soon as the photographer gave him the signal she had the shot, he turned on his heels and disappeared down the hallway. He acted like he had little time for us, and we were annoyed that he hadn’t appeared the least bit gracious or even grateful for us making him the feature of that month’s issue. We had heard stories about how full of himself the Zoo Keeper was, but seeing it first hand really sucked.

By the time we got to Trenton, Theresa had all but dragged me by the arm to ask John DeBella some questions at his seat on the train. I told her that it was inappropriate and that there would be an opportunity to ask him questions at the press conference that was planned after DeBella’s appearance on the show. But she persisted. Finally, as the conductor called out, “Next stop, New York,” I decided I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least re-introduce myself to him. We ambled over to his seat where a small entourage of people surrounded him, including a bodyguard. I stuck out my hand, told him my name, and reminded him about his cover shot.

He remembered.

I asked him a few questions in a conversational way, and he interrupted by giving me a sidelong glance and asking, “This wouldn’t be an interview or anything?”

I assured him it wasn’t, and I asked him, in all honestly, what was going to happen that day. He said he didn’t know and that to be honest, his mind was on other things. By the look on his face, I could see he was sincere.

That’s when I had the crashing realization that this whole thing was taking place without a safety net. DeBella really didn’t know if he was going to meet his ignominious doom or if he would walk away unscathed. Apparently, the thing – at least from his end – was not a setup at all. And there was more than his career riding on it. Public humiliation on a national level is a tough thing to live down.

In an effort to take some importance off of the affair, DeBella made a point about it being Veteran’s Day and that instead of remembering fallen war heroes, most people were going to be tuning into the media circus surrounding this particular episode of Stern’s show. When I shook his hand again and wished him luck he seemed genuinely thankful for the support. This was the total opposite of the Zoo Keeper I had met almost exactly three years before. And as we made our way back to our seats, Theresa and I both agreed that we felt for the guy.

When we got off the train at Penn Station, Theresa and I stopped for a moment to wonder how to approach getting to the radio station. All we had was an address, and we didn’t know if it would be easier to take a cab or the subway. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw DeBella’s entourage, so I figured since he was going to the same place we were, it would be better to just follow him. As the group divided to get into cabs, I saw WYSP promotions guy Bob Avicolli and offered to split a cab with him. This was perfect. Not only were we sure to get to the right place at the right time, we were riding to the station with the guy who gave Theresa and me our press passes. He was the person I was told to look for when I got to WXRK. It made life a lot easier that instead of hassling with doormen and credentials at the station, all we had to do was walk in with the press guy.

We got to the office building that houses the station, jumped on the elevator, and as the doors opened, the weirdness continued. The first person we saw and who opened the door to let us in was Gary Dell’Abate, who looked at Bob and asked, “These people with you?” Bob gave Gary the nod, and as we walked by, Theresa blurted out, “Ba-ba-booey!” He laughed, pointed his finger at her, and gave one of those cheesy “gotcha” looks.

We were herded to a small reception area where the other press dogs waited. It was seven in the morning, but these people had already positioned their TV cameras, and the photogs had staked their territory. Channel 10’s John Bolaris and a small group of people including me tuned in a small clock radio on one of the receptionist’s desks to listen to the proceedings. It was a good 20 minutes before DeBella made it to the station (he stopped off at a hotel first, for what reasons I don’t know). In the meantime Stern trotted out a parade of some of his more idiotic followers who performed song parodies about the Zoo Keeper.

A group apparently from Philadelphia called Nuclear Fish performed an a capella corruption of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire” with new lyrics pointed at DeBella. They did this bit on the air and then several other times in front of the cameras while making cutesy circular motions around their heads as they sung the line, “he’s more screwy than that Ba-ba-booey!” They hung around entirely too long and attempted to soak up as much publicity as was humanly possible. They were weasels.

Then DeBella himself made it to the studio. His arrival was announced on the air, and shortly afterward he appeared on the show. There was obvious tension – more out of awkwardness than out of any real hostility – between Stern and DeBella. The two exchanged banter, and it seemed that almost immediately Stern was willing to roll over and forgive DeBella for anything he had said in the past. In what almost seemed like a contrived version of “Good Cop, Bad Cop,” it was Stern’s sidekick Robin Quivers who was not so ready to make amends. She mentioned a few times during their conversation that they had only recently been mortal enemies with DeBella, and she was not ready to forgive and forget unless DeBella showed some signs of humility.

In an effort to turn up the heat, Stern invited former “Morning Zoo” sidekick Mark “the Shark” Drucker, fanatic Stern fan Capt. Jenks, and former “Morning Zoo” song parody writer Pat Godwin in succession to confront DeBella with old horror stories about what a pinhead DeBella used to be to work with. It was bizarre. In every instance, whoever told the story would muddle it up, Stern would side with DeBella, and DeBella came out of it smelling like a rose. There is no doubt in my mind that all of these stories were true, but I knew first hand that DeBella was not the same person he was three years ago, and Stern was in an uncharacteristically forgiving mood.

All of this lasted for what seemed an eternity to those of us who were told the press conference would begin at 7 a.m. It was almost 10 o’clock, and Dell’Abate came out to apologize to us. “If there’s anything I can do to make anyone more comfortable – short of giving you money – let me know,” he said. A reporter named Penny Crone from a New York Fox affiliate complained very loudly, and he complained back, “Why are you giving me a hard time?”

Finally, the announcement was made that Stern and his group were heading to the press conference, and that’s when things shifted gears. There were about 30 photographers, cameramen, and reporters crammed into an eight-foot by eight-foot space with a podium, they hadn’t been fed breakfast, and most of them were rabid. But when Stern’s freakish 6’8” frame lumbered down the hallway, everyone sprang into action.

Stern’s first announcement was that the day’s events proved that he was, in fact, the “King of All Media” and that his sidekick Robin was the Queen. He also let it be known that DeBella had redeemed himself in Stern’s eyes and that Stern would support DeBella’s radio slot on WYSP in the afternoon.

Soon after, he opened the conference up to questions, and that was when John Bolaris moved forward. Before he could get started, Stern remarked how handsome Bolaris was. “Are you straight?” he asked. “You’re a handsome man. What are you, a reporter?” When Bolaris replied that he was a weatherman, Stern grew indignant and said, “Your station insults me by sending down a weatherman to interview me. You’re a meteorologist; you know nothing of what is going on here today.” DeBella and a few others told Stern that Bolaris was also an entertainment reporter for Channel 10, and he calmed down.

 As soon as Bolaris was finished, Penny the Fox reporter barged in, and Stern interrupted, “All right everyone, it’s Penny. Penny, you’re like sandpaper on a chalkboard to me.” And Penny did her best to live up to this introduction by asking DeBella if he felt any resentment towards Stern regarding the death of his wife. She might as well have asked, “Do you blame Howard Stern for wife’s suicide?” for all the impact it had.

Everyone in the press group groaned, Stern got irritated, and DeBella rattled off a diatribe about how Penny knew nothing of this very personal situation and that insinuating that Stern had influence over his wife’s death was ludicrous. While he was making his point, DeBella jabbed his index finger in Penny’s direction, and she absolutely lost her wits. At first she got choked up, and then she began to sob openly. Nobody could believe it. Stern’s tone softened, “Penny, are you crying?” and all the cameras turned to her.

“I just don’t like anyone pointing their finger at me!” she sobbed. In an effort to lighten the situation, Stern told her that it really wasn’t so bad and then he instructed everyone in the room to point at her.

This gave everyone else a chance to ask questions, and that’s when I moved forward. After a few New York reporters asked some serious questions regarding the details behind DeBella’s return to radio, I thought it would be appropriate to pose a question more in tune with the spirit of the show. I chimed in, “Hi, I’m Gregg Kirk from Big Shout Magazine.” Dell’Abate, who was on his knees pointing a microphone in the direction of the reporters, jammed the mic in my face and I fired off, “After everything that’s been said and done today, which do you think are bigger: John DeBella’s balls or a set of church bells?”

Stern didn’t miss a beat. He went on about how it took a lot of guts for Debella to appear on the show, and Stern respected him for it, etc. I was barely listening. I stepped back from the press of the crowd to catch my breath. Theresa was in the middle of the press group frantically taking pictures. After a few more questions, Stern broke up the conference, and everyone began to disperse.

While leaving, we ran into Pat Godwin who looked a little dazed from all the weirdness. He admitted that the whole thing had been a draining experience for everyone, but he couldn’t believe how easy everybody had been on DeBella.

I agreed. Why had this happened? Stern had spent the last three years assembling a grandiose war machine but didn’t bother to dismantle it before making peace with the enemy. It made me think of a syndrome I had heard some Vietnam vets had gone through after the war. They were so used to killing people that when they got home, it was difficult for them to adjust to a non-violent society. They had been programmed for war but no one had bothered to de-program them. This was the case with Stern’s more fanatical followers. There are literally thousands of people out there who blindly hate John DeBella, but their fearless leader is now recommending that they tune into his show in the afternoon. This didn’t wash with me, and I can’t believe it did with so many other people. And Stern has offered few explanations. In fact, he has not mentioned this episode on his show since the press conference.

DeBella on the other hand, has shifted into cruising mode with his new show. The format, which DeBella described at the press conference as “simply me,” is just that – him talking and playing a few classic rock songs. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. He did manage to score a phone call from the mayor in his first few days of broadcasting, and Ed Rendell gushed all over himself and DeBella, saying that it was good to have him back and Philadelphia had missed him.

After thinking about it for a week, these things seem true: DeBella is really not the pompous morning jock he was three years ago. It seems his hard times have given him some level of humility, and he certainly deserves credit for having the guts to face Stern on his own ground. As far as Stern goes, this whole situation proves that he really can do just about anything and his fans will blindly follow. But will he really do anything he wants? It’s hard to believe the easy treatment he gave DeBella was self-motivated. That day at the press conference – above the flash and commotion of the proceedings – I thought I saw some strings moving.