I can't remember exactly when we started listening to National Public Radio. It wasn't in Los Angeles (where I listed to KROQ and J listened to Mark and Brian), and it probably wasn't in Colorado (where we both listened to KBCO). So it must have been in Richland, Washington--which doesn't really have much to offer progressive, adult-alternative music listeners. It wasn't long before it became a ritual, and for J, nearly an obsession, as she started to identify hosts and personalities. I wasn't entirely immune, either, as after a story by Wade Goodwyn on the death penalty as carried out in Huntsville, Texas kept me in my car long after I had arrived in my destination, such that I made note of the reporter's name to listen for future reports by him.

When we moved to DC, we were quite excited to be closer to the source of our news. One of the things you discover when traveling is that NPR on the West Coast is nearly a rebroadcast--the hosts retape anything that the director identifies as rough. The only thing really "live" on the West Coast, therefore, is just the news on the hour.

While J was a AAAS fellow, one of the seminars was given by Richard Harris, the NPR science reporter, and proved to be one of the highlights of her fellowship, as Harris had been one of those reporters that she had taken notice of the name, similar to my following Wade Goodwyn. And every time we drove by the NPR building, just down the street from us here on Massachusetts Ave., we would wave at our radio friends.

Then a couple of months ago we found ourselves eating dinner at Cafe Ole, whose dining floor is organized on the European personal space principle (i.e., hardly any), and fell into a conversation with the woman at the table next to us feasting on a bowl of mussels. At first, she simply stated that she worked at a non-profit, but warming to our obvious charms, she let slip that that organization was actually the three-letter initial company of our affection. We arranged to meet for dinner again--you don't let good dinner conversation get away that easily, especially when she can give you the inside scoop on your favorite news medium--and she invited us, and a small group of friends, for a tour of the NPR studios while All Things Considered was being taped.

We showed up at the NPR building at 5:30pm yesterday afternoon, obtained our visitor passes, and immediately headed to Studio 2A where Robert Seigel and Melissa Block were just finishing their second, and final, hour of the day. As a former disc jockey, I personally was wowed by the equipment and the number of people, but then you have to realize that my days on radio was done in a town of 5,000, for a station run as a loss-leader for a group of investors in Houston (why else would they hire a sixteen-year-old for the nighttime drive?), where the "pots" were still knobs and the disc jockey actually ran the entire board--commercials, music, and microphone. If anything, I should have been surprised that there wasn't more going on. Basically, in addition to the hosts, the live version of All Things Considered had a director, a "driver" (the audio engineer), and one runner. Of course, most of ATC was "in the can" (pre-recorded stories that just needed the beginning and ending tags from the hosts). We only caught the last twenty minutes, but even that little bit gave us a flavor for the intricacies of exact timing and delivery. And, before we left, Corey Flintoff stepped into the room we were in on his way to a separate room from the hosts, but visible to the director, to give the top of the hour news report--something that required even more exact timing.

We then moved on to the rest of the building. On the top floor, we saw both the offices of the NPR Satellite System, where the product is passed on to the satellite feed, as well as the "command center" room, where all the different lines into the building come in. Passing by cubicles and offices sporting recognizable nameplates (well, recognizable to NPR junkies like us), we got a glimpse at the board where the next day's Morning Edition was being pieced together, as well as the offices for Administrative and other support.

Other highlights of the nearly two-hour tour included visiting studio 4A, one of the largest music recording studios (and perhaps the largest one on the East Coast). That's probably the closest I'll ever come to actually getting into a recording studio, and I gawked at the 48 track deck while my friends paged through the visitor book for recognizable signatures (Herbie Hancock was the only one I remembered them calling out). We also visited the Talk of the Nation studio on the third floor, where J was "interviewed" by one of our friends.

We also visited both the print and audio libraries (another one of my past jobs was as a library assistant), with the movable shelves of CDs and old reel-to-reel tapes of NPR shows going back 25+ years.

Such a personal tour was a chance of a lifetime (as our host told us, we got even a better tour than her own family did), including taking some photos in the studios (something not possible during an actual broadcast, obviously). I even got to play being the director, gesturing for Corey Flintoff to start talking, while our engineer friend laughs at me.

You, too, can tour the National Public Radio studios next time you're in DC (Public tours occur every Thursday at 11am), and although it won't have quite the same opportunities as ours did, I'm sure you'll find it informative and fascinating, just like their shows. Riding in the car and listening to the news with J this morning, she said, "I can see exactly where they are talking from now," which you have to admit is a neat trick to do with the radio.