Though KTSU listeners probably aren't familiar with Dave Biondi's name, they've most likely heard the former engineer at one time or another as the voice of the station's legal ID. "I literally built the facility from the ground up," says Biondi, who put in 32 years at "The Choice."
This past summer, after the digital transmitter went off line and the backup analog transmitter blew up, Biondi says that President Rudley figured KTSU was completely off of the air because he lives outside of the area. (Biondi adds that the station should have gone digital years ago, but couldn't due to the delay of grant money.)
Troy Fields
In February 2010, longtime Jazz Latino host Juan Flores was terminated, but was brought back a week later following public outcry. Flores, who's trying to revive his show at KPFT, says that he later left for good when KTSU management changed his shift time while he was on a vacation.
The Concerned Legends allege that Franklin's October 2008 hiring came directly from the office of TSU President John Rudley. KTSU's recently fired engineer says Rudley, who replaced Priscilla Slade following a spending scandal, likes to bully campus employees.
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"We literally had the factory send a representative down and he spent three days here and he couldn't fix it. That's how severe the problem was," says Biondi. "Well, the president did not understand that when you get into the sophistication of the digital transmitter, you just don't go and buy a new transistor and solder it in.
"[Rudley] is a very impatient person and unreasonable in his lack of trying to understand the root of a problem. I know there are a lot of unhappy people on that campus in every department that are fearful for their jobs because he likes to manage by intimidation."
Biondi said that following the operational debacles, KTSU started playing games with him.
For years, he wanted the locks to the equipment room door changed because strangers were accessing the facility...and not to marvel at the leading-edge equipment.
"I would walk through the door, which was often unlocked, to do maintenance on the transmitter and there would be a smell of marijuana everywhere," says Biondi. "They would use that building to do their toking."
After the transmitter malfunctioned the first of two times, the locks were finally changed, but nobody would give Biondi a new key. He essentially couldn't do his job, which has been contracted out to an IT guy who lives in Cleveland, Texas. Biondi thinks that the station continues to run on shaky auxiliary power.
"It's probably operating at 15 to 20 percent of its capacity," says Biondi.
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In November, the Press learned that Franklin, a week after terminating Biondi, relinquished her hiring and firing duties to concentrate on programming.
"Because she's been into it with multiple on-air personalities and other staff members, how most everyone has looked at the decision is that it's a call to save her job," says Donald, who still thinks about quitting every day.
Meanwhile, KTSU refugee Flores — who says he was never paid during his 12-year stint with the station, even though he witnessed Franklin-hired DJs receiving a stipend — has been negotiating with Pacifica Radio Network's KPFT-FM 90.1 to revive his Latin jazz show.
"There's been a lot of great music that has come out and nobody is playing it. That's what really bugs me," says Flores.
From a listener's standpoint, music historian, visual artist and Third Ward ambassador Tierney Malone explains that KTSU has been vital to his musical development. He remembers when DJs would connect the station and its music with the community and vice versa.
One time, recalls Malone, he invited Crain over to his place and played a Cassandra Wilson album that Malone had recently discovered. An impressed Crain, hearing it for the first time, thought others would dig it, too. The next time Crain was on the air, KTSU listeners heard Wilson attacking a jazz standard.
That rapport is long gone, says Malone. Instead, the artist hears KTSU jocks playing R&B songs by Gladys Knight on a straight-ahead jazz show.
"The DJs they have on there now, oh my God, they're horrible and have no idea how to blend or keep a groove going," says Malone. "It's like listening to clanging pots."
Despite KTSU's depleted support, Malone thinks that a lot of folks, him included, would go nuts if the station permanently went away. "If KTSU went off the air, people would go over to the university and burn [the campus] down," says Malone.
However, it's not enough for him to want to listen to KTSU, save for every once in a while when he's driving his truck. Otherwise, he's tuned into the University of Houston's KUHF-FM 88.7 or some other radio frequency.
steve.jansen@houstonpress.com
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RADIO TIME
KTSU was at its best when it was pushing ahead.
BY JOHN NOVA LOMAX
Twenty-six years ago I was a white kid growing up in my grandparents' house in what is now called the Museum District and attending Strake Jesuit. Having grown up in a family with a long history in blues and zydeco, I was immersed in those venerable styles of music, and though I had then lately been flirting with punk and new wave, those genres were starting to leave me cold. So, too, did the R&B of that era, outside of big names like Prince and Michael Jackson. I was ready for something new, a music to call my own, a fresh music that spoke to me.
KTSU delivered it. Long before there was the Box, long before corporate hip-hop ruled Houston airwaves up and down the dial, there was Kidz Jamm on KTSU, the Car Wash Mix on Saturday afternoons. It was my musical salvation, one of the only things about then-modern music that I related to.