Remembering a South Sound radio icon

In the spring, the South Sound lost an airwaves icon. John Mangan ran the top 40 station I-91, bringing music to thousands of listeners, and education to aspiring broadcasters.

John Mangan first took to the airwaves as a kid, operating a ham radio. Here’s his son, Kevin Mangan.

Kevin Mangan: “I think maybe that’s when he started thinking of it in terms of, like, being a friend to your audience. And also just saying what you need to say and moving on because there’s a lot of people on there who like to talk. He really liked that you could connect with somebody from around the world and suddenly feel like they were in the room with you.”

He took a break from the ham to get a career off the ground. After switching from studying engineering to communications at Cornell, he graduated and joined the Navy. John eventually rose to the rank of Commander, but always found a way to get back on the air.

KM: “Throughout his career he was piloting ships and things. But whenever he could, he was jumping on communications. He was very proud of how good he was at Morse code.”

John was ready to put his feet back on dry land by the early 80s, and a position had opened up at Clover Park Technical College in Lakewood. They needed somebody to helm the radio program, and he was just the man for the job. He fixed issues with the FCC license, and converted the roommate rock station into a real system to prepare students for a career.

KM: “Every new class, about half of them just wanted to get on air and talk. And they thought that the important part of being a DJ was their voice. And my dad always kind of said that, that sort of sees it backwards. The important voice is the one that you’re not hearing. It’s the audience’s voice. They’re tuning in for a brief moment in time maybe. And they’re tuning in for a reason. And it’s probably not just to hear you talk about yourself. You know, they’re tuning in for entertainment, or distraction, to think about something other than whatever’s right in front of them at that moment. They might be tuning in because they need a friend.”

And for 30 years, John was that friend, along with the students who came through his class. Even when he wasn’t in the studio, radio was on his mind. Road trips in a little British sports car became a formative experience for Kevin. 

KM: “He knew that he was at the office a lot. So to make up for that as a teacher, he would get summers off. We would drive across the country in the TR7, top down whenever we could. He would put this like 12-foot crazy radio antenna magneted on the back of the thing. We’d be listening to a DJ from LA, in the middle of the night in Montana. And he would say, ‘just listen to how it seems like they’re right here with you.’ And, ah god, you know, that’s kind of how I have to think of him now.”

Eventually, plans changed at Clover Park and they initiated a local management agreement with this station, NWPB. But it was a sudden change that John wasn’t fully prepared for.

KM: “A president came in, who did not think that radio broadcasting was a field that had a strong future for Clover Park. He had this audience that he built up over over 30 years, he felt like he had this connection to the community. And it really was an overnight decision. And he felt like a lot of people just suddenly one day lost their friend. He wasn’t necessarily worried about being remembered in the long term. It was more about that immediate connection. He liked that the radio waves are gonna go out into space. They’re gonna get fainter as they go out, but they’re gonna keep going.  They’re gonna go past the moon, but just like on Earth, the moon’s only going to hear the show once. So I just wanted to try and get somewhere on record, you know, that he appreciated their side of the friendship, the way that he did.”

So if you were one of John Mangan’s 50,000 loyal listeners, know that he was just as loyal to you as you hoped he would be.