Ray Nordstrand: 1932-2005

Had you met Ray Nordstrand without knowing who he was, you might have thought that he was an accountant or an economics professor, not a bon vivant who loved good food, the city of Chicago, and, above all, folk music and the radio station, WFMT-FM, that he put on the map. He was all those things and more.

Ray died in Chicago on August 27, 2005, at the age of 72 after a long battle with heart disease and diabetes.

Born in Evanston, Illinois, in 1932, Ray attended and later taught economics at Northwestern University. Always wanting to go into radio, the university afforded him one of his first broadcasting jobs, at its WNUR-FM station. He was working there part-time in 1953 when he accompanied a friend to an audition at WFMT, then a young fine arts station in Chicago. One of the station's two full-time announcers, Mike Nichols listened to the friend, then heard Ray's low, sonorous voice and asked him to audition. Ray got the job. He was 20 years old.

Ray would spend the next 52 years of his life affiliated with WFMT, serving as announcer, assistant manager, commercial manager, station manager and general manager. After leaving, he continued as a consultant and fundraiser. He and program director Norm Pellegrini built WFMT into one of the great fine arts stations. Ray transformed its nondescript little program guide into Chicago magazine, the first metropolitan publication of its type. He was one of radio's great businessmen, salesmen and visionaries.

Ray's passion was folk music. For decades, he and Pellegrini co-hosted the Saturday night show, The Midnight Special, that featured a zany mix of show tunes, comedy, folk, blues and whatever. Generations of folkies grew up listening to the show, which launched many a musical career.

Ray did a lot more than broadcast. He promoted Chicago's folk clubs and the artists who performed in them. Rich Warren, now the host of the Special and a long-time Nordstrand protege, notes that "he had power and the connections to get publicity, funding, and venues for the music and musicians." Ray's unfailing support was critical in the early years of the Old Town School of Folk Music; he was on its board at the time of his death. He convinced the city of Chicago to host folk concerts in connection with the "Taste of Chicago" event in its early years. He consistently supported the University of Chicago Folk Festival. He saw to it that folk and blues recordings were reviewed in Chicago magazine; that was my pleasant task for several years. And Come for to Sing, Chicago's folk music magazine from 1975-1987, could not have had a better friend than Ray.

His generosity of time, spirit and clout was key to the high regard in which he was held. Dick Simpson, a former Chicago alderman and now a University of Illinois professor, wrote in a tribute that Ray would produce "the best talent Chicago had to offer" for progressive political events. "People didn't say 'no' [to Ray] because Nordstrand wasn't out to promote himself, even though he became famous. He was out for the good of his community and his city. He was unselfish."

Rich Warren adds that Ray was also the calm center of what could be a stormy music community: "He supported everything from clubs to the Old Town School to Come for to Sing. He was a moderating force amongst a bunch of crazies." That moderation extended to his enjoyment of the numerous parodies of his broadcast style. The announcers on WFMT tended to speak v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, none more so than Ray. As Chicago folk singer Art Thieme says, "I always cherished those extraordinarily I-o-n-g dead-air pauses." Ray was satirized by both folk musicians and comedians; the Second City troupe had a skit parodying his delivery. He wasn't above self-parody, either. One year at the annual Come for to Sing benefit we promised that Ray would talk fast on stage if we hit our goal. We did, and Ray, ever sly, whipped out the audition statement he had read at his first radio tryout, and zipped through it. He received a standing ovation.

He worked very hard, but he loved it because he loved the music. One had only to see his delight in discovering the music of Start Rogers or in learning that Steve Goodman had written a new song to know that. When Swedish revival band J.P. Nystroms came to Chicago, Ray could hardly contain his joy, and delighted in emceeing their performance as he did with many others.

He also loved the company of musicians. Visiting artists might be treated to the Ray Nordstrand Tour of Chicago, which included places I still can't find. At Thanksgiving dinner at my house, he would sit happily with his great love Ethel Polk while Phil Cooper, Kate Early, Margaret Nelson, Susan Urban, and others sang for him.

In recent years, he was beset by illness, debilitated by strokes, and in a wheelchair, but he and Ethel still went out to hear music often, and he served as introductory host at the memorial concert for Fred Holstein in 2004. He had lost so many of his friends, and now we have lost him. "Ray was the institutional memory of the Chicago folk music scene," Rich Warren observed. He was also, in many ways, its heart.

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