“Cleveland King, Part Two”

c. 2020 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(7-20)

Note to Readers: In the first part of this series, I described how my forgotten Facebook group for Mike Trivisonno suddenly took on a new life in the COVID-19 age. The radio saga continues here as this weed-in-the-concrete-cracks blossoms into a hardy organism of its own:

As said many times during my wordsmithing adventure, the best columns often seem to write themselves. From real events can come true inspiration. Direct, plainspoken, and wonderfully authentic.

An example of this personal maxim appeared when my online group for Cleveland radio personality Mike Trivisonno exploded with new members. Something that happened by circumstance, after a long period of dormant irrelevance.

I had followed ‘Triv’ since days at WNCX, where his analysis of boxing and other sports added a bit of spice to their morning broadcasts. He was known to be an outsider of sorts, having no formal background in radio. But frequent calls to media legend Pete Franklin had made him known to listeners. That got him in the door, as a spokesman for the common citizen.

In modern terms, Trivisonno had grown in stature and infamy. His presence at WTAM helped make the station a formidable player in the Cleveland market. Because of their signal strength, he was soon able to boast of reaching “Thirty-eight states, and half of Canada.” He changed co-hosts and the crew over time, and tried various tweaks to the basic formula. When news events were thin, he channeled Art Bell and talked about contrails in the azure blue. His ashtray voice and off-the-cuff presentation remained strong. He always sounded like a guy at the end of your favorite bar. Loud, opinionated, sometimes teetering on the edge of wanton credulity, but undeniably part of the scene.

A loyal voice for the neighborhood.

In modern terms, I had lost touch with the show. But disability and early retirement meant that I had more free time to revive our connection. So when the lost Facebook group began to thrive in fertile soil provided by political discontent and the Coronavirus, my radio tuned back to Triv. I quickly realized that he had become enamored of Donald J. Trump. Something I did not share. It seemed a bit surprising after his seminal period as a working-class laborer. A fellow far from the privileged few in the financial district of New York.

Yet this tilt toward the Cheeto-in-Chief began to make more sense when talking to an old friend and neighbor. Someone who had been a butcher for one of the successful supermarket chains based by Lake Erie. I saw him while walking my Black Lab in a field between our homes. After a brief greeting, my friend gushed praise for president. When I mentioned the disarray and bumbling of his administration, there was a look of disbelief in return. Then a familiar refrain. “Fake news!” He praised many accomplishments that were ignored by mainstream media outlets. Few of which could be quantified with literal facts. But his passion did not wane while speaking about MAGA glory. “Trump in 2020!” he cheered. “Melania in 2024! Don Jr. in 2032!”

After our encounter, I pondered that Trivisonno, once again, had tapped into this energy of everyday people. Those less interested in hard, scientific analysis, and more focused on the grit and grime of American life. Though divided by social strata, Triv and Trump were both comets in the cosmos. Flying on personal inertia. Defying the odds, and galactic boundaries imagined by celestial mapmakers. Their very existence exploded every accepted norm of being.

My role as administrator of the Facebook crossroads caused some personal guilt. I was a political agnostic, with no devotion to the dominant paradigm of elephant versus donkey. But after considering options to delete the group, or pass authority to someone else, I decided to continue. My fan affinity for Triv had not waned. Curiosity made me want to observe and record the reactions of his listeners. Perhaps with a sense that at some future date, he might look back with fond amusement.

I suspected that he was more of an entertainer than a pundit fueled by commentary and opinion. He had learned the craft of radio broadcasting through hands-on experience. Whether crudely dissecting the incompetence of Cleveland Browns football, crime, or Cleveland politics, he spoke as an everyman.

Always to his listeners, directly.

Membership in the group had originally been around a dozen. But with the passing of a decade and beyond, suddenly there were more. Many more. When the roster reached 500, I was breathless. But at 750, I felt amazed. At 1000, I became overwhelmed with disbelief. Each week, a steady march of followers arrived for approval. 1100, then 1200... all looking to join La Famiglia Trivisonno.

More, more, more.

Predictably, they were white, older, and conservative. Seemingly, consumers of various Fox News broadcasts and Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck as alternatives on the radio. The sort of folk not given to embracing ‘Black Lives Matter’ or the statue-toppling wave of ‘Cancel Culture’ activity.

Some reacted favorably to posts about vintage Cleveland sports icons, or brewing history. There was palpable disdain for Mayor Frank Jackson. Loyalty to Chief Wahoo as a baseball logo. Indifference to LeBron James, despite the 2016 Cavaliers NBA Championship. I tried to include posts which aligned with Trivisonno’s show topics, or ideas that seemed likely for the future.

COVID-19 remained a central theme on-the-air, and in the listener posts. There was outrage for mask orders and the general idea of government directives affecting everyday habits. Yet by contrast, support for federal intervention to combat protesters in the nation’s cities. This confused logic may have been anathema to political scientists. Like those celebrated by the New York Times, and CNN. But to Triv, it was bread and butter made for the masses. A meal to be consumed with gratitude. Like manna from Heaven.

Echoing his hero with the spray-tan and wave of bleached hair, Trivisonno was in the hunt for ratings. Real-world success, not laudation from scholars and students.

With a national election drawing nearer and the global pandemic continuing, I reckoned that there would be plenty of material for future shows. The only question was about what might come afterward. When the confetti had settled. On a second term for Trump, or a new age of Biden and his Democratic cohorts. What then for a local hero?

If nothing else, there would always be the contrails.

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