One thing that happened at Creighton is that I quickly joined the student-run radio station. A friend of mine and I had the not much coveted Friday 8-10pm slot*. We’d go in, peruse the shelves for the vinyl we liked or caught our eye, have some really lame inter-song patter, and spin some disks.
Shortly after starting, the student managers found out that the funding would be cut and the radio station would be closed. We all considered our options. One idea was to hold a protest. A couple of people agreed: we’d lock ourselves in the radio station and call television and radio stations, asking for community support.
When the time came for the protest, my fellow DJ bowed out. And when I turned up at the station, all the other people bowed out. Undaunted, I went through with the ‘protest’ by myself. I broke a lock off in the door, announced my intentions on the air and started making calls.
A few minutes later, two campus cops came by and starting pounding on the door telling me to open up. A drill came out and within 30 minutes, I was cuffed. I had successfully called the Omaha paper and one other radio station.
Eventually, I had to meet with Father (Michael G.) Morrison, the University President. By my memory, the meeting was stern but pleasant. I would be responsible for paying for the lock. If I got into trouble again, I might be expelled. I would be expected to do community service at a local homeless shelter. And I was banned from entering the building that housed the radio station (pictured above). I never set foot in it again - not even on this trip.
* Freshmen DJ’s got these slots.
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