Channel Grazing

Back in 1992 I worked for a small 2,500 watt AM radio station hid near Bremen, Georgia. We played Southern Gospel music and brokered preacher shows from daylight to dark. Our studio location was situated on the same property as our tower facility on about two acres of pasture land. In fact, we had fenced in a cow or two grazing out back near the antenna. I even had one or two bovine interactions when no humans we available to chat. Cows are not very social. I often wondered the purpose of these animals on our land and have learned recently that often these little stations, similar to mine, posted grazing animals in order to keep the grass mowed thanks to a special agreement with local farmers. The following is a story I discovered while reading a radio forum posted by an owner of such a station. I don’t know the source, but the scenario seems plausible. One word of caution to animal lovers: the story is a bit graphic.

“In the late 80's I owned WDGR Dahlonega, GA.  The station's studios, transmitter and tower were all located together, with the tower being in the middle of the 5 acre property.  The station was (where else?) - Radio Road, and the land behind the station was fenced.  Trying to keep the field bush hogged was a job, and after dodging snakes for a summer I decided on a solution that would pay me.  A local farmer needed some grazing land for some cows, and we struck a deal where I'd keep his cows inside the fence where they could effectively keep my tower field mowed.  After getting paid for keeping the cows fenced and fed for 7 months, I was quite pleased.

One afternoon I heard a loud pop from inside the station and we immediately went off the air.  I headed out the back door where I saw a small fire in the middle of the field.  As I went down the steps with an extinguisher I noticed the rail was dotted with red paint, something else to fix.  I noticed all the cows were bunched tightly together way down at the bottom of the field, and at the same time I saw to my horror, a cow leg and hind quarter lying next to my car.  Further down inside the fence I saw another.  A fire, cow parts - I couldn't put all this together, and as I looked at the back door I saw that the entire back of the station was dotted NOT with red paint, but blood.  An extremely unlucky cow had bitten into the transmission line buried close to the transmitter building and 10,000 watts had literally blown it up.  It was a pretty horrible sight, and also pretty hard to explain to everyone calling wanting to know when we'd return to the air.  ‘We'll be back on the air soon - a cow blew up and took us off the air.’

I went back to bush hogging the field - the money I'd made from fencing the cows went to repairing the transmission line.  Wild days, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.  I'm sure the cow would though.”

Jay Andrews
VP & General Manager
Jacobs Media Corporation

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©2010 Neal Rhoden, Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved

Radio Home Four

1992. I found myself at a small broadcast facility out in the sticks. Twenty five hundred watts on AM radio with a Southern Gospel music format; the best thing about this station was that I was purely a disk jockey having recently stepped down as program director at my previous gig. Below is a sample of my show there. Please allow a few seconds for the mp3 player to load, then press the play button.

©2010 Gospel Aircheck. All rights reserved.

Decisions, Decisions, Part Two

  For a brief time in late 1986 my dad and I shared similar paths. We were both dissatisfied with how work prospects had dried up in the small coastal town we lived in for 13 years. In early summer of the year he asked if I had ever considered moving away to a bigger city and presumably a better life. He felt limited by the market and I agreed. Most disk jockeys of my era shared the opinion that moving "upmarket" was always a good idea. It meant better exposure and more money. The novelty of my first radio home had worn off. I was ready for a bridge burning change irrespective of an actual moving day. At the time I called it burnout. I was lying to myself; radio was my life. But what was I to do? I had a certain numerical figure in mind my current situation fell far from the mark of meeting, so a new career seemed necessary.

  Savannah, Georgia was known as a medium sized radio town ranked at about number 149 while Atlanta was a major market constantly in the top 10 of all US cities. By December of '86 my family had settled into our new home just outside the Atlanta metro, Douglasville. I had got a job immediately as an office temp doing telemarketing. At least I was using my voice, just in a different direction. The money was much better, almost my goal amount.

  My previous employer had set up an interview at a 50,000 watt sister station in Atlanta that I felt was a false opportunity. About an hour commute was unappealing even for the dollar figure, nearly twice my old rate. I would have been upside down with the fuel cost alone!

  I forever viewed this as a good decision although it meant a gap between radio homes. How long a gap was uncertain. The good news was that by the end of February I was in broadcasting again, This time at a 1,000 watt AM daytimer located mere minutes from home with comfortable pay.

  The station was in a facility recently remodeled and filled with the latest pro equipment. Despite its transmitted power, it was the best sounding facility of all my radio homes. Three months into my stay there the owner made the astounding announcement the the station would be sold! What had I got myself into?

  I had gained favor with the GM, "Vic", who gave me a 10% raise after only 30 days. It was this manager whose resignation, I assume, was catalyst for the sale. The business was owned by a local church, he was the pastor. The back story I can only speculate. I believe that the radio station was Pastor Vic's baby and his leaving gave those less enthusiastic of his cause leeway to unburden the load that we undoubtedly were. Key people eventually resigned and I became Program Director By November of 1987, finally earning my magic number, to the penny.

  Ironically, my monetary victory was shallow. I was unhappy. The money did not satisfy my artistic leanings. The station was boring. Except me, we had little or no listeners as we sailed on adrift, waiting to be sold. That process would take another three years. I have to give the owners credit for their integrity. Pulling the plug on the whole operation and going dark would have been the best course but they nobly kept us paid never missing a beat once. Unprecedented creativity was about to be unleashed from me as I was to find out with the successor at radio home 3. That is another story.

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King of all Peanut Whistles

Talk about a peanut whistle. I worked a year at this particular 2,500 watt gem. We had local news, Southern Gospel music, a Swap Shop and daily obituaries. The news wasn't from a teletype or our own reporters. No, we read it directly from the newspaper. Verbatim. A few years before the dot com boom one of my fellow staff members commented on the state of our programming. The idea of a good ole country station was a relic of a bygone era. The world was now more accessible thanks to new technologies. I don't agree with him totally because stations such as this have their own unique charm. My friend Jim did get it right on one point though, we are a more enlightened society thanks to outlets such as CNN and other TV cable networks readily available then. It was 1992 and the World Wide Web and Fox News were a few years off. The context of his remarks was framed by people who he had observed overstating their "country" heritage by feigning ignorance, although being just as enlightened as city folks.

I was a bit of a snob then and saw this station a road block in my career.  The WBKI culture was an adjustment and was a step down from a purely business perspective. I later adopted their style and grew to appreciate their way of doing things. A few of the more countrified elements were weeded out and we became more "sophisticated." The home spun morning DJ resigned shortly after some heated debate with me. I viewed him as a local yokel. He was blissfully ignorant but the people loved him. The station fell into decline and eventually folded. My guess is that we didn't give the listeners what they wanted or maybe poor management was to blame. Who knows? Our GM saw the futility of the situation early on and probably mentally quit long before our demise. To borrow from the famous TV show WKRP in Cincinnati this guy was "town to town, up and down the dial". Success eluded David. We had worked together before. I witnessed his slow decline at my previous radio gig and now doubt my own wisdom in hitching to his star. However, I learned a lot from him and consider him a mentor. He allowed circumstances to limit him. I missed the control I had as a program director at my two previous jobs and felt the air chair was a handicap. For the first time in 6 years I was "just" a dee jay.

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What's a peanut whistle?

I'm glad you asked. A peanut whistle is a radio station with limited power or listenership or both. It might have the best staff or talent but simply lacks enough umph to reach a broader audience. These media outlets are usually located out in the sticks. These are the places I've hung my hat as a DJ and programmer most often. I've led some very talented people. Some great and near great talents. 

These places are usually programmed for a rural audience. So, I'm not sure if they exist at all any more due to the consolidation of ownership permitted by the Telecommunications Act of 1996. The FCC decided to allow ownership of several radio or TV stations in one market. Large corporations have gulped up these peanut whistles at an alarming rate. It wasn't video that killed the radio star, it was corporate greed. More to come. Stay tuned...