DISK JOCKEYS: The Gone Coyote

Easily the least attractive product of Detroit since the exhaust pipe, Disk Jockey Tom Clay seemed to have hit the final groove last fall when, on the testimony of a rock-‘n’-roll promoter sometimes known as Nivens the Nightshade, he was caught flat out accepting large scoops of payola. Clay candidly discussed his history on the take and became one of the most celebrated ex-deejays in the U.S. Last week Deejay Clay was not only spinning once again, but to Detroit’s shocked surprise, he was doing it for WQTE, a more-filtered-than-thou sort of radio station that had long bragged of its pure air and its superiority to rock-‘n’-roll, vulgar whistles and echo chambers.

“Cutey is a great station, baby,” said Clay to his listeners last week, rambling from one speckled inanity to another, eating a candy bar with exaggerated slurps, grunts and lip smacks so everyone could enjoy it with him. “I’m a flake. I tell my mother I’m a flake. I’m really unusual,” he said, exhibiting new insights since his observation in the autumn that “I am such a sweet little guy.” He bragged about the night he drove his Lincoln convertible to the parking lot of his former station, WJBK, sat there and bayed at the building like a gone coyote.

A single question kept buzzing into the switchboard at Cutey: “How did this happen?” Confesses the station’s vice president, Richard Jones: “We’ve got to make money.” Staggering toward the red, WQTE had settled for feet of Clay in order “to get the kids back.” To keep their man out of stir, the station rigidly selects the records he plays; meanwhile, Sweet Little Tom is delivering the kids with inscrutable magic, personally answering all fan mail, writing with white ink on black paper.