I want to take you back to 1973 when there were all kinds of plans to set up new radio stations from the sea, two of which could actually be heard on medium wave. First Radio Atlantis and later Radio Mi Amigo, which in 1973 only broadcast test programmes before officially launching on January 1st 1974. A reconstruction of a radio project that failed completely, namely Radio Condor.
But there were also a number of projects that were not realised, including that of
Steph Willemse from Haarlem, who thought – together with others – that he could start an idealistic radio station from international waters. One of the goals was to purchase a ship, so he visited all kinds of ports to see which ships were for sale or for rent. Decades ago, Steph Willemse was keen to talk at length about the purpose of his radio station: ‘Various people I spoke to were very enthusiastic about what Capital Radio had achieved and believed that such a station could undoubtedly be successful. I then came to understand that there were certain needs in that direction, and we later took those needs into account when developing our programming.’
When it came to purchasing a ship, Steph Willemse, who passed away in July 2004, met the right man at the right time and in the right place: “Well, when I was looking for a suitable ship, I came across the Haarlem salvager, Gerrit Elfrich, who did an excellent job and was very committed to our project. He ensured me that we could purchase the MV Emma for a bargain price. Once the ship was in IJmuiden, he unfortunately had to withdraw because he was commissioned to salvage a huge ship from China. The salvage of the ship, the Wang Chung, was unfortunately a huge failure, and I would have preferred him to have been involved in our project for longer.”
A lot of work had to be done because the ship, which dated from 1957, had been used for fishing for many years and had been owned by Rederij Ouwehand. Willemse: “The ship we bought looked terrible; it was like a worn-out tub where vagrants had found shelter in recent months. It was incredibly dirty and there were no windows left. Over a period of nine months, ten of us worked on it to make it somewhat live able and, above all, usable. Once the ship was reasonably clean, we installed some electrical wiring. The old wiring had all been cut through and, on top of that, the sanitary facilities were missing. Then it was time to equip it as a broadcasting ship. Unlike other offshore radio projects, we didn’t have half a million guilders at our disposal, so we had to make do with very little money.
At one point, we bought the transmitters from the King David (Capital Radio), which was then moored in Heerwaarden. These were both the 10 and 1 kW transmitters. The 10 kW transmitter was a half-empty, looted cabinet, which we decided to use only as a linear stage.
At the time, there were many stories about whether or not Radio Condor had been on the air. The late Rob Olthof was on board the Emma, renamed Condor, when the transmitter was switched on and immediately blew up with a big “boom”. Even the most avid radio enthusiasts never received test broadcasts from Radio Condor, but Willemse insisted that they had been on the air: “We didn’t even need 1 kW because with the 500-watt transmitter we used with Condor, we even received reception reports from England and Scandinavia. All in all, we were on the air for a few weeks, but with a lot of bad luck, because everything went wrong. The first time we were outside, we got the transmitter working after about ten days.‘
Was Willemse a ’dreamer” after all?
On August 9th 1973, the organisation announced that it also wanted to broadcast via FM on 98 MHz in the future. Initially, they planned to make a T-antenna, as used by Radio Veronica, and later they came up with the idea of building a transmission mast, like the one on the MV Mi Amigo. It was also announced that Willemse was not only a television dealer, but had also played in the Oscar Benton Group in the 1960s and had been a radio technician on board Capital Radio. The fact that not all the information provided by Willemse was correct is proven by “Nederpop”, an encyclopaedia listing all the line-ups of Dutch pop groups between 1960 and 1985. Step Willemse is not listed among the names of the members of the Oscar Benton group.
Pessimists had already predicted that a ship without an engine and equipped with a Rhine anchor, as was the case with the “Condor”, would not be able to survive long on the North Sea. They were proven right, because on August 11th 1973, disaster struck. During a strong wind, the ship broke loose from its anchor, which was simple for the North Sea, and had to be towed into the port of IJmuiden. The boat had started to scrape and after the technicians had disabled the transmission equipment, it was decided to bring the Condor in. The strange thing about the situation that followed was that the ship had been towed in and moored in the Buiten Spuitkanaal without informing the National Water Police or the Velsen Municipal Police of the reason for the mooring.
Willemse continued to exaggerate: ‘When we weighed anchor, we drifted around the North Sea for about five days and then sailed the Condor to the port of IJmuiden, while leaving the transmitter on. We even received reception reports from that broadcast.’ Steph also had a spokeswoman,
Fietje van Donselaar, with whom he was living at the time. She stated: “On the ship, they saw the IJmuiden pier getting closer and at one point Mr. Willemse, who was on board at the time, asked for help. Later, he went to IJmuiden with the tender to fetch a tugboat. Two tugboats later towed us to the harbour. Then we were caught between two fires, because the harbour authorities understandably wanted us to leave quickly. On the other hand, we didn’t have the money to pay for a new anchor. Afterwards, we borrowed money to buy one, which left us with a new debt of f1500.”
Decades later, it seems that Willemse had a vivid imagination. Consider the following: “We later discovered through police investigations that the anchor had been sabotaged. The anchor chain had been cut from the outside, which would be attempted again later. When we entered the port of IJmuiden, we threw certain parts into the water so that they would not fall into the hands of the PTT. Certain items were also “stored” with an employee. She thought she had to lend them to acquaintances, who also thought they could start something. When they heard from us that the items had to be returned, they brought them back. However, the items had been expertly converted into “unusable” products.
He did not want to discuss the police investigation into the broken anchor any further. However, he did want to say something about the approach by another organisation: “After we had dropped anchor, certain people asked us to move a little further away. At first, we didn’t understand why, and a few days later we were even asked to turn a blind eye if certain ships were to anchor in the vicinity of our Condor. We were even offered a lot of money for this. Later, it turned out to be a supply route for hashish. Since we did not comply with the various requests to anchor elsewhere, I think they attacked us violently. Of course, it would have been easier at that moment to take the money and hire a tugboat to tow the Condor elsewhere, but none of us knew that sabotage was going to take place and why exactly it was happening.”
When, in 1973, more and more stories about the new offshore radio project appeared in various newspapers, all kinds of requests were received from various groups wishing to rent airtime. For example, The United Family, the Association for Voluntary Euthanasia and the Association of Well-Wishing Motorists responded. Steph: “We were going to play music non-stop as much as possible, without commercials, which these organisations liked for spreading their message. However, we did not yet have prices for renting airtime, as we first wanted to wait and see how any test broadcasts would go. Unfortunately, the project never really got off the ground. I can say that Fiet van Donselaar put in a lot of work during that period, for which I am still very grateful to her.”
After the Condor was towed into port on August 11th 1973, things remained quiet for some time. One of the reasons for this was the poor financial situation within the organisation. There were also some organisational issues. It was not until September 13th 1973 that another article appeared in the Haarlems Dagblad. ‘The radio ship Condor will be towed out of the port of IJmuiden to be taken to a scrapyard. Since the day the ship broke anchor, problems have continued to pile up for the aspiring radio pirate. First of all, being towed back from sea was a huge financial setback. Then the shipping inspectorate banned the owner from sailing the former trawler again because the ship’s papers were not in order. The port authorities of IJmuiden made it very clear that the ship could no longer remain in the Buiten Spuitkanaal. According to Willemse, it would take more than a year to obtain the necessary ship’s papers through a notary: ‘We really can’t wait that long. As a result, we are forced to sell the ship to a scrap dealer.’
A few weeks later, the owner declared that he had a contract with a Belgian-Panamanian company, which would initially tow the ship to Zeebrugge and then to Bilbao in Spain. He did say that attempts would be made to find another solution to the sale, but that for the time being, the sale would have to go ahead. A towing contract to a scrapyard was the only way to get the ship out to sea. The first time the Condor was towed out without permission, an official report was drawn up and handed over to Willemse by a representative of the Public Prosecutor’s Office in Haarlem.
And what did Steph say? “I really don’t understand any of this and see no reason to be charged. First of all, the Condor did not sail out under its own power, but was towed there. You don’t even need to have a captain’s licence because in such cases there is no requirement for a captain to be on board a ship. So, in fact, I was a kind of “runner” on the Condor when the ship was towed out.”
Everyone in the free radio world had already given up hope of another offshore radio station when, on the 25th of September 1973, the Condor suddenly dropped anchor again off Zandvoort. The ship was towed there, and a demolition order with the port of Dordrecht as its destination was shown to the port authorities beforehand. This was sufficient for the authorities to grant the tugboat, towing the Condor, permission to leave the port of IJmuiden. Once offshore, Willemse abandoned the demolition contract. On the high seas, he bought back his barge and dropped a new, heavier anchor at the spot where the Condor had previously been anchored.
Once again, he declared that the station would start test broadcasts via the 270 metres within ten days. The costs of the tugboat, the Pirahna Famagusta, were paid by the owner of a chain of bars and restaurants in Haarlem. Willemse himself had financed the anchor, which he claimed could withstand wind force 12, and said he was not afraid of getting into trouble with the authorities, as the cancellation of the demolition contract had been done completely legally. He also announced once again that there was an FM transmitter on board at the time, but that it was incomplete, otherwise customs would never have let the ship leave. They could have left the port illegally, but despite five offers, he had no interest in doing so.
Even before a single signal had been transmitted, although they would always deny this, the end had come for Radio Condor. Lack of funds and a lot of bad luck put an end to the plans. The ship was later sold to Adriaan van Landschoot, who gave his Radio Atlantis a new start.
Hans Knot (2018, newly edited June 2025)