Barry Farber was rated the #9 Talk Show Host Of All Time by Talkers Magazine in 2002. Click below to read more!
Local NYC magazine did a cover story on Barry. Click below to read
Bob Hope was one of the first people Barry interviewed. He tells of getting Hope to agree to an interview with a then unknown Barry Farber because it was his birthday. Full story in Barry's book "Cocktails With Molotov"
Barry produced a cassette with some of his favorite "Superwords" - the words that separate you from the crowd. This cassette can be heard on his Youtube Channel
Ssssh. Longtime WMCA Radio host Barry Farber has quietly taken a side gig. He still has his live 11p.m. to 1 a.m. weekday show. But Farber's begun hosting a 5-7 p.m. drive time slot for ABC. It airs nationally, but not in this market. ABC negotiates a new deal with Farber on Jan. and may want him exclusively. Farbers comment: He's happy about working at WMCA, where his contract is open ended, because it gives him an outlet in New York.
Bring back BARRY FARBER! That's the rallying cry of a growing number of New Yorkers who miss the erudite maestro of talk radio Farber, who speaks 17 languages but never lost his North Carolina accent, is now on 109 stations across the country, but not in Gotham. Renegade publisher Lyle Stuart, the head of the committee to Put Barry Farber Back On New York Radio, is circulating petitions and writing to station chiefs. Those who have signed on include: Pat Buckley, Sean Hannity, Alan Colmes, Helen Gurley Brown, Henry Stern, Joe Franklin, Malachy McCourt, Roy Innes and Ron Kuby.
Lighting Up The Nightime Airwaves
Late night radio talk show host Barry Farber has figured out a method to save on sleep "Just like the Dutch learned how to take land from the sea " he said, "I learned how to take time from the day" How does he do it? Click below to read article on Barry and the peaceful magic of NYC at night.
Gospel Music Goddess Mahalia Jackson appeared on Barry's show in the early days. This cue sheet was stored with the tape reel. Barry's intro reads: MOVING ON UP: Gospel singer MAHALIA JACKSON describes some of the misery that's made her melody so meaningful to millions of people around the world
Restauranteurs have been known to go into business for fame and fortune. But New York Talk Show Host Barry Farber of WMCA has much nobler intentions. He has a vision. He wants to unite the nation-under one BBQ definition. "In New York, barbeque is an adjective. In Texas, it's a verb. Only in North Carolina is it a noun." says the man who will dare Americans to "Put Some South In Your Mouth" this year with the first nationwide fast food barbeque chain.
From Steve Vallensky, who worked producing and syndicating Barry's show from the mid 1960's to 1970's
This was taken in Studio One at WOR at 1440 Broadway in 1969. We were recording the show that would air that night at 8:15 PM.
The guest was Duke Snider who was a legendary center fielder for the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Barry asked me to join him in interviewing Snider since I grew up in Brooklyn and had been a childhood fan of the Dodgers.
From Bob Skidmore, who was a broadcast engineer at WOR, as well as a friend and guest host on Barry's show.
From Barry Farber's Best Jokes "There must be some mistake" (the definitive version)
We go now to the Public Affairs Office of Fort Jackson, South Carolina, where the colonel in charge is on the phone with a woman with a very aristocratic accent, who has called from the Charleston area and, after bragging almost incessantly about the refined, courtly and elite girls’ finishing school where she very proudly serves as headmistress, finally gets to her point.
“Colonel,” she importunes, “In early June our school is staging our graduation exercises and it’s quite the posh affair. The Lieutenant Governor and the Second Lady of South Carolina will be in attendance. We would be most appreciative if you would kindly dispatch sixty-two of your finest, handsomest soldiers to escort the graduating class at the cotillion. It’s a highly prestigious and desirable honor to be invited to participate and I do hope you realize that, Colonel.
“All your young men should be no shorter than six-foot-one, cleanly crew-cut and decked out in those splendid summer dress uniforms of yours. Each will escort his graduating girl, march her arm-in-arm down the aisle, and kiss her gently on the cheek as he releases her to walk through the arch while the orchestra plays the ‘March’ from ‘Aida’.”
“I see nothing impossible here, Ma’am,” said the colonel. “We’ll be pleased and honored to accommodate you. Just give us the date and the details and Fort Jackson will help you bathe in the glory.”
“Oh, marvelous, absolutely marvelous,” she gushed. “We do so much appreciate your cooperation. And there’s just one more little thing, Colonel. As these girls are all from very aristocratic, upper-class Southern families, please -- no Jews! Can you assure me that, Colonel?”
“Absolutely, Ma’am,” affirmed the colonel. “I understand perfectly!”
And all the sisters were fair and all the brothers were valiant – until the day of the graduation. And even the first part of that graduation day went well. No problem appeared to afflict the high ground of South Carolina aristocracy.
The khaki bus from Fort Jackson pulled up to the impressive white-colonnaded façade of the school’s administration building. Out stepped sixty-two strikingly handsome, immaculately spit-and-polished young soldiers, led by their sergeant. Each and every one stood at least six-foot-one, clean-shaven, with close-cropped hair and with perfect posture. Each one was impeccably attired in a perfectly-creased summer dress uniform, with shoes so shiny they were hard to look at without squinting. Each one looked as if he had stepped off a recruiting poster.
And every single one was black – African-American!
Up they marched to the main entrance and the sergeant rang the bell. The headmistress with the haughty accent took one look at the visitors and immediately almost lapsed into mild cardiac arrest.
“Who…who…who are you?” she managed to stammer.
“We’re your U. S. Army escorts from Fort Jackson, Ma’am,” explained the broadly smiling African-American sergeant.
“Oh, dear me,” she gasped. “There must be some mistake!”
“Oh, no Ma’am,” confidently assured the sergeant.
“Colonel Ginsberg doesn’t make mistakes!”