Bogus Gold

The silver lining here is that it sounds like Mischke will be back in some fashion soon. He's had two offers so far, and is apparently trying to find the right fit. He's too great a talent not to find a friendly microphone again.

And I realize I haven't done a very good job convincing some of you about his talent. It was not the kind of show you could just tune in to at a random moment and quite get the full feel. And yet sometimes it was and you could. I mean I've read so many accounts over the years of people discovering Mischke by tuning in randomly some night (and he was always best at night) and hearing something... different.

I was remembering this while reading David Hansen's recent profile of Mischke for the City Pages. In it he talks about one of the most strikingly different radio moments I've ever heard: the now legendary "Silent Night" broadcast.

The show began. The theme music ended. You expected to hear Mischke's voice any moment, but instead there was just silence. You waited a bit longer, sure the host was about to say something. But for the longest time just... nothing. And then...

And then, a sound. The phone board has been triggered. Here is the familiar sound of telephonic static and, after an interminable wait, a caller's timid voice—"Hello? Hello?!" Then the hard clack of the line being disengaged. After more dead air, another call gets punched in. Static. "Hello?" Click.

I remember listening at the time, thinking Mischke was just pulling a little gag. He was going to speak at any minute. Some caller would finally catch on and engage him in conversation about something. Obviously.

KSTP station manager Steve Konrad was listening to. According to Hansen:

Konrad is a veteran of this business, and, moreover, he knows his man. Konrad hired the S.O.B. himself. And now he stands dumbstruck in his kitchen. On his station, callers are being plucked from the ether. On his airwaves, they recite impromptu poems. They tune ukuleles and play harmonicas, train-wrecked with one another by a host gone mad at the switchboard. He isn't going to stop, Konrad realizes, and he's not going to talk. This is Mischke's show.

I completely remember that moment. I was driving in my car coming back from something or other downtown. I was crossing the bridge over the Mississippi on I-694 when it started dawning on me that he intended to keep this up. No WAY, I thought to myself. You CAN'T do a talk radio show without talking.

And yet by the time I got home I raced inside to turn on the radio to hear more. It was the strangest thing. It shouldn't have been compelling. But it was.

It was nothing I can adequately explain to anyone who didn't hear it. A mastery or improvisation, timing, and radio stage management. It was like a virtuoso on a high wire act who decided to not only work without a net, but also without a wire... and despite all expectations he didn't fall. The calls came in. He used them as his props to fill the air time, somehow wordlessly retaining control all the while. He kept it up for two solid hours. Reading that back to myself it doesn't sound remotely entertaining. The damnedest thing is that is was entertaining as hell.

It's a lazy overstatement in most cases to describe a radio host as "one of a kind" or "original." But in Mischke's case it's undeniably - and demonstrably - true. Wherever he gets another show, I'll be listening.