The True Book of Mostly Unrelated Stories

The Radio Lives On
by John Mooy

In the basement of our house on the corner of Center and Elm Street, we had a radio that was a console model. It was huge. You slid open the doors in front to reveal a rather small screen that had dials on either side, one for tuning and the other for volume. That was it. How simple was that in this world of high tech.

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The idea of the Roosevelt chats was a creation of a fellow by the name of Stephen Early, who thought that listeners of the chats could be gathered around their fireplaces listening to the president’s messages as he sat by his fireplace. He would then think that he and the entire nation were seated together while he spoke. An interesting concept.

Throughout Marcellus and the surrounding area while growing up, I still recall going into friends’ houses and knowing where their radios were located. And in the case of my neighbor Floyd Bowers, he had a radio in his workshop in the garage and during the summertime in the late afternoon or evening, anytime you went by his place, he would be listening to the Detroit Tigers. If you were on your bicycle going by, you could always holler at him, and he would give you the score of the game. And while he might be upset with the team’s performance that day, he never missed the opportunity to listen to them.

While we all had radios there were a number of popular brands to choose from:  Crosley, Motorola, Truetone, Philco and Zenith to name a few. And as the technology became improved, the size of the radios began to get smaller. In our kitchen on the counter, we had a Zenith which measured approximately 12” x 9” x 3”. There was a handle on top that housed an antenna which could be turned to better pick up a channel. It was not uncommon for the more creative science minded individuals to string a piece of wire from the radio to the ceiling and “decorate” the wire with pieces of tin foil to further enhance the amplification of a station.  

And then the radio moved into its appropriate place on the dashboard of the car. As we approached sixteen years of age, a driver’s license and access to the family car now equipped with a radio, it was exciting. The most popular channel of the 1960s was WLS out of Chicago.   89 on your radio dial with the most up-to-date hits brought to you by the likes of Dick Biondi, Larry Lujack, Clark Weber and John Landecker. Do you remember riding down the road listening to Treasure Tunes from the Vault?

The beauty of radio was it didn’t occupy your vision. You didn’t have to watch the radio, only listen, let your imagination create the pictures and then you could still be doing other things.  About that same time another change occurred, and radio moved into what we knew as the transistor radio. So small it would easily fit into your hand and could be taken anywhere. A popular brand around town was the Channel Master which came in a small leather carrying case. This radio could go anywhere and often did – to the beach, while you were playing ball at the local diamond, the gymnasium or a local vacant lot. It could even be tucked among your books as you headed into study hall. This radio also came with a small earphone attached to a wire that could be plugged into the radio. Perfect for listening while you were working.

The radio was like a friend. I had a radio that I always played while sculpting out in my work area. You can only imagine how much stone dust accumulated on the inside of the radio yet it continued to work faithfully for 25 years. On that final day when I turned the dial to ON and it no longer worked, as a tribute to the joy, the news, the athletic events and the music brought to me by that radio, I buried it out where I work.

Long live the radio.

Have a great week Marcellus,
you’re the best.
And Channel One on my dial.