DECEMBER 26 â€¢ 7:30 P.M.
Barnaby Wilde was not his name.
BARNABY WILDE was what it said in block letters, in neon, above the plate window which held him.
He danced, his eyes tight shut, a faraway look in them, listening to Janis Joplin as she tore her heart out in passion and drugs. He was dancing in the window of the KQBU street studio under the eyes of an admiring crowd, but he was not a dancer. He was the disc jockey.
â€œGet down!â€ came from the multitude.