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CEA 2000

O.T.'s Split Personality
Legendary Jazz DJ made a name for himself with his 'night job'

INTERVIEW BY RICK PENDER • ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN NOVEMBER 2000

When Art Pedersen moved to Cincinnati in 1960, no one knew a legend had arrived. In fact, most people had no idea that the guy who came to manage a sales territory for a manufacturer of high-speed cutting tools had an alter ego: Oscar Treadwell, a radio name he’d created 14 years earlier to announce Jazz programs for several East Coast stations.

Oscar Treadwell Photo By Danny Nader

He had such an impact on Jazz in the 1940s and '50s that several Jazz greats wrote tunes in his honor. Charlie Parker wrote and recorded (with Dizzy Gillespie) "An Oscar for Treadwell;" Thelonious Monk wrote "Oska T;" and tenor saxophonist Wardell Gray penned "Treadin’ with Treadwell."

His name was familiar to Jazz musicians everywhere, and his deep, warm voice and profound enthusiasm for the music affected several generations of radio listeners. In 1996, the University of Cincinnati gave Treadwell, a high-school graduate, an honorary doctorate for his lifelong advocacy of Jazz.

No longer regularly on the radio, Oscar Treadwell, 74, has a voice you'd still find familiar. Long known for his late-night Jazz With O.T. on WGUC-FM, heard locally and syndicated nationwide, he made subsequent brief stops on WVXU (1996) and "The Wave," WVAE (1997-1998). In 1998, he moved to WMKV-FM, a station broadcasting music from the Big Band era.

But WMKV is a volunteer operation, and Treadwell had reprioritized his time to become a full-time caregiver for his wife, Caroline, whose health was failing. After a year at WMKV, he retired from radio work. If he's called upon, he'll still do voice work for radio and television commercials.

Back in the late 1940s, Treadwell hadn't imagined that radio had a role for him. He had to wait in line to get his first job. Fresh out of the service in 1946 and in a dead-end job, he heard about an opening for a radio announcer's job in Reading, Pa.

He was advised to seek another career. He smiles as he remembers the time: "I came in 13th of 13 tryouts. I told my family, 'I guess I’m not going to be a radio announcer.' "

Somehow the other 12 guys dropped away, and he got the call.

He read news copy at first, sounding very official. "The job paid heavy money," he remembers. "$25 a week!"

But before long he was pulling down about $50. So he called his girl, Caroline, and said, "Hey, I'm in the money. Let's get married." They celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary before her death in October 1999.

The news reading didn't last long. He was asked to host a program of Pop music called Noontime Tunetime, which he turned into Echoes of Jazz. A news guy couldn't play music, so "I decided to use a different name. I'd be 'Oscar X. Treadwell, nom de guerre,' because someone told me I couldn't say nom de plume since I wasn't writing.”

Treadwell moved around to a few stations specializing in Jazz, but he and Caroline kept having kids and his radio salary was unpredictable. Finally she said, "Could you get a real job?"

He had a friend who worked for a company that made hand saws, and he became a successful salesman.

"I enjoyed that, too," says Treadwell, upbeat no matter what he's describing. "It's almost like being on the air, because you’re talking to people and doing something you know is right. All salesmen feel that way or they’re not good salesmen."

Art Pedersen thrived in business, eventually moving to a larger company for more money and a New England sales territory. "Oscar Treadwell was always part of my life," he adds, since he could still do programs on the weekends.

In 1960, he moved to Cincinnati as a regional sales manager. Before long, Oscar Treadwell showed up on WZIP and then moved in 1965 to the legendary "Jazz ark," WNOP-AM, afloat on a small barge in Newport. After eight years, he moved to Classical music station WGUC, where he remained for 22 years, mostly at midnight.

Treadwell continues to live in the ranch-style home in Anderson Township he shared with his his wife. It still holds fond memories for him. He was grateful for the years Caroline gave him the freedom to do what he wanted to do. When illness required them to reverse roles, he did so gladly, likening the situation to taking on a new job.

Now that she's gone, Jazz remains the enlivening passion of his life. He doesn't treat it as an academic subject but rather as a living, evolving art form. He's right there with it.

"To me, nothing in life is uninteresting," he says, peppering his conversation with anecdotes about Jazz musicians and friends. Even though he's no longer producing a Jazz program for broadcast — he says he'd be happy to do one if anyone were to ask — Treadwell maintains a massive library of recordings at his home.

He's also spending a lot of time working out at the Mercy Healthplex and reading.

"When I was working 70 hours a week," he recalls of a time when he was managing a sales territory and producing radio programs, "I acquired a lot of books I planned to read someday. Now I have the time, and I'm getting the chance to experience some of the greats like Emerson and Carlyle and John Stuart Mill.

"There's no end to how far we can go with any subject at all. But what makes it enjoyable and exciting is what we bring to it. I think that's what brings happiness to your life. What do you add to the subject? Looking inside is as important as looking outside. Whatever the job a man has, he’s just got to give more of himself, and then he’ll find the interest somehow will be overwhelming."

As a young man in the Air Force, thinking he already knew a lot about Jazz, he met someone who took the wind out of his sails. Treadwell had been extolling Benny Goodman.

"In the barracks one day, this guy had an amplifier, a turntable and a huge 12-inch speaker, and he played stuff I had never heard of," Treadwell remembers. " 'You think Benny Goodman is the greatest clarinetist that ever lived, right? Let me play something for you by Pee Wee Russell.' I’d never heard of Pee Wee Russell. As I listened to this guy's excitement at Russell's playing, I couldn't escape it."

Treadwell worries that people today are missing a lot about Jazz. He learns from the Internet and says many American Jazz musicians are better known around the world than at home.

"It won't be the first time," he says. "We missed the great black Blues players until the Rolling Stones came back and told us about them. Getting involved is powerfully important."

His passion for getting involved and learning as much as possible has carried him for many years. Treadwell loves to share his passion with others.

As a result, his life has been fulfilling enough for two men: Art Pedersen and Oscar Treadwell. Jazz lovers are lucky both of them coexisted, mutually nourishing body and soul for a half-century.