I celebrate April Fools like some people celebrate Christmas: it’s MY holiday. It celebrates everything that forms the core of my belief system. And I did some good ones over the years.

When I was at Kiss 102 in Charlotte there was the Coliseum and the New Coliseum, so I created The Really New Coliseum and on April 1st we were there and broadcasting all day for their first concert. It was the Hooked On Phonics Tour with artists like U2, KD Lang, ZZ Top, AC/DC and BB King. It was fun, sounded great, and more than a few drove out to the arena…which was at the intersection of two streets that didn’t intersect.

The first April Fools at Wild in San Francisco we celebrated the opening of the world’s largest underground theme park, Six Flags Under Mt. Bruno. I was the Director of Personnel and was still hiring for the Mole Team, who were full time staff who lived in the underground dorms for 14 day stretches and had their own swimming pool, theater and tanning salon. “As an underground facility, this requires constant staffing and maintenance. Some employees we’ve discovered experience the Bends with constant up and downs and returns to normal surface air pressure.”

And then I got this job and was stuck in Minnesota, observing, scheming and pulling the strings. Which was boring so I started scheduling market visits around the end of March. That’s how I found myself at WiLD in Tampa for their remote from Natural Life Tampa, a clothing optional community with over 2000 units starting in the low 300’s, 8 award winning restaurants, three golf courses, a water park, equestrian program and it’s own K-12 private school.

I played a realtor espousing the amazing lifestyle and facilities, encouraging people to come by for free food and a tour. Orlando Davis asked what was happening over on the athletic field and I said, “That’s our Girl’’s lacrosse team practicing for next week’s match with Pinellas Park.” This of course spurred every pedo on the Gulf Coast to jump in their cars and try to follow the directions…which were great to a point and then just ended.

Whoops.

So I came to be at the legendary KUBE93 in Seattle for April 1, 1999. I’d gotten in two days early and there were some rough concepts in the works but nothing solid and the clock was ticking. The previous year G-105 in Raleigh had hit a homerun with a faux “audition with Robin Williams” cattle call and had found a look-a-like in the market who could pass for the comic. Hilarity ensued(™)

There was a Seattle talent agency that boasted “celebrity look-a-like” but their options were pretty weak: a Colonel Sanders, a Ruth Buzzy and someone who must’ve once been told that he looked like Ed Harris and tried to make a career out of it.

Less than 48 hours to go so we took the concept and spun it into a hybrid of the Raleigh bit: within an hour we had a spot on the air recruiting extras for a movie being shot in the market. “Ebuk Productions in conjunction with Universal Pictures are looking for young men and women to be extras in our exciting new motion picture being filmed in Seattle, ‘Dead Air’ featuring Wesley Snipes and Brad Pitt.” Please note that we didn’t say “April 1st”…

“Dead Air” was a novel that I’d been soldiering away at for three years and it had finally ground to a halt, dead in the water at page 700.

The faux commercial directed people to check in at Club DV8 starting at 9 am and to not wear white or clothing with any advertisements.

That left us less than two days to put together a film shoot.

We had to be really careful that none of the “crew” would be people who the extras would recognize from attending KUBE events, so talent and most of the street team were out of the question. We hastily recruited in the hallways and assigned people to their roles, which I walked them through.

“As an assistant director you’ll be working with the camera operator and doing things like light tests and measuring shots.”

The key was to stay busy or at least look like you were busy. There’s a secret to crashing events: look like you’re supposed to be there.

I emphasized that this was essentially going to be live theater for five or six hours and to stay in character because if just ONE person went, “Wait a minute…” we were busted.

Bridgette Schuller, the station Promotion Director lined up the club, some camera and lights and sound equipment, props for the “cast” and three RV’s in the alley with a couple of club security dudes blocking entrances to the alleys and checking credentials of the film crew as they went about their jobs.

I was “Jerry Clifton”, the director of the film. When I woke up that morning at the Hampton Inn, I thought, “There’s a nooooo…way we’re going to be able to pull this off.”

A laminate! This must be legit!

I dressed casual with my laminate and a stopwatch around my neck and with the “unit publicist” (KUBE’s actual press person) we walked the line snapping Polaroids of the wannabe extras, talking to them, making notes on a clipboard and occasionally taking a sidebar to talk quietly between ourselves about individuals. Our publicist was dressed entirely in black, just like a publicist should.

As we were getting ready to let people in, we primed-their-pump and threw a curve to reinforce the illusion that they were entering a closed set: a limo pulled into the alley and a young man in an overcoat with dark glasses and a scarf, got out and surrounded by three men in suits and ear pieces was hustled in the back door.

It took about a minute for the news that “Brad is here!” had swept the length of the line.

“Brad” was the station engineer who, from a long way away and covered up, kinda looked like Brad. At that distance, so would I. The bodyguards were an AE and two of his friends from a gym.

Some of the extras waiting for their shot at fame

Now, we had everyone inside and I introduced myself and what was going to be happening in this scene, Wesley Snipe and Brad Pitt were playing cops, but Wesley has gone bad and this is the scene where Pitt confronts him.

We spent an hour blocking the scene. At my direction, of the production moved people around on the dance floor. At one point the Assistant Director and the camera operator conferred and there were too many “light colored tops” up front. “Jerry, we’re getting blinded here.” So we pulled some people with darker shirts and swapped them in.

I was not a pleasant person. This was taking too long. At one point I went up to a couple who had arrived together, stared at them for a long time and declared, “Not believable” and swapped in another guy and moved the dude to another girl.

There was a craft service table with sandwiches and urns of coffee for the crew. The extras got chips and soft drinks.

At one point a TV crew came in for a quick story (we got on two stations that night) and I was interviewed. They’d been told it was a prank and to not let it on to the crowd. I was asked what my last film that I’d directed was and with a straight face, I said “Gandhi: The Musical.”

Next it was time to lay out the scene. Snipes would be in a booth, Pitt would enter through a far door, they would make eye contact, and Pitt would stride purposefully to the booth for a confrontation. Using a crew member, we rehearsed it. Thumping dance music, “Pitt’s stunt double” (one of the film crew) entered and tried to walk across the crowded dance floor, but unsuccessfully, so we rehearsed the dancers parting ever-so slightly as he moved across the floor.

I then singled out two attractive women and pulled them up to the booth and asked if they’d agree to be Wesley’s arm candy in the scene. I was stunned but they agreed.

It was about this time, back at KUBE, Eric Powers, had been discussing the news about this exciting film shoot happening at their club client, and, well, “I need to go down and see it for myself.”

Twenty minutes later Eric just bounded onto the dance floor live via his cell phone. Staying in character, I went ballistic. “This is a closed set!!! Who are you and how did you get in here?!”

His excitement unabated, he said “I’m Eric Powers with KUBE 93” and he turned to the dance floor of extras and said, “They know me! We’re their favorite station!” I’d been torturing and berating these people for four hours and they all looked away and took up an aura of “KUBE? Huh. Nope. Never heard of KUBE.”

I continued with him. “Okay Einstein. I’m calling Los Angeles and your station will never ever see another penny of Universal money. Happy dipstick?” (we were live)

Eric replied, “Why are you so angry. Don’t you know what today is?”

It was at this point that I heard someone in the crowd mutter “Oh no.”

Eric yelled “It’s April Fools Day!” and strategically placed confetti cannons around the club went off and our three muscle-in-suits formed a flying V and got me OUT of the club and into the limo and out of the neighborhood before the masses could kill me. Think of the scene with Reagan in “Rawhide Down.”

Three people got parking tickets which the station paid for, and everyone got tickets to an upcoming station event. There was a little grumbling I understand (remember, I was getting Rawhide Downed to a secure facility) but the vast majority expressed “I can’t believe you got me!”. KUBE had a history of historic April Fools bits and yet, every year, they “got” them.

Total cost? Under $500. Everything was borrowed except for a one day rental on some film equipment.

The pay off? The Brad and Wesley movie was the talk of Seattle for a day and we got two TV stories out of it.

Radio was the first social media and with our peers, it’s all about the stories. And thanks to some quick brainstorming one afternoon, I’ve got a great one to add to the conversation.