Press Clippings
Bursts of lush and local life are new stations’ trademark
Commentary
originally published in Current, May 14, 2001
By Jay Allison
About a year and a half ago, we were getting ready to launch a new public
radio service here on Cape Cod and the islands of Martha’s Vineyard
and Nantucket. I asked for advice from colleagues: How would you make them
special? What would you put on the clean canvas of a brand new public radio
station, the first one of the new millennium?
Dozens of people took the time to respond, and we excerpted their advice
in Current (Sept. 20, 1999), much of which was about how to be
local, how to sound different.
"Let the listeners broadcast to the station. Set up kiosks, microphones
in public places. — Tony Kahn
"I want my local radio station to be a good companion through my day.
NPR gives me dense, sometimes too intense, too thick, even dull information.
But my local station should sound local."—Susan Stamberg
"Get everyone to do i.d.’s for you. Suggest scripts but encourage
them to ad-lib, make up slogans, have fun." —Ross Reynolds
"You’d be amazed at the range of voices that sound good on your
station."—Barrett Golding
". . . a slogan that you might try to implement: Expect the unexpected."—Larry
Josephson
"The vision behind the Cape and Island stations now, and since its
inception, is to mingle the mainstream with the community voice, to give
listeners what they depend on in public radio, but also to stretch beyond
what is typical, and give them a reflection, a remembrance, of themselves."—Sue
Schardt
"The radio station of the NIGHT SKY and the HOUSING CRISIS, of CRANBERRY
HARVESTS and CONSPICUOUS CONSUMPTION, of LAZY SWIMS and HIGH-SPEED FERRIES,
of CHILDREN BUILDING CASTLES ON THE BEACH and JUNKIES SHOOTING SKAG IN
THE PARKING LOT, of BLUEBERRY BUSHES and BULL MARKETS."—Gregory
Whitehead
Well, WCAI 90.1 and WNAN 91.1 went on the air last year. The first word
to come out of the static was: "Listen."
And then: "Our purpose is community service. A sane and respectful place
to talk. An ear on the rest of the world. A crossroads in our daily paths
where we can meet and gather and even create change. That is perhaps a lofty
goal for a mere radio signal, but a radio signal has the singular ability
to proclaim all our separate identities, while it also spans our boundaries
to bring us together."
We have just celebrated our first anniversary, a good time to take stock
and see how we incorporated the good ideas from the field.
A bit of history first. It took more than seven years to get on the air.
That represents a lot of evenings and weekends for the volunteer founding
group. At about Year Five, with FCC construction permits and federal grants
to build, we decided we needed a partner. We approached Maria Rivero and
John Voci at WGBH-FM, Boston, who felt a kinship with our mission. They
adopted our local effort, built the stations, and put them into service.
WGBH holds the licenses and honors the founding group’s original intention
to air a customized local schedule. WCAI and WNAN don’t repeat the
Boston signal. We broadcast from local studios in Woods Hole, with local
staff, connected to WGBH and the satellite by a T-1 line and running an
AudioVault system.
We spent a lot of time developing a template for how a big station can
adopt a little one, keeping local character alive while achieving economies
of scale through shared infrastructure. Our common mission makes it possible.
It is important to note that we didn’t have much loose cash to create
local programming in the first year. The startup represented a considerable
investment with no guarantee of a return. We have a tight budget.
We decided to rely heavily on a schedule of news, talk and documentary
from NPR, PRI and independents. Very little music. Following conventional
wisdom, we wanted a strong local host presence within Morning Edition
and All Things Considered. We were committed to a big flexible hole
in our weekend schedule for eclectic specials, both local and national.
We made plans to develop a regular call-in show.
But we also wanted to try something different. Our local founding group
(then called Cape and Islands Community Public Radio, now Atlantic Public
Media) had a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts to experiment
with an artful approach to the design of the sound and schedule. WGBH matched
it. Together, we wanted to try techniques that would be economical and,
therefore, replicable at other stations around the country.
In the months before we went on air, we took to the streets with microphones
to develop a concept we called, "Sonic i.d.'s." Nobody really loves the
name, but it stuck.
(Upbeat jazzy piano music intro,
continuing throughout piece.) Announcer: Eileen McGrath on Nantucket.
Woman: All right, here we go . . . now you’re going to see
the correct way to put the wash on the line (the sound of wooden washing
pins clipping on line in background). If it is a windy day, you’ve
got to decide which way you’re going to stand, ’cause otherwise
you’ll have them wrapped around your head as you hang them up, you
see? If I were a careless laundry hanger, I’d do this . . . (disgruntled
sigh). I just threw it over the line and then speared it with a couple
of clothespins, very careless work. You should do it just exactly this
way, so everything is ship shape . . . it’s a lost art. (Back-ground
jazz rises to fore.) Announcer: You’re listening to WCAI,
Woods Hole/ Martha’s Vineyard, and WNAN, Nantucket—the Cape
and Islands NPR stations, a local service of WGBH, Boston. (More jazz
to end.)
Jim Sulzer
records an interview for a sonic i.d. on Main Street in Nantucket Town.
(Photos: Jay Allison.) |
They are portraits, oral histories, poems, anecdotes, memories, fragments
of life overheard. Their common denominator is a sense of place. They all
happen here, and they make these radio stations sound like here, not anywhere
else. And, they pop up all day long, during every national show around the
clock, 30-60-90-second bursts of life as experienced or remembered by all
of us who live here. They are the thread in the fabric of our broadcast
day.
Man: I just moved here
this year from New York . . . and it’s different because, you know
what I’m saying, we’re on an island, and like the school I used
to go to had four floors, and now this school only got one floor. . .
. Know what I’m saying? . . . It’s different . . . and the boys’
bathroom is clean, too—that never used to happen, know what I’m
saying? And we got toilet paper, too. In New York, they had no toilet
paper, and they had no soap. We got soap. We got a whole bunch of stuff,
know what I’m saying? They got good lunch . . . in New York, we used
to have roaches on the floor, know what I’m saying? It was rough,
tell you that. Then, I can’t swim either, to make it worse. How can
you be surrounded by water and can’t swim?! Hello, this is Ian. I
live on Martha’s Vineyard, the island. You’re listening to 90.1,
WCAI . . .
The effect is startling, unexpected. You are listening to news of the world
and then, during a pause, an unheralded speaker—a local elder or high
school kid or sandwich-maker or scientist—pops in. The voices of our
neighbors, taking us by surprise, are given equal weight with events overseas.
Man: Well, I’m
a carpenter, I spend most of my time working on houses, to make a living,
but when I work on a boat, I feel like I’m doing something that satisfies
me deep down in my soul. Everything you do on a boat is challenging—they’re
all curves, there’s steam bending. Plus, they’re so beautiful.
I’ve always had a passion for boats my entire life, as long as I
can remember. Everyone should have a passion in life, and mine’s
boats I guess . . . (music up) . . . And dogs, I like dogs a lot. . .
. (soft laughter). I’m Carlo D’Antonio from Martha’s Vineyard,
and you’re listening to 90.1 WCAI . . .
(Pet birds tweeting in background.)
Woman: We’ve had to help people select items for their animals,
and this woman and her husband came in . . . Announcer: That’s
Elaine Boehm at a pet shop on Nantucket. Woman: She was looking
for a training collar, the pinch-collar type and she couldn’t make
up her mind what size to get, so she looked over at her husband and she
said, "Dear, come over here," and she looked at me and she said, "You
know, his neck is about the same size as the dog’s; put this on,"
she says, and the guy stood there and took it (sounding incredulous).
And she puts the prong pinch collar around his neck, and she gives him
a yank (breaks into laughter), and he says: "Yes sweetheart, this works,
this works, thank you very much." That was the end of that. (Peals of
laughter.) Announcer: You’re listening to 90.1WCAI . . . (Birds
tweet out to the end.)
The concept has become incredibly popular here. Everyone wants to be in
one of these i.d.’s or has someone to nominate. They have spawned local
stars, uncovered community storytellers. We installed a Listener Line that
people can call and leave stories on voice mail. We just pick the good ones
and put them on the air.
Man: This is Dick Backus
on Woods Hole Road with a story. . . . Perhaps you remember the Store
of Three Wonders in Falmouth, gone now for many a year. I think it was
on the corner of Walker Street and Main Street, where that confectionary
now is . . . its shelves running over with pants, shirts, socks, overalls,
watch caps, foul-weather gear, boots and work shoes, stretched from floor
to ceiling, and their denim-, khaki-, canvas-, rubber-laden ranks were
so close that you had to twist the shoulders a little to pass between.
The proprietor gave away yardsticks and one-foot rulers that bore the
place’s name and motto: "You wonder if I have it, I wonder where
it is, you wonder how I found it." Announcer: If you have a story
to tell, call our Listener Line . . .
We have made hundreds of these now. One not-altogether-silly goal is to
put all our listeners on the air eventually, to create a spoken archive
of community life that is kept in constant circulation. To that end, we
loan out portable tape recorders to whomever promises to use them. We buy
machines off eBay for this purpose.
Because the pieces are bite-sized, almost any interested local volunteer/intern/citizen
can spend a minimal amount of time and make a good one, with a little help
from us. The process teaches quite a bit about the power and technique of
radio—a good lede, narrative curve, use of imagery, development of
character, employment of sound—and so they are a wonderful training
tool, with a concrete and useful outcome and the pride of authorship to
boot.
They give the station a simple way to participate in community events without
committing to long feature pieces. And, because they are designed to be
repeatable, the investment in a compelling one-minute piece gets amortized
over the dozens of times it will air in the months or years to come.
I’m Michael McHone, a
commissioner on the Nantucket Commission on Disabilities. I was illustrating
the parking permit to someone up by the Pacific Bank, and this woman approached
me, and proceeded to rip me up and down the street about how I had ruined
the parking permits for people like her on Nantucket, and she said "and
furthermore, you’re not even disabled! Why are you sticking your
nose into our business?" At that point I had a leg that was an artificial
limb that was very easy to remove, and I pulled my artificial leg off
and flung it to the steps of the Pacific Bank. Yes, I let my irritation
get the best of me. But it proved the point to the lady that, yes, there
are people who are disabled that don’t necessarily appear to be so,
and that what we were trying to do was put into place a good parking system,
that would work for everybody, and we think we have. You’re listening
to 90.1 WCAI . . .
(Background sounds of bustling
restaurant, "For here or to go?". . .) Woman: At the moment, I’m
making sandwiches. So I just start, get the bread, meats, pass them down
to Nadia, who is next on our production line, and she puts on the garnishes
and then the last person wraps them up. It’s brilliant fun; the sandwich
board’s the best place to be. You don’t have to talk to customers,
you put your head down, keep working. There are certain rules of the sandwich
board: "Thou shalt not address the sandwich board, you know, directly."
You have to go through your server. We don’t like people talking
to us like, "Is that my sandwich? That’s not enough mayonnaise."
But other than that, we just keep our heads down, we sing, we talk, we
gossip. "The sandwich board never lies," is our motto, so whatever goes
on the night before, the sandwich board knows the very next morning .
. . (She laughs, background restaurant buzz fades out.) Announcer:
That was Ruth at a sandwich board on Nantucket. You’re listening
to 90.1, WCAI . . .
Technically, it’s straightforward. We load likely bits of tape into
the ProTools digital editing system and carve them into little stories.
It’s not hard, but it takes someone with a good ear for poetry and
story and the impressionistic power of the non sequitur, a sudden prayer
or photograph or haiku. Sometimes, we make pure sound pieces, which begin
with the word, "Listen", and consist of a rusty swing set on the playground
in Falmouth or the old windmill on Nantucket, or a scallop dredge dropped
overboard in Cape Pogue Pond, with the sound i.d.’d at the end. We
like to give tape recorders to kids and teenagers to get their take on life.
Young man: The
worst thing about living on Nantucket for a teenager . . . (slow piano
music starts) . . . is probably . . . (slow piano music continues in the
pause) . . . the boredom . . . Announcer: Steven Hamblin of Nantucket
(slow piano music on and on). You’re listening to WCAI . . .
Young girl: I like Haiku
because even if it’s not that many words, it can kind of mean a lot.
(Clear, crisp bell chime resonates behind child’s voice.)
Indian Summer Haiku.
"Cold against my face
Indian summer seeming tucked away
Sudden warmth a gift."
I’m Allegra Bianchini from Woods Hole. You’re listening to WCAI
. . .
Announcer: Listen. .
. . (Extremely convincing trilling cricket sound.)
Young girl: I make the cricket noise with my mouth . . . (higher-pitch
trilling sound) . . . I scream and . . . um . . . I . . . move my tongue
up and down . . . (trilling sound repeats) . . . I am Jesse Davis. I am
in fourth grade at the Nantucket Elementary School. Announcer:
You’re listening to WCAI . . .
Listeners have said that these little breaks not only contribute to community,
they actually build it. Here’s why: We live in a place which
is geographically fragmented (islands, after all) and each community feels
itself to be more "special" than the others, yet the radio signal extends
across them all, disrespecting the boundaries.
Man: Well, I’m
told that I’m a fairly rare type of individual, because I was born
on Nantucket and work and live here on the Vineyard. Announcer:
Matthew Stackpole. Man: I always say that it’s a good, encouraging
sign that there is possible world peace everywhere that I’ve been
able to move to the Vineyard and be accepted almost as an equal . . .
Announcer: You’re listening to 90.1 WCAI . . . Man: If
someone asks me if I am an Islander, I simply say, "Yes."
In our database, we titled that particular i.d. "World Peace." We have
feuds and jealousies here—political division, parochial ignorance (is
it so different from anywhere else?), but these stories tend, almost miraculously,
to break those down. When they start, you often don’t know where
the speaker is from. You simply listen, without judgment. You enjoy
what you hear, and then, when you discover he is not from your island,
you must decide how you will incorporate that contradiction, which may lead
you, helplessly, to acceptance. You think: well, I guess they’re not
all bad over there. And eventually, you may even come to think of
their stories as your stories.
So, our goal of countering the negative effect of watery boundaries (or
cultural, racial, economic or social ones) is being honored in the humble
act of identifying a station call sign. In these little moments, we proclaim
our common identity as people who share a place. We celebrate our differences,
while at the same time we come closer together. As a daily task, that’s
not too bad. Not too bad, for a mere public radio station.
Jay Allison is founder and executive producer
of WCAI/WNAN. The stations are a local service of WGBH, Boston. Allison,
Viki Merrick, Helen Woodward and Jim Sulzer are the major producing team
for the i.d.’s. Allison is also executive director of Atlantic Public
Media and a longtime independent producer.
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