Can AM Radio Be Saved?

When I was a kid, I dreamed of owning my own radio station. I had no idea what it cost to buy one, but it seemed like the best of all possible things to acquire-- after all, radio was a central part of my life, and I knew lots of other kids who felt the same way. We all loved rock and roll, we all loved listening to the deejays, and many of us enjoyed going to record hops and hearing the local bands perform. Owning a station seemed like such a cool thing to do, something that would make a lot of people happy.

In the 1950s and 1960s, top-40 ruled, and AM radio was king. Every city had live and local stations, and the deejays often made appearances at local businesses. I remember getting my first car and driving to Paragon Park, about a half-hour from my home. Paragon was a popular amusement park back then, but more importantly, WBZ Radio sometimes did live broadcasts, direct from their "Sundeck Studio." I was so excited to watch my favorite deejays in person; and as a college radio deejay, I did a couple of remotes too, from the quadrangle at Northeastern University in Boston. FM hadn't taken over yet. Many people didn't even own an FM radio, and most cars only had AM.  Perhaps the audio quality wasn't the best, but the signals carried a long distance, and whether you were listening with your portable radio or listening with your transistor, AM radio could accompany you everywhere, kind of like a best friend. 

These days, it's all different. If you turn on a station on the AM band (something few young people ever do), all you hear is angry political talk shows, foreign language programs, religious broadcasts, and lots of news and sports. Some AM stations do still play music, but increasingly, it's songs for people over 60, since research says they are the only ones who still listen. Everyone else long ago migrated to FM, or to the internet, streaming audio, and YouTube. Many AM stations have gone dark-- owners have just given up and pulled the plug.

But does it have to be that way? Maybe I'm naive, and maybe I'm a dreamer, but I want to believe that AM could still make a difference. For example, if you put a live and local station on the air, play interesting music, have strong ties with your community, and give the listeners something worth listening to, they might just give you a chance--even if you're on the AM band.  Anecdotally, I'm told some AM community stations are doing that-- entertaining the public, giving local bands a chance, providing something unique for their community. And people seem to like that.

I understand the media environment in 2022 is not the same as in the 1960s. I understand that most young adults haven't listened to AM in years. But what if we gave them a good reason to? What if we brought back radio that had entertaining personalities and was fun to listen to? It might not work everywhere, but somewhere, in some city, there's a signal going to waste, and some good people who want to make that signal mean something. I still want to own a radio station, because radio changed my life; and I don't want to give up on AM just yet, even if all the experts say the odds are against anyone succeeding. So, what do you think? Is it too late for AM radio? Or can AM radio be saved? I welcome your opinions. I've already told you mine!        

 

How Shall We Pray? And Where?

I have a friend who is firmly convinced that I'm going to burn in hell because I'm Jewish and haven't accepted Christianity. It's what her church teaches, and she sincerely believes it. Every now and then, she feels obligated to witness to me (for my own good, as she sees it), but since I used to be chaplain and know my Bible fairly well, I'm usually able to hold my own in any debate about scripture. We've managed to stay friends in spite of this theological impasse (we have many other things in common); but I know that deep down, she keeps hoping she'll find the right verse to persuade me to see "the truth." 

But she won't. The problem, of course, is that her truth is not mine. I respect her beliefs, and I have nothing against them. I simply wish she could understand that I really like being Jewish and I have no wish to accept some other religion. Unfortunately, there are a lot of folks who share her belief that the Jews need to convert, and I've met quite a few of them over the years. Some are very assertive about it, like the missionaries who go door-to-door, or the high school kids who called me a "Christ-killer" and pushed me down some stairs.

On the other hand, I've met some folks who were much kinder and gentler about it. They just assumed that everyone would be fine with Christian prayers or Christian symbols, and they were stunned (or offended) if anyone objected. I grew up in the era when there was still prayer in public schools-- it was always Christian prayer, followed by a Christian hymn.  And if a Jewish student ever asked about that (as I once did), the answer was that this was what the majority wanted. There was no expectation that those of us in the minority would be included, nor any understanding of why this morning ritual (in what was supposed to be a public school) might seem like imposing one religion and ignoring all the others. 

What brought this back to me was the recent Supreme Court decision in favor of a high school football coach who likes to engage in Christian prayer at the end of a game, surrounded by his team (and sometimes by players from the other team). The conservative Christian judges in the majority seemed okay with this. They said it was not imposing Christianity on the players, since they were not being forced to participate. Except, they really were. Imagine if one of the kids on the team walked away and didn't join the prayer circle. Imagine if one of the kids thought a football field isn't a place for a prayer circle. I suggest that such views would not have been warmly welcomed-- by their coach or by others in attendance.

Many years ago, I too was told if I didn't like the Christian prayers and songs, I could leave and come back-- but you tell me, dear readers, how I would have been treated by the other kids if I had done that. Yet here we are, decades later, with a Supreme Court that seems oblivious to the harm it might cause by allowing the football coach to do something he wants to do and potentially turn anyone who disagrees into a pariah.

I know some of you will think I'm being anti-Christian. I'm not.  I just don't think public spaces, like football games, are the right place for religious ceremonies-- from anyone's religion. Frankly, I don't think God cares who wins the football game. And I don't think God wants us to make a public show out of our piety-- I vaguely recall Jesus saying something in the New Testament about those who pray loudly so that others will see them; he recommended that we pray quietly and privately, so that only God sees us. The judges on the Supreme Court who voted to weaken the separation of church and state probably think they did a wonderful thing. But on behalf of those of us from different faiths than the majority, we wish they had thought more about being inclusive and tolerant, and less about imposing their "truth" on everyone else.

A Special Afternoon in Hollywood

I remember reading online once that "just about anyone can get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame; if you've got the money, you can get one." That isn't true, and I know from firsthand experience. It's actually a complicated process, and certain very specific criteria have to be met. There's a formal proposal you have to make (stating why you believe you meet those criteria); there's a committee that gets together and considers your proposal; and if you are chosen, there are fees that need to be paid (for example, there needs to be crowd control, security for the celebrity or celebrities, etc). Then, you have to choose a date and plan the logistics. Bottom line: it can take months... or even years, and no, it's not just a matter of paying someone some money. 

I sincerely believed that Rush deserved a star on the Walk of Fame. I also believed they met the criteria: they had millions of fans, a long career, and numerous achievements in the music industry.  And, to be honest, I was frustrated at the disrespect the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame was showing the band. No matter how hard I tried to persuade the judges at the Rock Hall, there was a group of them who had never liked Rush's music, and who refused to take them seriously. I knew this was as annoying to the fans as it was to me, and so it was, in 2007, that I decided to champion Rush for a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. 

It would take three years and a lot of hard work before it finally happened. I had some wonderful folks working with me, especially Kevin and Keith Purdy, two brothers from St. Louis who were devoted Rush fans; and there were also a number of other folks who helped-- we were determined to get this done, because in our view, no rock band deserved a star more than Rush. So, we created the proposal, working with amazing folks in Rush's management (including the legendary Pegi Cecconi), and we kept on gathering momentum until things finally came together. And at 11:30 AM, on June 25, 2010, Rush was awarded their much-deserved star.

I was both surprised and flattered when Pegi asked if I'd come up and give a short speech as part of that ceremony. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, and if you want a copy of my speech, I still have it. I meant every word I said, and when I finished, Alex and Geddy seemed very moved by it. As I spoke, I looked out at the large crowd who came to share that special day. Neil wasn't there, nor did we expect him to be (he was there in spirit, of course), but his wife and daughter were, as were Geddy's family, and many other friends and relatives. It was Neil's friend Craig who took this photo of me and the guys standing by the star (below). I still remember what a sense of gratification I felt, knowing I had played a part in honoring this amazing band.         

And here we are in 2022, twelve years later, and it is as emotional for me now as it was then. Yesterday, I reached out to Kevin Purdy to ask for his recollections. Like me, he remains amazed and impressed by how many fans showed up, and gratified to have fought for this project until it reached its very successful conclusion. And I know for a fact that even now, people come from long distances to see that star, to get a photo taken, and to feel that sense of pride in being a part of the world-wide community of Rush fans.  It was a very special day, and one I doubt I will ever forget. And if you were there too, you know exactly what I mean.   

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

I became a baseball fan when I was about 11 or 12 years old. To this day, I don't know why: my father wasn't a big fan, and I had no brothers. (Back then, the common wisdom was that girls hated sports-- and only pretended to be interested if they had a brother or a boyfriend who played.) And once I discovered baseball, I especially loved listening to it on the radio-- Curt Gowdy and Bob Murphy were the play-by-play announcers in the '50s, and they really knew how to make the game enjoyable. In fact, even though our family had a TV set, I preferred listening to the games rather than watching them. (I was attracted to radio from a very early age-- I loved the deejays, of course, but I loved the sportscasters too.) And if a game went long, and it was past my bedtime, I'd hide my transistor radio under my pillow and listen till the game was over.

But I didn't know a lot of female fans. And when I tried to talk baseball with the guys, they seemed uncomfortable about it, especially if I knew more about the game than a girl was supposed to. So, I dreamed that one day, I might be a sportscaster or a sportswriter (two occupations I was told were not suitable for girls), and I listened to as many games as I could-- whether the Red Sox (my home team) or teams from other cities (late at night, distant signals came in very clearly on AM, and I could hear the Baltimore Orioles on WBAL, as well as other teams, in the major and minor leagues).

I never did get the chance to be a play-by-play announcer, but I did become a deejay (as many of you know) and I've remained a baseball fan to this day. In the late 1980s, when I began researching the history of broadcasting, I was finally able to answer the question about whether there had been women fans in the old days-- as it turned out, yes there were. In fact, in the famous song "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," the original 1908 version was about a young woman named "Nellie" who was "baseball-mad" and couldn't wait for her boyfriend to take her to the ballpark so she could watch the game.  There were even young women who tried to play baseball, and not just as a stunt: I have a new article about that in the current issue of the Baseball Research Journal:  https://sabr.org/journal/article/marvels-or-menaces-how-the-press-covered-the-lady-baseballists-1865-1915/       

Today, it's no longer unusual to find women baseball fans, women baseball players, women baseball writers, and a few sportscasters are women too. Five years ago this week, I had the privilege of giving a talk at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown about some of the earliest women baseball writers, one of whom (Ina Eloise Young) covered the game as far back as 1906. Among the others I discussed were Pearl Kroll, who covered baseball for Time magazine in the late 1930s/early 1940s-- but the male sportswriters refused to let her into the press box; and Willa Bea Harmon, who covered the Negro Leagues in the 1940s.  It was a joy to tell their stories.  

But unlike when I was growing up, I don't see as many young people-- male or female-- at the ballpark these days. I also don't see many kids playing ball in the neighborhood or at local fields, the way they did when I was growing up. (I even used to go to watch semipro games in the Park League sometimes, and there were lots of young people in the stands.) There are many possible reasons for a lack of young fans: tickets these days are impossibly expensive, most of the games are at night, other sports have grown in popularity (like basketball and football) and overtaken baseball... but as a long-time fan, I would love to see more kids playing ball again. And now that the pandemic is finally receding, I can't wait to once again see some games in person. Meanwhile, I'll keep listening on the radio, and watching on TV. I can't help it: when I think of summer, I think of baseball...  

A Few Thoughts About Ageism

As many of you know, I turned 75 on Valentine's Day. When I was a kid, folks who were 75 were often called "elderly." There were many stereotypes about the elderly back then-- they were usually thought of as frail, forgetful, incapable of doing what they used to do. Sometimes, they were called senile. The idea that someone in their 70s would still be working full-time was considered unlikely-- after all, folks of that age were unable to remember things, and unable to keep up the pace of younger people.  

Fast forward to today. As you also know, I got my PhD at age 64, and I've been a professor at Lesley University since 2008 (I taught part-time at Emerson College before that). I can't imagine retiring, and I'll let you decide if I'm "frail" or "forgetful" or (gasp) "senile." In many ways, we Baby Boomers have redefined what it means to be in our 70s. A sizable number of us are still working-- some part-time, but some full-time. Some of us are retired but still do volunteer work. Some of us are engaged in a variety of hobbies. And yes, some of us are indeed suffering from various illnesses and unable to do what we used to do.

My point is that everything changes, including our definitions of the "right" age to do X or Y or Z. I know folks who didn't start college till they were in their 40s. I know folks who didn't get married till they were in their 50s. I know folks who are in their 80s and sharp as the proverbial tack, and I know folks who are in their 30s who have no common sense whatsoever. The word "elderly" is no longer our preferred term-- it has a judgmental connotation. We're senior citizens these days-- although I admit I don't like that term any better. 

Meanwhile, let's look at congress, where Mitch McConnell is 80. Nancy Pelosi is 82. Bernie Sanders is also 80. President Joe Biden is 79. And former president Donald Trump is the youngster in the group-- he's about to turn 76. What brought all this to mind is that I saw someone posting on social media the other day that Mr. Biden is "senile." It really irritated me. Just because you don't agree with someone, don't say they are cognitively impaired. I don't for one minute think Mitch McConnell is senile-- and I rarely agree with him on anything. Yes, of course, aging can affect a person's brain, but its impact is different for every person. 

So, let's not return to ageist stereotypes from the past. Mr. Biden is a stutterer, and he has never been a good public speaker, but that is not a sign of "dementia." Alzheimer's is a terrible disease that robs people of their memories-- but not every older person will get it. So, if we can avoid tossing words around that demean and stereotype older people, I think that will be a good thing. As I said, we all age differently. I'm actually impressed when I see folks in their 80s doing what they love. My hope is that I'll be like former CBS News anchor Dan Rather-- he's 90, and still active (and still very much aware of current events). But above all, I hope we can learn to respect those who are older, and honor those who still want to make a contribution to society--whatever their age.  

           

Why I Miss the Fairness Doctrine, and Maybe You Do Too?

I grew up with AM radio, back when it still played music. Every city had at least one great top-40 station, and many of those stations had very entertaining personality deejays. The on-air talent in the 1950s and 1960s focused on playing the hits, but some of the announcers were also very amusing, and they knew how to make their listeners feel as if they were part of a community of fans. That was still true as music gradually shifted over to FM in the 1970s: when Rush sang in "The Spirit of Radio" about beginning the day with a friendly voice, that is exactly what radio meant to its loyal listeners.  In fact, if you were having a bad day, listening to your favorite station definitely would change your mood for the better.

Back then, the FCC mandated that radio broadcast a certain amount of news, and a certain amount of public service programming (the newscasts tended to be on the hour; the public service programming was usually buried early on Sunday mornings). Some stations also had talk shows, but they were very different from the ones we hear today: because of the Fairness Doctrine, these shows had to present both sides of the issues. In addition, insults and name-calling were generally not allowed-- in the mid-to-late 1960s, as society grew more polarized during the Vietnam era, a few talk hosts became more confrontational, but they were not the norm. Most talk show hosts tried to be interesting and informative. And although some had their pet causes, they tried not to sound angry or rude when discussing them. 

But gradually, deregulation allowed various rules to go away. Among them was the Fairness Doctrine, which ended in 1987, paving the way for one-sided talk programs that no longer needed to present any other points of view. Among the first to see the possibilities were conservative Republicans, who began putting partisan talk shows on the air. More than three decades later, over 95% of talk radio remains dominated by conservative perspectives, to the exclusion of everything else. And for those of us who had become accustomed to courtesy and informative debate, many of these programs offered neither: they featured name-calling, insults, and mockery of anyone on "the other side." 

What brought all this to mind was a three-part article in the New York Times about Fox News' commentator Tucker Carlson and the impact his cable TV show has had on the Republican Party, as well as on the American public. I know some of you never read the Times, and you may think it's a biased hit job. Not so. It's actually a very important piece about how allowing one-sided, confrontational talk shows to proliferate on radio and TV has turned our politics into professional wrestling, with partisans on each side seeking opportunities to verbally attack their opponents, and to score as many points as possible, even if that means fighting dirty.  Winning is everything, even if it means making false accusations, exaggerating, distorting, and demonizing "the other side." Tucker is a master at this style. He knows what his audience wants, and he delivers it, night after night.

But should a talk show host be the dominant force in our politics? Should a talk show host have more power than the president or members of congress? I know many folks who love his show and believe every word of it, even when it's pointed out to them that much of what he says is demonstrably false (and brutally one-sided). The problem is that talk show hosts care first and foremost about ratings. They don't care as much about what their rhetoric, or their framing of events, is doing to the country. Spreading hatred of "the other side" while praising "our side" is great for ratings. Fearmongering about immigrants, or liberals, or Black people, or Jews has always been good for building an audience. But it isn't so good for building friendships across party lines or promoting a sense that we're all in this together.

In other words, as the Times article points out, what's good for Tucker's ratings may not be so good for America. If the Fairness Doctrine were still around, we might still have the tools to limit anyone (on either side) who wants to use the airwaves for scary conspiracy theories or myths about the dangers that some group allegedly poses. But the end of the Fairness Doctrine has meant the gloves are off. The FCC won't do a thing: supposedly the 'market' will-- except hate has always been a big winner, and it always finds a large and eager audience.  

No, I don't want to see Tucker censored. And no, I am not blaming him for everything that's wrong in our politics. But having grown up with talk radio (and TV) that tried to be fair and accurate, I still can't get used to the airwaves being used for spreading anger and outrage (especially when the outrage is manufactured to build ratings and get certain politicians elected). I know there's no political will to bring the Fairness Doctrine back. I also know that a sizable number of people seem okay with talk shows no longer being courteous. And yet, I miss the shows that used to be informative rather than angry. And I especially miss the ones that began the day with a friendly voice...  I wonder if I'm the only one who feels that way.

Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself

Once a month, I have the privilege of being part of a Rush-themed webcast. Each member of the panel takes a song from this month's Rush album and analyzes it. This time around, we did "Signals," from 1982, and the song I talked about was "The Weapon." 

It begins with a famous quote, from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's inaugural address, delivered in 1933, when America was in the depths of the Great Depression. The president came to be known for his "Fireside Chats," radio talks about the issues of the day, during which he encouraged and inspired the audience, and made them feel as if he was talking directly to them.  And he understood that in difficult times, it's easy to give in to fear.

Neil Peart understood that too, which is why he quoted from Roosevelt. On numerous occasions, Neil wrote about how easily our fears could be weaponized -- used against us to paralyze us into inaction or to make us hate "the other." In a world where people are so often seeking simple answers to complex problems, it's easy for unscrupulous leaders to claim the problem is "those people" or "that country." In the lyrics to "The Weapon," Neil speaks of how "the things that we fear are a weapon to be held against us."      

It's Passover as I write this. Part of the observance of the holiday is to tell the story of the Exodus, of the miracle by which the Jews were set free from slavery in Egypt. In Exodus, chapter 18, we are instructed to tell the Passover story in a particular, and very personal, way: "And you shall tell your child on that day as follows: 'It is because of what the Lord did for me, when he took me out of Egypt.' ”

In other words, remember that even though this event happened several thousand years ago, it is just as real today.  Agreed, most of us are not living in bondage, and I am not trying to trivialize the story, especially in a world where slavery has not been entirely eradicated.  But on some levels, if you think about it, many of us endure a certain kind of emotional slavery. We keep making the same mistakes, we keep fearing the unknown, we keep fearing those who are different... and we're convinced that nothing will ever change.

In Hebrew, the word for Egypt is "Mitzrayim," but I am told that word also connotes "the narrow place." Each of us is stuck in our own narrow place, and often, we can see no way to break free.   Passover is about the Exodus, about leaving Mitzrayim, but it's also about leaving the place that is keeping you confined. Neil was right when he said the things we fear can be a weapon to be held against us. But the good news is it doesn't have to be that way.

And if I have a Passover message, it would be that we have nothing to fear but fear itself. I know about fear: I've grappled with it many times in my life. But if there's one thing I've learned it's that kindness and compassion-- and love-- are more powerful than fear. Sooner or later, love wins-- if we turn away from our fear and embrace new possibilities. So, whether you are religious or not, make time for those new possibilities. And don't allow fear to be weaponized against you, not now, not ever.