When I think of the term "Pirate Radio", I stop and remember the year 1964. At that time I was living the life of an Army brat in Verdun, France and had gotten hooked on rock & roll. Fortune smiled on me when my Dad decided to take the family on a vacation trip to London. While there, I walked into a record store which was blasting the signal from Radio Caroline, the first pirate radio station. The sounds filling the record shop knocked me out right away. After that moment there was no turning back; rock & roll was here to stay in my life forever!
PIRATE RADIO: THE HISTORY
July 1949 The Wireless Telegraphy Act bans radio stations not sanctioned by the government or the BBC.
March 1964 Radio Caroline is founded by the Irish businessman Ronan O'Rahilly in international waters off Felixstowe. It's the first pirate station to broadcast solely in English.
July 1964 Tony Blackburn joins Radio Caroline. At 21, he is the youngest DJ on British radio.
September 1964 Keith Skues joins Radio Caroline. In December 1965 he moves to Radio Luxembourg.
December 1964 Radio London, brainchild of Texan entrepreneur Don Pierson, begins broadcasting in direct competition with Radio Caroline, 3½ miles off Frinton-on-Sea. Kenny Everett is in the line-up.
May 1966 Pierson starts Swinging Radio England not far from WRL in the North Sea. Johnnie Walker begins his career here before moving to Radio Caroline.
March 1967 John Peel begins his British radio career on Radio London's midnight-2am shift.
August 1967 The Marine Broadcasting Offences Act outlaws pirate radio; all stations are forced to close. Six weeks later, the BBC launches Radio 1, employing many pirate radio DJs, including Blackburn, Everett and Peel.
"The 1960’s is remembered as the generation of British Rock N’ Roll music. Just as American Rock N’ Roll had dominated the airwaves a few years prior, this fresh take on the iconic genre crossed boarders and influenced teens and adults alike to buy records, attend concerts, and cling to the radio, hoping their new favorite tune might emerge from the speakers. Ironically, this same country that had conceived these inspired and talented 1960’s rockers, also prohibited their music from being freely played amongst their British radio stations. This musical prevention effected the musicians popularity, record sales, and most of all left the fans thirsting for more. With such a monopoly of airwaves taking place, it seemed as if radio would never be a warm home for Rock N’ Roll in the United Kingdom. That is, until pirate radio stations, determined to succeed, rocked the waters and forever changed the British radio game.
Often referred to as 'Auntie' by the locals for it’s polite and proper content, 1960’s British radio was owned solely by the British Broadcasting Corporation. Consisting mostly of news, information, light entertainment, children’s programs, and a sole 6 Hours A Week devoted to popular music, it was perfectly clear that the Rock revolution taking place on the U.S. stations was all but banned in the U.K.
Ronan O’ Rahilly, English nightclub owner and manager of several pop music artists during this time, became frustrated by the amount of rules, restrictions, and regulations provided by the BBC to musicians and their records. Honing inspiration from prior pirate radio stations, Rahilly purchased a fishing ship off the eastern coast of England and created Radio Caroline.
These floating stations dropped anchor in international waters, meaning they were technically no longer under the guidelines established by the BBC or in proximity of the British authorities legal reach. Pirate radio stations began lifting playlists from their successful American counterparts and were finally able to celebrate the sound created by their own. Playing ’round the clock Rock & Roll and reaching as many as 20 millions Brits, pirate radio stations proved just how powerful a popular music radio station could be.
By presenting and profiting off of commercials, something that had gone unplayed on British radio stations until this time, allowed successful stations like Radio Caroline to not only afford their unique headquarters, but allowed owners to take in a hefty profit.
The pirate Disc Jockey’s also experienced a monumental shift when they went from lowly, unrecognizable voices to stars and celebrities in their own right. For the first time, these DJ’s acquired fans and followers who eagerly awaited their time slot and expression of musical taste.
Due to this amount of pirating success, in 1967 the British government declared it a crime to supply music, fuel, food, water, and advertising to any unlicensed offshore broadcaster. This strict law made it impossible for pirate radio stations to survive and eventually brought them to an absolute end. Shockingly, or not shockingly at all, it was not but one month after the music ending regulation was enforced that the BBC announced their first all popular music radio station.
Despite Rock & Roll’s short lived career on British ships and the eventual plagiarism put on by the BBC with their 1967 popular music station, it is important to note that the pirate radio’s determination and rule bending act may have encompassed the spirit of Rock & Roll just as strongly as the music they played. Unafraid of the initial consequences and intent on their commitment to bring Rock into the homes of millions of begging for music Brits, Pirate Radio remains an important component of radio history and demonstrates the obvious world wide passion for Rock & Roll music." (Victoria Shaffer, Old Time Rock & Roll blog wordpress.com)
Rocking The Boat of Radio History: Radio Caroline
“The British music scene in the 1960s wasn’t very exciting. At the time, the BBC had a monopoly on the UK airwaves, and most of its programs were committed to delivering simple news stories, children’s shows, and classical music.
Radio Caroline, otherwise known as the ‘boat that rocked the world,’ changed the history of radio forever, and transformed the way we think about on-air entertainment.
Back in the 1960s, British citizens had two radio stations to choose from — either the BBC or Radio Luxembourg. The most common choice, BBC Radio Light, was hosted by suave presenters like David Jacobs and Pete Murray, who generally played a handful of new records from artists such as Cliff Richards, alongside plenty of classical music and jazz.
Ronan O'Rahilly
One of the many people unimpressed by the radio choices of the age was entrepreneur Ronan O’Rahilly. As a savvy businessman, Ronan owned his own club in Soho and delivered PR assistance to musicians and actors across the UK.
Refusing to seek a license from the government, Ronan chose to build his radio station from scratch instead. He already knew all about the concept of offshore radio and was inspired by the ships that broadcast music around the Netherlands and Scandinavia. Luckily, O’Rahilly already had access to one of the things that he needed most to launch his pirate radio station — a ship.
Radio Caroline Staff & Crew
In the early 1960s, Britain didn’t have the roaring music scene that you might expect. There was only one commercial television network online, and the airwaves were owned entirely by the British Broadcasting Corporation (the BBC). Unfortunately for those in search of fun and frivolity, the BBC was committed to delivering some of the tamest transmissions it could find.
Tuning into the BBC “Light” and “Home” channels would give you a reliable, but often bland stream of news, playful entertainment, and children’s programs. In other words – we weren’t anywhere near the rock and roll revolution that was happening in the United States.
Fortunately, there were plenty of rebels in the UK, ready to shake things up. A group of rock-loving disc jockeys refused to be held back by the legislation and regulations of the early 1960s. Many ambitious DJs decided that if they couldn’t do what they wanted with British broadcasting on land, they would take to the seas instead.
Anchoring on the Eastern coast of England, the pirate radio revolution was born, defined by the enigmatic hosts that committed themselves to broadcasting songs from illicit bands like the Rolling Stones. This is where the history of Radio Caroline began. By sticking to off-coast locations, the boat ensured that it could remain outside of the legal reach of the British authorities.
For some people, the radio offered by the BBC was enough to suit their tastes. However, the vast majority of the nation’s youth wanted something more, and entrepreneur Ronan O’Rahilly was determined to give it to them. Ronan was a savvy businessman who had already taken the UK by the storm at the young age of 25. He ran a club in the Soho district of London called Scene, and worked in PR for actors, pop-singers, and models.
When neither station would broadcast his client’s music, Ronan decided that he would create a radio station of his own – and he wouldn’t go to the government for a license to do it.
Before the history of Radio Caroline began, offshore radio was already a well-known concept. The BBC owned the monopoly for the British airwaves, and various stations decided that the only way to gain their own piece of the broadcasting environment was to go into national waters.
With a little help from various investors, O’Rahilly raised the funds required to transform the MV Frederica into a pirate radio ship. He anchored the newly-named Radio Caroline on the Northern Sea near Essex and put the word out that he needed disc jockeys.
On Easter Sunday, 1964, the voices of Chris Moore and Simon Dee introduced Radio Caroline to the world with the song “It’s All Over Now” by The Rolling Stones.
Who were the DJs on Radio Caroline? Radio Caroline employed about 38 Disc Jockeys; Chris Moore, Simon Dee, Tony Blackburn Roger Gale, Tommy Vance, Bob Stewart, Ray Teret, Dave Lee Travis, Tony Prince, Spangles Muldoon, Tom Edwards and many more. There were also plenty of DJs that visited the Radio Caroline from the USA and overseas, including Emperor Rosko, Graham Webb, Keith Hampshire, and Colin Nicol.
Every day, teenagers would fiddle with their radio dials until they heard the sounds of their favorite presenters, who broadcast away from the restrictions and demands of the BBC and other on-shore regulations. There were also plenty of DJs that visited the Radio Caroline from the USA and overseas, including Emperor Rosko, Graham Webb, Keith Hampshire, and Colin Nicol.
Radio Caroline even inspired the birth of new pirate radio stations who also docked on the shores of the UK. By 1966, the group discovered that they had successfully acquired an audience of 23 million.
For 3 years, until 1967, the DJs on the Radio Caroline pirate ship broadcast their music and shows 24 hours a day and sold advertising space to make money. With the exception of Radio Luxembourg, no other station had ever sold advertising spaces before.
Unfortunately, as the popularity of pirate radio and Radio Caroline continued to grow, so did the demands from various sources that the government should act and shut down off-shore broadcasts.
Caroline was claiming enough listeners to take up half of the UK, and the explosion of popularity scared the government… In 1967, the Marine Broadcasting Offences Act was officially introduced by the Harold Wilson Labor government. The act aimed to officially stop pirate broadcasting, denting the pirate movement and forcing some DJs to go back to working on-land.
The Radio Caroline pirate ship was forced to move its base to the Netherlands, while other stations like Radio London fell silent. Eventually, the law continued to grow, and a Dutch version emerged in August 1974, pushing the Caroline further out to sea.
What happened to the Radio Caroline ship? The Radio Caroline ship was affectionately known as the “ship that rocked the world.” However, even the most beloved ship in history wasn’t invincible.
Eventually, Radio Caroline South sank into heavy seas after it broke away from its moorings near Southend. The 107-foot ship sank to a watery grave.
Despite issues with the boat, Caroline continued to broadcast, using satellite radio for the most part, instead of the traditional AM brand. Another on-land radio station was even established in Kent, and Caroline became a legal broadcaster in part.
It wasn’t always smooth sailing for Radio Caroline. The history of Radio Caroline has been a complicated one, with sinkings, seizures, numerous wavelength changes, and other issues to contend with. However, somehow, despite everything, the name and the legendary station lived on.
More than 50 years after the Marine Broadcasting Offenses act emerged, Radio Caroline is going back to the waves, and Moore hopes to broadcast to the same people that used to receive Radio Caroline in its original days.” (medium.com)
Here's an interesting article I came across on The Guardian site:
"The mid 1960s saw an extraordinary explosion of British pop music but the only radio stations broadcasting it were based on 'pirate' ships, like Radio Caroline, anchored off the coast.
In his new film, The Boat That Rocked, Richard Curtis replays those heady days when music, fashion and youth were redefining British culture. Here, the original pirate DJs revisit their vivid lives of sex, drugs... and music.
'I've got quite a good drugs story,' says the DJ Johnnie Walker. 'My girlfriend in London was an Irish girl called DeeDee. I used to live with her in Kilburn on my week off, and one day she said, 'Johnnie, do you need some spliffs for the ship?' I told her that none of us smoked out there.
She said, 'You've got to be kidding. You must get bored, and this is just what you need.' So she rolled me up three joints, and I took them back to the ship. She said, If you want any more, I'm always listening around half nine. Just say you've run out of tea.' Walker got high with his friends and suddenly found himself popular. 'So on my show at about half nine, I said, 'I just want to say good evening to Dee in Kilburn, and we've run out of tea, love.' Two days later a padded envelope arrives with four big spliffs in. And three days after that, sacks of mail with Typhoo and Tetley in it.'
Walker, 63, is sitting in his club in Greek Street, drinking sparkling water. It is 40 years since he joined Radio 1, a decade since graduating to Radio 2, but his spliff stories are newly in demand. He is featured in composite form in the forthcoming Richard Curtis film The Boat That Rocked, a comedy about the last days of pirate radio in 1967, before the government made it illegal and sanctioned Radio 1 in its place. The movie features the usual pliable gang - Bill Nighy, Kenneth Branagh, Emma Thompson, Rhys Ifans - with Philip Seymour Hoffman filling the slot vacated by Hugh Grant. Based only loosely on real events, the film has music, sex and a sinking...Walker is a consultant on the movie, and he has seen rushes, which has led him to conclude that those aboard The Boat That Rocked 'definitely had a better time than we had - more drugs, more women...'.
There were women, Walker says, but they were not a regular occurrence. 'Fans would come out to visit the ship. I wouldn't call them groupies. This was the 60s - people were just making love all over the place, no Aids or anything. So girls would come to the ship, and we'd tie their boat alongside, and we used to get the engineer to take their boyfriends off to look round the transmitters and the generators, and we'd take them downstairs to the cabins.'
Fellow DJ Tom Lodge once took his long-term partner on board, and she used to waft around the ship in a see-through negligee. 'Some of these Dutch sailors [who fished and cooked as the music played] would be on board the boat for three months at a time, so they were pretty horny, and it caused a lot of trouble; women were banned from then on.'
When Radio Caroline began in March 1964, the world of British pop was a contradictory place. The music was unprecedented, an extraordinary burst of energy and frustration that still reverberates. Within 18 months, the Beatles, the Stones and the Who had thrown off not only post-war austerity and authority but also any notion that young people would ever be governable again. But the institutions that controlled the music - the stuffy record companies, the curfewed ballrooms, the weary, disbelieving parents - tried to keep the dampers on everything. No one had a more moralizing grip on entertainment than the BBC, which rationed pop to a few hours a week on the Light Programme. No wonder teenagers screamed at their idols at concerts: it was an orgiastic release, true unbound freedom even as they were being levered back into their seats.
Radio Caroline began out of self-interest - its founder was a chancing young Irish pop manager called Ronan O'Rahilly, frustrated by the lack of outlets for his new talents, but he soon realised what could be unleashed. O'Rahilly had discovered something intriguing: unlicensed ships in Europe with pirate transmitters playing music of their choosing to a tiny audience in the Netherlands and Scandinavia. He thought he could do the same at greater volume for the UK. He anchored a ship in international waters off the Essex coast, where it escaped British legal jurisdiction, and hired DJs from British ballrooms and pop stations in the United States and Canada. O'Rahilly named his enterprise after Caroline Kennedy, the daughter of the US president, who was six when he saw a photo of her in a magazine and considered her fresh and exciting - just the kind of image he was keen to promote.
Initial output was dignified, with shows aimed at housewives and children home from school; they did play the Beatles, but also the Searchers...but soon there was competition from other nearby ships, particularly Wonderful Radio London, and they upped the tempo (the former Radio London DJ Keith Skues described his station as the swingingest); soon the Rolling Stones and the Byrds were enthralling anyone who, like a young Johnnie Walker listening in a suburb of Birmingham, could thread a long wire from their window and manipulate the spotty reception.
As a listener you felt you were part of a secret club, under the bedclothes with your pop stars and your favorite jocks. It was better than Radio Luxembourg, which only played records in part, and whose DJs seemed emasculated. The pirates talked a full-blooded language, even those on Caroline North, a second ship moored near the Isle of Man, who were keen to foster the personality of zany; Jerry Soopa Leighton, Mick Luvzit, Daffy Don Allen, and they found an outlet for new creativity. Aboard Radio London, Kenny Everett developed his alter-egos and parodied Tony Benn; John Peel's The Perfumed Garden planted the seeds of bearded progressive rock. O'Rahilly tried to instruct the DJs about his theory of Loving Awareness, which entailed much free-spiritedness and hugging. Unsurprisingly, Whitehall did not see this as innocent pleasure.
Harold Wilson's Labor government of 1964 was initially slow to respond to the pirate ships, not least because it held a narrow majority and feared alienating potential voters. But it was goaded into action by the Liberal MP Jeremy Thorpe and the postmaster-general, Anthony Wedgwood (Tony) Benn, and soon familiar battle lines were drawn: the suits versus the long hairs.
Benn railed against the unlicensed use of wavelengths that might interfere with emergency signals and confuse ships at sea. He banned supplies to the ships from British ports, and his support strengthened in 1966 when a takeover dispute between the unlicensed stations Radio Atlanta and Radio City resulted in the fatal shooting of Radio City's owner. The Musicians' Union claimed that the ships were not only failing to keep music live but didn't even pay for the records they played. And beneath the official complaints lay the festering establishment unease that young people were simply having too much fun.
'This explosion of music and fashion and teenage excitement - the lid had been kept on it for so long,' Walker says. 'So when it burst, it really burst, and it did scare the government. They didn't understand the half of it, but they did understand the unifying power of music...That's why the British police hounded Brian Jones in an attempt to destroy the Stones. We knew the BBC were recording all our output from Caversham, and they were hoping we would get political and start having a go at Harold Wilson, but we never did.'
Pirate DJs had more mundane things on the agenda. 'Basically it was sleep in, read letters, pick records, eat and do your show,' Walker says. '£25 a week, plus your on-shore leave paid for.' The DJs worked two weeks on, one week off. 'While you were broadcasting it was this really vibrant exciting place but if ever it went off air you realized you were just on this rusting hulk in the middle of the sea and you wanted to get off.'
When the Marine Broadcasting Offences Act made the ships illegal in the summer of 1967, Walker took a heroic stance. There was a big farewell party in a ballroom with Procol Harum and many eager girls, but he always planned to return to the ship and defy the law. Most of his fellow DJs had other ambitions; some had contracts for Radio Luxembourg, others for the newly announced Radio 1. 'But everyone knew what would happen if the government legitimized an onshore radio station - it's what we got when Radio 1 started, a terrible station to begin with. The government and the BBC were pretty much the same thing back then.' Walker says he has seen a BBC memo from 1967 addressed to the Radio 1 controller: 'On no account should Johnnie Walker be employed for at least a year to let the taint of criminality subside.'
Walker now had to return to Caroline not from Harwich but via Dutch waters. He says that before the ban he was never told what to play (The only memos from the office in London would be: 'There's a journalist coming out to the ship - don't be hanging out in your pyjamas'). But from August 1967 things changed. With no advertising revenue, slots on the playlist were sold, for about £100 a week.
Like a prizefighter who can't hear the bell, Radio Caroline is still going. It did not die in the late 60s, and it has survived sinkings, seizures, numerous wavelength changes and parodies It is now legal, headquartered in Maidstone, Kent, and available on Sky and the internet. But you will not hear waves in the background. The breakfast show is broadcast from Los Angeles, and last week featured an interview with Bill Nighy about his role in The Boat That Rocked (he said he used to be a fan of Caroline as a teenager, lapping up anything by the Rolling Stones).
On the Caroline website, founder Ronan O'Rahilly revealed that he was recently told by someone close to him that he had wasted his life on Radio Caroline, but he disagreed. 'I don't think that creating something that has provided harmless free enjoyment for millions of people for four decades could really be described as a waste. It probably represents the most useful way I could have spent my life.'" (The Guardian)
The True Story Of Radio Caroline
Check out the Radio Caroline Charts
On May 3rd 2020, Ronan O'Rahilly passed away
O’Rahilly felt Radio Caroline was the embodiment of his personal philosophy: 'Loving awareness.' He once said ‘Peace and love will triumph over hate.’
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