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TWO FUNNY PHILLY GUYS starring the amazing Joe Conklin and Big Daddy Graham
is coming to Phoenixville's Colonial Theatre April 15. Special Guest MC... GLEN MACNOW!
Click Here for tix!



If you are a music lover and you haven't been listening to BIG DADDY'S CLASSIC ROCK THROWDOWN with Spins Nitely, then check it out!

Every THURSDAY at 8 PM. Listen live at http://wildfireradio.com/big-daddy-graham. By the way, all you have to do is click on that wildfire blue line and the most current show will AUTOMATICALLY begin to play,  Just give it a moment



We salute:
Part 1

Check out last week's Irish Musicians (U2, Van, Thin Lizzy, etc
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Check out Ava's podcast THE AVA GRAHAM HOUR on Wildfire Radio live every Thursday at 5:30 PM.  It's really funny and of course being a podcast you can listen to it anytime you want.  Just click here to check it out




THURSDAY ~ Red Star Craft House in Exton PA at 8 PM


My daughter Ava is running a Quizzo nite every every Monday at 7:30pm at ROCCO'S in Wilmington!   And now at CHICKIE & PETE'S in Drexel Hill every Tuesday at 7 PM! Plus every Wednesday night at 8PM at PJ WHELIHANS in Haddonfield. Don't forget Thursday night at 7pm at CHICKIE & PETE'S in South Philly! That's a busy schedule!

Big Daddy Graham-Marc Farzetta & Joe Conklin taking a stab at Sinatra's "Summer Wind!" Click Here



As you know the Overlap Show is a quick little show that comes at the end of my shift.  Because of it's short length, the woman who holds this title can not be taller than 5'3".  Jennifer Love Hewitt is currently wearing the crown, but we are currently nominating new babes.  Remember this is just the nomination process.  There's nothing final yet.   If you have a woman you care to nominate, click on the EMAIL BIG DADDY button at top of the page and fire away.  Here are the women who are nominated so far and remember they are simply in ALPHABETICAL ORDER.


libertybellbank-logoHey! If you need any mortgage work done whatsoever
get hold of my main man Ken Miller at
856-830-1131 or 609-238-3293
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Here's my latest article for the South Jersey Mag...


447PMMARCH 5TH, 2015When I was a kid, I always took this expression to mean one thing.  That this was the year the Phillies were going to win the World Series. 

The “hope” signified that this year, finally, was the season the Phils were going to pull it off.  When it’s the month of March and the boys are taking the field down in Florida, everyone is 0-0.  Why can’t it be us?  You waited all fall and winter to break out the bats and gloves, why can’t one hope?  Yeah, I get it, my old man, who was born in 1912 for crying out loud, had never seen the Phils win a World Series, but why would I let a little fact like that get in the way?

The “Spring” part of the expression came from just that.  The season of spring.  The arrival of baseball.  That’s what March brought.  It’s hard to believe, but ”March Madness” didn’t even exist when I was a kid.  Heck, the year Magic Johnson and Larry Bird squared off in college, the tournament was still on tape delay.  That’s how little interest there was. 

The “Eternity” part was, well, I was never sure about that part,  but being raised Catholic, I took it as tbe Phils better win or we were all going straight to Hell.  For eternity.

Hope.  It’s a terrific word if you stop and think about it.  So let me apply it to some other ideas.

RT 42 AND 295

I can only hope construction will be done on these routes in my lifetime.   It’s only been a mess for 47 years now.  What I love about it is that the backups always seem to be caused by three dudes in orange vests drinking coffee.  No matter what direction you’re headed, you know it’ll be backed up.   How can this be?  You would think that if three directions were backed up, the fourth direction would be smooth sailing, but it never is.  Rest assure you’ll be banging on your steering wheel in a matter of moments.


I can only hope that someday when I call to go over a bill, that someone who grew up in South Jersey, will pick up the phone.  Look, without sounding like Donald Trump here, I have absolutely nothing against folks from the Philippines.  I’m sure they are just trying to get through their day like you and I.  But it’s extremely difficult to have a financial conversation with someone that you can’t understand.  I can only handle saying “what’s that?” a few hundred times.  It makes me wonder if someone from Gloucester City picks up the phone when a Filipino calls to complain about their bills.  “Hey, I’m in Gloucester City.  How the  &^%* would I know why you’re paying $400 a month for HBO?  Call someone in the Philippines!” is how one can imagine that conversation would go.


I can only hope that someday we are rid of this nuisance.   With the way Mother Nature is pounding us with more storms that I can ever remember, maybe I get the need for these tags now.  Maybe.  I’m always under the impression that South Jersey relies on money from the government to replenish the beach more than it requires dough from your Aunt Edna who wants to simply spend the day sunbathing by the surf.  Before the beach started getting bombarded, I was always told that beach tags were needed to keep the beaches “clean.” 

bdg armen pink caddy smallHmmm.  Since beach tags for most South Jersey beach towns don’t really exist until the early 70’s, we can only assume that the beaches were filthy in the 30’s through the 70’s.  Which they were not.  I buy six beach tags a year.  I really don’t mind because I am a beach nut.  I sit on it all day during the summer.  I have written most of my summertime articles for South Jersey Mag on the beach. 

Most of your beach tag collectors are polite.  I have become friends with many.  But occasionally you bump into one who in another life must have been a member of the Gestapo.  You’ll show them your tag, then maybe a couple hours later, you might go up to the boardwalk to buy a slice of pizza. (Which the township wants you to do, right?)  When you return, the beach tag collector will insist to see your tag again.  When you explain that the tag is on your beach chair and that you have already shown it to them earlier, they will say to you, “well, you’re going to have to go down to the surf, grab your chair, and walk back up and show it to me.”  Not too mention that you can’t get on many beaches without walking through a beach tag person and when you get to the beach they have more beach tag collectors roaming the beach in case a couple teenagers managed to sneak on somehow.  That’s overkill and comes off as greedy.

It is exactly the kind of treatment that the vacationer does not want and wants to get away from when they’re on the beach.  I sometimes wonder if the money that beach tags generate is worth all that bad public relations.


Now that I have your attention.  I keep weird hours.  I don’t even go on the air at 94WIP until 2am.  So I try to keep quiet while I am still in the house past midnight as my wife and Ava are asleep.  (I hope you’re catching Ava on the Morning Show.  I’m so proud)

The other night I was laying on the couch reading, quiet as a mouse, and I kept hearing this odd clicking noise.  I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from when I came upon the laundry room, which is on the first floor.  It was one bra all by itself in the dryer and the bra clasps (believe me, all men know what a bra clasp is) were rattling off the inside walls of the dryer.  I’m looking at this thinking to myself, “who runs an entire dryer cycle for one bra?!”  The electricity bill!  Then it dawned on me that this same one bra probably ran through the washer cycle all by itself.  Dag, how dirty do breasts get?  I can hope all I want that this never happens again, but who am I kidding?


My daughter Keely, a Clearview High and Rowan University graduate, and my son-in-law Matt,  are having twins!  This will be a first time Granddad thing for me.   Already friends and listeners are calling me “Big Granddaddy Graham.”  So obviously, I simply hope for good health for everyone involved.  They are due in August and it’s going to be an exciting year.


Here's my latest article for the South Jersey Mag...


My daughter Ava and I were watching this really cool show on Netflix titled “Doctor Foster.”  Ironically, considering this is my annual Valentine’s Day article, “Foster” is about infidelity.  But there’s a scene in it where their son is enjoying his parents (unbeknownst to the kid, his Father is a cheating dog) telling a story about when the moment was when they realized they were falling in love.
Which led to Ava asking me the same exact question about my wife Debbie and I.  Here were the first four moments that first sprung to mind.

big daddy dinerHAILING A CAB

We now live in a world of Uber and because of our awareness of the perils of drunk driving, cabs and limo’s are also used now more than ever.  But that was not the case a million years ago in the early 80’s when I was a doorman at the Philadelphia Sheraton in downtown Philly.  It was midnight and I had just gotten off work and I was driving my $200 “car” home.  I had just turned the corner at Market when I saw her.  Debbie, hailing a cab.  She was waitressing downtown herself and had just finished her shift and was meeting some girlfriends at a club.
We had met at a couple parties and I knew who she was.  She was living in my Southwest Philly neighborhood with her grandmother, so to me she was a “local girl.”  And I had never seen anyone from my parish hail a cab.  I know today that is hard to believe, but it’s the truth.  She looked so hot standing in the street.  Hailing a cab!  That was something rich folks did in Manhattan or in the movies.  I floored it and pulled up to her before a cab could get to her and drove her across town to the club.  Nothing happened that night, but the mental note had been made.  “Who is this cool chick?”


A few years have gone by and I was in Wildwood on a humid summer Saturday night.  It was past midnight and all the parties my boys and I had crashed were duds.  Or, more to the point, “we” were the duds none of the girls had any interest in.  Then I remembered that I heard Debbie might at this party in Margate.  Now that’s a good thirty minute ride and then I would have to find the apartment when I got there, which back before cellphones was not always easy to do.  But off I went.  Solo.
A miracle occurs and I actually locate the jam, but Debbie is not there and some drunk on a couch wearing a “Disco Sucks” tee shirt tells me she went out to Merrill’s.  It’s now about 145am and the club is still packed as I walk towards one of the back bars.  I swear to God, it’s like the Red Sea parts, and there she is.  Sitting at the bar, shining like a million bucks, and when she sees me she shoots me a look like there’s no one else in the world that she would rather see at that very moment than me.  No one had ever given me that look before and I’ve never forgotten it.   We were off and running.


We were officially an “item.”  Not married, not engaged yet, but an “item.”  I was living with a bunch of slobs in this rented house in Collingswood.  Deb and I had returned from the movies and no one was home.  We had seen Sinatra a few months ago at Resorts, almost by accident, and we eneded up seated at one of the front tables.  We were both music lovers, but at that time my taste in music was almost exclusively rock and soul.  Seeing Ol’ Blue Eyes live had converted me in a huge way.  (Today, I have one of the largest collections of all things Sinatra in South Jersey.)   But I was still in my twenties at this point and the crowd I ran with?  Well, I was the official DJ at our house parties and if I had dared trying playing any Sinatra between Springsteen and the Four Tops, I would have been stripped of all music responsibilities immediately and forever.  “Get that off!” would have been screamed out by the revelers had any Sinatra entered the fray.
But this night the house was empty and when I slipped on this Sinatra obscurity “All My Tomorrows,”  I kind of jokingly asked Deb to dance and she accepted.   Now I’m not that much of a Michael Jackson.  Play something funky and I come off like the white guy in a Soul Train dance line.  But I can slow dance with the best of them and “All My Tomorrows” has a mellow groove and when we danced I felt like Deb just melted in my arms.  Right there in the middle of the living room of this crummy rental.  She had no problem whatsoever digging on the Chairman of the Board’s sound.  I like to consider myself a music explorer (still do) and I remember during that dance that maybe I had found a music soul mate as well.  I had and it was a huge moment.  (BTW, I defy you to come up with better lyrics that describe the beginning of a relationship.  Many friends of mine have used it as a wedding song over the years at my suggestion.)


One thing about Debbie that I always found attractive was her energy level.  I always wanted to fall in love with a woman who was adventurous and enjoyed getting the most out of life.  But you also have to get lucky and find someone that you dig hanging with when you do nothing at all. 
I had a friend who worked for a big hotel chain and because of this we would occasionally get a room in Manhattan completely free.  The fact that we would check in with about forty bucks between us never stopped us from going.  And “go” we would.  It’s called the town that never sleeps for a reason and we would tackle the Big Apple all night long. 
We were up there on a rare Sunday night but we still had the night’s festivities all mapped out.  We were just not the kind of couple who stayed in.  But it was bitterly cold and it started pouring.  The TV had about three channels and the classic film “Casablanca” was coming on.  I had seen the film before but Deb had not.  We started watching and never stopped till it finished.  We had just spent a night in Manhattan not leaving the room at all, which we had never done before.  Yet we had discovered something very important.  That we could have a great night doing nothing at all except laying around watching the tube. 

So if one of your kids wants you to describe the “moment that you knew you two had fallen in love,” be prepared to answer.  It’s fun.  Happy Valentine’s Day!


Here's my latest article for the South Jersey Mag...


“It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year!”

As the song goes, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year. “ Why?  It’s January.  Time to take stuff back.  And I love taking stuff back!  I actually consider it an art form.  An elaborate game.
Many of you reading this now have already done the deed.  Plenty of you return items on December 26th.  Now that to me is someone who can’t stay out of a mall.  A shopaholic.  The same knuckleheads who wait outside the Deptford Best Buy at midnight on Thanksgiving night.  (Pretty soon Macy’s will open at noon on Thanksgiving Day and offer a full Thanksgiving dinner while you shop.  Mark my words) 
Here are a few of my favorite “returning stuff” stories.


Back when my boys and me used to rent Sea Isle City shore apartments, we were always throwing huge keg parties.  None of us had any money, so going out to a bar to meet chicks was out of the question.  No one even had the dough for the cover charge.  In fact, the only way we even managed to acquire the apartment to begin with was by renting a one bedroom joint miles from the beach and then thirty seven of us would go in on it.  We would spend the day on the beach enticing girls over with elaborate tales of how luxurious the apartment was. 
FLASHBACK WITH WILDGOOSE CHASE“The bay views are extraordinary!”  (It had a view of the back wall of Sea Isle Ice)
“Bobby Clarke is coming!”   (Now Clarke was known to have property in Ocean City, so this actually wasn’t that far fetched.  And we did have a Bobby Clarke in on our place, he just didn’t play for the Flyers.  He was a Navy Yard apprentice.)
“We have the best DJ in town!”  (Fat Rat’s 8-track collection was second to none)

The problem was the apartment was so small the only place to put a keg was in what laughably was called the kitchen.  And to keep it cold it had to be kept on ice which would cause huge puddles of slop.  What to do?
I think it was Pimples who came up with this ingenious idea.  Both Sears and Home Depot sold these huge industrial strength trashcans.  Big enough to put a half a keg in and then pack it with ice.  Leakage problem solved!
There was however, one little problem.  These trashcans actually cost more than the beer did.  And we barely had money for the beer.
So here’s what we did.  We would all chip in what remaining dollars we had, buy the trashcan, throw the party and then take the trashcan back for a full refund.  We had more than a couple Sears and Home Depots in our home area and Rt. 9 had one apiece.  Every week for an entire summer one of us would buy it on Thursday and then take it back on Monday.  Rarely would anyone even ask why we were returning it or even inspect the trashcan for damages.  As long as you had the receipt you were good as gold.  If a clerk even asked why we were returning it, I would just say, “I don’t know other than my Dad saying I bought the wrong one.” 
And that would be it.  That’s the beautiful aspect of purchasing anything off a big chain.  You can’t do this with a Mom and Pop store.  So I guess “corporate” sometimes comes in handy.


My daughter Ava bought a green dress for the holidays two years ago at the Cherry Hill Mall Macy’s.  Not only did she never wear it, she completely forgot she even bought it.   Two years ago, not two months.  The receipt was long lost, but the tags were still hanging on it.   And she got the money back on it.  Not full price, mind you, because at some point that dress went on sale (probably during the Persian Gulf War), but still.  It’s amazing how easy it can be.

But not always.


Dr DonnYears ago when my wife and I were dating, we took one of those buses down to Atlantic City that you would get from some diner or deli.  You would pay like ten dollars and get round-trip bus fare and a roll of quarters to gamble with.  The hope was they would get you in the door where you would proceed to gamble away your life savings.  (Which between my wife and I was about forty dollars)
My wife and I didn’t gamble.   We were barely twenty-one, just starting out, and as usual, broke.  But we loved seeing Sam Butera and many other terrific lounge acts that AC used to be known for.  And they were free.  We were at the Rendezvous Lounge one night watching Sam perform and Sinatra showed up.  Fun times.
So we used this bus scam to get free transportation.  However, one night we had one too many, and missed the last bus leaving town.  We certainly couldn’t afford to stay at Resorts or any of the other beachfront hotels, so we wandered away from the strip and ended up at this “hotel” called The Kentuckian.  The name itself should have warned me.
But I was a young kid who had never spent any time in Atlantic City, so I might as well had been in Bolivia.  It was a scene right out of a John Hughes movie.  Rooms at the Kentuckian were only twenty bucks.  We had that much between us.  We were in luck!
Well, there was no elevator in this dump and we walked up three flights of stairs and quickly found out why the “rooms” were so cheap.  Many of them appeared to have no doors at all and let’s just say it appeared to be a joint where a woman of “the oldest profession in the world” union would thrive in.
We quickly went right back down the steps and I actually had the nerve to go back up to the clerk and ask for my money back.  The front desk clerk who was wearing a nametag on it that said “Mr. Slimeball” yelled to this very intimidating dude sitting in the dark lobby, “Hey Earl, this guy here says he wants his money back.”  Earl and Slimeball found this hysterical and Debbie and I could not get out of there quick enough.  We ended up sleeping on the beach where I woke up with half of my face as red as a lobster. 

So, no, you don’t always get that refund. 

I turned all this into a topic on my talk show one night and I was amazed of the stuff people had actually used and still returned and got their money back.  One caller from Collingswood needed to cut his huge lawn ASAP and his landscaper had gone out of business.  So he borrowed a pickup truck, went down to Sears and bought a tractor mower, cut the grass, and still managed to take it back and get a full refund claiming that after a few minutes it “wasn’t cutting right.”  Yeah, right. 

So whatever you do, when someone hands you a wrapped present, and they say “If you don’t like it, you can always take it back,” get the receipt!







Saw the Rolling Stones Exhibition at Industria down in the village and if you're a Stones fan, it's thorough and fun and worth it.  Check out the times it's cheapest to go.

There is this amazing talent in the New York area by the name of Rachelle Garniez.  She's an versatile singer who accompanies herself on piano, guitar, and, yes, accordion.  She's a gifted songwriter with a tremendous sense of humor.  She often performs at a really cool Village venue Pangea that seats maybe fifty that itself is worth checking out.  Go to these sites for more info: www.rachellegarniezcom.virb.com & www.pangeanyc.com

You can take an inexpensive tour  of RADIO CITY MUSIC HALL that's well worth it.

Check out MASH ARMY & NAVY on 8th Ave between 45 & 46th streets.  A blast from the past!

Folks are always asking me about piano bars in Manhattan.  There's two I would recommend and they couldn't be any bit different.  DON'T TELL MAMA is on 46th St between 8 & 9th Avenues.  It's a comfortable narrow long bar where you either sit at thee bar or at a table.  They have a singing piano player and every fourth song or so a member of the bar or serving staff will get up and sing a three song set.  And sometimes a member of the audience will get up at the mic and sing. And they have awesome food also. It's a really fun joint, but completely different from MARIE'S CRISIS CAFE which is at 59 Grove St in the Village.  (Make sure you have the address handy before you get in the cab.)  MARIE'S is a tiny hole in the wall basement club where there is a piano player but no professional singer.  YOU are the singer.  It's insane.  People (like my nutty wife) go there TO sing.  There's no microphone and literally 150 people or so will be singing at the top of their lungs to some Broadway tune  Which, by the way, IS ALL Marie's does.  They don't mix in pop tunes like MAMA does.  The two couldn't be any different from each other and any more fun if a piano bar is your bag.

A HOTEL TO STAY AT?   We always use some hotel site and often stay at one of these two hotels which I would both recommend.  THE BELVEDERE on West 48th St is clean with a nice lobby and it's very convenient to Broadway and many clubs and bars.  THE WARWICK is pricier, but still affordable when you go through Expedia.  It's at 54th & 6th and many famous folks (like the Beatles and Liz Taylor have stayed there.

As obvious as this sounds, you can spend a couple hours exploring Central Park and never get bored.

LEXINGTON CANDY SHOP on Lexington between 82 & 83rd St. has been opened since 1925 and is a don't miss trip.

THE METROPOLITAN ROOM on 22nd St is a very cool, classic NY cabaret room where we have seen many cool acts at a very affordable price.

BIG ONION WALKING TOURS are a lot of fun and reasonably priced.  I have taken many of them and they never disappoint.

54 BELOW on 54th St. is literally the basement of the famous Studio 54 disco. It's a terrific place to see anybody. Top notch club.

Finally made it to BIRDLAND for one of those CAST PARTY shows. What a great time and the sight lines are excellent.  Legendary jazz artists perform there and if you ever thought about seeing one of them at BIRDLAND, do it.






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