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Sam stood up from the table.

Beth stood up as well.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

Sam shrugged and smiled meekly. “You know…I don’t really know.”

Beth’s eyes washed across the small quaint kitchen.

“I could make you something to eat.” She suggested.

Sam gazed down at the floor thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m very hungry.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Sam, began to head for the door.

“You know,” he said, looking up into Beth’s bright eyes, “I think it might finally be time for me to go home.”

Beth smiled and a tear spilled from her left eye, “That sounds nice.” She said, and briskly wiped it away.

“Why are you crying?” Sam asked.

Beth gave an embarrassed giggle. “I don’t know.” She shrugged.

Sam took a deep breath. He felt completely positive that if he focused his energy, he could make the leap home right now. No, not here. He thought. I want it to be outside.

This caused a laugh to climb up to the back of his throat. His mind was filled with the sudden absurdity of the previous thought. What in the world did it matter if he took the leap here in Al’s kitchen or if he took it outside? Beth had seen his facial expression change and her’s did likewise.

“What is it?” She asked.

Sam shrugged again and took a step toward the door. “I think I just need some air.”

Beth nodded and smiled. “Air sounds nice.”

She followed Sam to the front door, which he opened, and then he pushed open a metal screen door. The hinges protested loudly. A blast of thick swampy air hit him in the face, followed quickly by a cacophony of insect sounds.

“Whew” Sam said, stepping out unto the porch. “It’s hot.”

Beth carefully guided the screen door closed behind her. “Not hot” she corrected. “Muggy.”

Sam smiled and repeated the word thoughtfully. “Muggy.”

Beth leaned against a column beside the front porch steps. “You can see the future?” She asked thoughtfully, looking up at the countless stars in the sky.

Sam followed her gaze into the celestial heavens. “Something like that.” He replied.

Beth sighed. “So you know when this stupid war will be over and everything is gonna go back to normal.”

Sam laughed in spite of himself.

Beth’s eyes shot down from the stars and aimed directly for him. “What’s so funny?” She asked.

Sam waved a hand at her. “Oh nothing.” He said. “The war will end.” He replied. “But nothing will ever go back to the way it was.”

Beth nodded thoughtfully and bit her lip. Her gaze returned again to the stars. “Nothing ever does.” She replied.

And then, Sam felt it. The tingling crawling sensation. Every atom of his body put to motion. The fiber of his being turning to light at the Quantum Level.

But NO, he thought. This was wrong, he thought. He had not directed this Leap. He had not wanted it. Something was pulling him. He was out of control again. The world turned to white and he felt his existence shifting. The familiar, damnable pulling that he knew so well.

But I thought I had mastered it, he thought. I thought I had control.

The image of the world began to burn into the white around him. Existence dissolved into form, into being. The white faded and color rushed forth around him. The tingling abided and he felt himself once again embody a shape—a humanoid shape. He felt the gravity of his being, felt the sensations of possessing hair and skin and bones. He tasted something in his mouth, something sweet. Sweet iced tea?

His ears were assaulted by the sound of a church organ, slowly droning away. A baritone voice accompanied it, singing a hymn all to familiar to Sam, for he had often heard his mother sing it while cooking in the kitchen, back home on the farm in Elk Ridge, Indiana.

“When burdens press, and seem beyond endurance.

Bowed down with grief, to Him I lift my face.”

Sam’s vision came into focus. He sat in some kind of living room, nothing immediately familiar to him. The walls were wood paneling, and there was a large gold rimmed clock on the wall opposite him. Directly in front of him was a large old fashioned Black and White Television with rabbit ears. A buxom woman in a flower print dress was on the grainy screen, singing into a microphone.

And then in love He brings me sweet assurance:

My child! For thee sufficient is my grace.”

Sam looked to the left and saw a Middle Aged looking gentleman sitting in a recliner, only separated from the couch by a cherry wood end table adorned with a small lamp. Steel blue eyes peered through a wrinkled face at the screen, but Sam could almost immediately tell that these eyes were not watching the screen, they were looking through it. The man was far away inside the recesses of his own mind.

Sam put his hands down on the brown leather couch and stood up. He walked over to the wall to the left of the TV and clock to where some photographs were hung in gilded frames. They were of no one he had ever seen before. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the frames and knew at once he was no longer Sam Beckett. Sam instinctively touched his head. It came away greasy from some kind of product.

Sam looked back to the middle aged man. The man’s expression had not changed one bit. From his vantage point Sam could see down a hallway where there was an open door. From the slight view of the wall inside the room, he could tell it was probably some kind of bathroom. He headed right for it and was gratified to see that he was right. Almost as soon as he shut the door to turn around and check out himself in the mirror, movement caught his eye coming from the bathtub.

Sam looked and saw the hologram of his friend. His partner. The man whom he had shared so many of his journeys through time. Al Calavicci stood beside him. He wore an offensively bright Hawaiian t-shirt, and the hand that held the Handlink device also held his trademark cigar. His face was worn and haggard—full of concern.

“Dammit Sam! Where the hell have you been?” Al asked.

“What do you mean?” Sam replied, “Where the hell am I?”

“Ziggy’s been trying to find you for over thirty six hours and we had nobody in the imaging chamber. We thought you were gone!” Al said, chewing his cigar.

Sam looked at himself in the mirror. He was inhabiting the body of a young man, High School age, perhaps 16 or 17. He was handsome, strong jawline, and wore his hair back in some kind of 50s Greaser Style. He wore a white t-shirt with suspenders and gray slacks. Sam blinked and shook his head, not wanting to believe it.

“I was just in your living room, Al. I was just with Beth. I was telling her…”

Al’s face tightened. “With Beth?” He asked. “What the hell are you talking about that you were with Beth?”

“I was with Beth.” Sam repeated. “I could control my own leaps. I was in my own body. It was me. It was my birthday.”

Al frowned. “You must have been dreaming,” he said and looked down at the Handlink.“Your last leap was as the young Elvis Presley in Memphis, Tennessee. You helped a young woman named Sue Anne…”

“I know all that!” Sam snapped. “After that. After that, I leapt into myself. It was my birthday and I was back in Pennsylvania.”

Al began shaking his head but Sam persisted. “And you were there and you were a bartender. I came in and ordered a Shlitz.”

“A Shlitz?” Al cocked his head to one side.

“And all around me was everyone I had ever helped. And Gooshie was there. And…Stawpah.”

“Stawpah?” Al repeated.

“Yes, but then, you were also there. Not just you who was the bartender, but actually you.”

Al rolled his eyes. “And you were there, and you were there, and you were there, and Toto was there too!” He waved his hand, cigar smoke coiling around his head. “Sam, can’t you see that it was a dream?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been!” Sam cried out and then stopped, remembering that he was inhabiting the body of someone else, somewhere, in some strange house. It was unwise to attract attention.

Al sighed. “You’ve been MIA for a day and a half. Ziggy must be on the fritz. And now you say, that you could control your own leaps? And you went to visit my wife? Beth?!”

Sam jabbed a finger at Al, “Exactly! Your wife. Only, she wasn’t your wife anymore before I leaped to her. I told her you were coming back from Vietnam and to wait for you, and then she…”

Al shook his head, “What in the name of Jesus, Joseph, and Mary are you talking about??!”

Sam put his hands on the sink. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a long pause. “I’m telling you, for a split second, I could control my leaps. I was tying up some loose ends, and then I was on my way home.”

“Sam” Al’s tone made Sam turn his head to look back at him. “Are you sure this wasn’t a dream.”

Sam thought for a long time. Then he shrugged and sat down on the toilet. His body briefly flickered through the leg of the hologram of his friend in the close confines of the bathroom. “I guess I can’t be sure.” He said finally. “But it didn’t feel like a dream. And you are married to Beth, am I right?”

Al smiled, “Happily!”

Sam shot up from the toilet, “Then it couldn’t have been a dream. I did that! I fixed that!”

Al frowned, “Fixed what?”

Sam waved a hand at him, “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important. The important question is, where am I? Who am I? And why do I no longer have control?”

Al looked at the Handlink device in his hand. “That’s three questions Sam.” He replied.

Sam looked in the mirror again and inspected his face. He did not look at all familiar.

Al read the data off of his hand-link. “I’ll have to ask the pencil pushers back home about everything you’ve said,” he said, “and it appears Ziggy is still having a bit of trouble because the data I’m getting back is completely wonky.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised, “What do you mean?”

Al shrugged, “It’s hard to explain. Ziggy says that your name is George McFly. You’re a senior in High School and this is Hill Valley California, Thursday November 10th, 1955.”

Sam smiled at himself in the mirror, “That explains the hair.”

Al ignored him. “After that I have nothing. No probabilities for the future whatsoever. The data keeps changing. Information keeps appearing and reappearing like the ticker at the stock exchange or something.”

Sam frowned, “Perhaps George McVy…”

“Fly” Al corrected him, “McFly, like the insect.”

“McFly,” Sam continued, “Perhaps George McFly is on the verge of something really meaningful in his life.”

Al chewed his cigar some more, “Everyone you leap into is on the verge of something really meaningful in their life. That’s the whole reason you are here.” He slapped the Handlink and squinted at it, “But I’ve never seen data fluctuations like this. And I can’t help thinking that is has something to do with you going MIA for thirty-six hours.”

Sam frowned, “Perhaps me gaining control over my own Quantum Field caused the fluctuations.”

Al tilted his head, “I guess that’s what we have to figure out.”

Sam looked in the mirror again, “Okay. What do we know about George McFly.”

Al shrugged, “His father Arthur saw heavy combat in World War I and was honorably discharged as shell shocked. His mother Sylvia works as a secretary at a Studebacker dealership and takes care of Arthur and George. He’s an only child.”

Sam frowned, “And no clues as to why I am here?”

Al shook his head, “Without any sort of hard data probabilities, I got nothing.” He said, “I don’t know if George is gonna fall out of a tree. Get hit by a car. Meet the love of his life. I got nothing.”

Sam turned toward the door. “Well, maybe I can find something out.”

Al nodded. “Maybe I can too.” He said, “But Sam?”

Sam turned back to the hologram of his friend.

“Be careful” Al warned, “Don’t get lost this time.”

Sam nodded and the hologram disappeared.

Sam slowly turned the knob of the bathroom door and stepped back into the hallway. The church singing on the TV had turned to the loud shouting of a preacher with a strong Southern accent. Sam looked to the right and saw a bedroom door opened a crack. He pushed it the rest of the way and saw what was undoubtedly George McFly’s bedroom.

The room was relatively small and straightforward, reflecting a certain modesty of a mid-20th century American home. It was adorned in blue and white wallpaper, with a simple bed, a dresser, and a desk piled high with what looked like comic books. Sam moved in and began leafing through them, some he recognized from his own childhood. SciFi fare, one of the many bricks that built his love for science and led him down the path to be a Quantum Physicist and eventually a time traveler.

There was “Space Adventures”, “Space Man #3”, “Fantastic Story”, “Weird Science”, and one of Sam’s personal favorites as a kid: “Wally Wood Strange Tales of Science Fiction”. Beneath a stack of notebooks, Sam saw a hardcover book. This he picked up, inspecting the title, “How To Win Friends and Influence People”. A pang blossomed in Sam’s chest. “Not a very popular guy are we George?” He said to himself.

Sam was about to leaf through the notebook when he heard the sound of a door—probably the front door to the house—opening from down the hall. There was the rattle of keys, the thud of the door closing, and the sound of high heels on a tile floor.

“I got the cookies you like Artie!” A woman’s voice exclaimed. “McNary’s had them Buy One Get One Half Off! GEORGIE!! OH GEORGIE!!” She called.

Cautiously Sam/George peaked his head down the hallway and saw a middle-aged woman he recognized from the living room photographs. George’s mother was tall, shapely, and attractive with Lucille Ball orange hair and red red lipstick. A cigarette dangled from her mouth as she set two paper bags on the kitchen counter. Her green eyes caught sight of her son and she said, “There you are! Come help me with these!”

Sam obediently sidled across the living room, passed the preacher on the grainy black and white TV, and stood beside Sylvia McFly. She handed him a metal tin of Saltine crackers. “George, are you feeling okay? You look….strange.” She said, taking a long pull off of her cigarette.

Sam shrugged. “I’m fine.” He said quietly.

She frowned and took another drag. “Well, don’t just stand there, put those crackers up.” She said.

Sam looked around the kitchen and approached a cabinet.

“What are you doing?” Sylvia asked, looking at him perplexedly.

Sam didn’t know what to say.

Sylvia pointed to a door beside the large lead refrigerator. The cigarette pressed between her fingers wafted smoke towards the ceiling. “The crackers go in the pantry George.” She said.

Sam pressed George’s face into a smile. “Oh right.” He said quietly.

Sylvia rolled her eyes and retrieved a carton of eggs from the bag. “Some young man outside told me to tell you something.” She said. “Do you know someone named Marty?”

Sam opened the pantry door and deposited the tin of crackers on one of the paper-lined shelved. “Um. Yes, I think so.” He replied and then turned to see the woman who was supposed to be his mother heading toward the fridge with the eggs.

“Well, he told me to tell you that if you change your mind about the dance, to meet him outside of Lou’s Diner after school tomorrow.” She said, depositing the eggs and then closing the fridge. She looked her son square in the face. “Were you planning on going to a dance?”

Sam’s mind raced. Could this be it? Could some kind of school dance be the pivotal moment in George McFly’s life that he was sent into this body for?

“Um..perhaps.” Sam replied.

Sylvia pulled out a large head of lettuce and turned back to the fridge. “Well that could be exciting,” she replied, “I just thought it was strange that you didn’t tell me about it.”

Sam shrugged. “I kind of just found out about it.” He answered.

Sylvia deposited the lettuce into the fridge and pulled out a glass bottle of milk. “Well I think you could have a great time.” She said, turning toward a cupboard to grab a glass. “It would do you good to get out of the house, and your nose out of these comic books you’re always reading.”

Sam forced George’s face into a smile. “I guess.”

She poured a glass of milk and returned it back to the fridge. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked.

Sam shrugged. “I just have a lot on my mind I guess.” He replied.

Sylvia stubbed her cigarette out into a glass ashtray on the counter and smiled. “I know how that is.” She replied, “Why don’t you go get your shower and I’ll figure out something to eat.”

Sam nodded, “Okay,” he said simply.

“How does Baked Chicken and Green Beans and Mashed Potatoes sound?” She asked.

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Sounds…amazing.” He answered.

“Coming right up” Sylvia said, and took a big sip of her milk.

Sam turned and headed back to the bathroom. A place in this strange house he was already acquainted with.

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INTRODUCTION

Why?

Why make a fan fiction of “Back To The Future?” Why mash up “Back To The Future” and “Quantum Leap”? What gives me the right? The sheer audacity?

Well…..

This project is a companion to another project, that being “Back To The Playlist”, which is a collection of playlists inside a profile on either Apple Music and Spotify. This little labor of love combines my love of music and one of my favorite things: Time Travel.

I love all things Time Travel. From Stephen King’s “11/22/63” to “Quantum Leap”, to of course “Back To The Future”. The 1985 original film was the very first movie I remember my parents renting from a small rental store called “Video Video”
 in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. Seeing “Back To The Future II” in the theater is one of my earliest memories, and I can only recall in spurts, which is odd considering that the third film I remember seeing in the cinema vividly, despite them only being released mere months apart.

I began “Back To The Playlist” as “RadioVSL” in 2018. I included some “Back To The Future” imagery in the playlists from the beginning, but the focus was really about showcasing the popular music of every decade, in every genre, from the beginnings of recorded music until today. After more than three years of meticulous playlist curation, my engagement from Spotify and Apple Music listeners remained at a solid nil.

In 2023, I decided to try and boost engagement by rebranding “RadioVSL” as “Marty’s Music”, and leaning into the “Back To The Future” troupes. My engagement did increase. In fact, it doubled! I went from 6 followers on Spotify (most of whom were family and friends) to 12!

Some time in early 2024, me and my longtime creative partner Padraig Graywolfe began to chart a path forward for multiple creative endeavors. This resulted in the creation of “Mary’s Gate Entertainment”, an umbrella organization for several projects that include original music, storytelling, podcasts, social media, etc. After careful inquiries into internet trafficking, we concluded three things.

We had a lot of “brand competition” to someone on YouTube called Marty Music. This, seemingly very nice individual, teaches people how to play guitar. I myself have used some of his lessons and think he is very informative and good at what he does.

We determined that it was probably difficult for a passerby (in the internet sense) to decipher just what the playlist profile was. Is it just a BTTF fan? What exactly is it?

We determined that maybe people weren’t all that interested in curated playlists at all. Maybe people just want to make their own playlists.

Well I can’t do anything about C. And there is probably a lot of truth in C. But as for A and B, we came up with the idea for the name “Back To The Playlist”. That name pretty much says it all. It’s a musical time travel adventure.

Okay, okay, what does this have to do with this fan fiction? Don’t worry…I’m getting to that. I decided that these playlist profiles were never going to make me money. They were always going to be a labor of love. They were always just going to be a hobby. I was determined to set them up, make it look the best it can be, and make it be as immersive as it can be.

This is where the fan fiction begins. I wanted a way to connect some of the playlists to some kind of “thing”. I needed some kind of connective tissue, running through the whole thing. This fan fiction is the result of weeks and weeks of deliberation on that. My imagination just kind of ran wild, and this is what I came up with.

Yes—-I threw EVERYTHING at the wall. And no I’m not ashamed.

My goal is to bring in the “Back To The Future” fans, the “Quantum Leap” fans, the time travel fans. Come for the story, stay for the playlists, imbibe in the rest of the many many many creative projects that are to come. I’m looking forward to it, and I hope after you read this project, you will be too.

I’d also like to mention another fan fiction project that I started here on Tumblr…way way way back in 2010. It’s called “Haddonfield”, and it’s based on the Halloween movie franchise universe. After David Gordon Greene and John Carpenter began writing the scripts for “Halloween” (2018) and I found out pretty much everything I was writing was being retconned, I abandoned the project. Working on this project however has breathed new life into my motivations for that one, and I’d like to just say that there’s some good things brewing in this head of mine for that as well.

Peace, love, joy. Be kind. Enjoy the journey.

Your friend in time.

Vincent St. Louis

April 14, 2025.

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A DISCLAIMER

I fully understand that there are discrepancies with the town of Hill Valley: places, businesses, locations, etc.—in regards to my fan fiction and playlist, and the franchise films, games, comics, etc. I’m well aware that the Cafe 80s, Lou’s Aerobic and Fitness Center, The Palace Saloon, and Lou’s Cafe occupy the same space in Hill Valley in the canon of the franchise.

I have made these places all separate entities. I did this for the benefit of Back To The Playlist, and I did it on purpose. There may be other changes here and there, some of which I cannot now remember, that differ from the canon and this fan fiction and my streaming profile. Some of these I did on purpose. Some of which I did not.

I didn’t make these changes because I think I am smarter or better than Robert Zemeckis or Bob Gale. I did not make these changes because I think my Hill Valley is better than the one created in the media so beloved by Back To The Future fans worldwide. I did it because my vision for the streaming profiles necessitated it.

I hope you can forgive me.

Your friend in time.

Vincent St. Louis.

April 16, 2025.

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THE FAIRY QUEEN

By Henry Purcell

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OVER A CENTURY OF BEAUTIFUL PERFORMANCES

Built by noted Western developer and entrepreneur Robert Townley Watson, who went on to become Hill Valley’s mayor, the Hill Valley Opera House was the most costly structure in California at the time, with materials being brought by wagons from San Francisco. The massive three-story opera house, constructed of stone, brick, and iron, was called "Hill Valley finest brick structure". A 1935 newspaper article stated its cost to be "something under $75,000".

Mr. Watson in 1938

The Hill Valley Opera House opened on November 20, 1902, with its first production being a comedy called “The Serious Family”.

A March 1903 newspaper announcement advertised noted London opera performers Irene Vanbrugh and Forbes Robinson in a double-bill running six nights.

Hill Valley Opera House 1926

Following the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake which devastated the economy of the region, Watson was forced to sell the opera house for $32,000 USD to the local Elks society. The theater had not suffered any damage. The Elks maintained the structure until the 50s.

Earthquake damage in San Francisco, 1906

In 1936 a fire broke out in the building's bar, caused by a cigarette dropped into the upholstery by a patron.

In 1955 the building was sold again for $20,000 USD to Evelyn Dresden, a resident of Hill Valley. Dresden maintained the building until her death in 2011.

Evelyn Dresden in 1973

In 2016 the city of Hill Valley purchased the building for $600,000 USD. The renovation of the building is overseen by a private non-profit society, the North Central California Thespian Society.

Production of Fiddler On The Roof, 1998

In 2020 Dr. Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett of Historic Stage Services LLC, documented hundreds of stage settings delivered to at the Hill Valley Opera House in the early 20th centuries. Many of these stage settings were even stored above the auditorium ceiling, lowered to the stage floor for assembly and cataloguing. There are currently fourteen theatre collections identified at the Hill Valley Opera House, scenery and stage machinery dating from 1902 to 1918. Dr. Waszut-Barrett published many of these onsite discoveries for perusal at the Hill Valley Public Library.

Dr. Barrett, courtesy of LinkedIn

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THE HILL VALLEY OPERA HOUSE

Serving Hill Valley California since 1902. Operated by the North-Central California Thespian Society, the Opera House is the fourth oldest continuously operating Opera House in North America, and in 1971 was listed to the List of National Historic Places.

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OUR HISTORY (1876-2005)

In 1876, Beauregard Tannen, a former General in the Confederate Army, opened a Saloon and Bordello in Hill Valley to service the miners and cattle ranchers in the area. The Saloon remains in open as a nightclub to this day and is the second oldest continuously operating nightclub in the State of California.

In 1920, after the passage of Prohibition, Tannen sold the club to local car salesman Eugene Statler who began promoting jazz acts traveling the railroads between Los Angeles and San Francisco. While the Five Spot club down the street was the spot for Free Jazz and The Blues, the Palace Saloon was the place to dance, and it’s reputation as a Speak Easy was known far and wide, allowing it to survive the dry period of the 20s and early 30s.

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Statler off-loaded the club to another local man named Gordon Trubiski, the Depression having taken it’s toll on Statler’s finances. Trubiski almost had to shutter the doors when Prohibition’s repeal in 1933 led to a rebirth of nightlife culture on America. The Five Spot across the way had not survived past 1947, and by the 50s, the Palace Saloon was the only place to see jazz and shake a tail-feather in Hill Valley.

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Gordon Trubiski financed a huge renovation in 1962, replacing old gas lamps with electricity, and providing a much needed redesign of the bathrooms. The old Bordello rooms on the upstairs which had been primarily used for storage and squatting since the criminalization of prostitution decades before, were refurbished, and became a refuge for artists, beatniks, and musicians from all over the West Coast.

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Everything would change real fast real soon in the 70s when the Disco era hit America like a tsunami. Gordon Trubiski passed away, and his som Stanley oversaw yet another renovation, installing dynamic lightning and sound systems for the new electronic music. Most of the seating areas as well as the stage were removed to make way for dancing. The Palace Saloon also became known as a safe refuge for many of society’s cultural outcasts, most notably members of the LGBTQ community.

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Stanley Trubiski went to prison for Cocaine trafficking in 1981. Serious conversations took place in City Hall to shutter the Saloon, but the Hill Valley Preservation Society swooped in and got the State Government in Sacramento to designate the club as a State Historical Preservation Site. The club was sold to a Portland businessman named Shooter Horvath who once again brought back live music on Sunday nights. Many early punk bands like The Clash and The Damned graced the Saloon’s new stage. The Saloon also became ground zero for the birth of the Hip Hop scene in Hill Valley.

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Changes in building codes and legislation after both the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake and the 1994 Northridge earthquake led to another huge renovation for the Palace Saloon. Brand new bathrooms were installed, along with wheelchair access, improved fire protection systems, and a replacement of old asbestos building materials. The Saloon also became a familiar stop on the club circuit for many Deathrow Hip Hop artists as well as the burgeoning DJ scene.

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WELCOME TO THE HISTORIC PALACE SALOON

The Historic Palace Saloon features live EDM every night except Sundays. Sundays feature local bands and open mic artists. Doors open nightly at 7 and house lights come on at 2. Last call is 1:30 AM.

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THROWBACK THURSDAYS (2005-2015)

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THE HISTORIC PALACE SALOON

The Historic Palace Saloon in Hill Valley’s Clocktower Square is the second oldest continuously operating nightclub in the State of California. Nightly drink specials, live music, DJ sets, and loads of entertainment, The Saloon is Hill Valley’s spot for nightlife and has been for over 125 years!

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A LETTER FROM BOBBY STRICKLAND

STANNIE,

I absolutely can’t wait to see you buddy. I’m so sick of this stupid war. Now that the Emperor has surrendered, I’m sure I’ll probably be coming home soon, but there’s some talk that some of us will be retained for coastal patrols. I really hope that’s not the case, I really just want to get back home to the ranch.

Thanks for your recent pictures. Your hair looks like it’s thinning just as bad as mine. And you shouldn’t feel guilty for staying home. You can’t control Uncle Sam’s policy on drafting twins and you won the coin-flip fair and square. And besides, the war’s pretty much coming to an end so, barring any kind of freak accident, you won’t have my death in combat on your conscience.

I’m so glad to get home and listen to some good music. I haven’t heard any good music since we shipped out really. I hear some stuff on the radio but I can’t understand a word anyone is saying. And the stuff the other sailors are playing is mostly jazz. I haven’t heard a great Country Western song since I don’t know when.

Here’s a current picture of me. I have a bunch more in my trunk, some in nice frames. I hope to get a nice shadowbox made as soon as I get off this dumb boat and back in California. I don’t think I ever want to get on a blasted ship ever again. I know our ancestors wouldn’t be proud to hear me say that. The Stricklands were master ship builders in the South of England. I’ve met a ton of limey sailors named Strickland. A few of them have bought me a few drinks.

I love the picture of your new truck. I hope you’re taking my old DeSoto out for a drive every now and then. When I get back Stateside, I might sell her and get me a new Chevrolet. That probably breaks your heart I know, Ford man that you are, but I’ve seen some pictures of the new Chevys and it’s got me pining for the open road. Remember when we used to drive down US 395 for the whole afternoon, just to get away from Mom and Dad? Those were good times.

Anyway, I hope this is the last letter I have to write and the next time you hear from me will be in person or on the telephone. One can hope. I’ll see you soon.

Love,

BOBBY

USS CONDON

SEA OF JAPAN

OCTOBER 12th, 1945

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Hill Valley High School principal likes only four things: His twin brother Bobby, his truck, Discipline, and Country Music. Shuffle what Mr. Strickland is listening to while cruising US 395 in his 1945 Ford pickup.

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HILL VALLEY CLOCKTOWER RADIO

Your source for weather, news, train schedules, and music in Hill Valley, California.

TUNE IN NOW

700 KHZ

SHOWS:

MIDNIGHTS WITH MARVIN BERRY (12:00 AM-3:00AM)

NEWS (Every Half Hour)

WEATHER (Every Hour)

TRAIN SCHEDULES (Every Hour)

OUR HISTORY:

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KKHV CLOCKTOWER RADIO

KKHV is a mixed format commercial radio station, located in Hill Valley, California and owned by the Eastwood Ravine Broadcasting Company.

KKHV CLOCKTOWER RADIO broadcasts from a small studio off US 395, just outside of the Hill Valley city limits near the Lyon Estates neighborhood. The station’s broadcasts can be heard on AM 700, FM 104.1, on various satellite radio platforms as well as world wide via the station’s website. KKHV also operates streaming profiles on platforms globally.

KKHV’s initial grant as a broadcasting station occurred in 1927, however the station traces its pre-history to a 1916 amateur radio station, giving it one of radio's longest historical records.

HISTORY

Although KKHV was not licensed as a broadcasting station until August 1927, by this time the owner, Dana McNeil, and his wife, the former Ida Anding, already had extensive radio experience. KKHV has commonly dated its history back to June 6, 1916, when Dana McNeil was issued a license for Special Amateur station "9ZP". As was true with virtually all amateur stations of this era, 9ZP was equipped with a spark-gap transmitter which was only capable of transmitting the dots-and-dashes of Morse code. Moreover, it was required to shut down in April 1917, when all civilian radio stations were ordered off the air due to the United States entering into World War One. During the war, important vacuum-tube transmitter improvements were perfected that made audio transmissions practical.

Dana and Ida were married in 1921, and the next year Dana McNeil was relicensed for a standard amateur station, "9CLS", located at 152 Pleasant Drive. McNeil was a Chicago & North Western Railway train conductor who worked the Hill Valley-San Francisco run. Ida learned how to operate the amateur station equipment, and began to use it to transmit regular reports to her husband when he was away from home. In 1923, 9CLS underwent a major upgrade, which included installation of a 100-watt vacuum-tube transmitter.

Hill Valley was located in a sparsely settled region of north-central California, with few of the outlying ranches having telephones or electrical service, and communication was severely limited. As knowledge of Ida's radioed weather and news reports to her husband spread, numerous persons in the region began to depend on these transmissions for up-to-date information. 1923 saw the introduction of one of the station's most popular features, when, at the request of one of the listeners, Ida began providing status reports for patients at the local hospital, Saint Mary's.

In 1924 Ida's transmissions received national publicity, via a wire-service article carried in numerous newspapers, which reported that she maintained a regular schedule of twice-daily 30-minute transmissions, at 12:15 and 6:00 p.m., made on alternate days when her husband was traveling along his railroad route.

Amateur radio stations were supposed to refrain from transmissions intended for the general public, so on August 15, 1927 Dana McNeil was issued a broadcasting station license with the assigned call letters KKHV, for operation on 580 kHz with 200 watts from the family home ranch outside Hill Valley. This grant specified operating hours of 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. On November 11, 1928, as part of a major reallocation resulting from the Federal Radio Commission's General Order 40, the station's frequency was changed to 700 kHz, daytime-only.

In 1930 the National Weather Bureau closed its Hill Valley data-collecting station, after which KKHV personnel volunteered to assume responsibility for collecting the local weather information, which was considered vital for area ranchers. Every 6 hours, around the clock, they launched weather balloons and weather-measuring equipment to record information reported to the Weather Bureau and also broadcast over KKHV. Clocktower Radio, named for the city’s iconic clocktower atop the Hill Valley Courthouse building, was and remains the city's only radio station, and it became known as a local institution. The station carried legion baseball games beginning in 1934, as well as numerous live broadcasts of official government proceedings. Ida McNeil generally worked as the station's sole announcer, but because she almost never mentioned her name on the air, she became known by most listeners only as "Mrs. Hill Valley".

In May 1931, Dana McNeil applied to move the station to Courthouse Square under the control of Northern Golden State Creameries, but the move was not approved. (Station KVTO in Redding opposed the transfer, and also reported that KKHV was currently broadcasting "less than an hour a day".) In 1932 KKHV’s transmitting frequency was changed to 700 kHz.,24-7 to increase power without mutual interference. Previously commercial free, that same year the station began soliciting and selling advertising time.

Dana McNeil retired from the railroad in 1935 and died on October 15 of the next year at the age of 71, leaving the station's ownership and operation to Ida. Around this time the family, including the radio studio, moved to 203 Riverside Drive (later renamed John F Kennedy Drive).

In 1942, local celebrity Marvin Berry began broadcasting a show called “Midnights With Marvin Berry” showcasing Rhythm and Blues music from 1200am to 300 am. Berry was the nation’s third African American Radio DJ. His show, now operated by his oldest granddaughter, Mya Berry, continues to broadcast to this day.

In 1956, KKHV celebrated its 40th anniversary. A review noted that Marvin Berry was the station's only other full-time employee, so in addition to being the owner, Ida McNeil was KKHV’s "operator, business manager, newscaster, program director, and advertising solicitor" and was "on the air eight hours a day and spends another six hours or so on paperwork. It's rugged, she admits." In 1957, Ida McNeil received one of the seven "Mike" awards given that year by McCall's magazine in recognition of women in broadcasting.

In 1962 Ida NcNeil, now 74 years old, decided to retire, and sold KKHV to Golden State Radio, Inc. At the time of the sale the station was still operating with a limited "specified hours" schedule and 200 watts, and the new owners began to make significant upgrades. The hours of operation were expanded to the full available daytime hours, and in 1967 the station began operating with 10,000 watts although still limited to daytime-only broadcasts, from a two tower directional-antenna site constructed south of Hill Valley along US Route 395. In 1976 two additional towers were constructed, which allowed the station to add a nighttime service with 1,000 watts and eventually begin to operate on FM 104.1.

The studio remained in the McNeil house at John F Kennedy Drive until 1967, when it moved to a new Building, at the corner of Thomas Drive and US 395.

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