<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9709200028
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
970921
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, September 21, 1997
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1E
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1997, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
IF THIS IS TUESDAY, IT MUST BE AKRON
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
By the time you read this, I will be home. At least I should be home. On a
book tour, you never know. I might be stuck in a St. Louis radio station,
between Oasis records.
  
Which is not an exaggeration. There I was, out on tour for "Tuesdays With
Morrie" -- which is a small, inspirational book about an old man who is dying
talking to a young man about what's really important in life -- so naturally I
was ushered into an FM alternative rock station, where a disc jockey
introduced me by fading down the volume on -- I'm not kidding here -- the new
Oasis single.

"Yeah!" he bellowed. "That was from their new album ...and now we have a guy
with a book about the meaning of life. But before we do that, Mitch ...how
about that Stanley Cup, huh?"
  
Now, I don't want to be one of those writers who whines about a book tour.
After all, the publisher could just leave you home, hoping people will
discover the book if it accidentally falls off the shelf and lands on their
heads. Besides, thanks to book tours, you get to travel the country, meeting
experienced interviewers, some of whom actually have read a book. Not yours,
of course. But somebody's.
  
Also, you get to learn new things about radio and TV. For example, I always
thought AM stations fell somewhere between 540 and 1700 on the dial. Not true.
I did a station so small, its number was "4."
  
One station actually was located in the back of a house. I don't think this
one even had a number, unless it was on the mailbox. The "studio" was a room
with a window. And the window was open! And sure enough, smack in the middle
of our interview -- which was live -- someone started mowing the lawn.
  
So the interview went like this:
  
"Mitch, tells us about rrrrRRRRRRRNNNNN ith Morrie?"
  
"Well, it's rrrNNNrrrnn of a book . . ."
  

  
Lots of travel, little sleep
  
Still, authors can never do enough radio interviews, since you never know
whether the guy mowing the lawn will need something to read before he starts
weeding. And since these tours are usually booked out of New York (where the
motto is "The rest of the country is all hicks, so what's the difference?")
you often end up at places where reading is not the top priority, such as the
country station, the oldies station, the farm report station, "Good Morning,
Akron," "Lunchtime in Akron," and "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy in Akron."
  
And then you fly to the next city.
  
Theses flights, by the way, frequently leave at 10 p.m. and arrive the next
city at 1 a.m. You get to your hotel at 2:30 a.m., and you are booked for a TV
interview at 6:05 a.m. This ensures that the viewer will remember your book
because, when he sees you on the screen, he will say, "Hey, Ethel, c'mere and
look! He's got bags under his eyes like Edward G. Robinson!"
  
Of course, not all TV appearances are grueling. I did a show on a financial
station in Chicago. As I fixed my tie, the host told me to relax and not
bother.
  
"Most of the screen is covered by the stock market ticker anyhow," he said.
  
There was the rock station in Denver where the host was named "Floorwax." I am
not sure why. There was also the interview in LA with a Jewish TV network in
which the host promised to get to my book "in just a second. But first, Mitch,
let me ask you the obvious question ...why don't we have more Jewish
athletes?"
  
Uhhh ...
  
There was a Midwestern station where the host asked me to write my name and
the name of my book and the subject of my book on a piece of paper, which he
could read as he went along. There was also a Chicago host who -- 10 seconds
before we went on the air -- asked me this: "In Macbeth, what was the name of
the second king who gets killed at the beginning?"
  
Uhhh ...
  
There was a woman in Seattle who interviewed me on a Radio Shack cassette
player. And there was a nice man in Santa Cruz, Calif., who not only put me on
his show, but carried my luggage to his car and drove me down to another
station.
  
It was the first time I ever tipped a host.
  

  
Long and winding road
  
Anyhow, as I said, I do not want to seem ungrateful. I have been on some
wonderful shows on this tour, with real microphones and everything. And the
book was kindly reviewed by USA Today, the Boston Globe and the Chicago
Tribune, and not one of them mentioned a lawn mower.
  
But you do have to wonder, when you're doing "Wake Up, Tacoma" -- in between a
dog trainer and a rosebush expert -- just what impact you're making.
  
Then again, in a world where the hosts are named "Floorwax," how much does it
take to make an impact?
  
Anyhow, I'm home now. I think. I hope. And despite all the crazy stops, I'm
told the book is doing well, and I want to thank everyone who is making that
possible. Especially Oasis.
  
To leave a message for Mitch Albom, call 1-313-223-4581.
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THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
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<KEYWORDS>
COLUMN
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