May 20, 1972: The decline and fall of free-form rock radio

 


For anyone whose nerve endings were nourished in 1972 by thought-stimulating rock music on the airwaves, this development was a major catastrophe: 

May 20, 1972

Free-Form Rock Radio Is Tied by New Rules 

ALL ACROSS the nation, progressive rock FM stations are going through their most significant metamorphosis since they started playing “underground” music back in 1966-67.

After steadily gaining popularity while acting as a free-form non-competitive alternative in a system ruled by tightly-formatted AM Top 40 rock, the progressives now are succumbing to pressures to be “more commercial.”

The result has been the adoption of lists of top albums from which the deejays are required to make their selections. And restrictions on deejay talking – a style which gave the progressives points in the Los Angeles and Houston rating sheets.

The format was adopted at Buffalo’s progressive WPHD-FM on Monday, April 24, prompting one announcer to quit on the air. Three others are planning to leave. This is how the major figures in the change reacted: 

“But well, old Lather’s productive, you know,

He produces the finest of sounds …” 

JEFF LUBICK’S last record faded and in came the archetypal FM radio voice of Jim Santella. A little tentatively because it wasn’t just any Monday night. It was his 33rd birthday. And it was his farewell to WPHD.

        When he got through the “There comes a time …” and told how he didn’t begrudge owners the right to run their station and about certain conditions he couldn’t work under, he played one last tune.

        It was Jefferson Airplane’s “Lather,” a song about the belated end of childhood and innocence, and it summed up the moment for Jim and for WPHD and for what’s happening in progressive rock radio across the nation.

        Lubick held the station until program director Jack Robinson got there.

        Meanwhile, Santella, WPHD’s senior deejay, keeper of the prime-time 9 p.m. show, the man who introduced Buffalo to James Taylor, Chuck Mangione and even Don McLean – Santella was gone. 

        “Lather was 30 years old today,

        They took away all of his toys …” 

“HE WAS too much into the music,” Larry Levite was saying a few days later. “It was a persona thing. The show was for him, not the audience. We’re going to miss him, but I think it was silly what he did on the air.”

        Larry’s station manager at WPHD and sister station WYSL, staring there five years ago as a salesman after a try at becoming an actor in New York City and a year in his father’s wholesale food business on Jefferson Avenue.

        He offers his visitor a cigar. He prefers to be called Larry, rides a little motorcycle to work and says his office door is always open. He took over operations in 1970 and has encouraged a number of bold, public-spirited features.

        There’s been beefed-up news, a voter registration drive, Christopher & Co., which peeks into controversial issues; outdoor rock concerts, prisoner-of-war bracelets and Larry’s own populist let’s-do-something editorials.

        “You can fight City Hall and you can win, not by throwing rocks, but by writing letters,” says Larry, who feels his radio comments helped save the Allentown Art Festival from cancellation by the city last year.

        The stations are part of a Dallas-based chain owned by Gordon McLendon, son of a Texas oilman, and until a few years ago, they lost money.

        These days WYSL beats out Top 40 giant WKBW in some demographic areas, but Larry still digs the role of underdog.

        “PHD has come up too, but we thought it should have gotten even bigger,” Larry says, “the way it was running in this market, the only progressive station.”

        Recent ratings gave WPHD 2 percent of the audience in the morning, rising to 8 percent at mid-evening. Three years ago, when there were few listeners and virtually no commercials, almost anything might happen musically, but now it’s different.

        “When PHD started out,” Larry says, “it got the 18- to 24-year-olds. Then as it got more acceptance, we got 16- and 17-year-olds. Then as a lot of the original college-age people got older, we got the 25-35 group.

        “The format decision came from Ken Dowe, our national program director. He thought a lot of people would like progressive rock if it was programmed right – doctors, lawyers, factory workers. The ratings elsewhere proved it out.

        “You can’t play music for one little segment of your audience. It’s programming for the people themselves. You give them more of the programming that they want. Record sales are a big determining factor.

        “The deejays would talk about personal things at the beginning. There’d be chit-chat in the studio. I think that when the mike’s open, the announcer should be informing you of things that are interesting to you, not to them.”

        WPHD’s format now requires deejays to play 75 percent of the music from a file of 50 top progressive albums, with the rest divided between new releases and oldies. Deejays also were ordered to keep talking to the barest minimum. That’s what provoked Jim Santella.

        “It would be different if Santella was the top deejay in the country,” Larry notes. “Johnny Carson might have the right to quit on the air, but Jim …” 

        “And sometimes he’s so nameless

        That he hardly knows what games to play,

        What words to say …” 

THERE’D BEEN a big photo of Santella in UB’s student newspaper and a dedication naming him “Man of the Year” for refusing to go along with “the totalitarian wave of the future in American media.”

        Now strangers were greeting him in Norton Union. He hadn’t wanted to make a big thing of it. Everything had been said.

        Besides, he still has his college library job and he’s teaching a course this summer and he has drum students as well. He once was a jazz drummer.

        “I never claimed to be that important,” he said between sips of coffee. “But I don’t like someone to push a button and I come out. I’m sensitive. I like relating to people as people.”

        WPHD tightened up even before the format. Mandatory things kept burgeoning – more announcements, more commercials, more emphasis on just the top albums. Jim explained the restrictions.

        “Once you start a flow, to me it stops when you have to do an ID or a commercial. It DOES interrupt the flow of the program. It DOES put you in a format.

        “Why push people into being automatons? Part of the overwhelming ennui today is because there are so few decisions you can make. Roles at one time were clearly defined and then Eli Whitney messed up the whole society with interchangeable parts.

        “I’m not an interchangeable part. I want people to challenge me, make me find out where I’m at and I should do that with other people too. You have to live what you are and what you think.

        “I have no regrets. I think the audience has lost something. Not me, but something they could relate to.” 

        “And I should have told him: ‘No, you’re not old

        And I should have let him go on,

        Smiling baby wide.” 

JACK ROBINSON, WPHD’s program director for two years, left this week. One reason was his disagreement with Ken Dowe over the format. Jack wanted hit albums only 50 percent of the time.

        “I was opposed to it because I thought it was too inflexible and didn’t have enough concern for the individual,” Jack pointed out. WPHD played softly from a corner of his large cool living room.

        “But every progressive rock station in the country is going on a format,” he explained. “There are very few free-form stations left.

        “Personally, I think it’s kind of to be expected. The same thing happened in progressive rock that happened in early Top 40. It’s gotten stale.”

        Nobody at WPHD had worked a format before and nobody really wanted to. Jack noted, however, that the restrictions were getting less harsh.

        “If it hadn’t been for Santella, most people wouldn’t have noticed any change,” he said. “We’re still playing new music, trying to present it in an interesting, informative, inoffensive way.

        “The same albums may come up every six or eight hours, but not necessarily the same cut. It’s just that an announcer can no longer ramble on for three minutes.

        “Jim didn’t give the format a chance. I really like him, but I think he overextended himself. He didn’t hurt the people who put in the format. He hurt me and the other people at the station.

        “I think people expect too much of commercial progressive rock radio. We’re just another radio station, like KB.

        “I lectured this class up at UB and one guy was ripping me apart because he felt the station was too commercially oriented. But he never sat down and wrote a letter to the station saying why are you doing this.

        “We tried radio poetry and got no response. Over and over, people have told us through their actions that music is the one thing they want. Everything else is a tune-out factor – news, announcers talking, new songs. That’s why there’s a format.” 

IN THE PHOTOS: Top, Larry Levite; lower left, Jim Santella; right, Jack Robinson. 

FOOTNOTE: Larry Levite would go on to bigger and better things. He bought blue-chip mainline WBEN and its sister FM station, sold them in the mid 1990s and in 1998 acquired Buffalo Spree, transforming the quarterly magazine from an inconsequential coffee table decoration into the vital and essential arts and lifestyle monthly. He’s a Buffalo Broadcasting Hall of Famer. After he died on his 77th birthday in 2017, his obit in The Buffalo News noted: “Everyone knew when Larry Levite entered a room, with his booming voice and infectious, loud laugh. Never shy, he was the life of any party, toast or roast.”

        Also a Buffalo Broadcasting Hall of Famer, Jim Santella found other jobs in FM radio – on formatted 97 Rock, where he co-hosted the morning show for a while, and then on free-form WZIR and WUWU before a long stint doing a weekend blues show and co-hosting “Theater Talk” on WBFO. He’s still with us and has made occasional appearances to sign copies of his memoir, “Classic Rock, Classic Jock.”

        As for Jack Robinson, before 1972 was over, Billboard magazine reported that he had jumped from WPHD to KRLD-FM in Dallas. After that, his online trail grows cold. 

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