The Rule Maker

I resigned from The Charlotte News in 1969 to go to work for WAYS radio in Charlotte. I didn’t want to be radio news reporter but John Kilgo, the WAYS news director, had offered me a company car — I was driving a rusty Chevrolet Corvair, the one I bought for $1 and a whole lot more money.

this is a 1986 file photo of perry morgan, former publisher of the virginian-pilot and the ledger-star. photo was taken in march, l986.
This is a 1986 photo of Perry Morgan, courtesy of The Virginian-Pilot and The Ledger-Star, where Morgan was publisher.

So I went to see Perry Morgan, editor of The News, and resigned.

“You not hitting me up for more money, are you?” Morgan said to me.

“No sir,” I replied.

“You’re really quitting. You’re going to be a radioman.”

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Boy, you’re a fool!” Morgan told me. “You should be trying to hit me up for more money.”

I told him, I said “Perry, I know the rules. The maximum raise here is $10 a year. It would be years before you could pay me as much money as WAYS is going to pay me now.”

And Morgan replied, “I made the rules. I can change the rules.”

Postscript:  He did change the rules, at least for me. And my radio career was over before it had begun.

John "Killer" Kilgo
John “Killer” Kilgo

NOTE:  Kilgo, the guy who tried to get me to go to work for WAYS radio, had been a reporter at The News  when I graduated college and went to work there full time in June 1966. He was, by far, the most dominant  breaking news reporter in Charlotte and, it turns out, the best breaking news reporter I ever worked with or against in a 42 year career.  Most of his stories, it seemed like, were published on the front page.

Kilgo’s nickname was “Killer.”  I don’t know where that moniker came from but it was well deserved.  He did not take prisoners.

When I went to work at The News “Killer” was told to take me around my beat — I was assigned to cover county government, the District and Superior Courts and the Sheriff’s Department — and introduce me, help me get off to a good start.  He had covered that beat and knew everyone. He took me around, introduced me, said the usual nice things and then, right in front of me, he would say, “I want you to help this boy out when you can but if you got something good, call me.”

Like I said, “Killer” did not take prisoners.

Coming Friday: More Growing Up Country

You Want Ugly?


My father-in-law, Jack Hyland, was a regular at auctions and junk yards around Charlotte and he would buy almost anything if the price was right.

One time he bought a box of second hand pantyhose and took them home to his wife and two daughters, thinking they would be pleased.  He was wrong about that.  Another time he bought a size two wedding dress.

And who would bid on a box of stuff not knowing what was inside? Jack Hyland.

Jack Hyland
Jack Hyland

Junk he bought was crammed into a plumbing shop he owned on Charles Avenue and several thousand square feet of a warehouse he rented in North Charlotte.

And it’s good thing, too.

When I resigned from The Charlotte News in 1971 and we moved to Knightdale, N.C., we kept our house in Charlotte, on Uppergate Lane, for years and rented it.   We only had one one bad tenant but she was a doozy.  After her husband moved out, or got thrown out, I had to keep after her to pay the rent but I didn’t force her to move until her kids started tearing shingles off the roof. When I finally got them out of there I began cleaning up the mess she left behind, including a dead chicken.  Have you ever smelled a chicken that’s been dead for a week? 

There were a lot of things that had to be fixed before I could rent the house again, including damage to some awful looking paneling in the family room.

I had paid for that paneling but I hadn’t picked it out. I had let her and her husband get what they wanted and what they wanted was some green and white streaked stuff that looked a lot like splattered puke.  I had to replaced two of those panels and I had no idea how I was going to find an identical match. And if I couldn’t I’d have to repanel the whole room.  Who in the world would have a supply of such awful looking paneling?

Jack Hyland, of course, at his shop on Charles Street.  It was brand new, too.  

Coming Monday: The Racist