Buzz Bennett, known on the air as Captain Boogie, is a 32-year-old bushy-haired former disc jockey who dresses like an Old Western street freak, talks like a Madison Avenue adman and currently has a six-figure income. Bennett is a radio doctorone of the top half a dozen itinerant programming consultants who specialize in transforming dull and unprofitable pop-music stations into listener-loaded moneymakers.
Radio doctoring is roughly akin to political campaigning. The basic principle is to zap a little new life into the ailing station while undermining the competition with every dirty Tuckish trick in the doctor's book of ruses. Bennett has so successfully mastered this technique that he was once voted the radio industry's "Program Director of the Year" for ingeniously one-upping his own strategies.
In 1969 he moved into station KGB in San Diego, and in 45 days the station leapfrogged from nearly last to first in the citywide audience ratings. Two years later, KGB's chief competitor, station KCBQ, hired Bennett. Within a month KCBQ had regained its supremacy among the all-important 12-to 17-year-old audience and replaced KGB in the lop slot.
Giant Amoeba. A few samples of his listener-grabbing gambits make clear why stations buzz Bennett. In a rating battle with another station in New Orleans, he played The Blue Danube Waltz every hour, just before the other station's newscast. "After a while," he explains, "people began to hate The Blue Danube and switch over to the other station. But when they did, all they heard was news. At the end of 30 days, most of the kids in town thought our competition was an all-news station." In Pine Bluff, Ark., figuring he could do just as Welles, he simulated a ten-man news team reporting a fictitious attack on the city by a giant amoeba.
Bennett also claims to be the man who started the rumor that Paul McCartney was dead. As more "clues" were broadcast each day, Bennett's station, KGB, doubled its share of the market. He has even been known to arrange for local record stores to feed competing stations false information about best-selling records. The bamboozled competitor plays losing tunes while Bennett's own station blasts out the real biggies. In that ultimate radio-ratings booster, the random phone-call contest, Bennett is like a child feeding ducks on a pond. At a station in Miami, he once handed out $125,000 in less than two months. Says Lloyd Melton, station manager of Phoenix's KUPD: "He gives contest money away to the extent that he virtually buys the market."