Good Vibrations and Border Blasters

In case you are new to this series of Throwback Thursdays columns, their primary focus is on the technologies I grew up with in England during the 1960s and 1970s. On the other hand, as exemplified by this column, I won’t refrain from touching on technological developments and deployments in other countries and other times if the mood strikes me and I feel compelled to do so.

In my previous piece, When Pirates Ruled the (Air) Waves, we discussed how, in 1960, the only body legally allowed to broadcast radio in the UK was the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC).

At that time, there were only three national networks — The Home Service (news, current affairs, serious drama, talks), The Light Programme (light entertainment, comedy, and popular music), and The Third Programme (classical music, literature, and intellectual discussion) — all of which were run by the BBC.

These days, when there are hundreds of radio stations across the UK, it’s easy to forget that back in 1960, there were no legal local or commercial broadcasters. In fact, the very concept of "local radio" didn’t exist until the BBC began experimenting with it in the mid-1960s, the first incarnation being BBC Radio Leicester, which launched in 1967.

Earlier, when I said The Light Programme played “popular music,” I meant the kind your parents or grandparents might tap their feet to. The stodgy old BBC regarded rock ’n’ roll as a passing fad — something to be ignored rather than embraced.

All this paved the way for the pirate radio stations of the early 1960s, such as Radio Caroline and Radio London. Broadcasting from ships anchored just beyond Britain’s territorial waters, these exuberantly fresh stations played the music young people actually wanted to hear.

Interestingly, there were no equivalents to Radio Caroline and Radio London in the USA. America had plenty of commercial radio stations long before the 1960s. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) licensed thousands of privately owned AM and FM stations, which competed for audiences with different formats, including news, country, jazz, rhythm and blues (R&B), and rock ’n’ roll.

By the mid-1950s, rock ’n’ roll was already mainstream in America. DJs like Alan Freed (who is credited with popularizing the term “rock and roll”) were household names. Stations such as WINS in New York, KFWB in Los Angeles, and WLS in Chicago were spinning Elvis, Chuck Berry, and Little Richard daily — all legally. This meant there was no need for pirate broadcasters, as commercial freedom and competition already provided the public with what it wanted.

Having said this, the US did have a few “border blasters” in the form of powerful AM stations, such as XERF and XERB, that transmitted from just across the Mexican border.

These weren’t illegal under US law, but they operated beyond FCC control and sometimes pushed the limits of taste and advertising standards (promoting miracle cures, religious preachers, or raucous rock ’n’ roll). Famous DJs like Wolfman Jack began their careers on these Mexican superstations, which could be heard hundreds of miles into the US at night. In spirit, they were perhaps the closest American cousins to Britain’s pirate ships.

Just saying this reminds me of Wolfman Jack’s cameo in George Lucas’s all-time classic movie American Graffiti. Steeped in cars, neon, and radio, this coming-of-age story captures one night in 1962 in the small town of Modesto, California. Throughout the film, the soundtrack is driven by the unseen voice of Wolfman Jack, whose show ties the characters’ adventures together. If I were in the mood to wax poetic, I might be moved to say something pithy, like “The Wolfman serves as the unseen DJ of their lives,” but I’m not, so I won’t.

Near the end of the film, one of the main characters, Curt (played by Richard Dreyfuss), visits the radio station and meets the Wolfman himself. At first, Curt assumes the man he’s talking to is just an engineer or stand-in (the Wolfman’s “assistant”). It’s only after Curt has left the station that it becomes clear he was speaking to the Wolfman in person.

Following the original posting of this column, a reader emailed me to say: "Just so you know, there was also a Canadian border blaster, CKLW ('The Big 8'). This was (and still is) transmitted at 50,000 watts from Windsor, Ontario, Canada (just across the Detroit River from the City of Detroit). It dominated the airwaves in the 1960s. Not only was it #1 in Detroit, but also in several other cities around the area (such as Cleveland, Ohio)." The reader also shared this video about CKLW and this video about its most notably music director, Rosalie Trombley.

While the US didn’t have dramatic ship-based broadcasters like Radio Caroline, there were many small, unauthorized pirate (a.k.a “free radio”) stations in American cities from the 1960s onward, although their motivations, audiences, and styles varied widely.

A counterculture is a culture whose values and norms of behavior are opposed to those of the current mainstream society. In the context of this column, the term “counterculture” refers to the broad social movement of the 1960s and early 1970s — primarily in the US and Western Europe — comprising young people who rejected the mainstream values, norms, and institutions of their parents’ generation.

As the counterculture blossomed in the US, a handful of individuals and collectives began experimenting with homemade transmitters. They popped up in places like San Francisco, New York, Boston, Chicago, and Berkeley, often inspired by the “do-it-yourself” ethos of the era. These weren’t commercial ventures — they were acts of expression or protest. Some notable examples were as follows:

• Political “free radio:" Anti-Vietnam War activists, civil rights supporters, and later feminist and environmental groups used low-power transmitters to bypass mainstream media.
• Underground music: Stations aired psychedelic rock, punk, and avant-garde artists who commercial FM often ignored. You might hear Jefferson Airplane or the Velvet Underground long before they reached the charts.
• Community storytelling and poetry: In some neighborhoods, broadcasts mixed radical politics with spoken word, local issues, and experimental sound collages.

Most of these early pirates were short-lived because the FCC tracked and shut them down as “unlicensed broadcasters.”

By the 1980s, homemade transmitters had become more affordable and compact. A second wave of “micro-broadcasters” emerged, particularly in cities such as Tampa, San Francisco, Chicago, and New York.

Perhaps the best-known figure was Stephen Dunifer, who launched Free Radio Berkeley in 1993. He argued that community access to airwaves was a First Amendment right, not a corporate privilege. His broadcasts combined local news and activism, protest music and alternative culture, with educational content on building transmitters and utilizing radio for civic resistance.

Dunifer’s court battle with the FCC became a national test case for “micropower radio.” It helped inspire hundreds of similar low-power stations around the country. By 2000, these grassroots campaigns had pressured the FCC to create a new licensing category: Low Power FM (LPFM). This allowed small, non-commercial stations (up to 100 watts) to broadcast legally within limited ranges (approximately 3.5 miles).

I have a friend (don’t laugh; it’s true). We’ll call him Rick, because that’s his name. Rick is a member of the Alabama Historical Radio Society (AHRS). When I mentioned to Rick that I was planning to pen this piece, he introduced me to another AHRS member, called Skip.

To say Skip is a character would be an understatement. While still in high school in the early 1970s, he enrolled in communication classes at Bessemer State Technical Institute, which later became Bessemer State Technical College and was eventually absorbed by Lawson State Community College in Bessemer, Alabama. On weekends, he hung out at the local radio station, doing whatever odd jobs needed doing. Eventually, he began filling in as a host for different shows as required. Skip says that’s how many DJs got their start back then: “Sweeping the floors while learning the ropes.”

After graduating from high school, Skip spent a year working as a tree climber for an arborist (also known as a tree surgeon). Following his arboreal adventures, he joined law enforcement in Birmingham, Alabama, where he served for a year.

About 20 miles south of Birmingham lies the City of Alabaster. After his time in Birmingham, Skip became a police officer in the city. He spent 28 years with the Alabaster Police Department before moving across city services to become a fire marshal with the Alabaster Fire Department, a position he’s held for the past 11 years.

The reason I mention this here is that Skip never lost his love of radio. He now runs his own LPFM station called WZAL LP, which features classic country music, accompanied by classic jingles and adverts from yesteryear.

Skip uses a microwave link from his house to his main 100W transmitter mounted atop a hill about two miles away. WZAL LP runs 24/7/365. It plays previously recorded programs when Skip is at work, but you can often hear him live in the evenings and at weekends.

WZAL LP operates on 99.9FM. Sadly, you can only pick up Skip’s signal if you live within a 15- to 20-mile radius of his tower (depending on the terrain). Happily, you can download the Live365 Radio app for free on Android or iOS devices and then search for WZAL LP. Alternatively, you can visit the Live365 website and navigate to the Live353 WZAL LP channel.

I have so much more to tell, but I don’t wish to outstay my welcome, so we will save that for my next column. In the meantime, as always, I welcome your captivating comments, querulous questions, and sagacious suggestions, all of which you can share on Hackster's "Throwback Thursdays" Discord channel. I look forward to seeing you there.

P.S. Don't forget that you are only a click away from perusing and pondering all of my Throwback Thursdays columns in one place.

P.P.S. Please feel free to email me at max@clivemaxfield.com if you have any questions about this column or if you have any requests or suggestions for future articles.