Book Preview: “Roofied”

Did they have Rohypnol in the eighties? Stonewall Jackson and I went to downtown Wilmington one night in the fall of 1981 to have drinks on the riverfront at Gabriel’s, the bar inside the Wilmington Hilton. That is all I recall until I woke up beside a girl whose name I do not remember and possibly never even knew. She was the bartender, I knew that at least. I vaguely remember waking up in the bar for a moment, and it must have been closing time, because Stonewall was rattling the metal chain curtain that falls when businesses close.


Paul “Stonewall” Jackson broadcasting live from the Blade head-shaving in October 1992.

“Let me out! Let me out!” He was totally in some other world, both his fists shaking that chain curtain. He was a big hairy Sasquatch of a man, and I thought briefly how that chain curtain stood no chance against him before I slipped back into unconsciousness.

“Just finished your book, great read. Unflinching look at a life in radio. As high school student to fatherhood, I listened to WRDU and enjoyed all the years you guys gave us.” – Paul Furr