I started working in the KALW newsroom back in 2011, when it was crammed into an unused classroom in the back of Burton High School in San Francisco’s Viz Valley. It was furnished with a beautifully random combination of dumpster dive finds and dilapidated personal hand-me-downs. In the middle of the room, a ping pong table served as a common workspace littered with laptops and headphones… when we weren’t hitting balls across its surface.
To use the bathroom, you grabbed a giant metal spoon with a key attached to it, opened the doors into the buzzing, locker-lined hallways of the high school – surprising students who had NO IDEA there was an active radio station right there in their school – and made your way to the very unglamorous, but tidy, faculty restroom.
This was the era when This American Life’s Ira Glass narrated a pledge drive video for KALW focused on how even a very small donation could go a long way for a station whose volunteers cheered at the sight of a tub of free, lukewarm Frescas in the corner. Frescas – the humble cousins of bigger namebrand softdrinks that came, ice cold, out of vending machines at much better-funded institutions.
I wrote a grant to fund my job there. I helped start the Audio Academy. I was one of the first people to go inside San Quentin to help train incarcerated reporters, including KALW’s own Greg Eskridge. I reported on the 880 freeway as the grumpy uncle you love to hate. I went inside the Golden Gate Bridge for my sonic treasure hunt series Audiograph, and made the city’s famous foghorns blast on a sunny day. I hung out with Morse Code operators in Pt. Reyes. I made stories with musicians, I got on stage and did live performances. I travelled to Uganda with Meklit Hadero, whose podcast Movement (which I helped create) is currently KALW’s Podcast in Residence. I helped Hana Baba and Leila Day launch The Stoop … I didn’t just learn a trade or start a career at KALW – I found my calling, and helped others find theirs.
This version of KALW was scrappy, stuck together with chewing gum and scotch tape. And it was amazing, filled with a creative, ambitious, loving joy that still animates me to this day.
Now I’m the showrunner and senior supervising editor for Throughline, NPR’s flagship documentary history show. I help make stories on everything from the history of ICE to Octavia Butler to Wong Kim Ark and SF’s ties to birthright citizenship to how reporters cover war. Our work has gotten some of the industry’s high honors – a Peabody Award for a series on Afghanistan, pegged to the 20th anniversary of 9/11. An Ambie Award for best sound design and audio production. A Pulitzer Prize finalist for work on the assasination of Iran’s Qasem Soliemani.
Throughline’s work is a cinematic time machine, pushing against the boundaries of what’s possible in journalism and audio, making history come alive in a sonic wonderland. I love it, and am so proud of what we’re able to do every week.
All of this creative, heartfelt audio journalism springs directly from my time at KALW. I have carried that scrappy joy and ambition with me everywhere I’ve worked, infused it into every story and show I’ve helped bring into the world.
Just a few weeks ago I had the deep pleasure of visiting KALW’s new digs at the Warfield Commons – the future home of the People’s Studio. The scrappiness of that old classroom in the back of Burton High School has been replaced by stunning views of Market Street’s wide boulevard. A definite upgrade – one that not only matches the vibrant energy, spirit, and sense of possibility of the KALW where I got my start, but that also embodies the evolution of the thriving community hub KALW has always been.
The People’s Studio is a dream come to life, not by magic and not by corporate interests, but by all of us, you and me. It’s why I immediately got out my credit card last year when I saw an email asking for donations to support KALW’s People’s Studio.
The Washington Post just laid off a third of its staff. NPR lost its federal funding. Local news deserts are growing and spreading. Connection and community have never been more vital. So in honor of the Frescas, the old hand-me-down furniture, the ping pong table, and the joy, I’m proud to be part of the new KALW, and honored to continue helping build it, brick by brick.
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This piece was brought to you by KALW Speaks, a monthly series of essays from KALW staff and contributors, exploring the ideas that drive our work. Each of these essays reflect our commitment to innovation and invites you into a deeper conversation about the future of public media.
Learn more: From A Whisper To A Roar.