J.C. Richards, one of the disgruntled former staffers, says, "They say they want more listeners -- why? You don't get money and you don't even have ratings."
Maybe all that's less important than the intangible benefits to the students themselves. Ray Vaughan, the general manager at the time of the first power boost, back in 1981, says people can feel the station in their blood. "I remember once, I was off campus, at home sleeping, at three in the morning. For some reason I woke up and turned the station on. Dead air. I called and found out lightning had hit. I found out two other people had done the same thing."
Pretty mystical stuff, but usually the vagaries of sending a signal are based on more pragmatic and tangible actions. The power increase was originally supposed to be from 365 watts to 3 kilowatts, not 1.3 kilowatts. However, WCIX-TV, which owns the tower where VUM's antenna is located and whose television broadcast frequency is very close to VUM's radio band, protested that big a jump. A spokesman for WCIX explains that when WVUM applied to boost its signal, thereby threatening interference with Channel 6's broadcasts, the TV station offered a compromise: if VUM would accept a lower-watt signal, WCIX would buy them a new antenna. "It was well worth it for VUM to compromise from 3000 to 1300 watts," says one engineer who worked on the power-boost project, "because Channel 6 ended up buying a very high-quality antenna." Dr. Butler, in his speech to the Voice staff, put a kinder spin on it: He thanked WCIX for "donating the antenna."
In her speech at the ballroom ceremony Nikki Tominac captured the essence of the delicate mix of playing at being professional and still being a kid. "We've been working for this," she told her colleagues, "so now we must be responsible and stuff like that."
Mary Koma adds, "The idea is not to just be immature and childish, 'Oh boy, I'm on the air.' When you have a college radio station, everyone volunteers, so you get all these different opinions and philosophies."
Nikki Tominac says she wants her own radio station some day, one not owned by a big corporation, as most commercial radio stations are nowadays, one with "a pushover program director so I can do whatever I want. I could imagine that being MTV without the picture A fast-paced with a lot going on."
For now, Nikki Tominac's challenge is clear: taking WVUM into its future as a countywide broadcast entity, not something just for the kids on campus, or, as in the early days, the men's dorms.
Some veterans of the station wonder if the vaunted and celebrated power increase was such a wonderful idea after all. "This [push for a power boost] started when I was a sophomore," says Fred Sowder, who graduated in May after serving for a year and a half as VUM general manager. "I never had the problems Nikki's having." Sowder adds a twist: that not everyone at VUM was gung-ho for the power increase because they feared A rightfully A that it would lead to the conflicts between professionalism and a more free-form approach as well as the conflicts between personalities. "But I don't see what the big deal is," says Sowder. "It's college radio A lighten up."
After the speeches in the Flamingo Ballroom, everyone traipsed over to the station for a ceremonial ribbon-cutting. The Eye to Eye crew zoomed in and the strobes flashed A apparently a yearbook photographer had joined the media parade. Dr. Butler and Nikki Tominac debated about who should have the honor of scissoring the red ribbon draped across the door to the three tiny rooms.
"C'mon, Nikki, make it happen," Dr. Butler beamed.
"This is a great moment for WVUM and its future," Tominac announced, and both of them held the scissors to the ribbon. More camera flashes popped. A brief pause ensued. "Oh, no," Tominac blurted, "it's not going to cut!"
Nothing's ever as simple as it should be in real life.
