Acoustic addition: Mike McCormick and Katy Spangler created Whistling Swan productions to bring live acoustic music to Alaska. (Celebrating Small-Business Month).

Mike McCormick, in khaki pants, T-shirt and sneakers, half walks and half dances up to the microphone at the Alaska Center for the Performing Arts. The audience recognizes the 6-foot bearded man with glasses; they whistle and burst into applause.

"Gosh, this has been an incredible day," 50-year-old McCormick starts in an excited yet hushed tone.

"Can you all hear me? Great! I want to thank you for taldng a risk on a new artist," only it comes out "AH-dist;" McCormick's Massachusetts accent remains intact even after more than 25 years in Alaska.

McCormick announces upcoming Whistling Swan concerts, rhythmically lumbering back and forth from one foot to the other. It's as if he hears the music before the rest of us. Audience members giggle, caught up in his enthusiasm as he lists approaching shows using descriptions such as "fantastic" or "great."

"I know--there's just so many things going on," he says. "Now--you guys must be more than ready." He winds up to his finale, "Please-welcome--tothestage ...."

BACKSTAGE PASS

Audiences associate Whistling Swan Productions with McCormick. But McCormick's partner and wife of 17 years, Katy Spangler, works hard behind the scenes for the state's preeminent promoter of live acoustic music. McCormick and Spangler's two children, Patrick, 15, and Mary, 12, also attend occasional shows.

On an October afternoon at the Wilda Marston Theatre, a few hours before a concert, everyone needs something from Spangler. The musicians need food and bottled water; daughter Mary needs help carrying a folding table; the stage manager has questions.

Spangler appears calm. Her short, dark blond hair complements a long blue skirt and matching top with a shadow of a paisley pattern; her Birckenstock style open-toe sandals complete a look that is casually elegant.

When I ask where McCormick is, she says much of his work occurs in advance, when he coordinates performance space, artist schedules, opening acts and travel arrangements. Most of Spangler's responsibilities take place on concert day, when she says McCormick's job "is a little easier than mine.

Spangler often devotes an entire day to pre-show activity. She procures a quilt, Whistling Swan's signature stage backdrop. Then she goes shopping for food, beverages, and other supplies. By mid-afternoon, she is at the venue setting up dressing rooms, preparing tables for ticket sales, and coordinating merchandise sales. Meanwhile, McCormick works with sound technicians and meets with performers.

Don't assume McCormick and Spangler grab a seat and relax once the music begins. While the audience grooves on live tunes, McCormick tallies ticket sales and calculates everyone's cut: the artist, the artist's manager, and if there's anything left, the business.

Afterward, Spangler totals merchandise sales while McCormick cleans the dressing rooms. Efficiency is key in a business with tight profit margins; time literally costs money. The ACPA charges extra rent after midnight. The Wilda Marston Theatre charges by the hour.

SELLOUT SHOWS

Efficiency, combined with McCormick and Spangler's passion for good concerts, has allowed Whistling Swan to grow into a solid presence in Alaska's music scene. In the past eight years, Whistling Swan has presented more than 200 singer-songwriters in Anchorage. John Prine, Ani DiFranco and Nanci Griffith are just a few better-known names.

"Folk music is 2 percent or less of the total music consumed in this country, so we're operating on the margins here," McCormick says. Even so, they average 35 shows a year and boast an estimated annual audience of more than 10,000.

Establishing Alaska as a concert tour stop is not easy. While the genre itself presents a challenge, so does the location. Many musicians balk at the long flight and smaller market. In the three days they often use to perform one show in Anchorage, they could drive to three gigs in the Lower 48. And there's the image.

"There's a stereotype of Alaska," McCormick says. "They think they're going to the sticks," but when they arrive, "they're just shocked.

"They get one of the best halls they've ever played, and they get the best food (they've eaten) all year, and they get taken care of," McCormick adds. "Nine out of 10 artists that we present think this is one of the top gigs of the year. Once they come, they want to come back."

Artists also return for McCormick and Spangler's hospitality. Many visiting musicians stay at their home.

"We have a separate room downstairs," McCormick says. "We don't bother them." This leaves artists free to sleep, work or hang out with the family. The relaxed atmosphere has fostered the couple's friendships with many artists.

WHISTLING SWAN'S FANS

Suzzy Roche, a singer-songwriter from New York City, says she was terrified the first time she came to Alaska to perform a Whistling Swan concert. She imagined a sparse, dark wilderness in mid-winter.

"The gigs were in January, and I thought that was very strange, plus I was sick," Roche said during a recent visit. Her fears dissipated when she stayed with the McCormick and Spangler family on her first trip. In fact, a friendship formed. For her latest visit, Roche agreed to come after a single call from McCormick.

"I didn't have his phone number," Roche says, "I didn't know where I was staying, but it was McCormick, and I knew everything was OK. If it were any other promoter, I wouldn't have done it."

Local musician Robin Hopper also sings their praises. Hopper opened one of Whistling Swan's earliest shows, a benefit concert at Chugiak High School. She credits Whistling Swan with building a local audience for acoustic concerts. She also believes McCormick and Spangler have strengthened the local songwriter community. She notes their work with the Alaska Midnight Sun annual songwriters' camp, their efforts to connect local musicians with nationally recognized songwriters, and their use of local talent to open shows.

"We're better singer-songwriters because of them," says Hopper, who had a chance to demonstrate her gratitude last fall. The night before a concert, McCormick's opening performer came down with laryngitis. With only seven hours' notice, Hopper agreed to fill in.

"I would do anything for McCormick and Spangler; all they have to do is call and ask," Hopper says.

The couple is humble about such praise, but say the biggest benefits of promoting acoustic music in Alaska are intangible.

"There's a satisfaction you get from sharing a love of music with people," McCormick says. "Sometimes it's unspoken, but if you have a certain type of music in common, somewhere underneath, there's probably some shared basic values."

Not that it's easy. McCormick teaches elementary school full time. Spangler also teaches, conducting distance courses in education for the University of Alaska Southeast in Juneau. Spangler emphasizes that their regular jobs come first. McCormick agrees. Whistling Swan is a result of their desire to hear live music wherever they make their home. "We're not making a living on this," says McCormick.

THEN WHY?

In the 1980s, McCormick and Spangler lived in Juneau. Bill Staines, one of their favorite singer-songwriters and also a New England native, frequently played in Talkeetna. They wanted Staines to perform in Juneau, so they approached the Alaska Folk Festival for help. McCormick told festival organizers he would absorb any losses. If there were profits, he would turn them over to the festival. Either way he would make nothing. (The show made money.)

So what did McCormick and Spangler get out of it? "A great concert!" said McCormick.