New kid on the block: Al Jazeera

Getting information these days is easy.  Getting good information is quite a bit tougher.

Watching Fox News and CNN, listening to the BBC and NPR, all offers a wide range of information and opinions, but much of it conflicts with other sources.  Who to believe?

This morning we read that Secretary of State Clinton has used Al Jazeera as an example of “real news.”   Not having been exposed to much of Al Jazeera, that’s hard to know.  Their image in this country has largely been that of purveying Muslim causes, much like Fox is viewed with by disdain by many liberals, and NPR is vilified by many conservatives.  Al Jazeera is making a big push to get into more cable television homes across the country.  It’ll be interesting to see how that turns out.

But you need not wander into the realm of international news to find a disconnect of facts.

We’ve been following events in Wisconsin, where a pointed conflict continues to evolve between unionized public workers and state government.  Folks I hear on Fox News talk about how public employees are compensated far better than their counterparts in the private sector.  Not true, claims the head of the AFL-CIO, who says public workers lag behind in salaries when compared to private sector workers – that they deserve a good benefits package to make up for that.

The task of trying to gather good information – at least through the media – seems fruitless.  Most of us soon get burned out on this approach, trying to sort out one radical claim from another.

That’s why it’s rather refreshing to find what appears to be more objective information shared from a surprising source:  Bill Gates.

Yesterday, we heard Gates, who’s long been an ardent advocate for education and health care issues, weigh in on public employees, state pension plans, and how they impact the delivery of quality education.

We’ve been tracking public employee retirement funds in several states – mostly reviewing what they say about themselves.  Reading their newsletters would cause one to well up with confidence that, despite hard economic times, “their” retirement fund is in good shape.  Not to worry.

Nonetheless, public pension funds are – and should be – a big concern for the whole country.

Take a few moments to explore the The Gates Notes to learn a bit more about this issue and others.  It offers seemingly unfettered data, unaccompanied by the hostile rhetoric that seems in vogue over on the news channels.

I probably won’t give up splashing around the “main stream media” for information, but I suspect I’ll be spending increased time “on-line” trying to harvest more accurate information.  That may not be easy either, but I find The Gates Notes to be a breath of fresh air.

And I don’t think I’ll miss the shouting and name-calling that permeates commercial broadcasting. 

Jack Shelley (1912-2010)

Jack Shelley died yesterday (9/14/10) in Ames, Iowa.  A veteran broadcaster and journalism teacher, he was arguably one of the best known Iowans of the past half-century or so.  He was 90 years old.

Many accolades for Jack have been offered by people who knew him well – and others who never met him, but remember his work as a long-time broadcaster at WHO radio and television in Des Moines.  He followed that with a distinguished career as a journalism professor at Iowa State University.

The Des Moines Register and ISU School of Journalism are among those who've posted a wealth of information about Jack, including some audio excerpts of memorable broadcasts, a few photographs, and a tribute compiled by Jeff Stein of the Iowa Broadcast News Association.

Jack was a teacher of mine at ISU, and I’ve written about him before in this Radio-TV Journal.  Now I’d like to offer a few more stories about this remarkable man.

I first got to know Jack in the late 1960s when he had already retired from WHO and had gone to Ames to teach broadcast journalism at Iowa State University.  I was News Director at KMA Radio in Shenandoah and met Jack at gatherings of the Iowa Broadcast News Association, for which he served as Secretary-Treasurer for many years.

Jack Shelley was a major influence in my deciding to leave KMA and return to school to work on a Master’s degree at Iowa State, which I did in 1969.  Like a long line of students who studied under Jack before and since, I became an ardent admirer.  I had known little about his work at WHO, but his reputation as a top-flight broadcast journalist and manager were well-known across Iowa.

After completing coursework for my M.S. degree, I chose to return to the Navy and signed up for Officer Candidate School in Newport, Rhode Island.  But poor color perception cut short my aspirations of a career in the active duty Navy, and I soon found myself back home – with a wife and two children, but no job.

I still remember Jack calling me one evening and saying, “Larry, there’s a job out in Sioux City that might suit you.  It’s not in news – it’s a job as a TV weatherman, and I remember you said you’d done weather before in western Nebraska.”  Within days, I interviewed for the job and was on my way to Sioux City as a weatherman at KMEG-TV, the CBS affiliate.  Jack’s help allowed me to become gainfully employed again, for which I was -- and remain -- deeply grateful.  I’m guessing he did that sort of thing for hundreds of ISU students over the years.  

Since leaving Iowa State in 1971, I’ve returned only once – in 1974 to defend my M.S. thesis before a graduate committee.   Remembering that trip back to Ames spurs other poignant memories of Jack, who served on my committee, going above and beyond the call of duty to help me.  By that time, I was working for KLRN-TV in Austin, Texas, and raising a family.  I was very “non-traditional” as students go.  Jack offered several valuable suggestions for my thesis regarding Armed Forces Radio and Television service.  Without that guidance and inspiration, I doubt that I would have persevered.  Jack was a major force in my pursuing and receiving a Master’s degree.

Perhaps the most poignant illustration of Jack’s graciousness came just a few years ago.  It was the spring of 2003, and I was in my final years of broadcasting, serving as President of the Pennsylvania Public Television Network.  I had gotten wind of Robert Underhill’s book, Jack Shelley and the News, published in 2002 by McMillen Publishing in Ames.  I immediately called the publisher and ordered a copy – but was soon overtaken by a desire to get in touch with Jack.

By this time, Jack was already a spry 90 years old.  I tracked down his phone number in Ames and gave him a call. 

And what a delightful exchange it was.

Despite years having passed since we last communicated, Jack answered the phone and it was like a segue from a commercial to the news.  He wanted to know all about what I was up to, and how things were going.  I asked about his Rotary activities, WOI, and other ISU faculty I remembered – folks like Jake Hvistendahl, Ed Blinn, and others.

Then I told him I’d ordered his biography from McMillen Publishing.

“You have?  When did you order it?”

“Just today,” I remember saying; whereupon, Jack – having celebrated his 90^th birthday just a few weeks earlier – announced that he was going to McMillen’s that very day. If they hadn’t already shipped the book, he would sign it for me.

Wow!

Underhill’s book, and the abundant obituaries and tributes pouring out for Jack Shelley are a testament to a life well lived.  And as I gaze upon Jack’s perfectly penned note inside the cover, I am very moved.  “For Larry, with happy memories of our time at Iowa State.  Best wishes… Jack Shelley, April 1, 2003.”

Happy memories, indeed.  Godspeed, Jack Shelley.

Bill Finch was a 'King of Swing'

Bill Finch loved music. But it was broadcasting where he left his mark.

A native of Illinois, Finch was deeply rooted in the music and culture that he had grown up with in the 1930’s and ‘40s.

He also had a knack for new technologies and ventured into broadcasting – first radio, and then television. But television was a mere flirtation, and he molded his lifelong career around radio, sharing his love of big band music with radio audiences from Nebraska and Colorado to South Carolina – and around the world.

It’s no surprise that he was blending those two traits when he partnered with Coloradan Bob Fouse to put Chadron radio station KCSR on the air back in May of 1954. That event was listed among “New Beginnings” in the recently-published history of Chadron, Nebraska, prepared as part of the quasquicentennial celebration this summer.

Few folks with first-hand knowledge about the beginning of KCSR are still around. So it’s left to those of us who were mere youngsters romping around Chadron in the mid 1950’s to tell the story. And that story can’t be told without first knowing about the people who made it happen – and Bill Finch was in the thick of it!

Born in Lovejoy, Illinois, in 1922, Finch was just a few months old when his parents moved to Chicago. In later life, he told newspaper writer Thom Anderson that life as a big-city kid was pretty exciting. He said he remembered the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, which took place not far from his house – as was the Biograph Theatre, were gangster John Dillinger was killed.

“The gangsters were often looked at as sort of folk heroes…we didn’t worry about them, though. They were never a real danger to citizens – only to each other when one invaded the other’s turf. The police figured they’d just kill each other,” Finch was quoted as saying.

He also remembered with great delight the wide array of big bands that would play in the many ballrooms around Chicago – from Glenn Miller and Guy Lombardo to Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman.

“Being raised in the Big Band era was the best thing a person who was musically inclined could possibly experience,” he was once quoted as saying. Those inclinations led him to master the saxophone and clarinet.

During World War II, Finch served a stint in the Pacific with the U.S. Army Signal Corps. His four-year hitch included an assignment to Special Services and ended in Tokyo, where he was a courier with the Army Security Agency. After his discharge as a 1^st Lieutenant, he enrolled in the broadcasting program at Denver University, where he graduated in 1951. Then it was off to his first radio job at KRAI in Craig, Colorado, where he was Sales Manager and also handled announcing chores.

It was likely in Denver, however, that Bill Finch crossed paths with Bob Fouse, an announcer and Promotion Manager at KTLN in Denver. It was fortuitous that Fouse’s family was apparently quite wealthy. Finch and Fouse joined forces in the early 1950’s and decided to build a radio station in Chadron, Nebraska. The station went on the air in May of 1954 from studios at 212 Bordeaux Street, just a few doors north of where the station is now located.

Much could be written about those early days of KCSR, which operated at 1450 Kilocycles with only 250 watts. Nonetheless, the station boasted that it was the “Tri-State Voice by Listener Choice,” but the signal struggled to reliably serve an audience in South Dakota – let alone Wyoming, which was even farther away.

But everywhere the signal could be heard, the station was a hit!

Early KCSR staff members included other DU alums like Cliff Pike and Freeman Hover. They were creative and resourceful, and they didn’t hesitate to take chances trying new things. The station was on the air 18-hours a day and incorporated everything from country and western to classical music in a format that was “keyed to the mood of the day.” But it was the local news, sports, and weather that caught the fancy of a Chadron-area audience hungry for their own radio station. They loved it.

Other early staff included Dave Scherling, who had been at KGOS in Torrington, and local Chadronites Ted Turpin and Sherry Girmann. Turpin did news and sports. Girmann was receptionist and stenographer.

Finch served as Station Manager and guided most of the technical work, while Fouse was Commercial Manager. Both did on-air work, but Fouse dove full force into programming, injecting his rare brand of creativity that was showcased on a weekday morning program called Breakfast with the Boys. We have some photographs from this era; you'll find some of them posted in our KCSR Gallery.

Finch and his wife Dorothy became well-known in the community; their children Barbara and Ron enrolled in the Chadron public school system. Finch had a flair for showmanship, too, creating and hosting a live weekly music program called “Curly’s Corral,” featuring area country and western musicians. “Curly” Finch became something of a celebrity, donning western outfits (at left) and even riding a horse down Main Street in a parade. Quite a trick for a guy who grew up in Chicago! But he knew the importance of country music to station listeners, and he responded in a positive way.

In 1958, as a part-time announcer at the station, I vividly recall one summer afternoon when Bill was at the control board hosting an afternoon of recorded music. He decided to spice it up a bit by playing Count Basie's “One O’clock Jump,” followed by another version of....“One O’clock Jump”......and then..... yet another version! I have no recollection of just how many renditions he found, but he was loving every minute of it. It was clear he had a passion for big band music – even if it was demonstrated in a rather unorthodox way! He was, after all, the boss!

By late 1958 and early 1959, Finch was simultaneously managing KDUH-TV in Hay Springs, the new television station owned by Duhamel Broadcasting Enterprises. Whatever the motivation for Finch and Fouse, they sold KCSR to the Huse Publishing Company of Norfolk, Nebraska. The deal was done in August 1959, and Finch was gone from Chadron.

Finch then bought a radio station in Clewiston, Florida, but it became a tumultuous time for him and his family. He was soon divorced from Dorothy and lost the station, taking a job at WFTL in Fort Lauderdale.

By 1963, Bill Finch met magazine editor Patricia Lane, and they wed on New Year’s Day in 1964, soon re-locating to Casper, Wyoming, where he was again involved in broadcasting. But the lure of the Rockies took hold, and Bill and Pat moved to Colorado Springs, where – among other things – he hosted a weekend big band program called The Finch Bandwagon on KVOR.

The program was heard by an Air Force colonel who had some clout with higher brass, and Finch was asked to produce the program for the worldwide audience of the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. He’d periodically fly to Los Angeles and record as many as 13 programs in one trip.

This phase of Bill Finch’s career accomplished several things. First, it gave him an opportunity to invite top-name talent to the studio for interviews that could be inserted into his programs, which were pressed to LP discs and distributed to AFRTS station and ships around the globe. Surely, it must have been a real kick for the kid from Chicago to rub shoulders with top entertainers, ranging from musicians like Percy Faith, Patti Page, Stan Kenton, Frankie Carle and Lawrence Welk (shown here with Bill Finch), to legendary writers like Jimmie McHugh and Sammy Cahn, to name just a few. Second, as an ex-GI, Finch relished being able to share music that he had grown up with and loved with a whole new generation of American kids – not to mention the large “shadow” audience that tuned in AFRTS in every part of the world.

Bill and Pat Finch had a son of their own, Holmes, who spent his formative years in Colorado Springs.

The AFRTS gig went on for more than a decade, but – according to a 2002 news story – Finch lost is voice and had to undergo surgery on his vocal chords. While he regained his voice, it was markedly different, and Finch apparently felt that his tenure as a radio announcer was at an end.

Shortly thereafter, the family headed east – to South Carolina. They settled in Pamplico, where Pat had grown up.

In 1975, the final chapter of Bill Finch’s broadcast career unfolded. He went to work at WJMX in nearby Florence and resurrected the Finch Bandwagon radio show. It thrived and became something of a fixture on the station, running steadily for 27 years. At the end of that long stint on radio station WJMX, writer Stella Miller dubbed Finch the 'King of Swing' in an article for Golden Life magazine.

Finch's first wife, Dorothy, suffered a bout of heart ailments and passed away in 1995 in Orlando, Florida. Their daughter Barbara lives in Orlando today, where her husband is project manager for a construction company. They have five children, 10 grandchildren, and one great grandchild. Finch's older son Ron lives in China and owns his own window dressing company. Ron’s two sons are in college and his daughter is in high school. Finch's younger son, Holmes -- by his second wife, Pat -- is an Associate Professor at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana, where he serves as Director of Research for the Office of Charter School Research.

In 2002, on his 80^th birthday, Finch suffered a stroke. Despite this significant setback, he fought his way back and was soon sharing the helm of The Finch Bandwagon on another South Carolina station, WOLS, where he was again immersing himself – and his many fans in the area – with his beloved big band music. Click on the "Play" button below and enjoy an original AFRTS broadcast of The Finch Bandwagon.

Bill Finch died June 9, 2004, just a few weeks shy of his 82^nd birthday. His widow, Pat, continues to live in her old hometown of Pamplico, South Carolina.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our thanks to Pat Finch, Barbara (Finch) Schenk, Holmes Finch, and Ruth Munn Kilgallon for generously sharing photos and other materials used in this article.

Lillie Herndon -- a class act

Some 35 years ago, shortly after I’d just taken a job as General Manager of public radio station KOSU-FM at Oklahoma State University in Stillwater, I had the opportunity to meet one of the most gracious and inspiring ladies I’ve ever known.

Her name was Lillie Herndon, a South Carolinian who had been appointed to the Board of Directors of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting by President Nixon. This photo shows Lillie during the period she served as president of the South Carolina Council of Parents and Teachers – long before I met her. She later would serve as president of the national Parents and Teachers Association (PTA).

Our paths first crossed at a “CPB Regional Roundtable” conducted at a small hotel near Kansas City International Airport. It was one of my first out-of-state meetings as a fledgling manager in the public broadcasting system, and I knew few of my new colleagues – and even fewer of the big guns from Washington, D.C.

How fortuitous and delightful it was for me to end up seated next to Lillie Herndon, whose southern charm was at once disarming – if a bit misleading. Not that she was ever anything but gracious. But her kindly manner and gentle ways belied her enormous experience in business and education.

We swapped pleasantries and had a chance to visit a bit before and during the meeting. By the end of the day, I was on my way back to Stillwater, while Lillie and other CPB folks were trekking toward another city on their jaunt across the country to yet another CPB roundtable.

It would be some months before Lillie and I would meet again at another meeting, and I don’t remember where it was, but I do remember her greeting me with, “Hello, Larry, how are you?”

Many folks have a knack for remembering names. Some work at it. For others, like Lillie Herndon, it comes from a genuine interest in other people and wanting to learn more about them and their ideas. It’s getting beyond the exterior shield that too many of us throw up in our personal and professional relationships.

Lillie and I crossed paths several more times in the following years, but as fate would have it, we never had occasion to work together or have more discussions about our passions for public broadcasting.

I learned only this week that Lillie Herndon died in December (12/3/09) at her home in South Carolina. She was 93 years old. Hers was a remarkable career of public service – one that touched so many lives, through her work in business, education, and public broadcasting. Her obituary provides a glimpse into the career of this wonderful southern lady.

I wish I had known her better, but I’m grateful for having known her at all. Lillie Herndon will be deeply missed.

America's "Voice

Despite intense jamming by the Soviet Union and China during the Cold War, and unabashed political assaults within the U.S. government over the years, the Voice of America has survived.

Alas, while the broadcasting service is a mere shadow of its former self, VOA continues to span the globe in 45 languages, reaching an audience that they estimate at about 130 million people every week. To serve that audience, VOA uses shortwave, FM, medium wave AM broadcasts, the Internet, and television.

Long-time international broadcaster Alan Heil, Jr., who toiled in the vineyards of VOA from 1962 until 1998, has written Voice of America – A History, and it’s a masterful history of an important American institution. While little known within U.S. borders because of the Smith-Mundt Act (yep, that’s South Dakota’s own Karl Mundt), the Voice of American has been a beacon of information and hope for millions of people around the world since it was created in 1942.

The Heil book introduces us to VOA by providing a fascinating narrative about its role in providing news and information to some 60 million Chinese during the tumultuous 1989 uprising in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square. The VOA delivered news that the Chinese citizens couldn’t get from their own government. It’s a compelling story that hooks the reader right away.

Then Heil escorts readers back to the origin of the VOA in 1942, when its first broadcasts in German pledged to listeners in Europe, “We bring you voices from America. Today, and daily from now on, we shall speak to you about America and the war. The news may be good for us. The news may be bad. But we shall tell you the truth.”

And that has been a guiding light for VOA for nearly seven decades.

Heil sorts out the continuing struggle to “get it straight” during the early journalistic years of VOA. He provides insightful stories of correspondents doing their jobs from Cairo and Beijing to Munich and Moscow. He adds some touching stories about the many talented immigrants who escaped from dire political and economic circumstances to find a home at the Voice of America. There’s an inside look at the abiding struggle for a VOA charter and independence – a firewall from political influence.

While the bulk of the book focuses upon news and information services at VOA, Heil also pays tribute to the value of music and cultural programs. He acknowledges the plight of many VOA broadcasters: they are well known around the world, but unknown at home. The late Willis Conover (at right), long-time producer and host of “Music USA” jazz programs was a real celebrity around the globe, but virtually unknown in the United States.

Alan Heil's book takes the reader right up to the turn of the century (it was published in 2003). It’s extremely well documented, but it reads every bit as easily as a good novel. Alas, its final chapter, “Conclusion,” leaves the reader with some anxiety about the future of VOA.

And rightfully so.

By 2010, we find a complicated menagerie of bureaucracies – each pitted against the other – fighting for missions and funding from the Broadcasting Board of Governors (BBG). It’s the 9-member BBG that tries to oversee not only the Voice of America, but a group of so-called “surrogate” broadcasters – also funded by U.S. taxpayers. English and many foreign language broadcasts have been chopped from the VOA schedule. Some of those foreign broadcasts, like Arabic, were moved to the surrogate agencies: Radio Free Asia, Middle East Broadcasting Networks, Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL), and Radio and TV Marti broadcasts to Cuba in Spanish.

As nearly as we can tell, the BBG has allowed itself to be mired in day-to-day operations, rather than focusing upon policy and planning. Some of the services seem bent on luring only a young audience, thus we find a real dominance of music and youth-oriented programming – at the expense of news and information programming.

We were taken by a quotation Heil offered by our former public broadcasting colleague and one-time VOA Director, Mary Bitterman, who said, “It is not the organizational structure which permits creativity and integrity, but the character of the people involved in oversight.”

Alan Heil’s book offers a rare glimpse of both the organizational structures – and the people – who have shaped the Voice of America.

Veteran broadcaster gone

One of the legends of South Dakota television has passed away. Veteran broadcaster Dave Deadrick died Friday, January 22nd in Sioux Falls.

While we had met Dave in the 1980s when he was still going strong at KELO-TV, we didn’t know him well. But his visage was well known for decades throughout east river – and later west river, when KELO expanded its television operation to Rapid City.

A long-time weatherman for KELO-TV Channel 11 in Sioux Falls, he was perhaps even better known as Captain 11, host of the longest-running children’s program in the country. It was a job he loved for 41 years. Dave Deadrick was inducted into the South Dakota Broadcasters Hall of Fame in 1997 and the South Dakota Hall of Fame in 1999.

He reportedly was the first voice broadcast by KELO-TV when it went on the air in May of 1953 and landed the job as Captain 11 by winning a coin toss!

Dave Deadrick was 81 years old. Read Dave's full obituary.

All aboard!

Now for something completely different.

We don't often link to external websites, but this is an exception. With our youngest granddaughter frequently bursting out into song with "Do-Re-Mi" from the Sound of Music, we just couldn't resist sharing the link below. It was forwarded to us by Harvey Herbst, one of our old bosses at KLRN-TV in Austin.

The availability of high quality consumer cameras, some willing and talented dancers, access to the internet -- plus a good dose of creativity -- and you might come up with something like this. Imagine that it's 8 o'clock on a March morning in Antwerp, Belgium, and you're whiling away the time......waiting for a train........when something very different happens.

Enjoy!

All a matter of priority...

We read with considerable sadness today about the passing of “Chairman” Charlie Capps of Cleveland, Mississippi, a soft-spoken southern politician who was a true gentleman and gave the word “politician” some much-needed dignity. He died on Christmas Day (12/25/09).

The 84-year-old Capps – a slight, white-headed man from the Mississippi delta – was a force to be reckoned with for most of his nearly 33 years in the legislature – serving as either Chairman or Vice-Chairman of the powerful House Appropriations Committee for some 24 years. He was honest and fair, and his career was immersed in public service that dates back to his years as a soldier in World War II. His obituary chronicles the life of a truly remarkable individual.

Charlie Capps had been Chairman of Appropriations for five years when I arrived on the scene at the State Capitol in Jackson as the new Executive Director for the statewide Educational Television (ETV) network. I first met Mr. Capps through then-Representative Billy McCoy, who chaired the Appropriations Subcommittee on Education and “strongly recommended” that agency heads attend appropriatons hearings – that they shouldn’t just send their fiscal officer or second in command. As the new kid on the block, I took that seriously and rarely missed a session. Mr. McCoy would frequently refer to the necessity of knowing budgets inside-out. There was little doubt that McCoy knew the budget of every agency as well as or better than some agency heads themselves. He was remarkable at that, and he always expressed the necessity to get appropriations bills cleaned up and “ready” for Chairman Capps.

Like Billy McCoy, Chairman Charlie Capps was a short gentleman. But unlike the animated – even fiery – Billy McCoy, Chairman Capps was restrained and usually very soft-spoken. Almost always chomping on a cigar, he was a dapper dresser and was counted among the handful of truly powerful lawmakers in Mississippi.

Educational Television, which included Mississippi’s statewide radio and television networks, a radio reading service for the blind, and a statewide instructional television fixed service (ITFS), was among the smallest of state agencies. Although we had only about 130 or so employees, we were highly visible across the state, and the legislature had played a key role in making ETV one of the best-funded state network operations in the country – an admittedly unusual circumstance for anything with Mississippi in its name. Legislators like Billy McCoy, Hob Bryan, Grey Ferris, and Charlie Capps were among those who took a real interest in education.

So it was that Charlie Capps and I would run in slightly different circles. We knew each other to exchange pleasantries and have brief conversations – but that was seldom outside the appropriations process.

But there was this one time....

The St. Petersburg Russia Symphony Orchestra was making a performance tour in the United States, and one of the stops was destined to be the new Performing Arts Center on the campus of Delta State University in the small community of Cleveland, smack dab in the middle of the Mississippi delta.

Kent Wyatt, the president of Delta State called me one day and asked if I and a few key staff members could come to Cleveland to meet with a group of citizens over lunch. They were interested in having ETV broadcast a live performance of the St. Petersburg Symphony.

Folks familiar with the challenges of producing a live performance broadcast – even in ideal studio settings – probably would appreciate the tentativeness with which I accepted the invitation to discuss such a venture. Nonetheless, Delta State – which had an aeronautics curriculum at the school – sent a plane to Jackson some days later to pick up our Director of Television and me for the short flight to Cleveland.

In the back of my mind, I was rather certain that there was no way we could attempt such a broadcast. It required production personnel experienced in this sort of thing. We’d have to contract out for them. Plus, we had no real production truck, no satellite uplink capability. Tens of thousands of dollars would be required to undertake such a production.

As we walked in to the dining room at Delta State, among the first to welcome us was…..Chairman Charlie Capps. Well, of course, I knew Cleveland was his hometown, but I had underestimated the level of his community involvement, while still keeping tabs on the budgets of every state agency in Mississippi!

I recall little about the meeting, except that President Wyatt, Charlie Capps, and others in the group were very hospitable. My recollection is that we agreed to look at what such a venture might cost, but we didn’t offer any great optimism. We returned to Jackson and – over the next several days – put together a rough estimate of the out-of-pocket costs for ETV to produce such a program. It was, as I recall, something on the order of $35,000-40,000. I was willing to commit indirect costs – but the out-of-pocket expenses would likely kill the deal, unless an underwriter was found.

I said as much to President Wyatt some days later when he called to follow up on our meeting. Our Development Department explored some underwriting possibilities – but to no avail.

Then it happened.

I answered the phone one morning and it was Charlie Capps calling from the capitol. This written passage just doesn’t do justice to the genteel persuasion that rolled from the lips of Chairman Capps – and, of course, -- you need to add his unmistakable southern drawl:

“Mister Miller, I understand you’re not likely to broadcast the St. Petersburg Symphony when they come to Delta State.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right. We just don’t have the resources to commit to such a venture, as much as we might like to do it.”

“I know things are tough for you, Mr. Miller. They’re tough for all agencies this year. All of us are just going to have to prioritize and do the right things. I do hope y’all will see fit to do this broadcast. The people across the delta would appreciate it, and I would appreciate it. I do hope the matter becomes a higher priority for ETV. Thank you for your time, Mr. Miller.

“Uhhhh, thank you Mr. Capps. We’ll certainly take a closer look at it.” Click.

I immediately picked up the phone, called our Director of Television, and told him to add the live, remote production of the St. Petersburg Symphony to our schedule.

As fate would have it, veteran producer/director Dick Rizzo was assigned to the project. A series of personnel squabbles from previous years had left Dick holding the bag for things that were out of his control. I’m not sure Dick’s assignment to this project was by choice or direction – but, to my mind – he and our production crew did a first-rate job.

Some months later, as my wife and I were attending the St. Petersburg Symphony performance in Cleveland, Chairman Capps spotted me and came over to tell me how pleased he was that we had chosen to do the broadcast. Of course, I was on pins and needles throughout the evening – for naught. The Mississippi ETV production crew performed beautifully, and that symphony broadcast was one of the finest special event productions during my eight-year tenure at Mississippi ETV.

In the days and weeks thereafter, we received many accolades from the delta and across the state about the quality of our symphony broadcast from Delta State University. And nowhere were those accolades more effusive than from Chairman Capps -- at the opening of our budget hearing the following year. And the year after that.

We had made the right choice.

All we had to do was “prioritize.” Thank you, Chairman Capps, God rest your soul!

Nebraska broadcasters left mark on AFRTS

For some 70 years, the Armed Forces Radio Service -- now known as the American Forces Radio and Television Service (AFRTS) -- has provided information and entertainment to U.S. military personnel around the world. Technology, of course, has remarkably reshaped the service, which in 2009 delivers programs on a variety of platforms with greater technical sophistication. But its audience has always valued AFRTS, even when it was a scratchy AM radio service in the gloomy, early days of World War II. From crude mobile stations in Europe to small makeshift operations on isolated islands in the south Pacific, Armed Forces Radio brought music, comedy, culture and news to military personnel. Back then, it was about the only real method for giving GIs overseas a taste of home.

Given its longevity and rich history, It’s no big surprise that thousands of broadcasters over the years gained their first real experience in radio and television with AFRTS.

We had the privilege of working with two men who had a big impact upon AFRTS. And both had strong ties to KCSR in Chadron, Nebraska.

Bill Finch – in the years following his selling KCSR to the Huse Publishing Company (licensee of WJAG in Norfolk) in 1959 – eventually landed in Colorado Springs, where he produced and hosted a local big band radio program. We don’t know how the program came to the attention of the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service, but by the late 1960s, Finch was flying to Hollywood periodically to produce a big band music program called “Finch’s Bandwagon.” This photo shows him visiting with an unidentified Army officer (at left) in an AFRTS production room. Finch's shows were tape recorded and then pressed to audio discs for distribution to stations around the world. These programs aired for a several years on AFRTS and were quite popular with G.I.s around the globe.

The other photo (below right) shows Finch during a recording session with band leader and entrepreneur Lawrence Welk, one of dozens legendary musicians he interviewed for the program.

Unfortunately, we don’t know what’s happened to Bill Finch. A few long-time Colorado broadcasters say they remember him, and they think he moved to North or South Carolina. Alas, efforts to locate him have been unsuccessful.

We remember Finch as a laid back guy with loads of talent. He seems to have vanished from the broadcasting world, and we're not certain he's even still alive.

If Finch was laid back and creative, Bob Thomas was probably a better businessman -- someone who was conservative and paid attention to details. Bob was General Manager of WJAG in Norfolk, Nebraska for many years. In 1958-59, he orchestrated the purchase of KCSR in Chadron for the Huse “Beef Empire Stations.”

During World War II, Thomas was assigned as Officer-in-Charge of the Armed Forces Radio Service shortwave branch in San Francisco, beaming programs to G.I.s across the South Pacific and other regions of the world. It was impressive that the top brass picked a small market Nebraska broadcaster to take on this huge task – a decided compliment to Bob and his achievements at WJAG.

In this photograph, Thomas is seated at his desk in San Francisco. The other two gents are not identified. Thomas once recounted for us how the War Department, at the end of World War II, planned to close down the AFRS operation in New York City. Although his hitch in the Army was about to end, Thomas was sent to New York to begin the closure process. he was soon discharged and went home to Nebraska, only to learn some months later that the War Department actually closed down AFRS San Francisco instead, keeping the New York operation open for several more years. Such are the ways of the military.

It’s been many years since we’ve visited with Bob Thomas. In the 1970s, he was instrumental in helping us write a history of AFRTS as an MS thesis at Iowa State University. Last we knew, he had re-located to the warmer climate of Arizona in retirement. Finch and Thomas had distinctly different approaches to broadcasting and management, but each -- in his own way -- left an indelible mark on this broadcaster and, we believe, on the radio business.

Jack Miller: the lost video!

One of our old bosses from a half-century ago was feted a couple of years ago -- named to its Hall of Fame by members of the Colorado Broadcasters Association.

Jack Miller was General Manager of KCSR in Chadron, Nebraska from 1959 to 1973, moving to Fort Collins, Colorado as Vice-President/GM of KCOL Radio. It was a new acquisition for the Beef Empire Stations based in Norfolk, Nebraska and owned by the Huse Publishing Company.

Below is a video that gives a good synopsis of Jack's career. He and his wife, Connie, are retired and still living in Fort Collins. We did an earlier posting on this site about a March 2009 trip to Colorado and a visit with Jack and another old colleague, Don Grant. A similar story -- with a decidedly "Chadron" twist, is posted on our High Plains Almanac site.

Click on the arrow (above at left) to watch the video.

Wistful vistas...

It was early February 1949, and high snow drifts were everywhere, barely a month after the infamous “Blizzard of ‘49” had wreaked havoc on mid-America. Cold weather and lingering drifts covered my hometown of Chadron, Nebraska, and communities all across the heartland.

Even when snowstorms didn’t keep us cooped up at home, winter evenings would usually find us gathered around the Philco console radio in the living room, listening to the likes of Dragnet, Our Miss Brooks, Lux Radio Theatre, or The Great Gildersleeve.

On February 3, 1949, two veteran radio comedians left the laughter for guest roles in an episode of Suspense, the weekly radio drama that was “calculated to keep you in…. suspense.” It was a popular show with new stars performing every week – a favorite around the Miller house. Jim Jordan and his wife Marian were widely known as Fibber McGee and Molly, with distinctive voices that still conjure up warm memories of early radio. On that February evening, they played it straight in an episode called “Backseat Driver.”

I was only five years old when the original episode was broadcast. And while I don’t specifically remember hearing it, there’s a pretty good chance that the Miller family was tuned in for the broadcast.

It was great fun last night (7/30/09) hearing a rebroadcast of this show as I traveled the road from Spearfish to Denver. This time, the program came not from an AM station out of Omaha, but via XM satellite radio Channel 164. No matter, the familiar voices of Fibber McGee and Molly transported me to a different place..... and a different time.

While it was satellite technology that beamed this program to my pickup truck, there was nothing particularly “high tech” about the radio show itself. Simple but effective sound effects, good writing, and superb acting carried the day. No 3-D. No high definition. No surround sound. Simply a good story that was well told.

Just as CBS revived its CBS Radio Mystery Theatre in the 1970s to a new generation of radio listeners – including my son – XM is helping introduce the “Golden Days of Radio” to a largely new audience.

Given the tripe that permeates much of the airwaves – radio and television – these days, it’s good to occasionally re-visit those simpler days, when radio programs painted pictures in our minds – requiring listeners to participate, quite willingly and effortlessly, with their own imaginations, in creating those images.

Those were the days!

Where are you, Miguel Fernandez?

Long before "Guantanamo" became a regular item on the evening news, it was home to Miguel Fernandez.

A handsome young man in his early 20s when I first met him in 1964, Miguel’s disarming smile and bright disposition veiled what must surely have been a very interesting past.

He was among a cadre of Cubans who passed through the minefields en route to work each day at the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay. And among the hundreds of jobs filled by Cuban citizens on the base during that era – he had one of the best!

At least that was my view of the situation, since he and I worked side by side at the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service (AFRTS) outlet known as WGBY-AM-TV. I had requested duty at “Gitmo” and served as Program Manager at the station. We provided both radio and television programming for the thousands of sailors, Marines, civilians, and their families at “Gitmo.” Kinescope films of stateside television shows – usually about a month old – were broadcast to a very appreciative audience. From Jack Benny to Bonanza, with a smattering of more timely public affairs programs like Meet the Press, the television schedule was a fair cross-section of what folks were watching back in the states. Radio was dominated by a variety of music formats – and locally-produced programs were injected into both radio and television schedules.

But there was another “shadow audience” that we served, too – Cuban citizens on the “other side of the fence,” who were curious about the United States and who likely enjoyed some of the programs they heard. Maybe they were trying to learn English, or perhaps just evesdropping on a bit of U.S. culture by tuning in to the Tonight show with Johnny Carson on WGBY Radio. In any event, we acknowledged the Cuban audience and provided them with “Noticias en Espanol.”

Preparing and reading the “News in Spanish” was the job of Miguel Fernandez – and his aging mentor, Alfredo Barea. Barea was a seasoned Spanish-speaking broadcaster who had worked in New York City. He was in his late 50s or early 60s when he arrived at Gitmo.

Miguel and Alfredo used the same news sources for their Spanish newscasts as we did: radioteletype copy from the states. They were AP and UPI reports that were occasionally garbled in transmission. This was before AFRTS and other broadcasters had ready access to satellite communications.

I occasionally broke bread and socialized with both Alfredo Barea and Miguel Fernandez, and I remember them both with great fondness. By now, Barea is certainly deceased – but I often wonder whatever became of his bubbly protégé who found a bit of celebrity (and probably a degree of notoriety outside the Gitmo fence) as a broadcaster. Where are you Miguel Fernandez?

As I ponder Miguel’s whereabouts – I’m also curious about two of my Navy friends who also worked at WGBY during the early to mid-1960s.

Paul Lanham (left) aspired to go to medical school and become a doctor. I don’t remember where he was from, but he was well read and did well in his first (and perhaps last) broadcasting job. His cohort, Hank Harris (right) was also working at his first job in broadcasting – but he sounded like a pro and could likely have made a good career of it, if he wanted. I recall that Hank had ties to Denver. Most memorable: he was born in the Philippines during World War and – as I remember it – his father suffered considerably as a Japanese prisoner of war.

It would be good to see these old friends again…..and rekindle those friendships of nearly a half century ago.