Lessons from the Last Broadcast: Questioning the Airwaves

1–2 minutes

The Last Broadcast

Sam Delaney had been a radio man his whole life. Station manager, on-air talent, janitor when needed—he had done it all. Now, in his seventies, he sat in the empty control room of what was once a bustling AM station. The place smelled of dust and warm circuitry. The walls hummed with silence.

Sam still knew every button by heart. Especially the one marked EBS—Emergency Broadcast System. Back in the day, the FCC’s rules were clear: tones were sacred. The piercing signal wasn’t just a sound; it was a promise. Tornado warnings. Flood alerts. The nation’s line of defense against panic. There had been rules—Title 47 of the CFR, etched into his memory like scripture.

But things had changed. With each new administration, the guardrails loosened. The equal-time law that once kept political chatter balanced had vanished decades ago. A president erased it. He feared his old Hollywood reels would force TV stations to give airtime to his critics. One law changed, and suddenly the airwaves were open territory—bluster, bias, and one-sided noise pumping into homes unchallenged.

Now Sam watched as networks ran those same tones he once revered, but not for weather or disaster. They tested loyalty. They triggered crowds into a frenzy. They commanded obedience in ways he never imagined. Once, tones meant safety. Now, they meant control.

He rubbed the crease in his neck where headphones had rested for thirty years. Outside, the town he had called home was no longer united. Neighbors didn’t trust neighbors. Families split along the fault lines of which voice on the radio they listened to.

Sam leaned into the old microphone. The ON AIR light flickered.

“What if I told you,”

He began. His voice was gravel but steady.

“The lie isn’t in what you’re hearing. It’s in what you stopped questioning.”

He paused, finger hovering over the tone button.

For the first time in his career, he considered sending out a tone. This was not to warn people of a storm but to warn them of themselves.


By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2025 

WTAQ-WLUK REPORTS HANK THE DOG HAS DIED

Reposted from WTAQ 1360AM – WLUK 97.5FM NEWS ON DEMAND

(WTAQ-WLUK) — Hank the Dog, a stray who showed up at the Milwaukee Brewers’ spring training facility a decade ago and quickly became the team’s unofficial mascot, has reportedly died.

Social media posts Wednesday point to a Facebook post announcing Hank’s death. It reads, in part:

Today we had to say goodbye to a phenomenal dog: Hank the Ballpark Pup.

Many outside of Wisconsin do not know who he is, but every Brewers fan and Wisconsinite that has been paying attention — do. He was OUR little celebrity — and he NEVER failed to bring it and represent.

He was/is my favorite Brewer and he will be truly missed!

In February 2014, the stray pooch wandered onto the Brewers’ Arizona complex looking roughed up. He was taken to a veterinarian, who spotted a tail injury and some gray markings around his right hind leg — a sign that it may have been run over by a vehicle. The vet believed the dog to be around two years old.

The Brewers took the dog in and named him “Hank” after baseball legend Hank Aaron, who began his career in Milwaukee.

When the team could not find Hank’s previous owner, he was adopted by Marti Wronski and her family. Wronski, a Neenah native and 1994 graduate of St. Norbert College, served as the Brewers’ vice president and general counsel at the time. She is now the organization’s chief operating officer.

Hank’s story is one of rags to riches. He became a canine sensation, with the Brewers selling Hank-themed clothes and a stuffed toy version of the dog at their team store. The Brewers also gave away Hank bobblehead dolls at a game.

With his celebrity status, Hank also helped raise funds for the Make-A-Wish Foundation and the Wisconsin Humane Society. He even paid a visit to Fox Cities Stadium in Grand Chute.