A “huge void” has been left at the Historic Village’s nostalgic community-based radio station Village Radio with the death of announcer and station manager Tony “Gunky” Rhind. Weekend Sun journalist Hunter Wells spoke to Rhind’s friends and colleagues about the man who “put too much into this place” - his unfailing dedication to the station, his music taste, his “wonderful warm personality”, and his ability to get any job done.

A retired pig farmer with a touch of the showman, a DJ with the stage name “Right Racket”, a radio announcer, fundraiser, general roustabout, a station manager, husband, father. The vibrant, colourful life and times of Tony “Gunky” Rhind.

And “Gunky” – where did Tony Rhind pick up that moniker? Apparently from a young nephew couldn’t get his mouth around “uncle”.

“Now he’s gone,” Village Radio colleague Ken Wadsworth said with a sigh. And it seems it’s one of those situations where it’s not until someone is gone that it’s fully appreciated what they contributed and what’s been lost.

Rhind was a “voice” on Village 1XT – at 1368KHz on the AM band. For four years he played his brand of 1920s through 1990s music for three hours from 10am. When the “on air” sign went off, Rhind would put on his head honcho hat, the station manager’s hat.

“The toughest and most demanding job of them all here,” said Wadsworth.

Rhind looked after the day-to-day running of the station. If something went wrong, he fixed it, if there was a complaint he would take the call, if a job needed “jobbed”, he would do it. He responded uncomplainingly to every situation, every time.

“A huge void. Every day we flounder around and find things that haven’t been done, or need doing, because Tony’s not here to do it.”

Rhind was very hands-on. “Always quietly, without fuss, but enthusiastically and effectively,” Wadsworth said.

Above and beyond

One minute he’d be putting someone through an audition.

“You had to impress the station manager to make it on air. Then he’d personally teach them the gear and the drills.”

Then if someone couldn’t get into the building, or a bit of the station’s historic, decrepit kit wouldn’t work, Rhind would hop in his car at home 5km up the Minden and drive half an hour into town to resolve the issue.

“Nothing was too menial for this man; nothing was an inconvenience. He was always above and beyond,” said Wadsworth.

“If there was a criticism of the man it was that he put too much into this place. Probably did too much in hindsight.”

Beware the person who steps into those big shoes.

The man behind the mic, Tony Rhind ran a radio show and he ran a radio station.

When they gave Rhind his “sending off” they didn’t have to dust off too many of Village Radio’s vast vinyl library of 142,000 tracks for a tribute tune. They went straight to Rhind’s personal favourite, the track he unashamedly flogged on his radio show.

“Oh, Angie, don’t you weep, Oh your kisses still taste sweet, I hate that sadness in your eyes, But Angie, Angie, Ain’t it time we said goodbye?”

But this time it wasn’t Mick Jagger and Rhind having a three-and-a-half minute melancholy moment on a radio show. This time they were saying “goodbye” for real.

“Just so sad,” said Wadsworth.

‘Right Racket’

Rhind might have played Annunzio Paolo Mantovani and the like on his show, but he let it be known he preferred the Rolling Stones.

“I was on air one day playing the She Loves You,” recalled Wadsworth. “I was singing along, and in walks this tall skinny guy. We introduced ourselves and he said: ‘I love the Beatles, but I tell you now, I love the Rolling Stones more’.”

Right from the outset Rhind let Wadsworth know where he stood, and it wasn’t with the Beatles.

It probably stemmed from the days when Rhind the pig farmer would wash off his whiff and go out DJ-ing. By night the pig farmer was known as “Right Racket” at weddings and parties.

And he was an incredibly good kind of man to boot.

“A wonderful warm personality,” says the “shorter fatter” Tony Hunt of the “taller skinnier” Tony Rhind.

That’s how the two Tonys at Village Radio jokingly set themselves apart.

The hustler

The Weekend Sun journalist reporter Tom Eley recently encountered the “taller skinnier”’ Tony – and found him to be a “charming and funny character”. And self-deprecating.

“He told me about the last time he fiddled with the station’s old transmitter. He broke it, and he wasn’t allowed to touch it again.”

So the station manager would turn to another task, like fundraising.

Village may transmit good feelings over the airwaves to a small, loyal and elderly audience, but it can’t run on love. It can’t advertise, but still has to pay the bills like rent and electricity. So Rhind would muck in.

Like the day he died – November 23. Village Radio was uncluttering – getting rid of 3000 records, mostly double-ups.

“How many copies of Bridge over Troubled Waters does a radio station need?” joked Wadsworth.

Tony Rhind during his Monday programme. Photo: Juan Cortes.

It was Rhind’s idea to set up a stall at the Historic Village to sell a few.

“He was having a ball, had his own playlist and was singing along as we tried to sell the old records. It was a long and spectacularly unsuccessful day. We made about $150. But that didn’t faze Tony at all. He would have another idea.”

The team said their goodbyes at 4.30pm.

Five hours later, a crucial, irreplaceable, valve in the old steam radio on 17th Ave suddenly blew as Tony “Gunky” Rhind was gone.

“Very sad. We have lost a very good man,” the shorter fatter Tony would say on Village Radio tribute show to the taller skinnier Tony.

“A friend to us and a friend to everyone out there in radio land.

“He was massive.”

- SunLive