12 ACUMEN • SPRING 2026 At the same time, there were onerous financial requirements, such as buying the land and equipment, as well as having to have three or four months of operating expenses on hand, before being able to go on the air. Stories Behind the Data Because this historical episode occurred relatively recently, Sundaramoorthy was able to locate nine Black individuals who benefited from Docket No. 80-90 and built radio stations from the ground up. Uncovering their stories required exhaustive investigative work: she conducted 50 interviews and meticulously reviewed more than 7,000 documents from the National Archives—a level of research depth and rigor that judges have consistently recognized in the awards she has received for this work. “They all had very similar experiences,” Sundaramoorthy says. “A difficult part of Docket No. 80-90 was that, in order to acquire these stations, you had to go through what was called a ‘comparative hearing’ where there was an actual judge who would look at all of these people who wanted to acquire the signal. In some cases, there were more than two dozen people vying for the same signal. “They would have to go to court over and over again to make their case.” Sundaramoorthy discovered that it took one owner, Paula Nelson, ten years to acquire her station in Sacramento, Calif. She went to court dozens of times and was awarded the station only to have someone challenge her—so she had to go to court yet again. “She eventually won the hearing and the license,” Sundaramoorthy says. “The last gentleman to challenge her ended up getting cancer and passing away before he could build a station, so when she went to court again she finally won the license.” The comparative hearing process was extremely expensive. Sundaramoorthy says Black applicants spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to acquire their stations. “Most of them remained in the hands of the original African American owner for five years before they were sold because of consolidation pressures and the Telecommunications Act of 1996,” Sundaramoorthy says, “so they were able to become financially viable. And all the stations were wildly successful—they all either had a jazz or an urban radio format, and shot to number one in these markets almost overnight. It was pretty amazing.” “I really just hope that I’ve done justice to the people whose stories I’ve told,” Sundaramoorthy added. “When I was a working journalist, I tried to represent the people I met with honesty and respect and that’s what I’m hoping I’ve done for these amazing men and women.” The Path Ahead Since completing her doctorate and becoming an assistant professor at Lehigh, Sundaramoorthy’s research has focused on what happens when mainstream media outlets misrepresent or ignore minority communities. Her work specifically examines Black media, the Black Press, and the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), with particular attention to how media policy and ownership shape representation and voice in society. “I love media and journalism history,” Sundaramoorthy says, “and I love the methods I use—oral history and archival research—because honestly it’s just like I’m still producing news stories.” “Of course, I’m more in depth now,” Sundaramoorthy continued. “I’m adding theory and a few other things I wouldn’t necessarily have done when I was a TV news journalist, but this whole journey has been absolutely incredible.” Outside of her academic career, Sundaramoorthy is exploring the professional and personal possibilities of the new media that were just emerging when she was a practicing journalist. “I’m working with a friend at Towson University on a proposal for a podcast that we’re trying to put together,” Sundaramoorthy says. “We’re going to be looking at Black women in academia, producing a podcast that will provide career tips and advice, as well as a space for African American women and their allies.” ● A DJ interviews a woman about Carnation milk at WSOK in Nashville, Tenn., in 1953. BOB GRANNIS / GETTY IMAGES
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