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Among my earliest memories are the squawks and squeals emitted by the old Emerson as my father tuned it in the predawn hours. We listened as he made ready to go to work. The rich aroma of coffee percolating on the stove filled the air as the melodic strains of "The Milk Man's Matinee" poured out into the tiny kitchen. It was a magic time in my young life highlighted by complete marvel at the strangers' voices coming out of the fascinating little box on a small shelf above the kitchen table. I can remember finding an old radio in the trash a few years later and carrying it home. I poked around inside it for a while, jiggling things around until I got it to make some sound, and, a JOLT I can still feel today. One rainy Saturday when I was about 12 I set my bed on fire listening to an old Zenith I had "fixed". Radio was theater that took place in the mind of the listener. Unlike modern media where the images are all painted out for you in pixel by pixel detail, radio inspired and required active participation in the mind of each individual listening to fill in the graphical details. Imagination was both a necessary ingredient and a direct result of listening to radio. I recall hearing many of the old GREATS of radio. As a youngster I returned to "those thrilling days of yesteryear" listening to the adventures of the Lone Ranger. I'd stare in stark wonderment trying to "see" every word spoken by Lamont Cranston. George and Gracie, Fred Allen, and Jack Benny, just to name a few, could make you laugh in a way that just isn't found today. These people were all welcomed guests in our homes, some weekly and, some nightly. Their exploits filled the imagination of each of us as we listened intently. Thanks for listening, Will. My pages are a work in progress. Come Back soon and often. This page was last updated on November 27, 2005 |