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All of this makes Salem's influence among conservative Christians "unparalleled," says Craig Detweiler, Reel Spirituality professor at Fuller Theological Seminary. Lochte agrees, calling Salem "the undisputed leader" in Christian radio.

Although few listeners know Salem by name, one thing is certain: The company dominates Christian broadcasting in a way that would have been unimaginable a generation ago. "They're just doing it in a way that hasn't been done before," says Frank Wright, president of the National Religious Broadcasters (NRB). "They're breaking new ground."

As the biggest Christian broadcaster inthe nation, though, Salem attracts its share of critics. Most, especially radio insiders, keep their complaints quiet. After all, Salem is the industry's largest employer; it's not wise to burn a bridge of that size and importance.

But CT heard plenty of off-the-record, private critiques during the reporting for this piece. Most fell into two general categories: money and ministry focus. Fair or not, Salem has gained a reputation in some circles for pursuing market dominance with businesslike indifference. Salem doesn't coexist peacefully with other Christian radio stations and websites, the criticism goes, but instead seeks primarily to increase its share of the Christian audience—and the accompanying advertising revenue. Such critics envision small, gospel-oriented stations and local programs with loyal audiences being forced off the air, unable to compete with Salem. The company's 1999 entry into public financing cemented such fears.

Other critics see Salem as compromising its ministry commitment by expanding beyond Christian teaching and talk into Christian music—it owns 13 contemporary Christian music stations, most tagged The Fish. It's also begun to engage in politics: The company is actively growing a series of secular talk stations that air conservative heavyweights like Dennis Prager and Michael Medved, but little or no explicitly Christian content.

In the end, both sets of critics conclude, it is the listeners who suffer, as the overall ministry of Christian radio gets monopolized and diluted of the gospel.

But Edward Atsinger, the co-founder and ceo of Salem Communications, pays little attention to such complaints. He sees nothing sinister in growing his company or promoting conservative, Judeo-Christian values. He, too, was once one of the little guys, scrabbling to keep a station on the air. Everything he built, he did the right way.

Atsinger purchased his first radio license in Garner, North Carolina, in 1967. The FCC stipulated that his station not broadcast into nearby Raleigh, a restriction he hadn't anticipated. So Atsinger paid extra for a three-tower transmitter that would blanket his suburb without encroaching on the city nearby. He gave the station a country music format, hired several employees, and managed to oversee the entire operation while living and teaching in Los Angeles.

Whenever it rained, employees heading back and forth to the station—housed in a mobile home in a converted cow pasture—would get stuck in mud.

"You think back on that and say, 'I really don't want to go back and have to do that again,' but you wouldn't trade that experience for anything," Atsinger says now. "You gain a lot of confidence."

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February 2007, Vol. 51, No. 2