By Henry Long
I was a freshman when I started at WRGW. But worse, I was a Vernie. It was 2019 and the world felt so open from my perch in Foxhall. I rode the Vern Express (or Vex) every day. Hurling down Foxhall road and carving through Georgetown before eventually making my way to Foggy Bottom. There were more Vex rides than I can count. Class every day, student org meetings, Josh Peck in Lerner and an inaugural trip to Decades. But there was no Vex ride as special as the one I took to the station. Monday mornings, 12 AM. My show was called New Music Now and, you’re gonna hear this a lot, only my parents listened. The student center was empty, so was the live chat. The sounds of Song Machine, Mystic Familiar and Eternal Atake were interrupted only by my lonesome voice. These were the songs of early 2020. They feel like a different time. So my show, and every late night I spent in the basement of what was then the Marvin center, feels lifted from reality. It was impossible to imagine then what was coming next.
In March, we went on that extended break to play Animal Crossing. But even though we had left the physical studio, the station felt more alive than ever before. That summer I helped plan my first event for WRGW: A Minecraft charity concert. A relic of the pandemic. We called it the WRGW Block Party. There were two blood sacrifices and only one alt right troll. We raised a few hundred dollars to fight police brutality. Looking back it sounds too 2020 to stomach. Back when all there was to do was make bread and watch The Last Dance, WRGW became a place I could always escape to. Without a station to work with we all had to learn new methods and mediums for programming, and boy did we ever.
I was determined to fulfill my duty as a disc jockey so in the Fall of 2020 I started streaming on Twitch for the station. 3 copyright strikes later I bet they wish I had not. But all my hard work and massive audience (peaked at 8 viewers) earned me a highly coveted superlative: most likely to get DMCA’d for listening to Loona. Also in this time I helped start a podcast that accomplished exactly one thing (hey Kate) but I mostly just counted down the days until we could all be back in the station.
Just as it was beginning to feel like we would never be in the station again, it happened. Piece by piece a group of talented radio nerds started putting everything back together. Katy Ronkin and Runjni Shastri helped everyone find their footing at the start of a shaky semester. Department heads like David Korn, Nick Porr, Claire Lanthier and a million others that I sadly do not have the characters for right now were essential in solidifying the station. That first fall semester back was about more than reestablishing, it was about reinventing. And we did just that. Fall Gig captured the spirit of college music, sports broadcasting was better than ever and some really gifted talkers and DJs made the studio into more than just a table and microphones. More on all that in a bit. It was not always smooth. It was almost never easy, and there was a fair share of drama. But GW without drama is just American, and where is the fun in that?
No moment better captures the chaotic magic of that third year at the station than the Fall Gig. And I’m not just talking about David and Bryn grilling veggie burgers while wearing basketball jerseys. I am talking about the moment when a lanky, long haired freshman took the stage in front of hundreds of students strewn about on their welcome weekend blankets. You could smell the fact that all the branded lighters sold out pre-show. I heckled the poor kid, how could I not? “Play Wonder Wall!” I shouted. Scattered laughter. All in good fun. You can imagine my embarrassment when the same kid playing the guitar showed up the next week to be my intern. To be honest, I don’t think he has put this together yet. Max, if you’re reading this, sorry. But I have been a great audience member at every show of his since. Max and I put together some great shows about 90’s music. There was a healthy amount of Bjork, an unhinged discussion on Neutral Milk Hotel and a wall shaking jam session to Wild Wild West by Will Smith. Still, no one was really listening. The live chat was still empty. But at some point the radio gods threw me a bone and I worked on two things that people actually listened to.
The first project was Histerical. On its surface, a podcast about history. But really it was a vessel for two perfect hosts to let us in on their hilarious dynamic. It remains a one season wonder, some have even called it the Freaks and Geeks of podcasting. And it ended with as much fanfare as it started with. What defines Histerical in my memory is that it was pitched in my broadcast news writing class to be a feature story. “An exciting new podcast on campus,” they called it. And it was. Long live Histerical.
The second project was Draft Day. A Friday afternoon talk show centered around a sports style draft. At its core it was a way to argue about and rank things that were otherwise unrankable. iPod games, smells, chain restaurants, if you can have an opinion on it we drafted it. And despite my less than stellar record as a host (1-10 all time), the show was always a joy to be a part of.
But every show I got to be a part of, no matter how many listeners, was always special. Emmanoelle and Zach, you two will be friends for life. There is no one else in this world I would rather talk about cars going in circles with. A table with microphones is the best setting for making friends and I am lucky to have shared the station with so many great talkers and DJs. My last show for WRGW was with my best friend Aaron. It was an NBA show whose lasting legacy is an outstanding record on betting over unders. Our debates were worthy of sports talk radio. We nailed the kind of chemistry that works best on a Monday morning commute. Unfortunately, our show was at 6 p.m. on Wednesdays and I was torn away from it by my other duties at WRGW as a sports broadcaster.
I’ve spent a lot of lonely hours in the WRGW station and I have loved every one, but sports broadcasting at WRGW is the furthest thing from a one man show. All I had to do was show up on the day with notes, a golden voice and a loose understanding of the 3-2 zone. David Korn, Nick Porr and Nick Perkins and everyone else in the sports department made the experience seamless. Nothing is quite like calling a packed game in the Smith Center. The solitary moments in the studio are important, but broadcasting was the rare occasion where I felt connected not just to other station members but to the school as a living organism.
As a freshman, only my parents listened to my show. As a sophomore, only my friend Jackson watched my Twitch stream. As a junior, there were hundreds of listeners for Histerical and voters for Draft Day. As a senior, our basketball broadcasts reached an even bigger audience and took me to places I had never been (Rhode Island). Whether I was sparking intense debate on the merits of Mac & Cheese, mingling in the media room at the Barclays Center or spinning in a chair by myself merely interjecting the sounds of greater artists. It never mattered what I was doing at WRGW or how many people I was doing it for. That hour, your hour, my hour in the station is sacred. It can be a personal therapy session or it can be a group hangout. It can be riveting interviews or casual conversation. It can be whatever you want. That is what makes it special. That is what makes it WRGW.
Thank you, WRGW.
-Henry
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