Turn it on, crank it up

As I sat in my office listening to Pandora Radio online, I got to thinking back 40 years, more or less, about my use of the media. We baby boomers grew up in a media-saturated world. I didn't have much of a perspective on this as a youngster – I just wanted to hear some tunes and would tune across the dial in search of some good rock n' roll.

What we had 40 years ago seemed technologically advanced, but now seems primitive when I notice my daughter watching video clips on her iPod, which is smaller even than one tape cassette! Phones with cameras, video, Internet and music players, bluetooth, wi-fi and all the online stuff blows my mind, but future generations will no doubt view an antique iPod as an oddity as sure as my kids do a 45-rpm record or 8-track tape cartridge.

Even though I grew up in a small South Carolina town, I didn't really feel deprived of choices. There was WKSP in Kingstree, WKYB (a 10,000-watt blowtorch) in Hemingway, and WJOT in the city by the lake. I even remembered WDKD playing some rock sounds when I had my first radio. Soon after that, they became wall-to-wall country music and jokes from Charlie Walker, our own backwoods Bob Hope. At night, the AM band came alive with WOWO from Ft. Wayne, Ind., WBT in Charlotte, WLS in Chicago, WLAC in Nashville, and WNBC in New York City.

While we'd listen for music, we'd get turned on to some pretty original stuff from the personalities. Remember the “War of the Worlds” broadcast by WKSP in the 70s? Was it Cedar Swamp or Millwood community where the aliens landed? I can't remember now. I do remember hearing WNOX out of Knoxville communicating with aliens one night. No reply. I guess they didn't “have their ears on.”

When I got my first AM/FM combo, nighttime listening got better. Out of Charleston came WTMA-FM (changed since to WPXI and now WSSX), which simulcast the popular AM station's top 40 programming. Also from Charleston was a favorite, WKTM. Myrtle Beach gave us WKZQ and Savannah had WZAT. In the 70s FM stereo began its dominance in top 40 and rock music formats.

Music-on-demand wasn't invented with the iPod. I taped lots of stuff from the radio because there were songs I liked and I wanted to listen to them on my terms. The mp3 player from HHGregg has taken the place of that little AM pocket radio from Drucker Drugs. But the idea's still the same – I love the tunes and it's a great new way to carry them along.

I've grown accustomed to creating my own custom format and listening to classic rock, contemporary Christian or jazz with CD quality on a speaker system that would rival the best monitors an old “production studio rat” could have. If you want to create your own format and listen at your leisure, check out Pandora Radio at www.pandora.com. I typed in the name of a favorite artist, and it's amazing how the site built a playlist so close to my tastes. If you hate a song, click the thumbs-down icon, and if you like it, hit “thumbs-up.” I punched in a favorite 60s group and got a hodgepodge of stuff, including “cover songs” by groups who did not make them famous. Thumbs down. It's a great site, for the most part.

Using iTunes, I download some old favorites (and a few new ones). I have built up digital-quality counterparts of those scratchy records. Unfortunately iTunes doesn't have everything I want, and a lot of stuff I don't want.

But the music strikes the same emotional chords as it did when I heard them on a little AM portable.

Bleary eyed sign-on shift

When I was younger,I belonged to an explorer scout post sponsored by the local radio station.
I love music, and thought this would be a great job, surrounded by music and great audio equipment. I learned quickly that in broadcasting, perception and reality are two different things. Somehow, I had the notion that girls would take notice,admiring my skills crafting a tight air sound and trying to sound like Casey Kasem. At the time, nothing entered my teenage mind that girls were actually interested in future doctors and lawyers and that disc jockeys were just a humorous distraction.

Radio stations are now operated mainly by computers, and any human intervention is minimal. Back in the 70s, we literally spun the 45-rpm discs, which had to be cued up on a turntable. What wasn't on record was on a cart, a tape cartridge resembling eight-track tapes that have long been obsolete. Then there were reel-to-reel tapes, which were often a challenge for the novice, because you had to thread the tape around the heads, rollers and other little things on the tape deck.

Some of the more technical challenges were operating the transmitter. At some stations the transmitter had a remote control, a small black panel with lights and a rotary dial. It's not unusual for some of this equipment to last 50 or more years. I think Marconi made some of the equipment I worked with.

I always enjoyed sign-on shifts. During my breaks from college, I worked some part-time at WKSP in my hometown of Kingstree, S.C., I'd wake up at 4:30 a.m.to get to the station at 5:30 a.m. After arriving in the parking lot, I would stumble around searching for the key hidden behind the station, finally finding it in the overgrown grass below the little mailbox. Then I'd fumble at the lock on the station door in the morning darkness, half awake and barely able to do anything coordinated. I enter the studios, turn on the lights and warm up the transmitter. While the tubes begin to glow, I'd pull the first few records and commercial carts for the day. Not finding a commercial or program tape is not unusual, and you're not likely to find the station manager in a good mood if you call him at 6 a.m., especially on a weekend.

With the transmitter warmed up, you fire up the final stage, hit the sign on tape, and you're up and running. Keeping it going was kind of like being on a treadmill, especially when you had 2-3 minutes between songs to get the next tape or record ready. You'd put on your cheeriest morning voice, despite the fact you're half-asleep.

The phone rings. It's the station manager, saying you mispronounced the name of an advertising client when you read his spot. So far, things are going well.

A cart malfunctions, resulting in silence, or what radio folks call "dead air." Dead air's not a good thing. You scramble to get something else on, or mumble something in the microphone before starting the record. You realize you're not playing Alvin and the Chipmunks. It's just that the turntable was set on the wrong speed. You shift gears and continue.
The phone rings again. Someone wants the score of a football game the night before. You walk to the teletype, a clunky machine that spits out news on a continuous roll of paper. Going through miles of paper, straining at faded type (forgot to change the ribbon), you finally find the score.

When you return to the control room, you see that the record has run out. You take a diving leap toward the start button on a tape machine or turntable and the music resumes.
A couple of minutes before reading the first newscast, I'd rip the latest news from the Associated Press (AP) teletype, a clunky, noisy monster spewing out reams of paper with news, weather and sports, then read it on the air.

This went on until the next deejay was scheduled to take over around noon.

Such was the life of a deejay.

I still have dreams that I'm in the radio station control room, fighting equipment problems, or being unable to cue up a record before the other record played out. In the worst of these nightmares, only the microphone works. Thankfully I wake up and thank the Lord it was only a dream.