thanks eddan!<div><br></div><div>following the kopimism meeting on sunday at 1, radio-interested folks will be meeting at 2pm.</div><div><br></div><div>also, our compact still needs work! i would be interested in taking time on sunday afternoon to talk about concrete compact issues as well.</div>
<div><br></div><div>marina</div><div><br><br><div class="gmail_quote">On Fri, Dec 14, 2012 at 2:03 PM, Eddan Katz <span dir="ltr"><<a href="mailto:eddan@eddan.com" target="_blank">eddan@eddan.com</a>></span> wrote:<br>
<blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0 0 0 .8ex;border-left:1px #ccc solid;padding-left:1ex"><div style="word-wrap:break-word"><div><h1><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">I wasn't able to attend the Sudo Radio meeting last weekend at the UnConference because it was at the same time as the JOBS Act SEC public comments session. I'm also interested in keeping up with developments, but won't be able to make it on Sunday.</span></h1>
<div><span style="font-size:11px">I wanted to send around more info on the recent developments in the FCC (Federal Communications Commission) licensing rules regarding Pirate Radio stations that was issued last week. The Prometheus Radio Project, who have been working on community radio for a while now will be helping nonprofit groups to apply for licenses. The licenses will begin to be issued in Oct. 2013, so that gives us a pretty concrete timeline for getting Sudo Radio up and running.</span></div>
</div><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size:11px">sent from <a href="http://eddan.com" target="_blank">eddan.com</a></span></div><div><div><div><p></p><h1><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px"><a href="http://prometheusradio.org/rules_announced" target="_blank">http://prometheusradio.org/rules_announced</a></span></h1>
<p></p></div></div></div><blockquote style="margin:0 0 0 40px;border:none;padding:0px"><div><div><div><div><div><h1><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">FCC announces first opportunity for small community radio stations in 12 years: </span></h1>
</div></div></div></div></div><div><div><div><div><h1><span style="font-size:11px">First opportunity for small community radio stations in 12 years coming in October 2013</span></h1></div></div></div></div></blockquote><blockquote type="cite">
<div><h1><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">November 30, 2012 </span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Washington DC -- Today the Federal
Communications Commission announced that for the first time in more than
a decade, community groups nationwide will soon be able to start small,
local radio stations. Nonprofit organizations, schools, Indian Tribes
and public safety agencies can apply for Low Power FM (LPFM) stations in
October 2013. For the first time ever, the agency will allow these
noncommercial stations in urban areas. </span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">The news is long-awaited by the
Prometheus Radio Project and its supporters, who led the grassroots
coalition that pushed Congress to pass the Local Community Radio Act of
2010. The law expanded community radio by directing the FCC to make more
channels available nationwide, reversing an earlier law that relegated
stations to rural settings. The FCC implemented the law by creating more
flexible rules on where new stations can be located. </span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Finally, communities without a voice on the airwaves will have a chance to control their own local media, said Brandy Doyle, Policy Director for the Prometheus Radio Project.
"Thanks to the significant step forward today, we will see a wave of
new radio stations that better reflects the diversity of our country.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">The 800+ low power stations already on
the air are run by nonprofit groups, colleges, churches, and emergency
responders. Many, such as the Oregon farmworker station KCPN, offer
local programming in languages other than English, often hard to find on
the radio dial. KPCN, also known as Radio Movimiento, plays
Spanish-language news and information, organizes voter registration
drives, and plays traditional and contemporary music.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Low power stations are an accessible
outlet for nonprofit organizations to engage their communities, costing
as little as $10,000 to launch. Over 90% of Americans listen to radio at
least once a week. </span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Radio is a great tool for reaching
working people - it's free to listen, easy to produce, and people can
often tune in on the job or while doing housework," said Milena Velis, Media Organizer and Educator with Philadelphia-based Media Mobilizing Project.
In Pennsylvania, we're facing big challenges, from education cuts to
rural poverty to environmentally destructive shale drilling. We see
community radio as a way to bring people together and create solutions
from the ground up.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">"Just like New Mexico needs clean and healthy air, land, and water, we need healthy media, too, said Rusita Avila of the Media Literacy Project in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Were excited because community radio can give us a place to tell our stories and speak our truth."</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Those who want to apply for a station should start preparing now. <a href="http://prometheusradio.org/getradio" target="_blank"><span>Sign up</span></a>
for free updates and support from Prometheus, including access to
application guides, free online trainings, and advice on getting
started. Find out if there is an open frequency on your radio dial with
the Prometheus <a href="http://prometheusradio.org/zipcodecheck" target="_blank"><span>zip code check</span></a> tool. Join the online community at <a href="http://radiospark.org" target="_blank"><span>Radio Spark</span></a> to connect with radio engineers and other applicants nationwide, or meet face-to-face at a public event on the <a href="http://prometheusradio.org/2012tour" target="_blank"><span>Reclaim the Airwaves</span></a> tour.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Press contact:<br>
Brandy Doyle<br><br>
Policy Director<br>
Prometheus Radio Project<br>
brandy<code>@</code><a href="http://prometheusradio.org" target="_blank">prometheusradio.org</a></span></p></h1></div></blockquote><div><div><h1><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px"><a href="http://www.eastbayexpress.com/ebx/pirate-radio-goes-legit/Content?oid=3204082" target="_blank">http://www.eastbayexpress.com/ebx/pirate-radio-goes-legit/Content?oid=3204082</a></span></h1>
</div></div><blockquote style="margin:0 0 0 40px;border:none;padding:0px"><div><div><h1><span style="font-weight:normal;font-size:11px">Pirate Radio Goes Legit: The FCC is poised to license community
radio stations in the Bay Area for the first time, and the competition
promises to be fierce.</span></h1></div></div></blockquote><div><div><div><div><p><span style="font-size:11px">The radio station is little more than a back office tucked
into a strip mall on the outskirts of Sacramento, just past a lonely
Home Depot and two different Starbucks drive-throughs. Filled with one
desk and a short stack of electronics primarily a CD player and some
sort of jet-black transmitter with blinking red lights KDEE pumps a
feeble 100 watts into the Sacramento Valley, pushing radio waves only as
far as the foothills a few miles away.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">But with its unique programming a fearless song choice that bounds
from thumping GrandMaster Flash to lesser-known Stevie Wonder songs
(music that commercial stations rarely play) and earnest public-service
announcements that urge black men to get their diplomas and tell women
to eat more healthfully the station is, in fact, part of what may be
one of the most important trends in broadcast media. "Radio needs to
speak to something," said Tristen Hayes, a forty-hour-a-week DJ and
self-proclaimed talk show host who is one of only three paid staffers at
KDEE, a micro-broadcasting station managed by the California Black
Chamber of Commerce. Hayes added forcefully, "but let's not do it to
make money." A former Penn State offensive lineman, Hayes has softened
in his post-college decades, yet he still has the presence to stop a
locomotive.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Hayes pushed away a crane-neck microphone bolted to the desk, leaned
back in his chair, and crossed his broad arms over his middle-age belly.
He wears Ben Franklin glasses, and a knuckle-size diamond earring.
"Radio is broken," he said, "and no one is speaking to us." He paused
before clarifying, "In Sacramento, nothing spoke to Afro-Americans,
unless it was for some political advantage." He talked over a Chaka Khan
song. "Now we have <i>The Chocolate News</i>. We have shows about how
the White House affects your house, how health care affects you. We talk
about real estate at eye-level; there's not a whole lot of Ebonics
here," he laughed. "We lock people in by playing great music, and then
talk about real issues."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Historically, radio has represented its sense of place better than other forms of media consider iconic shows like the <i>Grand Ole Opry</i> and <i>A</i> <i>Prairie Home Companion</i>,
or even music itself, often labeled as the Seattle-, Minneapolis-, or
British-scene. But over the past fifteen years, radio, more than any
other medium, has experienced the quick consolidation of ownership and
control of stations by corporate interests. In the mid-1990s, the
nation's 10,000 radio stations were owned by some 5,000 entities. By
2008, four companies most notably, Clear Channel had gobbled up more
than half of the radio airwaves, and were increasingly elbowing out
locally produced programming in favor of formulated playlists and
nationally syndicated talk shows.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Yet in a quixotic effort to counter this trend, community organizers
and pirate radio station enthusiasts tried ten years ago to convince the
Federal Communications Commission to open up the airwaves to small,
community-focused stations. Surprisingly, they won approval, and over
the past several years roughly 800 hyper-local stations have popped up
around the country including 61 in California, like KDEE in
Sacramento, as well as a Hawaiian-music station in Watsonville, an
environmentally focused one in Mendocino, and a station in Oroville with
six hours of programming exclusively for nearby Hmong residents.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">And, in the coming months, this plan for "locally-grown radio" is set
to double in size, scope, and, correspondingly, impact. In January,
President Barack Obama signed into law the Community Radio Act, an order
to open up the airwaves to a second batch of 1,000 or so
micro-broadcasting stations or, in FCC parlance, LPFM stations
(low-powered frequency modulation). The FCC currently is hammering out
final details, but as soon as this summer, an opportunity for those
licenses will become available. And, for the first time, the FCC is
looking to open up airwaves in urban areas like Berkeley, Oakland, and
San Francisco, where the crowded radio band precluded any LPFM stations
during the first round of licensing.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">So far, the battle over America's airwaves and how these new LPFM
stations could help change the tenor of radio across the country has
mainly been fought in Washington, DC. Traditionally, the FCC has sided
with large broadcasting conglomerates that seek to dominate the radio
dial. But recently, the agency pushed back against these corporate
interests and created more openings for community radio stations in even
more cities. Yet these new opportunities will hardly be a slam dunk for
groups like California Black Chamber of Commerce or other community
organizations: For starters, the competition for these new licenses
promises to be intense, and if past practices are any indicator, the FCC
tends to favor religious organizations when it hands out licenses.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">In Sacramento, one of the few urban areas to receive permission for a
LPFM license, these micro-broadcasting stations are critical for
defining communities, a duty ignored by the syndicated programming from
the mega-chains, Hayes said. "We have a space for Curtis Mayfield," he
said, "and we'll also tell you about some great job opportunities, and
help you go back to school, if that's what you want. We're a radio
station designed to speak to people."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Nearly 20 percent of Sacramento residents are African American, but
the black community there traditionally has not been well-defined. It
wasn't until two years ago that the city elected its first black mayor,
Kevin Johnson, a former NBA standout, and only one of fifteen Sacramento
commercial radio stations, 102.5 KSFM, ostensibly plays to a black
audience and that station is owned by CBS and plays pre-programmed set
lists. Hayes claims that listenership at 102.5 KSFM has dropped ten
percent over the past year as KDEE has gained popularity.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Hayes admits that he has no idea how many people listen to KDEE, but
the studio phone rings steadily. During an hour-long interview, he
received five calls and each time answered with a booming, "Good
morning, family."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Yet that rising popularity doesn't directly translate into economic
security for KDEE or for any LPFM station. Unlike commercial radio
stations, where a boost in listeners often converts into more ad sales,
LPFM stations don't enjoy that luxury. FCC rules demand that LPFM
stations be hosted and managed by nonprofits, ruling out opportunities
for commercial ads or similar revenue streams.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Hayes is more interested, though, in talking about the role that the
station plays in building community rather than making money. "I left
Clear Channel," he explained, leaning forward, his voice gaining pitch
and momentum. "I was just tired of it. You couldn't pay me enough to
play the same old stuff. I'm a grown-ass man, and I had to listen to
that crap."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Accordingly, his morning, drive-time, radio is called "Grown Folks
Music," which is followed on Thursdays by the award-winning "Going Green
Radio Hour," hosted by a DJ he calls "Enviro-Bro."</span></p><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><hr align="center" noshade width="20%"><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><p>
<span style="font-size:11px">But economics are a reality, and an Achilles' heel for LPFM stations.
The California Black Chamber of Commerce, like most nonprofits, relies
on grants and donations, a revenue stream particularly susceptible to
economic ups and downs; over the past two years, according to filed IRS
returns, donations to the California Black Chamber of Commerce have
fallen almost 50 percent. In 2010, the organization raised only
$305,000, yet retained its $500,000 annual budget (which includes
expenses beyond the radio station).</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">And, while KDEE's operating expenses may seem bare-bones, with only
three full-time employees, the Sacramento station actually enjoys what
seems like a princely budget when compared to other LPFM stations. LPFM
proponents report that stations can be launched for as little as
$10,000, and most LPFM stations don't have enough funds to pay staff. In
nearby ag-town Davis, for example, is the aptly-named KDRT and, like
most LPFM stations, it's run by volunteers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">"From eight to eighty years old," asserted station manager Jeff Shaw.
All told, about seventy volunteers staff the Davis radio station,
working the front desk, cataloging recordings, and hosting various
call-in shows that provide advice on everything from sex to soil
conditions.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Shaw pointed out that, last year, KDRT put one person on the payroll,
a sound engineer who spends dozens of hours each month recording local
bands, as well as hosting a popular show that plays those live-recorded
tracks, all for an annual salary of $2,000. "He certainly earns it!"
exclaimed Shaw. The sound engineer's brother, Bill Buchanan, a retired
journalist, also hosts a show for KDRT, a top-notch interview program
that focuses on heated local issues like water rights and ballot
measures; he provides that show for free, as a hobby.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">In addition to the tight economic constraints in which LPFM stations
must operate, they're also hamstrung by other FCC rules. Commercial
radio stations treat them as unwanted step-siblings. Technically called a
"secondary service," LPFM stations cannot interfere with any commercial
broadcast. When Congress and the FCC hammered out rules for the first
round of LPFM stations a decade ago, they were successfully petitioned
by a bevy of existing, full-powered stations to place large buffer zones
on the radio dial to protect existing signals from interference and
static from the community radio stations. In particular, the group
lobbying for these rules included an unlikely foe for community radio:
National Public Radio.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">What resulted was called the "third adjacent rule," perhaps the
greatest constraint for LPFM stations. In the simplest terms, the rule
said that LPFM stations could not be within three clicks on the dial
from any full-power station. "The pie isn't growing any bigger," Shaw
lamented, referring to the limited number of frequencies on the FM dial,
and that the third adjacent rule effectively more than halved those
available. "It is how we decide to slice it up."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">The combination of the secondary service status and third adjacent
rule proved to be a potent one-two punch against LPFM stations. If a
commercial station moved into the area, it could bump a LPFM station
from its frequency which is exactly what happened to KDRT in Davis
five years ago when KMJE, an "adult contemporary" station, decided to
expand into Sacramento Valley and requested the very frequency 101.5
FM on which KDRT was broadcasting. The request threatened to knock
KDRT off the dial and out of business.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Davis' mayor stepped up and declared a "Media Democracy Month," and
several local bands held benefit concerts. Support and small donations
poured in. On the studio door, there are still taped notes of support,
including a lengthy letter explaining one man's $5 donation in support
of KDRT's jug band hour. But all that community backing was to no avail.
The commercial station was granted its license, and KDRT was pushed
from its home on the dial. KDRT later found another radio frequency in
the area where it could shoehorn its broadcast signal without
interrupting any commercial broadcasts. The station now resides at 95.7.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">During the past year, the FCC has been busy negotiating new rules for
LPFM stations, deciding what allowances and restrictions would be in
place for this next round of licenses and, not surprisingly, the most
heated debates flared up over the third adjacent rule. NPR was steadfast
in its support to keep the buffers a position that made few friends
in the LPFM circles but has helped it add 150 more stations to its 635
affiliates over the past decade, stations that would have had a
decidedly more difficult time finding adequate space on the airwaves if
not given priority over LPFM stations.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Yet in spite of the heavy lobbying, the FCC released in March a
tongue-tying report entitled, "The Fifth Report and Order, Fourth
Further Notice of Proposed Rulemaking and Fourth Order on
Reconsideration." It was a shocker; it sided with LPFM stations and
tossed out the third adjacent rule. It was a remarkable decision, and
will allow more LPFM stations to squeeze in on radio bands around the
country, especially in urban areas.</span></p><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><hr align="center" noshade width="20%"><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><p><span style="font-size:11px">Not surprisingly, micro-broadcasting has its roots in the ideals,
movements, and personalities of the Berkeley Free Speech Movement. "It
is electronic civil disobedience," said Stephen Dunifer.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Sitting in a windowless warehouse in Emeryville, wearing faded blue
jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt, his long gray hair pulled back
tightly, Dunifer looks like he came directly from central casting for
"aging hippie." Cluttered with motherboards and boxes of circuits, the
bunker-like space is as unassuming as the back room of a Radio Shack
store. Two college-age interns scurry in the background, assembling
radio transmitters and antennas. "People should occupy FM radio," he
added in a slow, careful cadence. "If we're going to do anything
meaningful and long-term, we need to build alternative institutions."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Dunifer is so legendary among pirate radio enthusiasts that more than
one radio manager interviewed for this story claimed that Dunifer
inspired the movie <i>Pump Up the Volume</i>, the 1990 film starring
Christian Slater as a ham radio operator who hijacks local radio
frequencies to titillate his fellow high school students with brooding
and horny soliloquies, and the only teenage romance ever to feature the
FCC as the villain. In fact, Dunifer did not, but he has gone toe-to-toe
with more FCC agents than any living radio operator. And his pirate
radio station helped inspire a nationwide if not global movement
toward micro-broadcasting, a trend that in recent years has matured into
a steely alternative to the increasingly cookie-cutter and
corporately owned stations that populate the airwaves.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Almost twenty years ago, Dunifer started broadcasting a
Sunday-evening pirate-radio show from his house in the Berkeley Hills,
talking about everything from the Gulf War to Earth First. After agents
came knocking somewhat ironically, Dunifer explained, because they
arrived just as he was talking on the radio about how free speech allows
public nudity he took the show mobile, hiking into the hills with a
transmitter, a battery pack, and an antenna.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Unable to track down his pirate radio broadcasts, FCC agents took
legal action and tried to stop him with an injunction in federal court.
But when that injunction failed, Dunifer took advantage of the resulting
legal ambiguity to set up a round-the-clock station in a flophouse that
made WKRP seem like a monastery: "The point was to make a free-speech
statement," Dunifer said.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Part performance art, part anarchy, the Free Radio Berkeley station
aired shows from some four or five dozen people, including a steady
stream of punks and what Dunifer calls "various shades of black and
piercings," and shows by homeless men and women.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Like many pioneering movements, Dunifer's local efforts were part of
an uncoordinated golden era: Throughout the Nineties, several other
pirate radio broadcasters also used radio as a means for community
organizing; most notably, a small-scale station, Black Liberation Radio,
broadcasted and continues to do so news to housing projects in
Springfield, Illinois. The station ran stories not being covered in the
mainstream media, including how the AIDS epidemic was disproportionately
affecting the black population. (Perhaps not coincidentally, a young,
recent Harvard law school graduate, Barack Obama, started his career as a
community organizer in those housing projects.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">A smattering of other pioneering micro-broadcasting stations also
popped up across the country, including a Black Liberation Radio
spin-off station in nearby Decatur that paid particular attention to a
contentious union struggle against the machinery behemoth Caterpillar,
and a station in southern Florida that championed the rights of local
tomato pickers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">At the same time, pirate radio was taking on even more dramatic
conflicts internationally. B-92 in the former Yugoslavia operated from
unknown studios to chronicle the military conflict there (and continued
to play music throughout the Bosnian War). A quasi-station known as Bush
Radio organized anti-Apartheid forces by recording shows in Cape Town
and distributing them on cassette tapes around South Africa.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">But then, in 1996 (cue needle screeching across a record), President
Bill Clinton signed into law the Telecommunication Act of 1996,
effectively overwhelming the trend toward more locally grown radio
stations. Most notably, the law reversed decades of ownership
restrictions that prohibited a single corporation from holding multiple
media stations in one market.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Norm Stockwell, a radio manager for community radio station WORT in
Madison, Wisconsin and a longtime advocate for LPFM, calls the
Telecommunication Act a "massive giveaway" that set up a "land grab" by
corporate interests. Clear Channel, in particular, was busy, increasing
the stations it owned from 43 in 1996 to more than 1,000 five years
later. "In terms of what we should be doing with media in this country,"
Stockwell said, "this was the exact opposite."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">But then something completely unexpected happened, and it came from a
surprising source: William Kennard, who had been the FCC's general
counsel, took over the agency and embarked on an international tour to
learn about radio in other countries. He was particularly interested in
pirate radio stations in South Africa and their role in that country's
move toward democracy. "It is important to note," Stockwell said,
"Kennard is African American and, in particular, the ownership [of radio
stations] by African Americans had dropped off a cliff" after the 1996
Telecommunication Act.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">When Kennard returned from overseas, he floated the radical idea of
inviting community groups to start their own radio stations. It would be
like ordering all the media moguls at Rockefeller Center in New York
City to invite Occupy Wall Street activists to host their own shows from
ham radio kits. Kennard proposed to issue eight hundred licenses for
LPFM stations to nonprofit groups.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Not surprisingly, corporate interests railed against the idea,
including heavy lobbying from NPR, which complained that the new
stations would clutter the airwaves, especially the lower frequencies on
which most NPR stations exist.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Remarkably, the proposal survived largely intact and, during the
first round of applications, the FCC was overwhelmed with reportedly
more than 12,000 applicants. Ultimately, eight hundred new licenses were
issued, a glut of new voices on the air.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Compared to reality TV shows that tend to profile Americans as
middle-class suburban dwellers, micro-broadcasting stations around the
country provide a platform for diverse demographics. A coastal town in
New Hampshire, for example, broadcasts <i>All Things Gay</i>. And a station in Louisiana provides a mix of zydeco music and tips about starting small businesses.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Perhaps also as an accurate mirror of "real" American life, half of
the LPFM licenses issued during the first round were given to religious
organizations and churches certainly a reflection of the current
political and social dichotomies that tend to split Americans between
liberal and conservative.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">When asked if the FCC's allowance of the community radio stations is a
David versus Goliath story, Dunifer waved the question away. "That's a
bit hackneyed," he said. Dunifer's hands are knobby and bent. He has
always been a righteous thinker: At age thirteen in rural Kentucky, he
once spent an afternoon documenting decrepit county bridges and
submitted the photographs to the local newspaper; the resulting two-page
spread sent county officials scurrying. "It is a lot of Davids; it
shows the power of grassroots organizing to affect change from below."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Dunifer does recognize the irony in the fact that the agency he
fought for more than a decade, the agency that sent agents chasing him
into the Berkeley Hills and dispatched lawyers from Washington DC for a
full-court, years-long legal battle, is now the very agency championing
or, at least allowing these stations to take to the air. "It is
absolutely a big step forward," he said. "We basically forced the FCC to
do something they said they would never do."</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">But Dunifer's enthusiasm is tempered. "We're reclaiming resources
that belong to us, but when you go into licensure ... you compromise
certain things," he said. "I don't care if it is a driver's license or
fishing license, it is basically a contract. When that agency is the
FCC, for example, you give up constitutionally protected rights." He
listed a few examples, like, the seven dirty words you can't say on air,
and the fact that the FCC can enter a radio station without a warrant.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Dunifer is hosting a series of four-day workshops starting May 25 to
help individuals and nonprofits apply for a LPFM license, and to launch
their own LPFM stations, teaching everything from legal aspects to the
nuts and bolts of building a transmitter.</span></p><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><hr align="center" noshade width="20%"><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><p><span style="font-size:11px">One local group is already jockeying to be one of the Bay Area's
first LPFM station. Starting two years ago, Alameda Community Radio
began gathering at the local library every other week to figure out how
to convince the FCC to award one of its coveted LPFM licenses to the
island city. "It was amazing the radio backgrounds that have been
brought out," said Susan Galleymore, one of the primary organizers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">"Former radio hosts, engineers, people who had been involved with
college radio a bunch of radio experience already existed in the
community," she continued. Galleymore's own background includes
journalism and radio production. After her son served in Iraq and
Afghanistan, she wrote a book, <i>Long Time Passing: Mothers Speak About War and Terror</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Galleymore affectionately refers to Alameda as "this little town" and
noted that, although situated near major cities, it has its own unique
personality along with its own politics and controversies. But those
"little town" comings and goings are often overwhelmed by powerful
personalities in nearby San Francisco, Oakland, and Berkeley, and
ignored by the area's TV, radio, and newspapers, which focus on the
bigger cities.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">To gather interest in local issues and as a preface for the
potential radio station there Galleymore has been creating podcasts
over the past year, called "Alameda Topics," on everything from golf
courses to a recent controversy over an animal shelter. While her
podcasts are only available online, Galleymore said she prefers real
radio, especially as a means to build community. "The access is so
immediate and the access is so easy," she said. "It is easier to turn on
the dial in your car or in your house, and it is so much better than
sitting down in front of a computer." Galleymore agreed that there is
something "old-style" about radio, and believes that is also part of its
resurgent appeal.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Based on the response to the first round of LPFM licensing ten years
ago, the competition in these coming months will be heated. The FCC
considers each applicant based on a scorecard that looks at a
community's need for a unique voice and at the general organization of
the nonprofit applying considerations that could favor an organization
like Alameda Community Radio, which has been preparing for the past two
years.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">But these very considerations also have tended to favor churches and
religious organizations, which have built-in audiences and tend to have
strong organizational track records. In the last round of licensing,
roughly half of the licenses issued were given to religious
organizations. The FCC even split one license in Madison, Wisconsin
between two applicants a church and a group of self-declared secular
progressives. The two groups split the day with twelve hours of
programming each. Progressives follow the church group's programming
with an "atheist hour." Of 61 existing LPFM stations in California, 27
were given to churches, including stations like KKJD, hosted by Borrego
Springs Christian Center, and KCYC in Yuba City, which is run by North
Valley Calvary Chapel.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">But Alameda Community Radio does have one unique competitive edge in
its application: It already has infrastructure for a radio station.
Several decades ago, KJAZ, a once-popular music station, broadcast from
the island's western edge. In 1994, though, the station was purchased by
a Texas corporation and eventually moved. But the antenna is still
standing, unused, near the library where the group currently meets.
According to Galleymore, the owner is excited to rent it out again.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:11px">Galleymore admits that her group had begun to lose steam over the
past year as the FCC remained vague about when it would begin to
consider applications. But now that deadlines are being announced,
Galleymore is seeing a return of enthusiasm. "Everyone wants to host
their own program," she said, laughing. "It is really exciting."</span></p></div></div></div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div><blockquote type="cite"><div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div>
<div><span style="font-size:11px"><br></span><div><div><div class="h5"><div><span style="font-size:11px">On Dec 11, 2012, at 10:59 PM, Marina Kukso <<a href="mailto:marina.kukso@gmail.com" target="_blank">marina.kukso@gmail.com</a>> wrote:</span></div>
<span style="font-size:11px"><br></span></div></div><blockquote type="cite"><span style="font-size:11px"><div><div class="h5">hi everyone,<br><br>shani awesomely went through all of the things that all of you have donated this weekend and we've put the current inventory on the sudo radio wiki project page: <a href="http://sudoroom.org/wiki/Projects/sudoradio" target="_blank">http://sudoroom.org/wiki/Projects/sudoradio</a><br>
<br>if anyone wants to work on sudo radio stuff tomorrow after the meeting, that would be a good time.<br><br>also, would people be available this sunday afternoon to talk next steps, finish any equipment setups, and start planning content? how does 2:30 on sunday sound?<br>
<br>- marina<br></div></div><div class="im">
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