Fifty years ago, on July 1, 1970, WLIR took the air as a progressive rock station.
92.7 FM was the brainchild of Michael Harrison, who convinced the mom and pop owners of the frequency, John and Dorothea Rieger, to switch formats from an old fashioned ‘magazine’ concept, which featured classical, Broadway, cocktail and dinner music, interspersed with chat shows. The new WLIR would be heralded as the first suburban ‘underground’ station, although we were perched atop the Imperial Square Building in downtown Hempstead, NY.
I look back at those times as the most exciting of my career. Sure, we were in it for fame and fortune, but we were devoted to a dream — that we could create a unique form of communication for a like minded generation. It became a community in every sense — we liked the same music, we liked the same clothes, (as Bruce Springsteen sang), but more importantly, we shared the same values.
We questioned authority but didn’t seek to tear down the establishment with violence, but with peace, love and understanding. Naive by today’s standards but we believed in the righteousness of the cause.
And we gave unselfishly. Even though we were making less than six grand annually, we put in twelve to sixteen hour days to hone the station to our vision. We slept there many a night, not only because we were working late but because we had no other shelter.
The equipment was primitive. Old tape decks, a creaky board, balky turntables. We didn’t even have tape cartridges. We had to beg record companies for album service. Many of our early records were brought from home, on scratchy vinyl. We even taped a George Harrison album off the air from another station because we couldn’t obtain it otherwise.
The main air staff was family. Don K. Reed, Chuck Macken, Pete Larkin, Harrison and me. No squabbles or office politics, truly ‘one for all and all for one’. There were bumps in the road, but by the end of the year, we were the number one rated station on the island in our demo.
It was a labor of love. We did appearances at concerts, boutiques, conventions — anything to spread the word. We invented a format: it was not entirely free form, although the jocks had tremendous latitude. It was based on trust — we wanted to stretch the envelope but not become self indulgent at the expense of our listeners.
As presenters, we tried to sound cooler than we probably were. We referenced the counter culture’s appetite for drugs although we didn’t indulge. We didn’t have really long hair. Mustaches, no unkempt beards. Dressed more preppy than hippie. Didn’t curse or advocate bloody revolution. I suppose it was the suburban Long Island kids’ version of hipness.
That glorious moment lasted a mere nine months. Michael and I were off to WNEW FM, leaving the station in the capable hands of Macken. In New York City, we had our own adventures but returned to the island often to make sure our baby was well cared for.
I wrote extensively about that time in my book, FM, The Rise and Fall of Rock Radio. I’ll’ chronicle some more memories as the anniversary draws closer.
