[sudoroom] sudo radio update and next meeting

[mark burdett]

The FCC has a point system for awarding LPFM licenses which is weighted
towards "established community presence". This means for at least 2 years,
the organization's headquarters, campus or board members were within 10
miles of the proposed antenna.  Since sudo doesn't have a long-established
community presence, it would be best to apply, and then submit a
time-sharing agreement with other applicants later (now would be the time
to contact those other applicants and work on a time-sharing agreement in
advance). There's info about this on the Prometheus site, and Media
Alliance is a local org in Oakland that knows a lot about this process.

--mark B.

On Fri, Dec 14, 2012 at 2:03 PM, Eddan Katz <eddan at eddan.com> wrote:

> 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.
> 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.
>
> sent from eddan.com
>
> http://prometheusradioorg/rules_announced<http://prometheusradio.org/rules_announced>
>
> FCC announces first opportunity for small community radio stations in 12
> years:
> First opportunity for small community radio stations in 12 years coming in
> October 2013
>
> November 30, 2012
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> “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.”
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> “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.”
>
> "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. “We’re excited because community radio can give
> us a place to tell our stories and speak our truth."
>
> Those who want to apply for a station should start preparing now. Sign up<http://prometheusradio.org/getradio>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 zip code check <http://prometheusradio.org/zipcodecheck> tool.
> Join the online community at Radio Spark <http://radiospark.org> to
> connect with radio engineers and other applicants nationwide, or meet
> face-to-face at a public event on the Reclaim the Airwaves<http://prometheusradio.org/2012tour>tour.
>
> Press contact:
> Brandy Doyle
>
> Policy Director
> Prometheus Radio Project
> brandy at prometheusradio.org
>
>
> http://www.eastbayexpress.com/ebx/pirate-radio-goes-legit/Content?oid=3204082
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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 *The Chocolate News*. 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."
>
> Historically, radio has represented its sense of place better than other
> forms of media — consider iconic shows like the *Grand Ole Opry* and *A* *Prairie
> Home Companion*, 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> 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."
>
> ------------------------------
>
> 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).
>
> 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.
>
> "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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> ------------------------------
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> Dunifer is so legendary among pirate radio enthusiasts that more than one
> radio manager interviewed for this story claimed that Dunifer inspired the
> movie *Pump Up the Volume*, 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.)
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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 *All Things Gay*. And a station in
> Louisiana provides a mix of zydeco music and tips about starting small
> businesses.
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
> 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."
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> ------------------------------
>
> 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.
>
> "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,
> *Long Time Passing: Mothers Speak About War and Terror*.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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.
>
> 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."
>
>
>
> On Dec 11, 2012, at 10:59 PM, Marina Kukso <marina.kukso at gmail.com> wrote:
>
> hi everyone,
>
> 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: http://sudoroom.org/wiki/Projects/sudoradio
>
> if anyone wants to work on sudo radio stuff tomorrow after the meeting,
> that would be a good time.
>
> 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?
>
> - marina
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>
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