Buffalo, NY, 1947: A young white guy in a racially-divided town crosses the literal racial divide of Main Street to hang in the Black clubs and soak up the Blues and R&B music he loves. He's a deejay at a small radio station, catering (like all local stations of the time) to a white audience with the likes of Bing Crosby and Peggy Lee. He starts playing Black music on his show, and is promptly fired. 

 

But he soon lands another show at another small station, which agrees to let him play whatever he wants. His show starts to take off: apparently, to the chagrin of their parents, a lot of white teenagers are listening raptly to this sinful, sensual "race music." He adopts a jive-talkin' hipster persona, "The Hound," and soon lands a side gig at a small station in Cleveland. He commutes 3 hours each way between the two cities. 

 

Another deejay at that Cleveland station notes the growing popularity of Lorenz' Black R&B format and hipster canine persona. His name is Alan Freed. He soon moves to a crosstown station and copies Lorenz's  musical format, even calling himself "Hound Dog."  After a lawsuit threat from the real Hound, Freed changes his self-anointed nickname to "Moon Dog."

 

Both the original and the copycat (copydog?) shows are hits, and both men soon move to larger, more powerful stations in other cities. George Lorenz moves back to Buffalo to be closer to his ailing mother, and signs on with WKBW 1520 AM, with a mighty 50,000-watt clear channel signal that reaches the entire eastern third of the US and Canada. When atmospheric conditions were right, even reaching into northwestern Europe.

 

Alan Freed also moves to a bigger station, also with 50,000 watts of power, in a very big market: WINS in New York City. But it's a directional signal, aimed at the densely-packed millions in the greater municipal area, not reaching very far outside of it. Meanwhile, George Lorenz is reaching far more people and making little-known musicians into overnight national stars.

 

He nationally breaks the Black founders of rock & roll -- Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Bo Diddley, Fats Domino. And also their first white imitator, Elvis. All of those guys are on record as giving the Hound credit for launching their careers from regional acts to nationwide stars.  One spin on his show could do that.

 

For example: in 1955 he receives a single by a little-known (outside of the South) Elvis Presley, "Mystery Train."  The Hound digs it, spins it, and overnight Elvis is a national, not just a regional star. He records "Hound Dog" as a tribute to George Lorenz. Sends him a telegram saying "watch Ed Sullivan this Sunday" when he debuted the song on national TV, and then sends him the first record of it to be played on radio.

 

Among the Hound's many listeners is a teenage Jaime "Robbie" Robertson up in Ontario, who at one point takes a four-hour bus trip from Toronto down to Buffalo just to stand outside the Club Zanzibar, from whence the Hound often broadcast his shows. He was too young to get in, but he could hear the music and feel the energy. In his autobiography, he names the Hound as the man who inspired him to become a rock & roller, setting him on the path to co-founding the Band.

 

The Hound also promotes and emcees shows with Black and white artists playing together. Black and white teens in the audience dance together. In the mid-50s. In a racist town, as all American towns were then (and most, sadly, still are).

 

His show becomes such a huge success that WKBW decides to become the first station to adopt an all-rock & roll format in 1958. Great news for the nation's teenagers, but with an insidious catch: it's a top 40 format. Only the hits. No giving unknown, up-and-coming artists their radio debut. 

 

The Hound immediately quits (possibly Jim Santella's inspiration for quitting on air for essentially the same reason two decades later.) He speaks out passionately in the press about how harmful top 40 will be, to artists, listeners, and the music itself.

 

One year later, Alan Freed's career goes down in flames in a payola scandal. In disgrace, he drinks himself to death in 1965 at age 43. Yet his gift for self-promotion as "the first rock & roll deejay" outlives him in popular media, including the hagiographical 1978 film, "American Hot Wax."

 

After a few years at another small AM station, George Lorenz applies for the last FM frequency in Buffalo. In 1964, WBLK goes on the air. His loyal listeners flock to it, opening the door for more FM stations to become commercially viable with no stinking playlists.

 

A few years later, health issues arise, and in 1972, George "Hound Dog" Lorenz dies at the age of 53. We could have used the Hound around for a few more decades. But what he accomplished in thirty years of radio -- veritably birthing the national rock & roll revolution, and championing freeform radio over playlists -- is one hell of a legacy. 

 

Hollywood made movies about his imitators (including Wolfman Jack after Moon Dog), but there's not even a Wikipedia page about the real, original freeform rock & roll deejay. His story is a great movie still waiting to be made.

 

Sources:

https://www.hounddoglorenz.com/

https://ricksmusictrivia.wordpress.com/2018/08/07/george-hound-dog-lorenz-buffalos-legendary-disc-jockey/

http://blog.buffalostories.com/tag/the-hound/

https://www.bmhof.org/files/george-lorenz-billboard-article-12-2-78-2.pdf

 

Don't Bother Knockin'... This Town's A Rockin':  A History of Traditional Rhythm and Blues & Early Rock'n' Roll In Buffalo, New York. Authors: Lee, Gary; Lee, Patti Meyer. ISBN-13: 9780970174901

 

Testimony. Author: Robbie Robertson. ISBN: 0307889785