Four years ago today was the last time I set foot in the studios of WWFM The Classical Network. With the first wave of COVID-19 poised to break across central New Jersey, the plan had been for all of us hosts to get five weeks ahead on our recorded specialty shows, with the balance of the broadcast schedule to be filled with piped-in programming from Classical 24 out of Minnesota.

Needless to say, the storehouse was rapidly depleted. When it became apparent we would be in for a longer haul, hosts were asked to select five more shows from the recorded archive. Eventually, and for the duration of the shutdown, this became the routine. Interestingly, every other radio station seemed to figure it out, with hosts either wiping everything down and doing their shifts in isolation or, in many cases, being equipped simply to broadcast from home.

Trusting, naïve soul that I was, I actually believed what I wanted to hear: that local part-time staff would be brought back as soon as possible. Granted, communication from on-high was always minimal at best. One would think that there would have been at least a monthly update, if only to keep up morale. Instead, if any email was received (very, very seldom), you could count on it was because it had to be written, and it would always contain bad news.

I could have moved on, of course, and tried to find a position elsewhere (I’d had a foot in the door at WRTI in Philadelphia, where I worked for several years, the last time WWFM went to automation), but WWFM was my home, and no matter how ridiculous things got there, at least I was largely allowed to do my own programming.

Finally, last April, I received an email from management stating that my long-running weekly shows, “Picture Perfect” and “The Lost Chord,” would “sunset” (euphemism for “be cancelled”) – effective in ten days! However, if I would care to produce one new “Picture Perfect” a month, using the WWFM facilities, it could air in rotation with three other shows on a Friday afternoon. For this, I would receive no financial compensation — but I would have the privilege of maintaining a continued presence on the station.

Thanks, but no thanks. (If I’m going to be exploited, at least offer me a weekly show!)

And just so you don’t think I was let go out of financial necessity, by the end, WWFM was airing “Picture Perfect” and “The Lost Chord” for free, and I had even volunteered my services for pledge drives. The offers were ignored.

I had worked there since 1995 and over the decades put out more fires than I could possibly catalogue. Before the station went 24 hours, I used to arrive by 4:45 in the morning (later 5:45) to actually turn on the transmitter. Before automation, I braved innumerable snowstorms and changed more than my share of flat tires, frequently in stygian darkness. I climbed up on the roof on an icy ladder to sweep snow out of the satellite dish. I fielded many, many – too many – unexpected sizzlers, either because of human or technical error, to all appearances always keeping the station chugging along smoothly for our listeners.

But as a coworker remarked to me on her way to retirement, appreciation there has always been lacking. I guess I just expected more for 29 years of service. Having survived several mercurial regimes and precarious financial situations, it seemed like nothing would ever shake me loose. I fully anticipated continuing to broadcast there as long as I was physically able to do so. They could have gotten another 30 years out of me – likely longer than the station will actually last.

Now, of course, my recorded shows can be heard on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon. I’ve even added a third show, “Sweetness and Light,” which I’d actually pitched to the management of WWFM for the first time a couple of years before the pandemic. But the mills of God, they do grind slowly. The management at KWAX leaped at the idea.

Of course, recording at home is not really what I want to do. Optimally, what I would like is to return to live broadcasting. That’s my passion. It’s where I shine. None of this sound file editing and manufactured “reality.” On-the-fly live programming and interviews has always been where it’s at.

Although it’s been four years to the day that I was last inside the station, it was to finish loading all of my work into the computer against the impending arrival of COVID. My last air shift was actually two days earlier, on March 11, 2020. I thought I was just going on break.

March 11 happened to be the birthday anniversaries of Carl Ruggles, Henry Cowell, Anthony Philip Heinrich, Astor Piazzolla, and Xavier Montsalvatge. Wednesday at 6:00 was always devoted to “Music from Marlboro,” which I also did live. For the record, that day the program consisted of Brahms’ String Sextet No. 2 and Bach’s Air from the Orchestral Suite No. 3, in performances from the archive of the Marlboro Music Festival.

You can click on the images below my photo to read the rest of the playlist for what turned out to be my WWFM live action swan song.