That’show I view this year’s loss of Milwaukee’s only classical music radiostation, WFMR, a true Milwaukee icon. And I know others feel the same.This loss is a sad commentary for a city that is trying to hail itsquality of life.
The loss of classical radio may seeminsignificant to many people. In the big scheme of things, what’s theloss of another art form? But all the losses in the arts simply addmore casualties in the battle to keep the nation’s cultural life fromdraining away.
The arts are a nation’s soul. InDetroit, Philadelphia, Los Angeles and Washington, D.C., classicalradio stations have been sacrificed for more lucrative formats. Somepeople feel the loss, of course, but I dare assume most people probablyshrug off the loss as no big deal. I fear that reaction in Milwaukee.
Itis a sad reality to face, especially when you realize that in a smallway WFMR helped place our city above many others of its size because ofthe richness of its cultural life. We have our own symphony orchestra,ballet and theater companies, plus scores of smaller performing groups.And, by Jove, we have our own classical music stationor, at least, we had.
Boutique RadioWFMRmay not have been a classical radio powerhouse compared to those insome major cities: WQXR in New York, KDFC in San Francisco or KING inSeattle. It could never have competed in size and signal power withthem. Yet once upon a time it stood against the best of themartistically and creatively. WFMR was a charming boutique on the radiodial, befitting a vibrant and proud city that emphasized its cultureand heritage.
Tragically, in recent years WFMR’s creativeenergy and programming quality had declined so dramatically that in theend it was relegated to being “better than nothing.” I don’t know howmany times I heard those sad remarks. That says so little about aonce-proud classical and jazz radio station. How sad to reach a stagein the creative life to be regarded as being “better than nothing.”
HowI lament that thought. How I lament the loss of a radio station thatformerly sparkled for its talent and creative programming. The voicesheard behind the microphone were distinct and alive, and the music wasprogrammed with a seamless flow. I like to call those days thestation’s glory days, the 1970s and ’80s, when WFMR soared. I don’t saythis because I was fortunate enough to be part of the station then, onmorning drive. No, not at all. I was only part of a dedicated group ofmusic programmers and hosts who created the station’s fine sound.Together we made it what it was. We knew our stuff and held our own against the best of them in the country.
Wewere Milwaukee’s classical music and jazz ready reference. All you hadto do was pick up the phone and ask any staff announcer. We had most ofthe answers on the spot, and if we did not, we took the time,individually or collectively, to find out. Even when callers whistledsomething they had heard on the station, or elsewhere, we had theanswer. I don’t ever recall disappointing a listener by saying wedidn’t know the answer, or could not and would not find out.
The Magic Fruit?Wewere stumped, however, when the sales department came to us with asponsor’s vague request of a Mozart composition“something aboutfruit”to be used for his commercial music bed. What in blazes was thisMozart fruit music? It took us a few days of running around and howlinglike mad to find the answer. We resolved that the blasted music hadnothing to do with fruit, unless, of course, Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute had something about “fruit” we didn’t know.
WhenI started at WFMR in the early 1970s, the station broadcast from atop aDowntown high-rise at Sixth Street and Wisconsin Avenue. That soundsimpressive; it was anything but. We were on the 22nd floor and theelevator stopped on the 21st. The air studio, music library and officeswere jammed into a dusty cubicle we called the “basement in the sky.” Iexpected Marconi to pop his head in at any moment. My first morning onthe air, in the middle of a live newscast, a storm blew in the on-airstudio windowthat is, the foreign object that doubled as a window pane.
Conditionsimproved once we moved to the studios on Capitol Drive. Now we couldinterview artists and celebrities without fear of getting theirbritches dusty. And many made a point of stopping by: prominentcomposers, conductors, musicians and actors. Vincent Price lit up theplace. During a live interview on my program, Price was brilliant andentertaining, yet gracious and unassuming, an actor with such commandof the English language that he made my mouth water. Class permeatedthe studios that morning, along with the rich pastries from the LaBoulangerie.
Throughout those years WFMR was immersedin the city’s artistic life, promoting the arts groups throughfund-raisers and other activities. Who can forget the live broadcastsfor the United Performing Arts Fund, when almost every radio andtelevision personality in town pitched in on the air to help out? Ofcourse, the arts community did its share to promote the station aswell. I remember a fund-raiser for WFMR held Downtown at Caf%uFFFD LaBoheme, when we packed the place. We were part of the city’s artisticlife. We helped each other.
Other former staffers, I’msure, carry their own memories of WFMR. How could anyone have walkedaway from that radio station without memories? I carry a treasuremyself, although bittersweet after four different stints, the last onefrom 2002 to 2004, when the management waited until I finished my showon a Fridayand on my way out the door told me not to come back. Thanksa lot, folks.
WFMR will always be a part of me, because Iwas a part of it, especially in its glory days. We who shared themicrophone, and our devoted listeners, all made the station what itwas. In turn the station brought out the best in us. I know all of us,in our own way, feel the loss of WFMR, the loss of an icon.
