By Dana Jang, BARHOF Class of 2021
My love affair with radio began long before I ever cracked a microphone. It started in childhood, with a simple crystal radio I built as a Cub Scout. That tiny device—no bigger than a deck of cards—opened a world of invisible signals and distant voices. By the time I advanced to Boy Scouts, I was deep into shortwave and ham radio, attending Jamborees and marveling at the magic of communicating across miles of static and sky.
But the real turning point came with a revolutionary little gadget: the transistor radio. For me, it was the 1960s version of today’s smartphone—my constant companion. I carried it everywhere, especially when sports were on. I spent countless afternoons in my Whittier backyard, shooting baskets or throwing a baseball against my Pitchback while listening to the golden voice of Vin Scully call Dodger games on AM radio. At night, I tucked the transistor under my pillow, drifting off to extra‑inning battles at the L.A. Coliseum, where the Dodgers played before moving to Chavez Ravine. During the World Series, I even smuggled the radio into school, where I first heard the legendary Mel Allen bring the Yankees to life.
As my musical tastes expanded, so did my dial. I discovered Pasadena’s KRLA and the Chuck Blore–crafted “Color Radio” sound of KFWB. Many of the DJs I listened to—Bob Eubanks, Wink Martindale, Jimmy O’Neill—would later become television icons, but to me they were the voices that shaped my imagination.
A New City, A New Dial
When my mother moved us to Palo Alto, I immediately sought out familiar radio rhythms. I found them at KEWB in Oakland, the sister station to KFWB, where voices like Casey Kasem, Robert W. Morgan, Emperor Hudson, and The Real Don Steele kept me company. Soon I added KYA to my rotation—uniquely San Francisco, with personalities like Gene Nelson, Tom Donahue, Bobby Mitchell, Peter Tripp, and Tommy Saunders. Even the newsmen—Tony Tremayne and Norman Davis—sounded larger than life.
By the time I reached Cubberley High School, my ear had drifted south to San Jose’s KLIV. They embraced the teenage lifestyle with surf and car songs from the Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, the Rip Chords, and the Surfaris, along with local bands like People, Count Five, Syndicate of Sound, and the Chocolate Watchband. KLIV felt like home.
College Radio: The First Microphone (Sophomore Year)
During my sophomore year at Santa Clara University, I finally stepped from listener to broadcaster. I auditioned for a shift on the campus closed‑circuit station, KSCU 860 AM, and landed the “graveyard” slot—dinnertime, when most students were in the cafeteria. I learned Top 40 radio the old‑fashioned way: spinning 45s from a “stack of wax,” each category arranged in a literal stack. Eventually I became Program Director, but the station lost its funding and shut down.
FM Takes Over: The Soundtrack of My Senior Year
By senior year, a new sound was taking over the dorms—FM radio. Walking down the hall, I’d hear rooms blasting KMPX from San Francisco, where Edward Bear, Tom Donahue, Dusty Street and others were pioneering free‑form radio. They played the San Francisco Sound: Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver Messenger Service, the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape, Country Joe and the Fish. They mixed it with British rock—The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Yardbirds, Cream, Pink Floyd, The Who—creating a musical universe far deeper than anything on AM.
At the same time, another revolution was happening: the LP. The long‑playing album was evolving from a record with one hit single and filler covers into a cohesive artistic statement. Influenced heavily by the Beatles, albums now featured 10–12 original songs, meant to be heard as a complete experience. FM radio embraced this shift, playing long tracks, deep cuts, and entire album sides that AM Top 40 would never touch.
Around then, a new underground station out of San Jose, KSJO, began making waves. They played The Chambers Brothers, Big Brother and the Holding Company, Jefferson Airplane, the Stones, Moby Grape—raw, electric, and alive. Between FM radio and the rise of the LP, music suddenly felt bigger, deeper, and more personal.
By the end of that year, the transformation was complete. I had become an FM listener. I even bought a converter for my car so I could take the new sound with me everywhere.
A Chance Encounter Leads to KPSR
One summer, my mother and sister Deeana were shopping at Mayfield Mall in Mountain View when my sister spotted a station doing a remote broadcast. Knowing my passion for radio, she urged my mother to talk to them. My mother returned with a phone number for Joanna Stein, one of the station organizers. Weeks later, I had a Top 40 show on KPSR 91.5 FM in Los Altos, licensed to Pinewood Private Schools. To get on the air, I drove to San Francisco to earn my FCC Third Class license with the Element 9 endorsement.
KPSR didn’t last long. As more volunteers joined, the operational drama grew, and Pinewood eventually returned the license to the FCC. A group of us—heartbroken but determined—decided to apply for the license ourselves. We were young and naïve, but we found help from local engineers and, eventually, from the Assurance Sciences Foundation, an educational organization connected to Lockheed Missiles in Sunnyvale.
Thanks to the resourcefulness of KPSR’s engineer, Dan Ethen, we secured a transmitter site on Mount Umunhum for $1 a year from Loren McQueen. The location gave our new station—KKUP—coverage from Monterey Bay to Cupertino and West San Jose. John Parham of the Cupertino Recreation Department helped us secure studio space in the city’s abandoned Water Department building in Monta Vista.
Chasing the Live Radio Dream
Even while helping build KKUP, I still craved live, on‑air work. After graduating from Santa Clara, I enrolled at Foothill College and earned a shift on their 10‑watt station, KFJC. At the same time, while pursuing my MBA at San Jose State, I took an activity class that allowed me to host a show on KSJS. Both stations required me to bring my own vinyl for my two‑hour weekly shifts.
Then came an unexpected break. Bob Podesta Jr. from KREP—just a block from Santa Clara University—called to say the FCC had visited. Their answering service, which had been taking required meter readings, wasn’t authorized. They needed someone with a Third Class license and Element 9 endorsement. I was hired to come in several times a day for 30‑minute shifts to take readings and rewind their reel‑to‑reel tapes. Occasionally I had to splice broken tape by hand.
Soon, KREP salesman John Jenson convinced Podesta to let him host a big band show, “Music for Young Old Timers,” from 8 p.m. to midnight. I board‑opped the show, gaining more hours and experience. Months later, Bob Kieve bought KREP, pairing it with his successful KLIV and renaming it KARA, a soft oldies station targeting women. Operations Manager Bob Wrathall from KEEN let me voice public service announcements—my first professional voice work.
KSJO: The Big Time (and the First Downsizing)
One November day, I received a call from Douglas Droese, Program Director of KSJO 92.3—the station I had listened to during my Santa Clara days. He needed someone for weekend overnights. I accepted immediately.
KSJO was a different world. The studio was surrounded by plate glass windows facing Moorpark Avenue and the parking lot. Late‑night callers were often mellow or wildly amped up. I followed the unforgettable J. William Weed, a larger‑than‑life nighttime DJ who arrived on a motorcycle wearing a cape. His signature line—“Weed rolling another one”—was legendary.
After six months, KSJO downsized. Ironically, being lowest on the totem pole saved me. I kept two overnight shifts and an early Sunday morning slot. My weekends became a blur of on‑air time and sleep, but I loved every minute.
I really enjoyed reading about Dana’s childhood fascination with radio and his path to KSJO, and KKUP!