With its combination of conspiracy theorists, doomsday seers, and fundamentalists, WHJM airs talk radio of an unusual sort.

by Joe Tarr

Right-wing survivalist and talk show host Bo Gritz is taking one last call on his daily radio show this morning. The caller is angry, ranting that Andrew Johnson was really impeached because he "saved the whites from slavery."

"White rights were taken away with the Civil Rights movement," she says matter-of-factly.

A syndicated talk show host, Gritz is speaking from a radio studio in Idaho. But in a non-descript brick building downtown on Central Avenue, just before it merges into Neyland Drive, a gray-haired man dithers away at the controls of WHJM, a local station broadcasting an assortment of talk show and fundamentalist religion programs.

As the woman's tirade trails off at the program's end, a deep, soothing voice cuts in to announce: "The opinions expressed on this program are those expressed by the individuals on the program and are not necessarily those of the staff, management or advertisers of WHJM." To anyone who has ever listened to the local 10,000 watt radio station at 1180 AM, the voice is easily recognizable as that of Harry J. Morgan—its owner, namesake, and morning DJ.

Since he was 13, Morgan has been working in radio. Now 71, he shows no signs of slowing down. He runs WHJM and gospel station WKCE 1120 AM, with his wife, Gerry, whom he has been married to for 49 years.

"I've got radio in my blood. It is something that will continue flowing until I pass out at the microphone and fall over dead. I love what I do. It's just as much a challenge as it was the first day I started," he says.

Morgan's stations are an anomaly in today's radio market, which is becoming increasingly dominated by a handful of companies catering to the tastes of narrowly defined audiences. Morgan's the little guy—though he bristles at that description, saying, "We're not little. We're as big as WNOX: 10,000 watts."

But neither, in the radio world, is Morgan a major player. He exists quietly alongside giants like Dick Broadcasting and South Central. And he offers something strikingly different than most of Knoxville's corporate entities: an assortment of programs espousing radical, some would say bizarre, views of the world. Morgan broadcasts these programs with a sense of purpose and pride, professing to offer listeners alternative views and information—and a place to speak their minds.

From the front office of the station, you can see Morgan sitting behind a large glass window working away at the panels that control the two stations. He is wearing a striped Oxford shirt, slacks and glasses. For his whole life, Morgan has favored a more formal attire of shirt and tie, but he has loosened up a bit after a little prodding and several gift shirts from his four daughters.

The boast that radio flows through his blood could almost be taken literally when you consider how long Morgan has been working at his profession.

When he was just 11 years old, Morgan began tinkering with radio technology, saving enough money to buy a small transistor he could practice on. An early bout with pneumonia left him with a heart condition that prohibited any type of athletics or heavy labor. So Morgan was drawn to hobbies and work he could do sitting down.

Fortunately, his trademark deep, hearty voice developed when he was fairly young. At 13, he called WBIR founder V.W. Birdwell on the phone, and because he sounded so much older, was able to get an interview with him. Though shocked at how young he was, WBIR soon put him on the air in the early mornings.

Since then, he's worked at many of Knoxville's radio stations, including WNOX, WIBK and WGAP. He did a stint at a 250,000-watt station just over the border in Mexico and in 1961, he opened WSKT, which he ran for 26 years. Along the way, friends say he's met and worked with personalities like Chet Atkins, Bob Hope, Doris Day, Paul Harvey and Billy Graham. But Morgan is modest about his associations: "I don't want to name drop, but I've had a most interesting time."

Since WHJM went on the air in 1987, the station has undergone a few metamorphoses, doing stints as a big band station, country, and gospel. Morgan feels most comfortable with its current format of talk radio. "This format is alive and is something that listeners feel they can participate in. They feel they can voice their opinion," he says.

Some of the programs Morgan runs are controversial and many of the comments on them are fanatical, outlining conspiracy theories on the so-called New World Order and the millennium doomsday. Advertisements for survivalist books and water filters (which feature a distraught young child in some apocalyptic scenario gasping, "Daddy...I'm thirsty," and his father replies, "I am too") air alongside ones for K-mart and restaurants. Most of the ads are provided by the syndicated programs that air on the station, Morgan says.

In addition to Bo Gritz's two-hour program, WHJM broadcasts shows like Prepare for War with Pastor Paul Schell, which notes that Jesus was not the "namby-pamby" you were taught in Sunday school, but rather "was and is a man of war."

The controversial views don't trouble Morgan, and he says he doesn't agree with everything on the shows.

"There again is the versatility of the live programs. Someone might call in expressing a certain view point. And here comes somebody right in behind them that will take issue with what they say. They offer the pros and cons. That's why we put the disclaimers on there to make sure people know the views expressed aren't those of the station," he says.

The object, Morgan says, is to educate people and to inform them about things the mainstream media isn't doing. And it's important to him that people have an outlet for their thoughts, via the many national talk shows that he airs.

"The [aim] is to make people more aware. A lot of people have their eyes and ears closed to what's going on around them. They need to be awakened to the situation in their federal, state and local government," Morgan says.

"The thing that troubles me is the morals of our country, the basic foundations of our country, have been tossed aside," he says.

Morgan says he's unsure himself whether the year 2000 might bring a social, economic or spiritual apocalypse. "I pray it doesn't happen, but at the same time we've got to take a look at the situation and say, 'If it happens, what am I going to do?'" he says. "Personally, we're taking steps to protect ourselves and our family."

Although the content of some programs is alarming and incendiary, many listeners are comforted by the sound of Morgan's unusually deep, distinguished intonation.

"My voice is something I have not been able to hide. I will call people on the telephone and they instantly recognize me. I'd like to say my voice is God-given. I try to use it for the proper things," Morgan says.

It is not just his voice, but what he says and the way he says it, comments one fan.

"I always switch back to Harry because he has a personal touch with the audience. You feel you have a friend when listening to Harry," says Rhonnie Scheuerman. "He has a personal touch and a lot of radio stations don't. They can be good and have good music, but you don't feel the warmth."

A songwriter, Scheuerman had been a fan of WHJM when she called Morgan one day to see if he'd play some of her songs on the air. He did, and Scheuerman and her husband became fast friends with the Morgans. Scheuerman and Gerry Morgan have even penned a song together, "Jesus Heard Every Word I Never Said." Harry Morgan says the song is about to be recorded by a country artist in Nashville, although he wasn't sure which artist.

Morgan says it is his faith in Christ that inspires him to continue running the station, when most people his age have retired.

"Being a Christian, this is God-directed. This is an answer to a prayer, to be doing what he wants me to be doing. My faith is very strong. God has been very, very good in giving me what I have today.

"If I don't treat each day as it should be, it could all be taken away from me in the twinkle of an eye," he says.