How my radio career began

My radio career began in 1982.  At least, that's how I like to remember it.  On
February 22, 1982, I taped my first radio show for a station which couldn't be
tuned in on any radio dial.  CATZ (later KOOL) 105 FM was that station, and it existed only
on cassettes and on the notebook paper where I recorded my playlists.  I decided that an
adult contemporary format was the most listenable genre at that time and suited my voice
best, so I assembled a soft rock music library, comprised of 45s and LPs I owned, and supplemented temporarily at times with records my parents and brother owned and others
that I checked out from various county library branches.  While I enjoyed the prospect of
hearing myself "on the air," I was even more pleased to be able to set the musical agenda
of a station, even though its audience consisted of family members and a few friends who
would only hear bits of about every 50th show I recorded.

My playlist that first night included Olivia Newton-John's "Physical," "Working For The
Weekend" by Loverboy, "Lady (You Bring Me Up)" by The Commodores, the latest from
The Police, "Spirits In The Material World," and "Let's Groove" by Earth, Wind & Fire.
While taking a break from recording the music, I turned on WMRY and heard a CBS
Radio Mystery Theater broadcast in progress.  I impulsively decided that would give
my station some depth, so I waited until an appropriate pause in the story, announced
on tape, "Now, let's check in and see what's happening on Mystery Theater...," and
started recording WMRY.  I knew I'd have to leave soon for my weekly religion class,
so when one of the characters said, "I...know that...," I ad-libbed, "We'll see how well
she knows that tomorrow when Mystery Theater returns to CATZ 105 FM..." and ended
that night's show.

I didn't use Mystery Theater again on my station, but my attention to detail on other
fronts grew all-consuming.  I was determined to have flawless segues from one song
to the next with no dead air or stop button clicks.  This required playing the beginning
of each record at least a few times before taping, memorizing the position of the label
when the song began and starting to record ever so slightly before that point.  Also,
because I taped my shows in the early days by placing a recorder next to a stereo
speaker, I had to tiptoe back and forth across the room when recording and try my best
to refrain from breathing.  Every once in a while, one of my family members would
have the temerity to open the door just to tell me something inconsequential, such as,
"Dinner's ready," or start the washer or dryer just outside the playroom where I
recorded my shows.  I'd try to communicate with my eyes that I was recording
and that all other facets of everyday living had to cease immediately.
This regimen prepared me well for being on the air for real in the '90s; before I became a DJ at KCOU in Columbia, Missouri, I thought, "I don't know exactly what all the technical requirements are for putting a show together there yet, but they can't possibly involve memorizing where a record starts, recording a segue 23 times, if necessary, until it's flawless, tiptoeing across the room after each song intro and tiptoeing back near the end of the song, all the while trying to ward off even the slightest hint of background noise.")

In late '82, I decided that my station could use some gravity, in addition to
the news and music, so I added a prerecorded radio science show to the mix,
even though my interest in science was lukewarm, at best. I noticed that the
Headquarters County Library stocked a lot of "Man And Molecules"
tapes, so I started checking them out by the armload.  One of the benefits of
making up all the rules for a station that no one could hear was that I could
record at 7:00 at night and say that my show was intended for 1:00 the next
afternoon.  Thus, I pretended that "Man And Molecules" aired at 1:00 each
weekday afternoon.  This resulted in some incongruous segues.  (i.e. "Be sure to tune
in tomorrow afternoon at one when Doctor Beckton Dynamic discusses vision and
Vitamin A.  That's tomorrow at one on Man And Molecules.  Now, Kenny Loggins starts
off another 30 minutes of continuous music with his latest, 'Heart To Heart,' on CATZ
105 FM.")

The incongruity between prerecorded content and music surfaced again in
the Spring of '84, when I checked out a boxed set of "The Shadow" programs
and segued from the news to "The Shadow" to music sweeps of Carole King,
America, DeBarge, and Chicago.  In all likelihood, my station was likely the only
one in history to go from a '40s radio show outro, "Crime does not pay...The
Shadow knows...," into "I Feel The Earth Move."

In the Summer of '83, my parents bought me a stereo with a microphone,
which meant the end of tiptoeing back and forth, and allowed me to talk more
comfortably over the music.  (At some point in 1985, the stereo stopped
receiving a signal from the mic, which resulted in my taping all the sets of music
in advance, placing a boom box near one speaker to record, and going back
to tiptoeing.)

That same Summer, I decided that the portfolio of playlists I compiled should
have some sponsors.  After all, I played commercials on my station, so
why not have the official station portfolio reflect that?  Schnucks sold Dr. Pepper
stickers, so I bought some of those and affixed them to some of the playlists.
It occurred to me, however, that some of my imaginary listeners might prefer diet
sodas, even though, at the time, I thought such sodas tasted like flavored gutter
water.  (The heftier me of adulthood no longer thinks this way.)  Thus, one Summer morning, I walked from my house to the grocery store in 95-degree heat, just to photocopy a Diet Coke ad from Broadcasting Magazine to use in my portfolio. After all, a dedicated
program director, even when working for a station that only he can hear, has to know
when to broaden the bases demographically.

WMRY, with its jazz/pop leanings, continued to influence my programming
decisions, in part, so in the Fall of '83, I added a Sunday morning jazz
program to my station.  At the worldly ages of 12 and 13, I introduced selections
from Grover Washington, Jr., Chuck Mangione, and Spyro Gyra.
My influence there was WMRY's consummate evening jazz show host and
record collector, Leo Chears.  It astounded me, even then, that a commercial station
would be open-minded enough to allow someone to choose music entirely
from his own record collection--which, I read then, was around
25,000 albums--and play it on the air.  It was radio the way radio should
be done--a knowledgeable announcer sharing the most tasteful selections
from his expansive music collection with the audience.  Amazingly, WMRY
employed Leo Chears and publicly supported the jazz format for over 10 years.
It helped considerably that the owners were the Missionary Oblates at The
Shrine Of Our Lady Of The Snows in Belleville, Illinois rather than a huge
corporate conglomerate. 

One habit I maintained throughout my station's run: I would sometimes check
out and even buy songs whose appeal to me was fair, at best.  After all, I
reasoned, a good program director plays music that he knows will appeal to
his audience, even when said audience doesn't exist and he's indifferent to
the song.  Case in point: "C'est La Vie" by Robbie Nevil, which I learned, to
my surprise, peaked at #2 on the Billboard charts in 1986.  Not
much depth there, lyrically..."C'est La Vie, C'est La Vie...That's just the way
it goes--sometimes..."  It was a hit, though, and to be true to my format
and my imagined audience, it deserved the airtime.

From 1986 until my departure for college in 1989, I recorded radio shows
only sporadically.  My desire to shape a station's--or at least, my show's--
musical agenda only intensified, though, and prepared me for some of the most
fun I had in college, at KCOU.  There's something inherently satisfying about discovering music that not everyone has heard, sharing it with the listening audience, possibly
increasing a band's reach and sales, and doing it while surrounded by some of the
quirkiest, most interesting people of like minds.  My passion for broadcasting first
manifested itself 32 years ago, and I suspect it will surface again in a format I
can't yet determine.  My advice to anyone who has ever wanted to expand
his or her base of musical knowledge and share it with the world: Find your
station.  Get on the air however you can--now, even if it's an online station that has only three listeners.  You will get to hear a plethora of compelling music, from all sorts of genres, you might never have heard  otherwise.  Stay with it; it will give you ever-increasing confidence to communicate with an audience, as well as a million stories to tell. If nothing else, you'll get to play some of your favorite music--without having to tiptoe back and forth.