A few years ago I was trying to fall asleep but it wasn't working so I decided to check out the AM radio stations coming out of the Twin Cities. I happened across 1500AM KSTP. It was about 10PM and the talk show was just starting. The host was Tommy Mischke. The guy presented one of the most interesting radio shows I have ever heard. I came became a regular listener. Every night before I tried to sleep(mostly unsuccessful in those days) I would listen to Mischke. His show was basically the radio equivalent of Seinfeld. He just got on-air and started talking and people would call in. It was like having a conversation with a drunken uncle. Drunken because many of callers had a lot to drink before calling Tommy.
His show was at its best at night because many of his antics were only allowed to be played that late at night. Then one evening Tommy said the unthinkable, that the new station manager was moving his show to the mid-morning. Not the drive time mind you but the time between drive time and lunch hour. It made absolutely no sense. I wrote emails complaining but they fell on deaf ears. Apparently the station manager had it in for Tommy. He didn't like Mischke's typical dead air anti where you would think your radio went dead and then he starts shuffling papers and clearing his throat as if he was off-air. It was hilarious and then the surprise when he realized he was on-air. Yes, it sounds hokey but it was funny. The first time he tried it in his morning slot, the station manager came on-air and said, "Mr. Mischke, you're on the air."
Well despite his humorous view of the news and daily events and Minnesota lifestyle, he was fired earlier this month. He got the pink slip two days after a release show for his most recent cd. He was also a very talented musician, forgot to mention. I am putting a curse on KSTP for getting rid of Mischke.
Here is a poem about Tommy.
The memories are golden there
my daddy’s pipe, my mama’s chair
my grandma’s braid was done with care
and on the wireless was Mischke
My mama’d sit us on the rug
and keep us quiet with a hug
my grandpa’d laugh and the kids would shrug
at the shenanigans of Mischke
Jean said Tommy was the kind of man
that she would like to find
my uncle told her never mind
or there’ll be no more of Mischke
Later on in school boy days
when FM was the latest craze
I didn’t care or change my ways
and my dates all learned of Mischke
More recently my wife would scoff
and yell to turn that joker off
so I’d grab a smoke and play it soft
out on the deck with Mischke
I met him once at the State Fair
it was just outside the beer tent there
I heard that giggle in the air
and I knew that it was Mischke
If he was old or young I couldn’t see
But he was different than I thought he’d be
when he handed me a Swisher Sweet
well he seemed a good egg, Mischke
I called the wife with courage high
and said I’d be home by and by
my luck was too good to deny
I was hanging out with Mischke
We smoked our stogies in the night
as I kept buying him Cold Spring Lights
and before I knew my wrong from right
I was ’bout half-baked with Mischke
He borrowed five bucks and went away
I lost my lunch in a pile of hay
Who drove me home — well I can’t say
but I don’t think it was Mischke
I woke up on the lawn and saw my wife
I couldn’t stand up to save my life
and then from her robe she pulled a knife
and started screaming Mischke
I was up and running, filled with fear
and kitchen things flying by my ear
the wife was yelling loud and clear
You can just go live with Mischke
Well that was many years ago
and still I’m feeling pretty low
and if I had a radio
well it wouldn’t be tuned to Mischke
The man cost me my home and pride
he left a void a mile wide
he made me want to run and hide
and curse the name of Mischke
Now though I can’t afford the beers
I’ve waited by that tent for years
but it’s not about revenge or tears
I want something else from Mischke
See I don’t care much about the wife
or the shambles of my so called life
and I want no pity for my strife
but I want that five from Mischke
Somewhere the sun is shining bright
somewhere the hearts of men are light
and somewhere heroes do things right
and somewhere else… is Mischke
–by Michael Crouser
The last thing and probably most important thing I loved about Mischke was his love of vodka and a restaurant in St. Paul called Moscow on the Hill. He told his listeners that whenever they went to Moscow on the Hill make sure to mention his name. Well, I went and I did. The food menu was smaller than the vodka menu. I drank free that night. Thank you, Mischke! I'm toasting a bottle of Shaker's Raspberry Honey Holiday vodka to you my friend.
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