Most, but not all, of the undergraduate three-hour courses had an associated practicum course, commonly referred to as "lab,” where we got our hands-on training. These mandatory lab courses met only one hour a week and were made up of students from the various sections of the mother course. The "mother course" meant, for this first semester, my Introduction to Broadcasting course that met Tuesday and Thursday mornings. There was another section of the course that met the afternoons of those same days, and students from both sections could sign up for any one of the half dozen-or-so lab times on Mondays and Wednesdays. That in turn meant your lab might consist of people not in your regular Intro course.
I found some of lab sections somewhat boring, considering I was already familiar with some equipment from my work at the radio station. Mind you, I was by no means an expert but I was a fast learner and I didn't enjoy having to go through how to record my voice from the microphone via the audio board. Not everyone was participating at the station, so I'm sure it was interesting for those people. Plus I was now going to be graded in my ability to record my voice, so I should, at the very least, pretend to do with some skill. I also found I had no issue speaking to the entire county over the airwaves, but yet got nervous when I had to do something in front of the class-size audience.
The labs did help to illustrate what Dr. Propel was yammering about during class because being told how equipment worked or was used in “the real world” went only so far. I mean, really: reading about how to cue a record on a turntable is different from actually doing it yourself and hearing the "wow" noise when you do it improperly. Like, wow, man.
During my first two years in program the labs were graded like others classes: students received a letter grade for their efforts. Midway through my time as a student the faculty decided (that is, I assume it was them that decided) to change this to "pass/fail." By that time I was done with all the mandatory labs, but ultimately I should have been unconcerned because I knew if I were in such a class that I would put forth the effort to receive the "pass" grade at semester end.
There was a group of us, though, that were less than thrilled about the change. It was a small group, mostly comprised of student management at the radio or television stations, that all had the shared experience of going through the Advanced Audio course with Dr. LeMeck. LeMeck expected you to work in his course – there were no such thing as an "Easy A," much less an "Easy B" – and he set the bar a little higher than some of us originally envisioned it. Part of our displeasure in the change in grading is that we had been required to put forth great efforts to just get a passing grade; now students could do "A-level work" or "C-level work" and still "pass" the course. We felt that the new crop of students coming up would not be as battletested as we were or put forth the amount of effort we did to keep things going strong.
Propel's labs were more or less the same as his classes: direct, informative, and the occasional goofy comment on something. It was going to be an interesting semester as far as I could see.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Sea
(Joe Sib/C. Shifiett)
22 Jacks
From the album Uncle Bob
1996
think I might go down today
complications way to deep
wanna swim way out to sea
implications on my skin
feel the situation rise
told myself to many lies
working for the good of all
and now I’m gonna take their fall
if I go under
why even come back
think I might sleep today
things are moving way too fast
pull me up before I pass
got anchors on my ankles
then again I better go
cause everybody here will know
think I might drown today
think I might drown today
just motionless and stuck in it
just motionless and heartless
somebody give me a push
before I drown
don’t wanna go down
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Lest we stay cautious, remembered our spells, only kept the strongest on parchment
On the other side of the radio station's main studio, stuck in between it and the music library (the student office), was another room, another studio. The primary studio had shelves of music, lots of equipment, wall decorations, and, in essence, its own personality; this secondary studio was the complete opposite. The bare walls were fuzzy maroon-colored soundproofing, a mostly empty grey counter top ran the length of one wall, and a four-channel audio board sat on the round table anchored in the middle of the floor. Just like the main studio, there was a large glass window that allowed passersby to look in on all the excitement.
The nameplate outside the door officially designated this as "Studio 2," but it was often named in accordance with whoever was using the room. When I arrived as a freshman it was dubbed "the newsroom," that is, where radio news was broadcast. Radio news – as well as its visually challenged, student-produced television counterpart – was actually gathered and disseminated (and sometime misunderstood) down the hall in another room. Our nascent scripts were typed in this larger room (typed on a real, honest-to-goodness typewriter, no less) and then we trudged down the hall into the studio to share these scripts with the DJ on duty, the university, the citizens of Morra County, and those people passing through town on the Interstate. (Give us a break – we thought big.)
Sometimes we prepared our newscasts in this secondary studio, but only when television staff got overly frumpy about use of the other room; this was not a daily ordeal but it happened more than it should. Occasionally the morning news staff arrived on the scene and the second studio door was locked; we never understood why, since the morning DJ should have had keys to both rooms; but we just bucked up and broadcast from the main control room.
Still, the second studio served a variety of roles. Some of the student-produced public affairs programs required a large room to interview a number of guests at once and thankfully the room was large enough to seat five or six people with mics (microphones) around the round table. A number of B-grade musicians were interviewed here as they passed through town on tour, as well.
It was also home, during my freshmen year, to the station’s sports call-in show. Evidently station management (that is, both the students and the faculty advisors) must have had really stepped out of the box that school year in terms of the varied programming. There was nothing really like the morning shows (which I’ve already said enough about) or the sports call-in show in any of my subsequent semesters as an undergraduate.
Studio 2 was stripped to the floor and walls during my senior year to make way for the first non-linear editing bay, meaning radio news got pushed to closet-sized production room on the other side of the building. Since then the room has been used as office, first for random faculty members and now the new student management office.
So ultimately, that large glass window in the wall rarely revealed anything remotely exciting. I mean, it’s just a room.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Mics of the Roundtable
(A. Carter/Lilndsey, O./Lindsey, O./Massey, T./D. Thompson)
Hieroglyphics
From the album 3rd Eye Vision
1998
Yeah, Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop
What? Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop
Intro/Chorus: repeat 2X
All nightin, all dayin, crusadin
Invadin, tryin to find out who's Satan
Hieroglyphics on the conquest, move makin
For the holy mic you takin
A man dies once, but a coward dies a thousand deaths
Man you must know how to step with no power left
Those words are words of the prophetess of the powerless
as she professed, we became incensed, set up on a quest
Totally entrenched in every flow that we dispensed
Any foe'll be a cinch, cause we know that we been sent
By the divine, universal mother and father to rhyme
You pre-millenium MC's are far behind
So we off to find, the holy mic it's only right
Hieroglyphics mics of the round table can hold it tight
Keep it stable, collectin, scriptures and secrets
Projectin the cohesive, beam like graviton
with the avalon, Hiero is dope ask God
And evil-doers on the mic you have done your last fraud
This ain't no practical joke, or anti-factual hoax
But something each breath in my avioli sacs'll promote
Opposing MC's will be stomped in the process or taken hostage
until it is accomplished and you can't stop us
Draw down the drawbridge, cross the moat, let's go
Hieroglyphics adventures in the Twilight Zone
Chorus
[A-Plus]
Rumor has it, in a far away land
The enemy's partly a devil and he's partly a man
Now we, on a crusade, and I, got a new blade
from the blacksmith, plus some chainmail that fits my frame well
Three Knights walking, Knights stalkin for the Holy Mic y'all
Sun up to night fall
Despite all efforts from the sacreligious interlopers
Mountains, snows, swamps, even bridges we will venture over
We were amazed it took
only a mere, three hundred sixty days on foot
Now we, better be brave 'fore we enter the cave
If we don't our people will either be dead or be slaves
[Tajai]
I've got a, vague, feeling he's here somewhere
Feeding off rage, villiany, tears and fears
Hob nobbin with Hobgoblins, drinkin blood out of golden goblets
Waitin for us to throw the gauntlet
And start some conscience, so it can locate then squash us
Lest we stay cautious, remembered our spells
Only kept the strongest on parchment
Excellent swordsman and marksmen
Who's souls have been tarnished, but still escaped the demon's harness
Treading intrepantly upon a course
So many mornings, noons and nights no snoozing
Following the Northern Lights
Does this Holy Mic, really exist?
Or is it I'm risking my life, following visions?
The Knights got my back, original is black
I keep thinking that, it strengthens my attack
We blaze the final sack, tribuning, then start up the stone stairs
to the inner sanctum, to do our duty
[Phesto D]
We're prepared to shed blood and die as mortals for the Round Table
If we just happen to get slaughtered, depart our coil deep in soil
Her royal highness was boiled alive in turpentine
Right in line with the serpentine skirt, she died cursed
The whole Oligarch was torn apart before the Dark Ages eclipsed the planet
So the Holy Septum known as the microphone would be in sole control
We'd unfolded the scroll that told us where to go
Through the mongols, the concrete jungles
slipped in The Man From UNKLE, was swashbuckling
beat shuffling, acrobatic attack with titanic force
Back and forth, trading slashes and gashes
The torch dwindled, then rekindled with flashes
Right again, then I put my scimitar right up in em
Venom is like a scorpion sting, retrieve the age old relic
Now, I'm back to the Round Table...
Chorus
Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop!
Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop!
Yeah, we shall continue!
The nameplate outside the door officially designated this as "Studio 2," but it was often named in accordance with whoever was using the room. When I arrived as a freshman it was dubbed "the newsroom," that is, where radio news was broadcast. Radio news – as well as its visually challenged, student-produced television counterpart – was actually gathered and disseminated (and sometime misunderstood) down the hall in another room. Our nascent scripts were typed in this larger room (typed on a real, honest-to-goodness typewriter, no less) and then we trudged down the hall into the studio to share these scripts with the DJ on duty, the university, the citizens of Morra County, and those people passing through town on the Interstate. (Give us a break – we thought big.)
Sometimes we prepared our newscasts in this secondary studio, but only when television staff got overly frumpy about use of the other room; this was not a daily ordeal but it happened more than it should. Occasionally the morning news staff arrived on the scene and the second studio door was locked; we never understood why, since the morning DJ should have had keys to both rooms; but we just bucked up and broadcast from the main control room.
Still, the second studio served a variety of roles. Some of the student-produced public affairs programs required a large room to interview a number of guests at once and thankfully the room was large enough to seat five or six people with mics (microphones) around the round table. A number of B-grade musicians were interviewed here as they passed through town on tour, as well.
It was also home, during my freshmen year, to the station’s sports call-in show. Evidently station management (that is, both the students and the faculty advisors) must have had really stepped out of the box that school year in terms of the varied programming. There was nothing really like the morning shows (which I’ve already said enough about) or the sports call-in show in any of my subsequent semesters as an undergraduate.
Studio 2 was stripped to the floor and walls during my senior year to make way for the first non-linear editing bay, meaning radio news got pushed to closet-sized production room on the other side of the building. Since then the room has been used as office, first for random faculty members and now the new student management office.
So ultimately, that large glass window in the wall rarely revealed anything remotely exciting. I mean, it’s just a room.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Mics of the Roundtable
(A. Carter/Lilndsey, O./Lindsey, O./Massey, T./D. Thompson)
Hieroglyphics
From the album 3rd Eye Vision
1998
Yeah, Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop
What? Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop
Intro/Chorus: repeat 2X
All nightin, all dayin, crusadin
Invadin, tryin to find out who's Satan
Hieroglyphics on the conquest, move makin
For the holy mic you takin
A man dies once, but a coward dies a thousand deaths
Man you must know how to step with no power left
Those words are words of the prophetess of the powerless
as she professed, we became incensed, set up on a quest
Totally entrenched in every flow that we dispensed
Any foe'll be a cinch, cause we know that we been sent
By the divine, universal mother and father to rhyme
You pre-millenium MC's are far behind
So we off to find, the holy mic it's only right
Hieroglyphics mics of the round table can hold it tight
Keep it stable, collectin, scriptures and secrets
Projectin the cohesive, beam like graviton
with the avalon, Hiero is dope ask God
And evil-doers on the mic you have done your last fraud
This ain't no practical joke, or anti-factual hoax
But something each breath in my avioli sacs'll promote
Opposing MC's will be stomped in the process or taken hostage
until it is accomplished and you can't stop us
Draw down the drawbridge, cross the moat, let's go
Hieroglyphics adventures in the Twilight Zone
Chorus
[A-Plus]
Rumor has it, in a far away land
The enemy's partly a devil and he's partly a man
Now we, on a crusade, and I, got a new blade
from the blacksmith, plus some chainmail that fits my frame well
Three Knights walking, Knights stalkin for the Holy Mic y'all
Sun up to night fall
Despite all efforts from the sacreligious interlopers
Mountains, snows, swamps, even bridges we will venture over
We were amazed it took
only a mere, three hundred sixty days on foot
Now we, better be brave 'fore we enter the cave
If we don't our people will either be dead or be slaves
[Tajai]
I've got a, vague, feeling he's here somewhere
Feeding off rage, villiany, tears and fears
Hob nobbin with Hobgoblins, drinkin blood out of golden goblets
Waitin for us to throw the gauntlet
And start some conscience, so it can locate then squash us
Lest we stay cautious, remembered our spells
Only kept the strongest on parchment
Excellent swordsman and marksmen
Who's souls have been tarnished, but still escaped the demon's harness
Treading intrepantly upon a course
So many mornings, noons and nights no snoozing
Following the Northern Lights
Does this Holy Mic, really exist?
Or is it I'm risking my life, following visions?
The Knights got my back, original is black
I keep thinking that, it strengthens my attack
We blaze the final sack, tribuning, then start up the stone stairs
to the inner sanctum, to do our duty
[Phesto D]
We're prepared to shed blood and die as mortals for the Round Table
If we just happen to get slaughtered, depart our coil deep in soil
Her royal highness was boiled alive in turpentine
Right in line with the serpentine skirt, she died cursed
The whole Oligarch was torn apart before the Dark Ages eclipsed the planet
So the Holy Septum known as the microphone would be in sole control
We'd unfolded the scroll that told us where to go
Through the mongols, the concrete jungles
slipped in The Man From UNKLE, was swashbuckling
beat shuffling, acrobatic attack with titanic force
Back and forth, trading slashes and gashes
The torch dwindled, then rekindled with flashes
Right again, then I put my scimitar right up in em
Venom is like a scorpion sting, retrieve the age old relic
Now, I'm back to the Round Table...
Chorus
Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop!
Hieroglyphics crew, ya don't stop!
Yeah, we shall continue!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Now you're leaving all your friends behind, all damnations to the family
Dr. Ronald Schapp was an odd bird, which is almost an insult to the Dodo. Except the dodos are all long gone and wouldn’t really care about being compared to Ronald Schapp. Schapp was the instructor of the Advanced Audio Production course during my freshman year. I saw him only a few times that first semester during which time I was part of the news department. Oddly, I seemed to see him more often the following spring semester when I wasn't on staff and only in the building for communication classes.
I never had Schapp as an instructor; I was greatly pleased and only slightly disappointed about this. To begin, Schapp looked sort of like a cross between a mediocre Truman Capote impersonator and a wrinkled balloon. Even with this dumpy façade, he still gave off bad vibes and had a forbidding presence about himself when you saw him. He was, to put it bluntly, quite arrogant (the type who made eye contact only to stare you down). I believe he was originally from Michigan or Minnesota or somewhere else in the Midwest, and had been something of a major player at a television station there. Having grown tired of the day-to-day operations, he decided to "retire" to teaching. From this background he brought plenty of "real world" experience to the classroom setting, which I thought would be good for an instructor to have. But, as I recall from stories from Mike and James (see There where the air is free, we'll be what we want to be) and others, classes tended to be him talking of his past successes and belittling everyone else. If Schapp had any drawback, I suppose it was that he was perhaps too intelligent to be open-minded of the limitations of his students.
Whether or not Schapp knew it or not, this was to be his last school year on campus. I never heard a convincing answer as to why he departed: some said he was tired of lazy students while others said it was the other way around, he was a sloppy teacher who grew lazy himself and gave passing grades to anyone who bothered to show up. I have hazy memories of him sort of defying authority and letting the radio station staff do what they wanted that spring semester. Or, perhaps, this is what led to his dismissal – I don't know.
It would make sense in a way, seeing how the radio staff that assembled that fall semester came off as a bit more rebellious than before. Part of that cockiness may have stemmed from the fact that the two faculty members that had the most to do with the radio station – Dr. Propel, the faculty advisor, and Dr. Schapp, station manager and Advanced Audio instructor – both resigned at the end of the spring semester.
When students returned that fall, some of them – like the new Program Director, Frank Deluge – apparently felt they knew more than Propel and Schapp's replacements. Propel was replaced by Martin Manning, a young, charismatic guy fresh out of graduate school. Schapp was replaced by the legendary Julian LeMeck, coming to campus now for his second time. Deluge was replaced before the end of the semester, which we’ll get to later....
Anyway, I remember bringing up Schapp a few times during my junior and senior years and I usually got only strange looks in return. Was it something I said, or something he did? Why did I come across as the damnable one for bringing his name up? No one seemed to know (or remember) him and probably assumed I had spent too much time at the station.
Yeah, they probably were right.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Holier Than Thou
(Lloyd Cole)
Lloyd Cole
From the album Bad Vibes
1993
Holier than thou, yes its true
Im too good for you
Higher than heaven, taller than jesus
Charlie knows just what you need is
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Trust me I know what is true
What is good for you
Here in your heaven, in your hell
Are you living, pray tell
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Now you're leaving all your friends behind
All damnations to the family
Are you ready to be born again
Should you awake
Down, down, down
Down, down, underground
Holier than thou, yes its true
Im too good for you
Higher than heaven, taller than jesus
Charlie knows just what you need is
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
I never had Schapp as an instructor; I was greatly pleased and only slightly disappointed about this. To begin, Schapp looked sort of like a cross between a mediocre Truman Capote impersonator and a wrinkled balloon. Even with this dumpy façade, he still gave off bad vibes and had a forbidding presence about himself when you saw him. He was, to put it bluntly, quite arrogant (the type who made eye contact only to stare you down). I believe he was originally from Michigan or Minnesota or somewhere else in the Midwest, and had been something of a major player at a television station there. Having grown tired of the day-to-day operations, he decided to "retire" to teaching. From this background he brought plenty of "real world" experience to the classroom setting, which I thought would be good for an instructor to have. But, as I recall from stories from Mike and James (see There where the air is free, we'll be what we want to be) and others, classes tended to be him talking of his past successes and belittling everyone else. If Schapp had any drawback, I suppose it was that he was perhaps too intelligent to be open-minded of the limitations of his students.
Whether or not Schapp knew it or not, this was to be his last school year on campus. I never heard a convincing answer as to why he departed: some said he was tired of lazy students while others said it was the other way around, he was a sloppy teacher who grew lazy himself and gave passing grades to anyone who bothered to show up. I have hazy memories of him sort of defying authority and letting the radio station staff do what they wanted that spring semester. Or, perhaps, this is what led to his dismissal – I don't know.
It would make sense in a way, seeing how the radio staff that assembled that fall semester came off as a bit more rebellious than before. Part of that cockiness may have stemmed from the fact that the two faculty members that had the most to do with the radio station – Dr. Propel, the faculty advisor, and Dr. Schapp, station manager and Advanced Audio instructor – both resigned at the end of the spring semester.
When students returned that fall, some of them – like the new Program Director, Frank Deluge – apparently felt they knew more than Propel and Schapp's replacements. Propel was replaced by Martin Manning, a young, charismatic guy fresh out of graduate school. Schapp was replaced by the legendary Julian LeMeck, coming to campus now for his second time. Deluge was replaced before the end of the semester, which we’ll get to later....
Anyway, I remember bringing up Schapp a few times during my junior and senior years and I usually got only strange looks in return. Was it something I said, or something he did? Why did I come across as the damnable one for bringing his name up? No one seemed to know (or remember) him and probably assumed I had spent too much time at the station.
Yeah, they probably were right.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Holier Than Thou
(Lloyd Cole)
Lloyd Cole
From the album Bad Vibes
1993
Holier than thou, yes its true
Im too good for you
Higher than heaven, taller than jesus
Charlie knows just what you need is
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Trust me I know what is true
What is good for you
Here in your heaven, in your hell
Are you living, pray tell
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Now you're leaving all your friends behind
All damnations to the family
Are you ready to be born again
Should you awake
Down, down, down
Down, down, underground
Holier than thou, yes its true
Im too good for you
Higher than heaven, taller than jesus
Charlie knows just what you need is
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Were going down, down, underground
Sunday, March 9, 2008
ooee girl and there really ain't no time to waste, really ain't no time to hate
Leading the kick-off meetings held each semester was the Program Director (PD), an upperclassman that the faculty advisor thought demonstrated the knowledge, skills, and ability to oversee the day-to-day operation of the station. The PD would be the student with final say on the sound of the station as far as music, production elements, and other content was concerned, and would critique students during and at the end of the semester (i.e. grading). The PD was, in essence, the boss.
The PD for my freshman year was Helen Miles. I have absolutely no recollection of Helen now and I would have forgotten about her by the time I stepped into the PD role four years later had it not been for pictures of student management from previous semesters hanging on a wall. I'm sure she was at the kick-off meeting and I'm sure I may have been introduced to her, but since I only did news in the early morning hours I’m sure our paths must not have crossed much.
She would have busy, though. Even though the position was held by a student, the position didn’t bend to accommodate so-called “student time” – the radio station was on the air 18 hours a day, seven days a week, and the PD was responsible for it all.
On average the PD put in 16-20 hours each week, but in horrendously irregular and inconsistent shifts. Somewhere in there Helen probably had regularly scheduled office hours, in which she maintained the program logs (a record of what non-musical items were played and when); the transmitter logs (a record of the transmitter readings); and the Public File (a series of documents maintained about the station’s programming and operations, as required by our friends in Washington – the FCC).
Other duties included developing the semester schedule based on input received at the first meeting; training the announcers (thankfully with assistance from the other directors); scheduling vacancies when announcers don’t show up; attending the weekly management meetings (essentially a meeting of the “class” that student managers enrolled in); as well as a number of other tasks. Above all, the PD monitored the station for programming quality and professionalism.
The position was almost always bestowed upon a senior, a fitting way for someone to be rewarded prior to graduation for all the time and effort he or she had committed in years past. Likewise, the tenure of all the directors (Program, Music, News, etc.) was one school year (two semesters); however, for a number of off-the-wall reasons, the Program Director position fluctuated each semester while I was an undergraduate.
Let’s see...I think six bosses in four years.
That’s a lot of boss.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Boss D.J.
(Sublime)
Sublime
From the album Robbin' the Hood
1994
there's a steel train comin' through
i would take it if i could
and i would not lie to you
because sunday mornin' soon will come
when things will be much easier to say
upon the microphone like a boss dj
but i won't walk up upon the sea like it was dry land
a boss dj he ain't nothin' but a man
no trouble, no fuss, i know why..
it's so nice, i wanna hear the same song twice
it's so nice don't wanna hear the same song twice
rumors are spreading all over my town
but it's just stones and sticks
upon the microphone is where i go to get my fix
just let the lovin' take a hold cuz it will if you let it
i'm funky not a junkie but i know where to get it
no trouble no fuss i know why
it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
oooee girl
oooee girl
oooee girl
ooee girl and there really ain't no time to waste
really ain't no time to hate
ain't got no time to waste, time to hate
really ain't no time to make the time go away
so mister dj don't stop the music
i wanna know
are you feelin' the same way too?
i wanna rock it wih you-oo girl,
you-oo girl, you-oo girl, oooooo
mmmmmhmmmhhmmm
don't stop
'cuz it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
nowadays all the songs on the radio they all
all drive me crazy
The PD for my freshman year was Helen Miles. I have absolutely no recollection of Helen now and I would have forgotten about her by the time I stepped into the PD role four years later had it not been for pictures of student management from previous semesters hanging on a wall. I'm sure she was at the kick-off meeting and I'm sure I may have been introduced to her, but since I only did news in the early morning hours I’m sure our paths must not have crossed much.
She would have busy, though. Even though the position was held by a student, the position didn’t bend to accommodate so-called “student time” – the radio station was on the air 18 hours a day, seven days a week, and the PD was responsible for it all.
On average the PD put in 16-20 hours each week, but in horrendously irregular and inconsistent shifts. Somewhere in there Helen probably had regularly scheduled office hours, in which she maintained the program logs (a record of what non-musical items were played and when); the transmitter logs (a record of the transmitter readings); and the Public File (a series of documents maintained about the station’s programming and operations, as required by our friends in Washington – the FCC).
Other duties included developing the semester schedule based on input received at the first meeting; training the announcers (thankfully with assistance from the other directors); scheduling vacancies when announcers don’t show up; attending the weekly management meetings (essentially a meeting of the “class” that student managers enrolled in); as well as a number of other tasks. Above all, the PD monitored the station for programming quality and professionalism.
The position was almost always bestowed upon a senior, a fitting way for someone to be rewarded prior to graduation for all the time and effort he or she had committed in years past. Likewise, the tenure of all the directors (Program, Music, News, etc.) was one school year (two semesters); however, for a number of off-the-wall reasons, the Program Director position fluctuated each semester while I was an undergraduate.
Let’s see...I think six bosses in four years.
That’s a lot of boss.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Boss D.J.
(Sublime)
Sublime
From the album Robbin' the Hood
1994
there's a steel train comin' through
i would take it if i could
and i would not lie to you
because sunday mornin' soon will come
when things will be much easier to say
upon the microphone like a boss dj
but i won't walk up upon the sea like it was dry land
a boss dj he ain't nothin' but a man
no trouble, no fuss, i know why..
it's so nice, i wanna hear the same song twice
it's so nice don't wanna hear the same song twice
rumors are spreading all over my town
but it's just stones and sticks
upon the microphone is where i go to get my fix
just let the lovin' take a hold cuz it will if you let it
i'm funky not a junkie but i know where to get it
no trouble no fuss i know why
it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
oooee girl
oooee girl
oooee girl
ooee girl and there really ain't no time to waste
really ain't no time to hate
ain't got no time to waste, time to hate
really ain't no time to make the time go away
so mister dj don't stop the music
i wanna know
are you feelin' the same way too?
i wanna rock it wih you-oo girl,
you-oo girl, you-oo girl, oooooo
mmmmmhmmmhhmmm
don't stop
'cuz it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
it's so nice i wanna hear the same song twice
nowadays all the songs on the radio they all
all drive me crazy
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Strange Meeting
While the freshmen year began being enrolled in the Introduction to Broadcasting course, I didn't get involved with radio work for a few weeks, as the student management had to get situated themselves in with their own classes before preparing for the station-wide meeting. In the meantime the station was usually run by veteran volunteers, people who had been around a while and didn’t need to be trained. Usually these would be the same people who would disappear when volunteers were needed to train new people. Such was the way of this land.
I was sort of hesitant what this strange, all-staff meeting would entail. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do there, but I thought I’d give this radio thing a try. I guess it seemed the natural, obvious thing to do.
Of course, there was nothing guaranteeing me a new position. While non-management roles at the radio station were usually required to be filled by students enrolled in the Advanced Audio Production course, students in the introduction course could sign-up to help, too, though they often were used to patch-up unpopular shifts (like an early morning news shift or one of those late night weekend music shifts [see Curve's the words, spin's the verbs]).
These meetings were generally a loosely organized affair run by the program director, a student chosen to oversee all aspects of the station. Also in attendance were the station manager and faculty advisor – roles that were arguably the same thing but, at this point, were separated between two faculty members, Dr. Propel and Dr. Schapp. Of course the students in the Advanced Audio course were there (shoot, their grade depended on it), as well as anyone else who wanted to join in on the festivities for the semester.
The one requirement for participating, however, was that the student be enrolled in one of the Communication classes. That seemed like an obvious prerequisite to me at the time. Later I was told this was noted up front due to a mishap that happened one summer. Apparently the station wanted to maintain normal hours during a time when student involvement was slim and invited community volunteers to take a few shifts. An older gentleman from the community stepped into help but quickly went off on his own, making up his own rules and questioning the student management. That would have been interesting to see. And hear.
There are little memories of this first meeting, as I was still wide-eyed at the time and not always grasping just how much everything fit together (there were a lot more behind the scenes positions than I realized). Needless to say, I left the meeting having signed up for news shifts – three of 'em. I had come to college interested in journalism and I thought this might be a good way to get myself involved. I had no idea what lay in store (see Watching your river turn into an ocean).
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Strange Meeting
(Bill Frisell)
Bill Frisell
From the album This Land
1992
I was sort of hesitant what this strange, all-staff meeting would entail. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do there, but I thought I’d give this radio thing a try. I guess it seemed the natural, obvious thing to do.
Of course, there was nothing guaranteeing me a new position. While non-management roles at the radio station were usually required to be filled by students enrolled in the Advanced Audio Production course, students in the introduction course could sign-up to help, too, though they often were used to patch-up unpopular shifts (like an early morning news shift or one of those late night weekend music shifts [see Curve's the words, spin's the verbs]).
These meetings were generally a loosely organized affair run by the program director, a student chosen to oversee all aspects of the station. Also in attendance were the station manager and faculty advisor – roles that were arguably the same thing but, at this point, were separated between two faculty members, Dr. Propel and Dr. Schapp. Of course the students in the Advanced Audio course were there (shoot, their grade depended on it), as well as anyone else who wanted to join in on the festivities for the semester.
The one requirement for participating, however, was that the student be enrolled in one of the Communication classes. That seemed like an obvious prerequisite to me at the time. Later I was told this was noted up front due to a mishap that happened one summer. Apparently the station wanted to maintain normal hours during a time when student involvement was slim and invited community volunteers to take a few shifts. An older gentleman from the community stepped into help but quickly went off on his own, making up his own rules and questioning the student management. That would have been interesting to see. And hear.
There are little memories of this first meeting, as I was still wide-eyed at the time and not always grasping just how much everything fit together (there were a lot more behind the scenes positions than I realized). Needless to say, I left the meeting having signed up for news shifts – three of 'em. I had come to college interested in journalism and I thought this might be a good way to get myself involved. I had no idea what lay in store (see Watching your river turn into an ocean).
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Strange Meeting
(Bill Frisell)
Bill Frisell
From the album This Land
1992
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