Radio active: in small markets, independent AM stations survive by playing to their strength: They know who's listening.

• Author: Martin, Edward
• Position: Feature

A full moon still hangs over Mount Jefferson as Mike Powers parks his pickup beside a brick ranch house flanked by white satellite dishes. The clock reads 5:30 as he plops in a swivel chair and starts pulling compact disks from racks of country music along the wall, then turns toward a panel of switches and buttons. Shuffling another stack of computer disks -- commercials -- into the order they'll run, he scans printouts of the overnight news.

Powers slips a headset over his baseball cap while keeping an eye on the clock. At precisely 6 a.m., he flips a switch. "WKSK Radio," a recorded voice echoes through the studio, "West Jefferson." First up is Associated Press news via an audio feed from New York. Then come commercials -- a heating-oil distributor in Mountain City, over in Tennessee, then a car dealer in Beaver Creek followed by the day's first song. His eyes nearly closed, Powers leans forward, his bearded chin nuzzling the big Electro-Voice microphone. "Here's Reeeba McEntire on 580 WKSK--today's country, yesterday's favorites."

At 6:28 the phone light blinks. "You'll have to call back after 8, OK? I'm on the air now. 'Preciate it. Bye." He shakes his head, laughing. "The town drunk -- I guess he's still up." By coincidence, the next song is Tracy Byrd's Ten Rounds of Jose Cuervo. He taps the rhythm with his fingers. Some mornings, when he's alone, he dances.

By now, bacon and eggs are frying in kitchens in Shady Grove, Cricket, State Road, Hurricane and Millers Creek. "Wake upppp, White Top, it's rrrrrise-and-shine time." Down the hail, the transmitter idles along at 500 watts. Shortly before 7, Blake Shelton is wailing Old Red. Powers -- disc jockey, news director, Christmas-tree farmer -- breaks into a grin: "Time to blow granny out of her chair." He hits a switch, and the transmitter soars to 5,000 watts -- daylight power.

Measured against 50,000-watt AM giants such as WBT in Charlotte and WPTF in Raleigh and the FM behemoths blasting the airwaves in most major markets, that's little more than a murmur. But in Ashe County, where it's the only station, WKSK rules its mountain roost. In the last Arbitron ratings sweep, it had a 46.8 share, which means that nearly half the radios in the county that were turned on were tuned to 580. In urban markets, top-rated stations rarely get a 10. The locals listen because WKSK speaks to them and for them. It heralds their births, marriages and, to the solemn strains of Rock of Ages, their...