In 1983, I took a job in Alaska for two years. That was 42 years ago, and I still vote in Alaska. I was the fourth executive director of the four-year-old Alaska Public Radio Network. Born in Brooklyn and raised, along with my two brothers, by my single mother, I always wanted to be in media. WINS Newsradio was on in our house all day long. “You give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.” In the second grade, I was selected from my school to be a guest on the New York Public Schools radio station program “Let’s Look at the News.” I remember it was the week that Dr. Christian Barnard performed the first heart transplant. It was my first time on public radio.
At college in Philadelphia, I pursued an independent major called “Women in Communications.” My media mentor was Dr. George Gerbner, the renowned head of the Annenberg School of Communications, who pioneered research on the impact of television violence on the populace. It was there in Philly, after a disappointing stint with the campus alternative newspaper, that I discovered WXPN-FM public radio. I produced shows, eventually served as the program director, and became one of the first professional employees. I did a stint as general manager of Berkeley’s campus radio station, KALX, and at the California Public Broadcasting Commission. I was 23 years old and ready for an adventure. Alaska beckoned.
The Public Broadcasting Act, initiated by the Carnegie Corp., was passed in 1967. It directed the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, a new nonprofit entity, to bring public radio and television services to all Americans and to establish the independent Public Broadcasting Service and National Public Radio to provide content for locally operated radio and television stations.
Alaska was a new state. Much of the infrastructure enjoyed and taken for granted by Americans in other places didn’t exist in the 49th state — roads, water and sewer, firefighting, schools and health clinics were few and far between. Most of the state had no broadcast services or newspapers. The fate of the citizens of the new state was daily being debated by elected bodies in the state capital, Juneau, and in Washington, D.C. The rural residents in communities across the state had no idea what was going on and, therefore, no way to participate in the democratic process. A young Inupiat legislator, Willie Hensley, got funding for Alaska’s first public radio and TV station, KYUK in Bethel, a hub for more than 40 remote villages, most with Yup’ik as their first language. After that, he got funding to start KOTZ in his hometown, Kotzebue. Today, he says that getting public radio going was his most important achievement as a member of the Alaska House. When I arrived, there were 15 public radio stations operating around the state.
Today, there are still 40 Alaska villages without water and sewer and internet. Most of the state remains roadless. But through federal investment, most of the Bush communities now have access to a broadcast station. During my tenure at Alaska Public Radio Network, we helped plan and activate 10 more public stations in unserved areas — places like Valdez — right before the oil spill, Unalakleet, Chevak, Fort Yukon, the Pribilof Islands.
[News coverage: House narrowly approves Trump’s request to cut funding for NPR, PBS and foreign aid]
The Pribilofs are north of the Aleutian Islands off the western coast of Alaska. Comprising two villages, St. Paul and St. George, the islanders’ major business is fish. In the late 1800s, Russian settlers forcibly relocated residents of the Aleutian Islands and brought them to the Pribilofs to harvest the fur seals that gathered there in huge numbers. The Pribilovians remained wards of the U.S. government until the 1960s, even requiring government permission to leave the islands.
Soon after I joined Alaska Public Radio Network, a large man walked into my office next to Harold’s Maytag repair shop. “Young lady, my name is Leland Dishman and I’m the superintendent of schools in the Pribilofs. We need a radio station and I’ve been told you’re the person to get us one.” It was 1983, Ronald Reagan was in the White House, and it was an easy federal grant application to write. Believe it or not, the only radio signal these patriotic Americans could receive was U.S.S.R.-run English language propaganda channel called Radio Moscow. Today, KUHB is one of the two dozen sole service radio stations that is supported by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. If something of interest happens there, it is only because KUHB communicates it out to the rest of the world. Without federal funding, KUHB would cease to be. Ninety-seven percent of their budget is federal. The population is too small to be replaced with donations. There are no big corporations there to fill the gap. The school district that owns it is already struggling to survive.
Rural Alaska has more than its share of violent storms, earthquakes, life-threatening floods, volcano eruptions and plane crashes. The rest of the world learns about them through the local public stations that are located there. They are critical elements of search and rescue operations and weather alerts for local miners, pilots and fishermen. During health emergencies, they work closely with public health officials to keep communities safe. They are not an adornment; they are a necessary element in the infrastructure required to protect American citizens from harm.
Alaska is not alone. There are areas in virtually every part of the country that receive reliable, accessible news and information only from public media. And it is free to all citizens — a subscription is not required.
What Congress enacted 60 years ago is every bit as relevant today. Public media services are essential elements in the economic life of American communities. They are the lifeline for poor kids who don’t live in homes with cable or apps. They are the purveyors of local information and fair, balanced local news.
Alaska’s two Republican senators have been among the strongest supporters of public media. So too are officials from states that depend on public media for life and safety information, weather alerts, educational programming and news for their constituents who have no other choices and for urban citizens who trust noncommercial public media to educate and enlighten their kids and their families. Americans are depending on these elected officials to protect the precious resource that they have come to rely on and the huge public investment that has made it possible.
Diane Kaplan is a former president and chief executive of the Alaska Public Radio Network and served for 27 years as president of the Rasmuson Foundation. She currently serves on the board of directors of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.
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