He had an imaginary crew and offered in-flight movies (he once announced "Exodus" and listed as its stars some DJs who'd left KYA). At 4 AM, he had imaginary flight attendants handing out "after-crash mints."
The flight took off at midnight and touched down at 6 a.m, and along the way, Mr. Syracuse invented an irreverent free-form FM style before free-form FM radio came along. He flew directly into the headwinds of the '60s - protests, civil rights, free speech, long hair, war, drugs -- with what seemed to be a perfect blend of silliness, surrealism and cynicism. Every night he played rock 'n' roll and personified freedom.
It started during a period when an AM alarm clock was the height of teenage cool. To sneak in late listening, kids kept transistor radios under their pillows. They were rewarded by antics such as Mr. Syracuse suddenly deciding he was sick of an overplayed hit - say, "Stop! In the Name of Love" - and bomb it with sound-and-voice effects until the music came to a screeching halt. The record would just die, and he'd laugh and go on to the next thing...
In a lilting, laughing voice, he got away with sayings like, "May the bird of paradise eat your face." And he gleefully attacked sponsors. His biggest advertiser was Mayfair supermarkets, which used a jingle sung by "Bob and Penny Mayfair." One night, The Moose bombed the bouncy couple.
A gifted singer, he imitated a trumpet and tooted along with Bert Kaempfert songs. When he read or heard something he didn't quite get, he'd quick-glide into a falsetto "whaaat?" that fans soon adapted into their daily lives.
A DJ at another station told Russ that when he turned his radio on at 2 AM everything was bland. But when he hit Moose's show, and it was like "punching into a circus".
All this was before FM and "underground radio." In fact, long before Tom Donahue hooked up with KMPX Russ was a hero of what came to be known as the counterculture. When some radio people discuss the true beginnings of free-form radio, they talk about the Moose.
But he wasn't what a lot of people thought he was. When psychedelia took hold, Mr. Syracuse developed a spacey voice that was so convincing, he was hired as the emcee for the first Family Dog, the hippie commune turned production company, dance concert at San Francisco's Longshoremen's Hall in 1965. Family Dog assumed he was part of the drug culture. But he was a straight family man that "got high on pizza, hamburgers and chocolate milk."
Mr. Syracuse was born and raised in Rochester, N.Y. He became a schoolteacher and served in the Navy during the Korean War. He started in radio in Syracuse in 1956, then moved to WKBW, a Top 40 station in Buffalo. One day he was late and barged into the studio half-dressed. A co-worker said he arrived with all the grace of a moose.
Syracuse worked for three years at WKBW and left for San Francisco and KYA in 1962. When the owner asked him to be program director, he balked at the promotion. Moose told him that he had gotten into radio to be behind the mike and not behind a desk. Owners have egos, so he put Russ on the all-night show.
The graveyard shift, Syracuse said, “was always regarded as a prison. And I figured, if I’m already in prison, they can’t do anything more to me, so I’ll do whatever I feel like doing. … In Top 40, you have no creativity whatsoever. As soon as I got on the all-night show, it was like letting a wild lion out of a cage … and that’s when I had the fun.”
Syracuse fit perfectly with Top 40. He could talk a record up and hit the post with his ears closed, and he worked the phones with the best of them. But he also slid easily into other formats, making adjustments to his shtick as necessary, and shrugging off the uncertainties of the business.
In 1986, he looked back at 24 years in San Francisco. He'd worked at KYA four different times, at KSFO three times, at KFRC twice, just before and just after its peak Top 40 years, and at four other stations.