THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 2, 1995 TAG: 9507020096
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY PAUL SOUTH, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: BELVIDERE, N.C. LENGTH: Long : 109 lines
Wolfman Jack, whose soulful, sandpaper voice entertained legions of radio listeners and inspired a generation of disc jockeys, died Saturday after suffering a massive heart attack at his home. He was 57.
Born Robert Weston Smith in Brooklyn, N.Y., on Jan. 21, 1938, Wolfman Jack began his radio career at Newport News station WYOU (now WAFX) in 1960 and was Daddy Jules on WTID in Norfolk.
He died about 11 a.m. after returning home from a book tour. His autobiography, ``Have Mercy! Confessions of the Original Rock 'n' Roll Animal,'' was released last month.
``He had just walked into the house, and was hugging his wife when he collapsed,'' said Lonnie Napier, the disc jockey's longtime manager. Wolfman was taken to Chowan Hospital in nearby Edenton, where he was pronounced dead.
The Wolfman had lived in this small Chowan County town for the past six years. He married Belvidere native Lou Lamb in 1961.
The disc jockey was riding a comeback wave. With the release of the book, and a Washington, D.C.-based syndicated radio show, the Wolfman's trademark howl was gaining new fans.
Wolfman had hosted ``Planet Hollywood,'' a syndicated show, since February 1994. He called his on-air time ``a party in the studio - even if it's all in my head.''
``Being the Wolfman is more than just spinning records and making a funky, beastly sound of joy come out of a human throat,'' he wrote in his new book. ``It's being a mouthpiece for the possibility of happiness, it's about the great connection to humanity that you can find in just spreading love around and being your own true self.''
Despite a career that would propel him into movies (playing himself in the 1973 film, ``American Graffiti''), on records (``Clap for the Wolfman'' by the Guess Who) and television (``The Hollywood Squares''), Napier said all Wolfman wanted to do was play records.
``Wolfman Jack was the ultimate . . . the DJ of all DJs,'' Napier said, his voice shaking. ``Of all the things in his life, he loved radio. He loved radio. He didn't have to do movies or television or a book to be happy. All he needed was sit in front of the microphone, play records, and make people happy. If that was all he had ever done, that would have been fine with him.''
``No matter if you're feeling happy or depressed, come on in here man,'' he wrote. ``We're going to fill you with a little goodness. Maybe you're under a dark cloud. Well, there's a bright, sunshiny day over here. . . We're gonna cook a big pot of that Memphis Soul Stew until we do a total re-do on your boogaloo situation.''
In his three-decade career, Wolfman Jack played rock 'n' roll, rhythm and blues, gospel and even a touch of country at stations from Los Angeles to Newport News to the Mexican border. His voice was heard by millions of fans on 2,200 stations in 43 countries.
He took on the Wolfman Jack persona during his days at Los Angeles station KDAY, after leaving XERF in Ciudad Acuna, Mexico. Many of the XERF shows were heard across the United States and in other countries.
``At night, the station is going halfway around the world,'' he said recently, ``and I was on at midnight, the best time to be on the air. That's when people are getting loose . . . You really get people to listen to you.''
Once joining KDAY, the Wolfman took many of the XERF tapes, edited them and syndicated them nationally. The show was first picked up in Honolulu, then Tulsa, Okla. But a break came when Armed Forces Radio added the syndicated show to its playlist.
In his book, the Wolfman said he took great pride in entertaining American troops at the height of the Vietnam War.
``One of the things I feel best about, looking back across my career, is giving those overstressed, hard-hit folks serving in Vietnam a sense of happier times to come. Something to get their minds beyond the foxholes, Agent Orange, med-evac chopper rides and all the other `Apocalypse Now' craziness.''
In 1972, Wolfman became the voice for the replacement NBC television series ``The Midnight Special.'' The show was picked up for a full season in 1973, and ran for nine years. He also did a similar show for the Canadian Broadcasting Corp.
But his biggest break came in 1973, when he was cast in ``American Graffiti'' by a then little-known director named George Lucas. He was paid $3,000 for the role of a Popsicle-eating disc jockey.
The role resurrected a career damaged by cocaine use.
``I did party hearty, and sometimes I didn't make it home at night. . . I was working hard, taking drugs too often, and selfishly glomming on all the free stuff that was offered.''
For the past six years, a clean and sober Wolfman lived in this quiet North Carolina town with his wife, Lou. In the epilogue of his autobiography, he summed up his philosophy of life.
``The quickest, most surefire way to acquire some soul is entering the happiness business,'' he wrote. ``I found my way to happiness by becoming lovestruck with black music . . . You can break in by spending your energy, big time, in doing nice things for people whenever you can.''
Smith is survived by his wife, daughter Joy, 33; and son Tod, 31. Funeral arrangements are pending. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
by CNB