We're going back in time again, but it'll be a short trip.  1969, Christmas Eve.  I'm a country music D.J., disc joskey.  My name is Mike Harris.  Come along.It's Christmas Eve and I've got to work the midnight to 6AM shift at the radio station where I work.  I really don't want to work the shift.  I'd rather be at home in bed awaiting Christmas Morning with my family, but this is the shift I've been working for the passed few months.  It's the shift for the low man on the totem pole of radio.  This is the second year in a row I've worked Christmas since I got into the business.  I guess last year was worse.  It was in a small town station about an hour and half's drive from my home town.  I worked Christmas Eve, then doubled back for Christmas morning.  At least this station's in my home town.  It's going to be a rough shift.  I'll be playing the same records over and over again, maybe five or six times during the shift because country music's not big right now.  There aren't many country artitists.  And, I'll be playing requests from my listeners which means some records will be played more often.I settle down in my chair, surrounded by the tools of my trade.  There are two seventeen inch turntables on each side of me,,a stack of three audio cart machines just to the left of the turntables on my right,,,,a small cart rack to he right of the turntables on my left,,and a good size audio board with all it's dials and switches that control what goes out on the air in front of me.  A microphone on a swinging stand dangles between me and the board.  To the left of the turntables on my left is a big rack with hundreds of L-P record albums and 45's ready to be played.  On a shelf above the turntables on my right is a small wooden rack with the current 45's in it.  Behind me is a large rack on the wall for audio carts that are the commercial spots that are played.  The smaller rack I mentioned holds the promo and jingle carts.  Beyond this U-shaped set up is the news room where the news is gathered, written, and broadcast.  It's a simple set up with a manual typewriter, microphone, and teletype machine.  A teletype machine is a big electronic typewriter.  State and national news is sent to the station on a telephone wire from the Associated Press bureau in Dallas.  It has a bell that will ring when there's a news bulletine or weather alert.  When there's news, the teletype will type it out using a large roll of paper.  The newsman will tear the news off the printer and either rewrite the story or rip-and-read it.So, here I am.  A cup of coffee, a pack of cigarettes, and my first four records on the turntables, ready for the network news to end to get started.  I get the show started and I'm really getting into the music.  it's going smooth.  Then, about one o'clock, the teletype goes crazy.  The bell is going off, but it's not it's normal ring.  I figure there's a problem, but I've got a show to do.  It stops, but a few minutes later, it starts again.  The bell is ringing in a pattern.  As I listen, it goes, "ding,ding,ding,,,ding,ding,ding,,ding,ding,ding,ding,ding."  I go into the news room to check on the "problem".  As the bell is dinging, it's printing out the words to "Jingle Bells".  Okay, that's fun.  But it keeps doing this about every fifteen minutes are so,,,,different patterns for different Christmas songs.  Well, I start telling my listeners about the strange teletype machine.  Then I start getting calls from listeners accusing me of being drunk or high on something.  There are so many calls that I turn on the news room microphone and go in the room to tell my listeners what song is being printed.  Along with the songs, little "pictures" are being printed,,,Christmas trees,,,Santas,,stars,,bells,,,wreaths, and ornaments.  All formed with X's.  I start to use the teletype for records for something different, asking the listeners to guess what the song is.  After a while, I call the A-P bureau in Dallas and ask the guy there what the H,,L's going on.  I told him my listeners think I'm drunk.  He asks me if I'm there alone.  "Yeah".  He is too.  There's no news coming in.  It's seems the world stopped for Christmas Eve.  He got bored, soooo he decided to send the songs down the wire.  The songs continue for the rest of my shift.  A little bit of Christmas for the all-night D.J.'s spending Christmas Eve alone in their control rooms.  Not as bad a Christmas Eve as I had expected.  Thanks to a lonely guy in Dallas.