Fly in the Soup

One by one, the radio station's board members file into Californos restaurant. A few nod grimly to each other. A KKFI 90.1 volunteer places a whirring tape recorder at the center of the table. As observers filter in, two women snap on their own recorders. These folks have learned to be cautious.

A dark-eyed man and two women with black hair sit quietly to one side. Their show, Shabahang, served Kansas City's Iranian-American community until KKFI general manager Robert Barrientos yanked it off the air in March. KKFI's grievance committee has recommended reinstating Shabahang. The board will attempt to decide the program's fate.

Two board members immediately argue over which set of bylaws governs KKFI. One set would allow Barrientos a vote on the board. The other set would not, and it would invalidate April's board election. Bobbi Abram, a newly elected member, has proposed that a committee look into the bylaw conflict. The board needs to concentrate on running the radio station, she says. But two other board members continue the quarrel.

"We've got to work these contradictions [in the bylaws] out," James Olenick snaps at fellow board member Phil LeVota. "We can't just piss on each other," Olenick rants. "If we're going to piss on this, then we might as well just piss on the whole thing!"

As the bickering continues at length, Selina Basey, also a new board member, stands up, introduces herself to the Shabahanggroup and leaves. Abram has already walked out. Minutes later, board member Henry Lyons exits in disgust.

The meeting continues without three of the eleven board members.

LeVota, who is on the grievance committee that voted to reinstate the Iranian group, brings up the Shabahangmatter. He and Barrientos heatedly debate the rights and wrongs of Shabahang.

"Excuse me, since it concerns Shabahang_," says Ali Kamali, speaking up in defense of the group's show.

"No!" three members of the board reply in unison, rejecting his input.

"I wasn't going to bring this up, but now I have to," Barrientos sighs. He pulls a stack of papers from a file and waves them before the board. Shabahangwas promoting events in exchange for money, Barrientos insists, which violates Federal Communications Commission rules against plugola/payola. That is news to LeVota.

"The information you are making your decision on is false," Kamali tries to tell the board. "May I address the board with my concerns?"

"No!" replies Chuck Tackett, the board's new president. "I told you in that letter that you could come, but you are not allowed to speak," Tackett continues in an icy tone. Kamali had asked Tackett to put his group on the agenda to state its case, but Tackett refused. Tackett hadn't even given members of Shabahangthat night's agenda, claiming he didn't have enough copies.

"I have e-mails proving that this group requested kickbacks for promoting certain groups," Barrientos continues.

"That's not true," Kamali and the two women say more loudly, leaning forward in their chairs. "That is not correct."

"I make a motion to back Robert Barrientos," declares Olenick, a longtime friend of Barrientos' who recently was elected to the board.

"The motion is based on false information," Kamali interrupts. But the discussion continues without him.

Olenick finally thinks of a way to end the argument: He'll switch and vote for the Iranian show, counting on Barrientos to disregard the board's action. "He can still say no, right?" Olenick asks the remaining board members. "Then I motion to accept the grievance committee report."

"All in favor say 'aye.'"

What remains of KKFI's board of directors votes to reinstate Shabahangto its show. After adjournment, Barrientos shuffles papers at the head of the table. Asked privately whether he plans to abide by the board's decision, Barrientos doesn't hesitate: "No."

In his cluttered KKFI office, Robert Barrientos holds up an article titled "Is Your Station a Radio Club?" KKFI has been operated too long by programmers who treat the station as a personal social club, Barrientos says. He intends to transform KKFI into a professional-quality radio station. But KKFI's history includes no one quite like Barrientos.

Mid-Coast Radio Project Incorporated was founded in 1977, but KKFI didn't go on the air until 1988, after eleven years of struggle by a small band of volunteers. The founders dreamed of a radio station in Kansas City free from advertisers and corporate control. They obtained a couple of large grants, and eventually the FCC granted KKFI the 90.1 FM frequency. Allowed 100,000 watts of power -- an uncommonly strong signal for a community station -- KKFI could broadcast to an eighty-mile radius. But the station still needed money.

For a few years, KKFI volunteers hosted bingo nights at a smoky hall in Belton. Chain-smoking women in polyester -- surrounded by rabbits' feet, teddy bears and assorted lucky charms -- ran the volunteers ragged as they gambled the night away.

"It was a sedated hell," recalls Tom Crane, one of the station's founders. By 1987, Mid-Coast Radio Project had raised $70,000 from bingo. KKFI took to the airwaves with a noble mission: to offer a voice to local artists and activists not heard elsewhere on Kansas City's radio dial.