One million B.C., coincidentally the same time to the minute Raquel Welch appeared as that shapely Neanderthal babe in the movie of the same name, I was applying for a job in the SClarita Valley’s first television station. It was owned and run by NBC but was a cable-access outlet with the dubious call letters of VCCT — Valley County Cable Television. I called it Viet Cong Cable TV. Wasn’t supposed to.

It was early 1971 and I was 20. I had been hired to write, produce and act as talent in various news and features.

I remember sitting outside the station manager’s office, door open, my heart hitting a million. Within earshot, The Big Boss was discussing my salary with his numbers guy. The NBC CFO suggested paying me $25 an hour. I had a rather roomy, quiet, clean and cozy duplex at the time. Rent was $65 a month. Imagine covering lease or mortgage after a couple hours Monday morn.

My math then, as it is now, was sketchy, but I breathlessly calculated that I’d be making more than the president of the United States of America (Coolidge). My face sagged as I eavesdropped. My paycheck fell all the way down to $10 an hour. Still. A McDonald’s cheeseburger was 30 cents then and leftover Russian war brides were going for as little as $45.

Within a blink, I was promoted to news director by my 21st birthday. Valencia was brand-new, but, we were still a cow town. There were three kinds of women over 14 in the valley: married, old maids and steno pool at the Hart District. It was a male-dominated society, at least in the work force. One day, our........

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