Radio Days (Part III): Culture Shock and "What's the Barometric Pressure?"

During the mid 1980s, my radio career took a dramatic turn. From the vibrant and dynamic lifestyle of Florida's Gulf Coast, I suddenly found myself thrust in a rural, isolated and of course, conservative backwater located in Northwest Oklahoma. The following is the third in a series of essays about my life as a broadcaster. Time Frame: 1983-1985.

After Florida fizzled out, I more or less stumbled my way back to St. Louis. I was virtually penniless from basically binging and partying away the small amount of savings that I had acquired. My parents less than enthusiastically took me in for what turned to be the last time I actually lived under their roof.

After the first day or so of niceties, my folks quickly guided my attention toward getting a job. I honestly thought that at this point that my career in radio was over. So I was not offended when my parents began presenting me help-wanted ads for insurance sales jobs.

Nevertheless, I kept hearing this little voice in my head. It kept telling me, "the Broadcast Center offers lifetime placement for their students". I reminded my folks about this service, and they basically said, "go for it!" So, I paid the school a visit.

I must have struck while the iron was hot because the Broadcast Center called within literally hours after my visit about about an opening. They told me it was at a station completely staffed by Center graduates. They must thought that this was the stronger selling point about the job because they withheld its location until I asked.

"Woodward, Oklahoma", they said. "It's in the northwest corner of the state near the panhandle." I asked about the format. They said the station, KSIW, is a full-service AM station that plays Country that's coupled with an automated FM station, KSIW-FM, that plays Top 40.

For some reason I was reluctant. But I was quickly reminded that I was lucky to have this opportunity, and I took it. In about a week, I made the trip out.

It was kind of a dismaying trip to me. The further west I went, it seemed towns, trees and radio stations became fewer in number. After I got about 60 miles west of Enid, Oklahoma, my FM car radio went totally silent. I switched to AM, however, and I was reassured in the fact that I was still able to pick up a couple of "blowtorches" from Tulsa and Oklahoma City.

I finally pulled into dusty and desolate Woodward. The smell of manure was ample. Everyone wore Western attire and waved at you as you drove by. (This by the way is not an act as I later learned. The people in this area are really that friendly.) I really felt like I was on a different planet. I was able to pick up only two FM stations, and on one of them (KSIW-FM as it turned out), I heard an almost prophetic song telling me to turn around. It was Bonnie Tyler's 1983 hit, "Total Eclipse of the Heart".





I decided to stick it out, and settled into being gainfully employed at KSIW-AM and FM. This operation was run with quite the iron hand. Ed Ryan, an elderly Oklahoma cowboy, owned and ran the station, and it was his way or the highway.

When I came to town, a brand-new, 100,000-watt FM country station (KWOX-FM, K-101) just opened for business, and they were, more or less, taking the area by storm. Meanwhile, the folks at KSIW, who were used to having the market to themselves, continued along business as usual. It was their little money maker, and programming was a totally foreign concept.

KSIW had a number of peculiar rules by which on-air personnel had to abide.We were announcers, not deejays or air personalities. We were never allowed to say our names.

Also, we were never permitted to segue one song into another. Between EVERY record, we were required to back announce the song, give the complete weather forecast along with current conditions including the humidity, wind speed, temperature and barometric pressure. Finally,then, we introduced the next song.

Pity the poor announcer who forgot to mention the barometric pressure. It seems an elderly woman named Leona meticulously kept track of it. She would instantly call the station, and ask in her deliberate and elederly voice, "what's the barometric pressure?" I thought at the time that this lady needs to get a life, and it became somewhat of a running joke among us announcers. But I later learned Leona survived the infamous Woodward tornado of 1947,one of the worst in U.S. history. She was not as batty as I previously thought because before Doppler radar, the barometer was about the only tool around that gave people a little bit of a tornado warning.

Also, all the commercial production was done by the sales staff. There were many instances when I thought I wouldn't be able to further my broadcast career because I wasn't able to put together a decent air check or getting any experience learning audio production. It seemed to me that the the ownership should have automated the AM station considering all the restriction they placed on the announcers.

Despite these rules, I still managed to have fun, and I made some pretty good friends. As I previously stated, the people in this part of the country are very courteous. I joined a health club that offered a swimming pool. I swam laps there at least two to three times a week, and I was able to keep myself in pretty good shape. I also began spinning records at Woodward's one-and-only night club called "Chaps". Even though I played a mix of pop and country songs, the crowds were decidedly partial to two-stepping. They two-stepped to the likes of George Strait and Huey Lewis and the News.

Early in 1985, the owner, Ed Ryan, suffered a debilitating stroke. His daughter-in-law soon took over operations because of his illness. Because of this change and the realization that it was losing virtually all its business to the competitor across the street, KSIW decided to start giving its announcers a little more freedom. The station actually began promoting itself. I remember KSIW began giving a away bumper stickers that contained a coupon for a local pizza joint.

Now, the announcers were allowed to say their names, perform specific shifts (mine was 7 PM-to-Midnight) and create commercial production. It was definitely a change for the better.

Unfortunately for KSIW, this freedom enabled their announcers a chance to showcase their broadcasting skills on airchecks. One-by-one, each announcer came with the news that they were leaving for greener pastures. I was no exception. I soon got an offer to do afternoon drive at a 100,000-watt rock station in my home state of Missouri.

There are several songs, both country and pop, that I'll always associate with KSIW.

I remember airing these tunes on 1450 KSIW-AM, which was country.







Meantime, 93.5 KSIW-FM, our automated sister station, was the only outlet that played pop music within a 100-mile radius of Woodward. It was on this station where I first heard these tunes.









Coming up: Back home in Missouri