WKLO 1080

March 24, 2020 42

The Louisville Top 40 Giant That Refused to Go Down Without a Fight

“You could hear it before you even turned the radio on. That reverb. That jingle. That voice. WKLO wasn’t just a station—it was a lifestyle.”

There was a time when WKLO 1080 was the only station that mattered in Louisville. If you were cruising down Bardstown Road, hanging out at Fountain Ferry Park, or trying to sneak into the Toy Tiger club underage, WKLO was in your ears, pumping out the biggest hits with the hottest jocks.

But this wasn’t just a radio station. It was a battlefield.

On the other side of the dial was WAKY 790, its equally aggressive archrival, and for years these two slugged it out like Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier (which, by the way, was a WKLO-covered fight).

The War for Louisville’s Airwaves

From the late ’50s into the ‘70s, WKLO was pure Top 40 fire. The playlist was tight, the production was sharp, and the promotions? Absolutely nuts. They weren’t just playing the hits—they were making hits.

Listeners picked a side: You were either a WKLO person or a WAKY person. There was no in-between.

WKLO had an all-star lineup of DJs—guys who lived and breathed radio, who knew how to keep listeners hooked between every record. They weren’t just personalities; they were celebrities.

Tom Kennedy – One of the smoothest voices in the business, Kennedy had the kind of presence that made you stop what you were doing and just listen.
Chuck Brady – A WKLO staple, Brady brought a high-energy, fast-talking style that made the station jump. He understood that radio wasn’t just about playing records—it was about creating an experience.
Bill Bailey – “The Duke of Louisville.” If you lived in the city in the ’60s and ’70s, you woke up to Bailey. The guy could rattle off a joke, a time check, and a song intro in one breath without missing a beat.
Gary Burbank – Before he became a national legend, Burbank was bringing organized chaos to WKLO. His characters, skits, and one-liners were so sharp, it made you wonder if he even needed music at all.
Brother Love (Billy Love) – Pure dynamite. Loud, unpredictable, and completely fearless behind the mic.
Jim Brand – A voice that owned the airwaves. His cool, confident delivery made every song sound more important.
Tommy Jett, Steve Cook, and Bob Cline – More WKLO heavy hitters who each had their own signature styles.

The Sound of WKLO

WKLO sounded bigger than life. The reverb gave it that massive, in-your-face quality that made songs and jingles explode out of your car speakers.

It had that perfect Top 40 pacing—not a wasted second. Jocks talked tight and fast, never stepping on the intro of a record. The station’s energy never dropped.

And then there were the jingles. Oh, those jingles. “W…K…L…O… LOUISVILLE!” If you know, you know.

Contests, Promotions, and Absolute Mayhem

WKLO didn’t just sit around playing records and hoping for the best—they went after listeners like their lives depended on it.

Cash Giveaways – You’d be walking through Oxmoor Mall, and suddenly—BOOM—WKLO was handing out money. Just for being in the right place at the right time.
Concert Promotions – If a major artist was rolling through town, you could bet WKLO had the best tickets first.
The Secret Sound – One weird noise. One massive pile of cash if you could guess it.
Ridiculous Stunts – DJs living on billboards, jumping into freezing lakes, eating God-knows-what for ratings—whatever it took.

WKLO knew radio was theater, and they made damn sure you couldn’t turn it off.

Going Head-to-Head with WAKY

It was war every single day. WAKY had Johnny Randolph running the ship, and they weren’t backing down.

If WKLO gave away a trip to Florida, WAKY sent you to the Bahamas. If WKLO had concert tickets, WAKY had backstage passes.

The competition between the two stations was so intense that when one DJ defected to the other, it was bigger news than a sports trade.

This wasn’t a rivalry. It was a blood feud.

The Beginning of the End

By the late ‘70s, AM radio was in trouble. The younger audience that had fueled WKLO’s dominance was migrating to FM, where the music sounded better, the DJs had more freedom, and the commercials weren’t as annoying.

WKLO fought as long as it could, but in 1979, the station switched to beautiful music. One day, it was playing the latest hits. The next, it was background music for people who shopped at Sears.

Just like that, WKLO was gone.

But Was It Really?

Ask anyone who grew up in Louisville in the ‘60s and ‘70s, and they’ll tell you:

WKLO never really died.

It was the soundtrack to high school football games, first dates, summer nights at the drive-in, and road trips across the city. It was the station you played when you cruised in your first car, the one you blasted before a big night out.

The DJs? They were our rockstars. The promotions? They made Louisville feel like it was the center of the universe.

WKLO might not be on the dial anymore, but its legacy is still booming loud and clear in the memories of everyone who was lucky enough to be there.

Because for one golden era, WKLO wasn’t just radio. It was everything.

“Radio wasn’t just about the music. It was about the voices, the energy, and the madness that made you feel like you were part of something bigger. WKLO understood that better than anyone.”

And if you ever got to hear it? You never forgot it.