I GIVE YOU RADIO...

I like to tell my grandkids that I was born and started school in the first half of the last century. That was a time when telephones still had cords. Long distance calls - even down the valley or across the state - required the assistance of an operator reached dialing 'O'. The first telephone number I memorized had five digits. And if you found yourself away from home and wanted to call someone, you needed to find a pay phone. And you know, I can't remember the last time I saw one. I'm told they still exist.

It was also a time when television programming didn't start until mid-afternoon and went off the air - yeah, we had antennas - no later than midnight and much more often before that. The picture was a grainy black and white blur. The tubes - yes, tubes - took a couple of minutes to warm up. And, of course, the set would be turned on before programming started so that the picture could be adjusted using the tuning knobs - brightness, contrast, vertical, and horizontal hold. If you didn't a roof antenna, you'd have to move the "rabbit ears" in an attempt to get rid of the shadows. It seemed like everyone's "rabbit ears" had been improved by the addition of foil flags.

That is, of course, assuming your family had a television set. Mine didn't until I was in junior high school. But the McNaughtons did. They owned "McNaughton's TV & Appliance - Sales & Service." It's very likely they owned the only set on our street. And it was a long street. Proudly their oldest son, Bobby, would talk about Buffalo Bob and Clarabelle Clown and Howdy Doody and... I just wondered if I'd ever see them.

The opportunity came one damp autumn afternoon. I had been invited to attend the next afternoon's telecast. So not wanting to offend, I went a few minutes early. But mostly in order not to miss any of the show. We sat cross-legged inches away from the set and stared at the the test pattern - an Indian head in the center of the screen surrounded by a Maltese cross as well as vertical and horizontal gray scales. No sound. Just the test pattern. We sat silently as the anticipation grew. Eyes firmly affixed on the screen. Not willing to miss anything that was about to transpire only minutes away. The hall clock hollowly ticking off the minutes. The swing of the pendulum less mesmerizing than the hiss of the television speaker. Then it happened. Music. And then someone speaking. Suddenly there was movement. It was really happening! I was watching television! And I didn't blink for half an hour. On my way home - two houses up and through the block - I realized that my eyes felt as if they were sunburned. I was no longer sure that I was cut out for such an arduous life-style. That was only half an hour. What would happen if I exposed my eyes to several hours a week. I consulted with my mother who felt that it was perhaps better that I not be subjected to that much radiation. And so ended my initial and brief viewing experience.

But I still had radio. And it was there all the time. Television had one channel. Radio had lots of stations. And our house had several sets. I could come home from school and choose from - what seemed at the time - a great multitude of programs. And, of course, I had my favorites.

I loved radio for the same reason I love books. Words are magic carpets with the ability to transport the reader to places limited only by the imagination. Now with this next remark I realize I'm exposing myself to the possibility of serious criticism. A book that I love and is subsequently made into a movie - I will never see it. I don't care how it is extolled by Ebert or Medved or Reed or Shalit or any other great critical mind. I know the characters. I have met them in my mind. I know them. I know who they are and what they look like. I don't want the people those casting directors think they are, intruding and crowding out my guys. In this regard, I'm like Arthur Conan Doyle's character, Sherlock Holmes. There's only so much space in this attic I call my brain. I don't want my beautiful loft used to store junk. That may be a bit harsh, but you get the idea. 

Want to meet some new characters or renew old acquaintances? Then... 

...close your eyes and come fly away...