Joe Bailey is a part-time disk jockey in Orlando, Fla. whose show, he cheerfully admits, has the lowest rating in town. The once-a-month taped show, in fact, is aimed at an audience of only two—Joe's children—a son, J.B., 13, and a daughter, Suzanne, 10, who live with Bailey's ex-wife in Baltimore.

The show is Joe's elaborate effort to keep him in touch with his kids, and seems to be effective. "My son says he plays the tapes almost every day," Bailey says. "You can't ask for more than that." When Bailey, a 41-year-old advertising art director, and his wife were divorced six years ago, she and the children stayed on in Florida. He saw them frequently. But when all three moved to Baltimore four years ago, Bailey soon found he was drifting away from them.

"I did a lot of soul-searching then," he says. "I read one very sobering book which said that once you walk out the door, you lose your children. I was bound and determined that was not going to happen to me." At first Bailey relied on telephone calls, written and then taped letters. "The kids liked them well enough," he says. "But they played them once or twice and that was all. And it was an awful lot of work. I'm just not by nature a talker, and I wasn't getting enough mileage out of it."

Bailey's ingenious solution was an imaginary rock station, WOJB, with a monthly half-hour taped program catering to his children's tastes and interests. Since his own musical preferences are light-classical and jazz, he has had to rapidly expand his knowledge of "bubble gum" and hard rock. "When I started buying rock records I felt like a teenager with arthritis," he admits. "But it has turned out to be a lot of fun."

He has now settled on a format—three minutes' talking and four records on each side of the tape. He includes the top records as they come along, plus others that his children have requested—"It gives them a chance to identify with the tape." He also adds a golden oldie or two or "something I liked which they may not."

For variety he has "guest spots," featuring friends that J.B. or Suzanne met on vacation with Joe in Orlando. He has also "covered" a race at Daytona speedway, checked out Disney World for new acts and, while record-shopping, even found a vintage Lone Ranger recording for which one of J.B.'s schoolmates offered him $5.

"Hello, Suzanne. Hi, J.B.," begins the October tape. "This is the Joe Bailey Show, on tape from Orlando, especially for you. I've got a lot of surprises for you. We're going to Disney World next time you're here. Suzanne, I hope your sore throat is better. And J.B., I'm very proud of your wrestling team. And now—here it is—Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods with 'Who Do You Think You Are'..."

Bailey admits, "I know it's no substitute for being with them." But he feels it gives them a kind of "instant daddy. All they have to do is plug in a cassette and they've got me." And J.B. and Suzanne do so, over and over again. What's more, they invite in their friends to listen. "They think the music is the greatest," reports J.B., and then adds more privately, "Whenever I'm homesick for Dad, I play one of his tapes, and it seems to make me feel better."

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