Chapter 8
Less than 23 days after WIDB signed on, the entire university was up for grabs. At sign-on, WIDB’s immediate goal was to integrate itself into SIU student culture before the end of Spring Quarter. The original concept was that students wanted music, entertainment, and some information. Now there was a most urgent need for information. Were classes canceled? Was it safe to try to walk to class? What should you do if you were tear gassed? Was the rumor true that police were shooting students? Is my roommate in jail? How can I bail him out? Is my roommate dead? What should I do if my dorm is tear gassed and the state police are waiting outside to arrest me for curfew violation if I come out? When is the next protest rally? Is the school closed? How will I be graded? Where are the police and troops massing now? Can I go visit my girlfriend? Students turned to the new WIDB for answers. It was a too-real crisis.
Many thought that the government might actually be overthrown. Some station members felt that WIDB’s duty was to take a stand for student interests, to support the disruptions as a protest against the war, Kent State and the police and military actions. But most staff heads felt the station should remain neutral. It could accomplish much as a credible information conduit. There was always the specter of a confrontation with the administration and the need for a solid defensive position for the embryonic WIDB. The students needed information that no one else could provide. It was WIDB’s job.
As the new WIDB operated during the first week in May, Jerry and others felt something was going to happen. One of the early popular songs on WIDB was “Something in the Air” by Thunderclap Neuman. WIDB members began to gather at the station. The phones started ringing. Reports came in about a gathering, a rally, a thousand, no, three thousand, the crowd’s angry, and moving!
Jerry Chabrian had showed Dan Mordini how to patch cassette recorders into pay phones. Now, the station could air a taped interview or report direct from any pay phone! Suddenly, the shadowy, almost nonexistent news department became the most important part of the station. Yesterday’s DJ was sent out with a cassette recorder and a few dimes to cover the rally at Morris Library. This report was received by phone and aired on May 7:
“At least 2,000 students surrounded Woody Hall demanding that the Vietnamese Studies Center be moved off campus. This followed a noon rally in which District Attorney Richman and Chancellor MacVicar urged students to keep their cool. A strike has been called to protest the deaths of four students at southern’s sister school, Kent State in Ohio. This is Clyde Swanson, reporting on remote for WIDB.”
There were never enough cassette recorders. “The pace kept picking up,” said Jerry. “It was a time of innovation and improvisation.” A plan developed: someone would serve as “anchor” at the station, and the “roving reporters” would call in their stories. Frank Mazzocco was anchor when the students sat down on the railroad tracks and the police attacked. There was a report that McDonald’s (then located on Illinois Ave., across from Home Ec.) was filled with tear gas, which Frank aired. Lew Wright was anchor as troops circled the dorms.
“You could feel the presence of thousands of listeners glued to 600 on the AM dial,” remembers Jerry. “We told them what’s happening and what already happened. We told them where not to go. We told them how to keep safe. We entertained and soothed.” Buffalo Springfield’s “For what It’s Worth” was often played for its soothing message.
Woody Mosgers and Charlie Muren decided to wear shirts and ties as roving reporters. Woody cultivated sources among the police. One was State trooper Mel Kurston from Marion, who prevented police from attacking Charlie and Woody. Woody and Charlie were in the president’s house as the protesters invaded. DJ’s and students the week before, Woody and Charlie interviewed national guard troops who were coal miners and insurance salesmen the week before. Howie Karlin stood between the troops and police and the students near Grinell Hall. The police had billy clubs and tear gas; the soldiers had rifles and bayonets; the students had rocks and bottles; Howie had his cassette recorder and microphone. Howie stood his ground, dodged the rocks and bottles, endured the tear gas, and made his report.
Almost all station members worked news during this period. Some worked on a de facto network. WIDB was in regular contact with many other university stations at other schools. These events were being repeated at almost all campuses, and many high schools. University operators sympathized and allowed free calls to transmit and receive reports. At some points, WIDB issued, and received, hourly reports. In April, no one would show up to do news. In May, almost the entire station was news, and all members were newspersons.
People and events continued to draw WIDB to the focal points of activity. An Army reserve officer called Jerry Chabrian to advise him that troops were being stationed to guard various strategic locations on campus, such as the SIU Broadcasting Services and the Physical Plant, etc. “They suggested WIDB would need to be guarded also since there was a rumored takeover of WIDB. I made the statement that this is the student station and it did not need protection from students. If someone wanted to take it over, we would run the equipment and let them, along with everyone else say their piece. A takeover never came about.”
When the towers were teargassed, coughing students trapped in their dorm rooms called WIDB to ask what to do. While on the air, Jerry called a physician at University Health Service who advised that fresh air was the only remedy. Told that the windows in Schneider did not open, the good doctor said this was a life-threatening situation, so break the window with a chair. Immediately, dozens of chairs crashed through windows and landed on the sidewalks around Schneider. Apparently indifferent to the threat to student lives, the administration complained that WIDB advocated damaging university property.
WIDB was there when the protesters clashed with troops and police. WIDB reported on official actions, protest events, and dangers to students. WIDB kept SIU students informed about world events and protests on other campuses. WIDB was at Woody Hall, Wheeler Hall, the train tracks, McDonalds’, Grinnell Hall, Morris Library, and the President’s House. When the decision was made to close the school, WIDB aired it first. In a few short weeks, WIDB had become the student news authority. Students had a sudden intense need for news and WIDB had delivered.
WIDB members had risen to the occasion. Woody reports that he “learned more in those 10 days than the previous 2.5 years of college.” He viewed this period as an opportunity for WIDB and its members to step forward and show what they could do. “The station was full of leaders,” said Woody. “We were all geeks, but we were leaders, and WIDB attracted us.”
“We were all guided from within ourselves,” recalls Jerry. “We each knew what it would take to become professional broadcasters. We reached within and pulled that out of ourselves. We had just built and operated the physical plant of a broadcast station. Now we had the higher calling: to fill that physical plant with the highest professional broadcast spirit. We knew we could do it, and we did.”
There was an enormous feeling of accomplishment among the members. For some, it was the most significant event in their lives to that point. This feeling was shared by all, and had a dramatic galvanizing effect. WIDB was truly powerful, significant, served an important purpose, and members could take pride in this. How many student lives were saved by WIDB’s timely, accurate reporting? How many injuries were prevented? How much suffering from tear gas exposure was alleviated by WIDB’s health advice? No one knew for sure, but members had the conviction that they had helped their fellow students in a time of great need. WIDB had firmly established itself, not only as an integral part of student culture, but also on the map of SIU and Carbondale. Internally, WIDB had reached the critical mass of cohesion. Howie Karlin noted this in his memo to Jerry, almost as an epilogue to this chapter in mid-May, 1970. (See attached document).
WIDB signed off for Spring Quarter on May 15, 1970, only 33 days after it had signed on, and only 10 days after the disturbances began. Less than 100 days earlier, Jerry had faced the empty room in Wright I.
That’s how WIDB started.
After school closed six weeks early, first week in May 1970, an uneasy calm settled over SIU and C’dale. Normally, spring quarter lasted until mid-June.
Although it may appear that closing the school was a clear-cut solution in hindsight, there were significant residual problems. For those that were actually taking classes, there was a question if credit would be allowed, and what grade, if any, would be assigned. Some students’ degrees hung in the balance. Some were engaging in field experience or student teaching far away from the conflict on campus, but were forced to abort when school closed.
Perhaps as a punishment to students, the administration decreed a bizarre grade system for Spring 1970, only. Grades like “S” and “R” were entered on transcripts. Few understood what they meant. Many students had to come back for summer in order to graduate. There were even more than the usual problems with transfer credits.
More than a few professors believed that students learned far more by participating actively in a national policy debate than attending classes. Other universities apparently agreed by adopting an easier grade policy (i.e., pass-fail) than SIU. But the SIU administrators were apparently determined to punish the students for disputing “their” school.
That was the bad news students received over the extended summer of 1970. WIDB did not operate that summer, and members enjoyed a well-deserved rest. But the war went on, and the country’s preoccupation with it intensified. One of the most popular hits that summer was “War” by Edwin Starr, which sat at #1 for multiple weeks. A somewhat less popular anti-war hit was “Bring the Boys Home,” by Frieda Payne, a soul artist.
