Radio Articles

Although KWK with Thomas Patrick Convey at its helm was started with the proverbial shoestring, the credit does not belong solely to him.

Correlative to his ceaseless efforts to bring the little station out of troubled waters into being one of the finest of the city are those of Mrs. Convey who has been at the station ever since the first six months of its existence.

With its beginning back in 1927, KWK occupied but one small room on the top of the Hotel Chase with Thomas Patrick as the chief and sole announcer. Because he was working too hard and because the two had always been accustomed to sharing the same interests, Mrs. Convey volunteered to lend her musical training and capabilities to the cause. Like most men, he demurred at her working but she won out and came down there as program director, assistant announcer and performer all in one.

Mrs. Convey, whose home is in Chicago, is a graduate of the Chicago Conservatory of Music, and it is with this musical background as well as with the years of experience that she is able to choose and direct the program of the station. She is known to the audience as Peggy Austin.

When the station was first started, Mr. Convey came to work at 6 o’clock in the morning – announcing and directing programs. Mrs. Convey was the accompanist – part time announcer and kept things running smoothly. During the baseball season, Thomas Patrick would announce until time to go to the game, then Mrs. Convey played records announcing them as they went on until he got to the ballpark. Until he returned from the park she would keep the ball rolling in the same manner.

“Mr. Convey and I have always worked together on things and exchanged our ideas,” she said. “There are many things about the programs and the artists for which he has to depend on me and of course I know very little about the mechanics of the station. So we are dependent upon each other.

“Radio grows more and more interesting and so I could not leave off my work as program director if I wanted to, for to me it is the most absorbing interest that I have ever known. It is constantly changing and ever new.”

Radio and Entertainment Magazine May 28, 1932 (unsigned)

KSHE was granted a construction permit on September 7, 1960 for a new broadcast station at 94.7 mHz. A license to broadcast was issued June 15, 1961. The license was owned by Rudolph Edward Ceries, who went by the name of Ed. He and his wife broadcast from the basement of their home at 1035 Westglen Drive in Crestwood.

Mr. Ceries had previously worked as an engineer for twenty years at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch broadcast properties in St. Louis, KSD and KSD-TV. He literally built some of the original KSHE equipment himself. He and his wife also helped with announcing duties.

KSHE was dubbed “the lady of FM,” and the station’s format began as all classical, later shifting to emphasize the arts, playing classical, semi-classical and light music. Radio drama was also broadcast, with the typical day running from 7:45 a.m. to 12:30 a.m. They employed one full-time and two part-time announcers.

In 1962, ownership was transferred to Crestwood Broadcasting Corporation (Robert H. Orchard, E.V. Lowall, Keith S. Campbell and Rudolph E. Ceries. They sold the station to Century Broadcasting, effective October 1, 1964.

The new owners changed the station’s format to “progressive rock” in 1967 in an effort to turn a profit. Although there is a St. Louis disc jockey who claims credit for the change to rock music, no documentation has ever been found to back up his claims. By the end of the ‘60s, KSHE was becoming one of the nation’s leading “underground” radio stations. The studios and tower were located at 9434 Watson Rd. (Highway 66) in Crestwood. This site became renowned as a pseudo-shrine among listeners and employees, as listeners had easy access to announcers in the small, cinderblock building, which had a drive-up window from a previous incarnation.

Manager Sheldon “Shelley” Grafman is fondly remembered by his staff as a guy who made the whole thing work. He served as GM, sometime PD, sales cheerleader and collection agency. Realizing the need for a bigger identity, the station applied for and received permission to identify itself as “KSHE, Crestwood-St. Louis” in August of 1973.

In 1984, owner Century Broadcasting sold KSHE to Emmis.

In the 1930s, KWK was doing pretty well as a local radio station. Under the guidance of founder Thomas Patrick Convey, the station had managed to survive against such moneyed competition as Pulitzer’s KSD and CBS’ KMOX. But his leadership came to an abrupt end on May 18, 1934, when he died a short seven years after putting the station on the air. The leadership task was then assumed by his son, who was known by his air name, “Robert Thomas” Convey. He was 21.

Bob was no stranger to radio. He’d been heard on the air since he was 15, performing, announcing and occasionally singing as part of his father’s effort to keep personnel costs to a minimum. He apparently moved easily into the management role.

After World War II, Bob Convey saw the need to expand and sought a site that would provide more space than the station had in the Chase Hotel. Two big money investors were brought on board: Arnold Stifel, a former partner in Stifel, Nicolaus, and Anthony Buford, the general attorney at Anheuser-Busch. Announcement was made of the acquisition, for $100,000, of the former Mississippi Valley Trust Company Building at Fourth and Pine downtown. The actual move was delayed because of a post-war supply shortage, and for unexplained reasons, KWK stayed in the Chase Hotel. But Convey was still able to expand because of the failure on another local FM station.

When the St. Louis Globe-Democrat’s station, KWGD, went under, Convey entered into an agreement with the paper to take over the state-of-the-art studio facility at 12th and Cole. The move took place in late April, 1949, and KWK-AM and FM were simulcasting from the studios May 9, about four weeks after KWGD went dark. The Globe-Democrat was given minority interest in the stations. Listeners on that first morning heard disc jockey Ed Wilson greeting the station’s 75 staffers as they entered the building.

Convey made a big splash with advertisers when he threw a big dedication party June 16 of that year. Commerce Magazine reported the station “entertained 1,000 clients, local agency people, businessmen, and local and state dignitaries at a cocktail party commemorating the formal opening of the new KWK offices and studios.” Two weeks later the station was opened for guided tours for the general public.

The next year Bob Convey continued a tradition by bringing his son to KWK and giving him a job. Robert T. Convey, Jr., was 13 years old. He remembers, “During that summer I primarily delivered the mail, including ‘off-air’ deliveries to Ed Wilson in his studio. Ed would often hold me through a commercial so I was trapped when he went back on the air. And, he frequently used these opportunities to give me a hard time – ‘Well, well, little Bobbie, the son of the boss. Isn’t that uniform cute?’ and ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

“When I returned the following summer, I was given the additional duty of escorting tours of the public through the building…When we got to Ed Wilson’s studio, I found that many people didn’t think Ed should pick on me, and they thought I should stand up to him. As I made my rounds through the building, I began to realize that many of the secretaries felt the same way, so I decided to act. When Ed sent me out to buy his favorite cigar, I loaded it with a novelty exploding device. As luck would have it, it went off on the air.”

There were also vivid memories of the facility: “Its two big studios were actually suspended by cables to dampen the rumble of nearby underground trains and other noise such as traffic and thunder that might compromise the quality of the superior FM signal. The facility was designed with a central control room with four studios around it – two larger ones for audience participation shows and two smaller ones used by Ed Wilson, Gil Newsome and the news department.” They were also air-conditioned.

Robert Thomas Convey, Jr., ran into a legal problem when his father died in 1970, and it could be traced back to his dad’s early radio days. “Early in his career, my father used the stage name of ‘Robert Thomas.’ His given name was Thomas Robert Convey, Eventually he was using the stage name everywhere (Robert Thomas Convey on driver’s license, contracts, etc.), even though he had never changed it legally. When I was born in 1937, I was given that name with a ‘Jr.’ after it, and it was not until my father’s death in 1970 that I learned I had been a junior under false pretenses!”

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 10/2002)

Anyone who ever worked at the “Old” KSHE has vivid memories of “the window,” that small aperture in the studio wall that served as the connection point between the deejay and the outside world. The cinder block building in Crestwood became a virtual mecca for rock music fans, and “The Window” was their blarney stone.

In the words of former KSHE jocks:

Gary Bennett: “I helped a guy one night find his lost dog. I went on the air and said where this fella lived and described his dog. Sure enough, two days later there’s a knock on the window and it was this guy. Somebody had found his dog. He was so appreciative he gave me a big chunk of hash and a couple of candy bars.”

Sir Ed: “Of course, people would come up and knock on the window. That’s how I met my wife. John Williams was really good friends with my wife’s friend. And she had befriended me. She worked at a couple bars and John would get free drinks from time to time. The two women came out one Sunday to get tickets and that’s how I first met my wife.”

John Williams: “The window had curtains, and if you kept the curtains open, everyone could see you. Your back was to the window and you’d have to turn around to see someone. They’d hold up notes. They’d bring you food. They’d bring you dope. They’d ask you for dope. If you opened that window it was like a floodgate. I had incredible experiences through the window.”

Steve Rosen: “I remember one time I was at KSHE and somebody knocked on the window and it was Chuck Berry and his girlfriend. And he came in and we interviewed him. He just came in, sat down and talked. He knew Shelley [Grafman, one of the station owners].”

Don Corey: “People would come and knock on the window which could be frightening at 3 in the morning. A lot of the time they just wanted to talk. Some would buy tickets. Sometimes there’d be a group of six or seven people just standing around talking.”

For Joy Grdnic, being a woman on the air meant there were plenty of window visitors, but for a different reason than most of the other jocks. “People would come to the window just to see what I looked like.”

Bob Burch: “The window was really fun when the streaking fad hit. The girls would come up and press their breasts against the glass. We always had a bunch of characters coming up there. I had a guy put a gun up to the window once. Then he turned around and ran away laughing. I’d keep the curtain closed.”

Ken Suitter: ““It was nothing to hear a knock at the window and turn around in your chair and a naked woman would be standing at the window. The window, you got to meet all kinds there. People offered you drugs. I remember people coming down to the window with a barbecue pit, and the guy said he didn’t have anything else to do so he decided to come down and cook me a steak.”

Loren Cornelius: “If you were doing 7:00 to midnight or midnight to 6:00 you’d turn around and there’s be people at the window and it’d scare the shit out of you. Most of them were stoned out of their minds when they showed up.”

Joe “Mama” Mason: “You really could talk to the listeners. You could crank the window open. One time a guy came up and knocked on the window and asked if I remembered him. He was about 22 years old. I didn’t remember him. He said ‘I came here four years ago and talked with you and you talked to me all night long. I was just out of high school. I’m here to thank you. You talked me into going to college. I just graduated and I’m here to thank you. You were the only reason I went to college.’

“When I was really in the thick of things, every single night there’d be at least 10 girls who would come up and take their tops off at the window. It was really that crazy.

“There were girls just coming out of the woodwork. They’d show up at the studio or take their clothes off at the window.”

Rich Dalton: “The world famous KSHE window became a rite of passage in St. Louis. Especially on weekends, people would come and party at the KSHE window. And as crazy as it seems now, t-shirts and concert tickets were sold out that window by deejays. One deejay was busted by a St. Louis County cop for selling dope out that window.”

For Brother Love, who had the wake-up shift on KSHE, the window wasn’t sex and drugs. It was rock and roll. “The record guys would come by before the station opened. They’d come to the window and bring me the new records.”

Al Hofer: “I think if you want to build a legendary radio station and you want to reach out and touch the community, you need a window like KSHE had.

“When I would do weekends, people would literally come up there when I was on and hang out all night long. I was on from 7 ‘til midnight Saturdays and Sundays, and they would bring their coolers and other party paraphernalia and hang out, occasionally request songs, but it was a party.

“People would come from miles around. There was this great mystique about the station. And the fact that the tower was right there was extremely cool too.

Mark Klose: “Behind you on the back wall was the window, like a transom window that leaned in. You’d be on the air and they’d stick their head by the window and call out to you. Some of them would reach in while you were on the air and grab some records and take off.”

Ted Habeck: “I remember getting the shit scared out of me a lot from that window. The station wouldn’t spend $5.00 for a mirror so you could see it when you were on the air. Invariably somebody would wait until you opened the microphone before they’d come banging on the window.”

Gary Kolander: “You’d be there doing the overnight shift and all of a sudden at 3:30 in the morning BAM, BAM, BAM on the window. It’d scare the hell out of you.

“There was one New Years’ Eve I’ll never forget where this blond came up with two glasses of champagne. She handed me one through the window and said she’d just come up to wish me a happy new year. We toasted, and I said ‘Just a minute, the song’s ending.’ And she said ‘Happy New Year,’ and she lifted up her shirt and pressed against the glass. I’ve got about five seconds left on the song I was a little flustered, to say the least. I got the next record going. It took maybe 30 seconds. I turned around and she was gone.”

KSHE’s window went the way of all great legends when the station moved from its infamous cinder block studios in Crestwood to their downtown location at Union Station, and with the move a part of rock radio’s fabric was lost.

(Reprinted with permission of The St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 1/2-10).

In 1946, GIs who served on both war fronts were being assimilated back into society, and they were spending money freely, priming the nation’s economic pumps. Radio was in the final years of its golden age, and here in St. Louis, many well established broadcasters were enjoying an economic boom of sorts.

KWK, owned by the heirs of long-time owner Thomas Patrick Convey, had its studios on the ninth floor of the Chase Hotel on North Kingshighway. In 1937 the station became part of the Mutual Radio Network, which was formed when Chicago’s WGN decided to loosely affiliate with several other stations to provide an attractive national sales package to advertisers.

While Mutual never gained the status of the other radio networks, they nonetheless provided some programming to affiliates, and one of those shows originated from St. Louis. The rest of the broadcast day for those stations was filled by local programs.

A study of production reports written by Thad Shore of KWK provides some insight into the problems encountered in those days as stations produced daily, live shows. On March 26, 1946, Shore expressed his dissatisfaction with the 7:00 a.m. “Rich Hayes” show: “Am recommending to continuity department that [a] more interesting ‘build-up’ be incorporated in opening over theme.” That day in the local “Shady Valley” show: “Joe Randall was a bit under the weather and did not come up to his usual standards.”

Thad Shore was obviously a senior staffer in that he was given production responsibility for many of the station’s programs, sometimes spanning a 12 hour period in one day. On March 26 he was generous with his comments: “The commercial delivery on this show is improving as Billy Knight avoids straining his voice and cracking in shouting the commercials.”

Nowadays, disc jockeys take their amenities for granted, but in the year following the war, things were different. On April 3, Shore began work at 7:30 in the morning and finished at 10 that night. His notes from two of the shows indicate it might not have been a pleasant day: “The general spirit and life we usually have was lacking. This I attribute to the closeness and heat of the studio… the entire company is to be commended for their efforts and cooperation in spite of the adverse temperature and humidity of the studio.”

And talent often had to be handled: “A passable show but Jackie [Hill] was not in as good form as usual. He arrived precisely at rehearsal time, ten minutes before the show, and apparently had not settled himself after hurrying to make it.”

As for the assumption that things in a large market like St. Louis were somehow better than in smaller stations: “The engineer informs me that the microphone which went bad [during the show] had apparently been bumped or knocked over the night before. Preliminary tests had indicated that the microphone was working but it did not prove to be of broadcast quality when we went on the air. We were able to shift to a working microphone in time to preserve the commercial quality of the show.”

And there were days when a staffer wasn’t happy with his assignment. In some cases the staff member was correct: “Announcer Bruce Hayward desired to substitute third person pronouns in copy that he thought appeared to lend personal endorsement in the first person.”

Again on April 22, the weather caused problems: “With outside temperature in the 80s the cast found it a bit hard to keep on their toes in the heat of Studio A.”

In the following days, it appears nerves were a bit on edge. Shore wrote that the “Coon Creek” hillbilly music show suffered from “a pointless script that was not funny… Too much copy was spent on setting the locale of the situation and not enough on comedy development. This, I believe, stems from the tendency to burlesque situation and character rather than use the situation as the basis for pointed comedy, satire, wit, or frustration comedy.”

By May of 1946, Mr. Shore knew there was a problem with the Shady Valley show that was fed live on the Mutual Network each morning at 8:15. “We find ourselves using more and more of the material as written. However, while we retain the comedy material we often continue to revise or substitute for the musical introductions. Often we do not use the written material simply because an ad lib sequence has developed of which we take the best advantage. Of course, in this case it’s a matter of time that eliminates the material. We also eliminate gags that reflect adversely on the character of the performers. On the whole we find it an advantage to have the script to follow but take many liberties with it to keep the show alive.”

Things did not get better. On May 14: “Script, which can make this [‘Rich Hayes Plays’] more than just a pop organ recital is lagging again after a short trend toward improvement.” His next show that day, ‘Shady Valley,’ was a bit rough. “Jackie Hill was absent because of illness. His mother called. Texie Hollie missed this broadcast. He called in at 8:05 (The show began at 8:15 a.m.) and reported that his car had broken down on the way from Alton.”

And as the day wore on, Shore’s frustration grew. “[Script] Revisions [from continuity] were not satisfactory so I rewrote the opening and following introductions. These were not gems of creation but improved on the continuity provided. In both this show and in ‘Rich Hayes Plays,’ the writer, Dave Chopin, seems to fail to see the creative possibilities inherent therein.”

July was also a rough month at KWK. On Saturday, July 20: “Regarding the reported noise in the speech portions of ‘Easy Listening’ noted in Mr. Traxler’s report, microphone changes have been made to correct this condition somewhat. The noise is, of course, from the street since this program originates in the announcers’ booth because of tight studio scheduling.” On July 25: “For the second morning, during the program, moving of furniture or floor trucks above the studio was audible.”

Within a couple years, KWK began going a different direction in its programming. A young man named Gil Newsome became one of the market’s most popular radio personalities, and he did it by sitting in a studio and playing records for St. Louis’ younger generation.

Listen to Shady Valley Gang on KWK, in 1945

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 02/01)

In early April 1998, a man who could be called the father of FM rock radio in St. Louis passed away in Jacksonville, Florida.

Ed Ceries and his wife created a classical radio station in the basement of their home in Crestwood on Feb. 11, 1961. They called their station “the lady of FM” and they gave it the call letters KSHE.

An article by James Kearns, Jr., in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch back then described the infant station at 1035 Westglen Drive as being spread out through the home’s rathskeller and basement, with the Associated Press teletype next to the clothes washer. Ceries had been an engineer for 20 years at KSD radio and television, then owned by the Post. At the age of 40, he decided to build his radio station.

KSHE broadcast fine arts, classical music and drama seven days a week from 7:45 a.m. to 12:30 a.m. The couple had one full-time and two part-time announcers to help them. Their life savings went into building the station, and Ceries is quoted in the article as saying, “The advertisers are staying away in droves. They find it hard to believe that FM is here to stay”.

This lack of advertising support forced the couple to slightly modify KSHE’s format in July of 1962, lightening the music but maintaining 10 percent of its music list in classical selections.

Drama was also a factor on the station. Sundays meant listeners could hear history’s great dramas, including many works by Shakespeare. Lectures from the Washington University Graham Chapel series were also broadcast. The Ceries admitted their operation was run on a shoestring. The news desk at KSHE consisted of several trays atop the chest-type freezer, into which wire copy was sorted. The trays had originally served as Mrs. Ceries’ baking pans.

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 5/98)