This was triggered by Rama’s post, and made me remember some interesting times.

This would have been in the spring of 1990.

I was broadcasting my weekly jazz show on WSBF-FM at Clemson University one dark and stormy weeknight, right around sunset (I was the jazz director* at that time). The station offices, usually bustling during the day, had emptied out with everyone gone for dinner or studying. The EBS tone in the studio suddenly went off, scaring the crap out of me. Tornado warning for our area. How’s this for low-tech: when the tone went off, it was tuned to one of the larger radio stations in the area (WFBC-FM, Greenville, SC). I had to quickly write down what their announcer said (they were reading from the NWS copy). Then I had to fire the EBS tone to go over the air to our listeners (two switches, one up, one down) and break into our programming and read the warning back over the air.

I put on a couple of long tracks and went out into the empty station offices and looked out over Death Valley (Clemson’s football stadium), across Lake Hartwell, and saw a funnel cloud forming. It was miles away, no immediate danger, and it never touched down. It was an eerie moment, though: the darkened studios, quiet jazz playing in the background, the green skies swirling outside.

Interesting times.

* – As the station’s jazz director, I say in hindsight I had godawful taste. For some reason I always veered towards the GRP label (your basic “smooth jazz”). Ick. Anyone got a time machine so I can go back and slap myself?