radio

Friday Jan 4

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After working hours
Spent entire eve. at home enjoying
the radio The part played by the
N.Y. Symphony Orch, Beethovens 5th Sy.
was most impressive. –

It touched my heart to read the
story of a Jewish girl of Romania arriving
in this country, was sentenced to be sent
back because the quota for that country was full.
She being a violinist took a chance
to try as an artiste, as such are
exempted from the draft quota, and in
the presence of the immigration
authorities she played Shuberts
Serenade while tears were streaming
from her eyes, this won her the
freedom of these shores.

What a dramatic climax for
a Jewish girl after years of suffering
finally winning the freedom of a
new Land with renewed hopes
for a better future.

———–

Geez.

As melodramatic as this story is, I get choked up when I view it through my grandfather’s eyes. His own emigration was only eleven years prior, and the sensations of the experience — from leaving his family and home of 18 years to the sea voyage itself to the stresses of his arrival at Ellis Island — must have remained as fresh in his mind as when he first felt them.

And so, aided by Papa’s capacity for empathy (so pronounced that I picked up on it when I was four and he was 75) his deep belief in the promise of his own American life, and his attachment to classical music, this tear-jerker about a Jewish girl winning her freedom with a sentimental classical tune earns immortality in his diary.

Updates

The more I think about it, the more I feel like I’ve seen something about a girl earning entry to America with a tearful violin solo in an old movie. Am I just mixing it up with the image of the violinist on the deck of the Titanic?

———-

Update 3/19

Here’s another way to listen to Schubert’s Serenade:

Monday Jan 7

by


On my way from work Rabi
Davedel Horowitz from Meletz escorted
my home all the way from the
K.H. office.

Heard Mr. Bock the donor
of the $100.000 peace prize
explain the theory, I do not fully
agree with him as I believe in
Americas full participation in
the league of Nations.
I heard the above talk on the radio.
Universal peace in my
opinion is possible only
when the U.S. will officially
enroll as a member of the
League and exert its influence
upon the nations

—————

Matt’s Notes

The “Bock” Papa refers to is Edward William Bok, famed both for transforming Ladies Home Journal from an obscure publication into a national powerhouse and for transforming himself from an unknown Dutch immigrant into a wealthy and prominent Progressivist. Some time after retiring from publishing, Bok funded a $100,000 open competition to find a plan for world peace, and promised to push the winning plan through Congress. This caused quite a stir. Over 22,000 Americans submitted plans, and the winner, Charles Herbert Levermore, achieved some degree of fame, but in the end the whole effort never amounted to much.

When Papa tuned into WEAF on January 7, he heard Bok outline the winning plan, which called for greater U.S. participation in the World Court but fell short of endorsing U.S. membership in the League of Nations. Papa would have favored an active U.S. foreign policy — America’s “influence upon the nations” was essential to world peace, as he notes, but his beloved Zionist cause needed it even more. America’s navel-gazing in the 1920’s must have frustrated him, hence his ultimate disappointment with Bok’s suggestions.

One thing I like about Papa’s diary is what it reveals about the popular culture of the day, or at least what someone of his background and tastes would have picked up on. With only a small page available to record the day’s events he chose to write about Bok’s radio address, so the Bok Peace Prize must have been as widely discussed as a typical Britney underwear incident is today. By 1930, Time magazine would describe it in Bok’s obituary merely as a “prize of $100,000 for the best essay on how to achieve International peace” — a kind understatement of what a high profile disappointment the Peace Plan really was. But, Bok’s life story was an inspiration to many, his autobiography won a Pulitzer Prize and he was a legend in the publishing industry, so I’ll avoid knocking his Peace Prize just because I’d never heard of him.

I’d also never heard of Rabbi Davidel Horowitz, which attests more to my ignorance of the Zionist movement (not for the last time, I’m sure) than his actual degree of notoriety. There’s a good chance Papa is talking about David Horowitz, a prominent young Zionist of his day who went on to found a scholarly organization called United Israel World Union. If so, Papa must have been thrilled as they walked the lower East Side, perhaps wrapped in long coats but certainly oblivious to the cold as they talked, young and insistent, of changing the world.

——————-

Updates

WEAF was the American Telephone and Telegraph radio station in New York. An innovator in technical, programming and advertising operations, it would become part of NBC in 1926.

——————-

Additional references for this post:

– “Peace Plan“, Time, 1/14/24 (and search the Time archive for more on Edward Bok).
– “The Peace Plan” (editorial) The New York Times, 1/7/24 (subscription required; PDF).
– “BOK PEACE PLAN STIRS WIDE INTEREST; FIGHT OVER IT BEGINS; Founder and Many Others Appeal by Radio for Approval“, The New York Times, 1/8/24 (subscription required; PDF; search The New York Times archive for more on Edward Bok).
– Edward Bok biography on Wikipedia
– David Horowitz obituary at United Israel World Union Web site
– WEAF history at Answers.com

Tuesday Feb 12

by


12:10 P.M.

The radio afforded me the
opportunity to hear the adress
of Pres. Coolidge, delivered at the
Waldorf Astoria. It was a
masterpiece, He is for tax reduction
against a bonus, and the way I
understood it he made an overture
for the European Nations for another
conference for still more disarmament.

He is for National economy.
He states that the 3 Americans that
are in Europe conferring about the
present situation, are not the repre-
sentatives of the government, but they
have with them the mind of the Am.
people. He outlined his attitude
toward Mexico.

Although I do not fully agree with
him, he won for his simplicity and
frankness my highest admiration
tonight.

———–

Matt’s Notes:

Coolidge’s Lincoln Day Dinner address at the Waldorf-Astoria was his first appearance in New York, his first national address, and, as the the New York Times noted, “was generally considered as the first utterance in his campaign for election to the Presidency…” Presidential radio appearances were still novel at the time; I think the way Papa introduces his recap of the broadcast (“the radio afforded the the opportunity to hear the address…”) shows how unaccustomed he was to such a privilege. Similarly, the Times devoted a few paragraphs to the logistics of the broadcast (“atmospheric conditions were splendid”) and assorted snafus (apparently the broadcast crossed wires a few times with a broadcast by the China Society).

I’m tempted to kid myself into pining for a long-lost America whose airwaves weren’t befouled by political dross, but Coolidge’s speech betrays signs of the approaching darkness. In it, Coolidge tries to contain the Teapot Dome scandal, which he inherited from Harding and centered on the illicit relationships between Cabinet members and oil companies; defended his plan to give tax breaks to corporations and wealthy Americans, even though he said the government could not afford bonuses for the military (something about how soldiers had fought WWI for principles, not money); and gave a lukewarm nod toward world disarmament while pitching an arms sale to Mexico.

It’s hard for me not to cringe at Coolidge’s speech because it reminds me so much of the crap Dubya spews, but even factoring that in I find Papa’s kind assessment of such a non-progressive speech incongruous (the New York Times’ transcript is here; subscription required). Still, it’s not incomprehensible for a few reasons. First, as I’ve noted before, Papa inherently expected the best from people and had a remarkable ability to look kindly on their flaws; why wouldn’t this apply to Presidents as well? Second, the mere excitement over hearing the President on the radio may have predisposed him toward what he heard. Third, Woodrow Wilson, who I think Papa was particularly attached to, had died nine days earlier; maybe Papa just needed to be won over, to feel the “highest admiration” for a President once again and get back a little of what he’d lost.

In any event, now seems like a good time to share this photograph of Papa listening to his radio. Maybe this is what he looked like when he heard the Coolidge speech:

photo of Papa listening to radio

Monday Mar 10

by

Sister night & Movies
& home & radio

—————–

Matt’s Notes

Movies Papa might have seen that night include:

And here’s Papa listening to the radio at home:

Monday Mar 31

by


What keep me at home for
an entire evening, the radio.

In my quest for a rest of
my longing soul there is no
better remedy as the radio
The fascinating music, and
other features.

I heard just new, Rubensteins
Romance which was wonderful

—–

Henriette will undoubtedly
answer my letter, I am
anxious to see what she will
write.

It’s her kind that appeals
to me, but has a poor dog [like me]
a chance? Is a girl even of
her type ripe enough to see
my qualities, and truly love
me despite my poor standing?

Heard Sleeping Beauty Tchaikovsky
Waltz

———-

Matt’s Notes

Papa’s fascination with the radio may seem quaint, but it fairly represents the excitement most radio listeners felt in 1924. Up until then, wireless broadcasting had been a tool for a military and a toy for amateur enthusiasts who were willing to build their own transceivers and spend their days and nights sending, receiving and praying for a signal. If Papa came to America in 1913, it would be eight more years before he’d see an all-in-one radio set in a shop window, and still another year before the radio business really took off.1

So, when he wrote this entry Papa was still discovering, along with broadcasters, advertisers and artists, what the medium could do. That’s not to say it wasn’t widespread — I just mean it had exploded before Papa’s eyes as a commercial and social force in the same way the Internet exploded before our eyes in the mid 1990’s. In describing how the radio distracts him, however incompletely, from his woes, Papa may have shown us an early prototype of the lonely guy who sits and home, channel- or Web-surfing while everyone else is out having fun.

Speaking of which, the song this “poor dog” listened to, “Rubenstein’s Romance,” was a classical piece by Anton Rubinstein properly called “Romance in B-flat, Op. 44, No.1.” A popular adaptation known as “If You Are But a Dream” became a Frank Sinatra hit, and though this didn’t happen until the 1940’s I think the lyrics sum up Papa’s feelings about Henreitte:

If you are but a dream, I hope I never waken,
It’s more than I could bear to find that I’m forsaken.

If you’re a fantasy, then I’m content to be
In love with lovely you,
And pray my dream comes true.

I long to kiss you but I would not dare,
I’m so afraid that you may vanish in the air,
So darling, if our romance should break up,
I hope I never wake up, if you are but a dream.

I long to kiss you but I would not dare,
I’m so afraid that you may vanish in the air,
So darling, if our romance should break up,
I hope I never wake up, if you are but a dream.

——————–

Additional Notes and References:

1 – This is very roughly condensed from information presented in Erik Barnouw’s A Tower in Babel: A History of Broadcasting in the United States to 1933.

————————

Music:

Monday Apr 14

by

Home attended to some
correspondence, listened
in on the radio. The opening of
the congress of Daughters
of the American Revolution,
Adresses by Pres. Coolidge
French ambassador Jusserand,
British Amb. Howard,
Gen. Pershing.

——————–

Matt’s Notes

When Papa sat down at 8:00 PM and tuned in to WEAF, he listened to President Coolidge urge the Daughters of the American Revolution to get out and vote in the next election. It seems like an offhand moment by today’s standards, but Papa found it novel enough, as he did with many radio broadcasts, to record it in his diary.

As with its February 6 coverage of President Wilson’s funeral, AT&T distributed Coolidge’s speech by telephone line to three of its East coast radio stations: WCAP in Washington, WJAR in Providence, R.I., and WEAF in New York. The previous day’s New York Times saw fit to devote a column to the complexities and expense involved — the “remote control” technology it described had only been commercially practical for a year, and even so “the actual work necessary to prepare long-distance telephone lines for use in connection with radio broadcasting sometimes requires as many as sixty-five engineers.”

(A related article also excitedly reported on how “Hertzian waves” helped farmers research prices in multiple markets and figure out where to sell their goods. Said one Ohio farmer: “It is not difficult to make a radio pay dividends when rightly handled, and scarcely a week passes without my outfit yielding me something of value.”)

Coolidge had only been on the radio a few times since he took the reigns after President Harding’s death in 1923, but his voice resonated particularly well and helped make him an early broadcast celebrity. Coolidge quickly caught on to the medium’s potential as a campaign tool and broadcast a number of speeches, including the one mentioned above, in the run-up to the 1924 Republican Convention.

Since the audience consisted of women descended from America’s founders, the speech was appropriately full of patriotic rhetoric and historical references. Its central theme, though, concerned a more recent historical development, the effects of which had not, it seems, entirely permeated American life: the 1920 ratification of the 19th Amendment, which granted women the right to vote in federal elections. As Coolidge noted:

We have not yet been able to frame a very definite judgment of the changes that will be wrought in our public life, or our private life, because of this remarkable development. It has come so suddenly upon the world, chiefly within this first quarter of the twentieth century, that we have not had time to appraise its full meaning.

And:

I suppose that even among the Daughters of the America Revolution there are some women who sincerely feel that it is unbecoming of their sex to take an active part in politics. It is a little difficult to comprehend how such an attitude could be maintained by any women eligible to such a society as this…

Nevertheless, there are such, and to them I want especially to direct an appeal for a different attitude toward the obligations of the voter…

What must Papa have thought of such a speech? It’s hard to imagine a group more removed from his world of Zionist fundraisers and immigrant support societies than the Daughters of the American Revolution, and it’s hard to imagine an issue more baffling to him than the need to convince well-established, entirely assimilated Americans to accept their enfranchisement (still a baffling problem today, of course). Perhaps the mere thrill of listening to the President through his headphones distracted Papa from contemplating such things.

Monday Apr 28

by


Matt’s Notes

home radio

Hurrah the Gypsy Orchestra
The most fascinating on he
air is here. The first number,
Gypsy Chardash 2) Tosca,
3. Shuberts Waltz op 64#2
4. Serenade by Drigo
5 Indian Love Lyrics

—————

Matt’s Notes

If you’re at all interested in the evolution of American media, Papa’s accounts of his radio listening are truly precious artifacts. They allow us to witness a moment of enormous transition in our culture, when the broadcast industry was barely two years old and, like a two-year-old child, was growing furiously, dashing about like mad on its newfound legs, and shouting its head off even though it didn’t quite know what to say. It’s amazing to think that just three years before Papa wrote this entry, “wireless” communication was known only to military personnel and the few crazed enthusiasts willing to build their own radio transceivers and spread the broadcast gospel (not that there was always much of a distinction in the early days, since many engineers who served in World War I were recruited from the ranks of these ur-nerds)1.

It looks like Papa was a bit of a technical enthusiast himself. Though all-in-one radios with cabinet configurations or Victrola-style horn speakers were commercially available in 1924, the photo below shows him listening to a much earlier radio set:

The headphones he’s using, along with the overall messy look of the radio, indicate that it was most likely hand-built:

It also looks like Papa’s early radio enthusiasm reflected the broader Jewish community’s attitudes of the day; radio listings appeared in the Daily Forward (the influential left-leaning Yiddish language newspaper) as early as 1923. Papa undoubtedly checked out these listings every day, and maybe even let out a little “hurrah” when he saw a mention of his beloved Gypsy String Orchestra, “the most fascinating on the air.” (It’s interesting to note that the expression “on the air” was in circulation even at this early point in broadcasting history.)

The phrase “Gypsy String Orchestra” refers generally to a type of music ensemble, but in this case probably refers specifically to a group of New York-area musicians known for their appearances at such venues as Cafe Royal, The Rainbow Restaurant, and the Parkway Restaurant.2 Few recordings of 1920’s radio exist so it’s unlikely that we’ll ever know exactly what Papa listened to, but the wonderful Internets do afford us a chance to hear some early recordings of the songs he mentions above.

Here’s a 1921 Edison Diamond Disc recording of “Indian Love Lyrics” from the Library of Congress:

And here’s a 1920’s-ish “Chardash” (a.k.a. “tsardas,” “czardas,” “tzardash,” etc.) from Archive.org:

For good measure, here’s a “Gypsy Love Song” from 1923:

According to our friend Jill, who knows about such things, a Tzardash is technically more of a Hungarian folk form than truly Romani (i.e. more Gypsy-like than Gypsy) and points out that “in parts of austria and the old austro-hungarian empire– and still today in vienna– there are hungarian musicians who travel around and play hungarian folk music in the street. but i could see how one could take them to be gypsies or conflate it with gypsy music.” Papa probably did exactly that, though I expect less because he was Austro-Hungarian than because it was common practice in the 20’s to label Hungarian music as “gypsy” — or at least is was for the Gypsy String Orchestra and the group that recorded the above Tzardash, Bibor Olga Ciganyzenekara or (Olga Bibor’s Gypsy Ensemble).

———–

Update 4/29 — Well, that was fortuitous. I just stuck the “Gypsy Love Song” clip on this post because it happened to be on Archive.org, not because Papa mentioned it specifically. But, my mother just wrote to say “I can remember, as a little girl, Papa singing the Gypsy Serenade to me. What lovely memories this evoked.” How about that.

————

References:

1 – I got this from Erik Barnouw’s A Tower in Babel: A History of Broadcasting in the United States to 1933.

2 – Most of the information about the Jewish relationship to early radio and the cultural scene of the 20’s comes from Ari K., an academic advisor to this site. If you want to know more, you can purchase a copy of his dissertation at the University Microfilms (UMI) site. The site is stunningly shitty, but the dissertation number is 1392538.

I can’t find Web streams of the other pieces Papa mentions above, though most appear to be available in modern recordings (alas, I find no references to Schubert’s Op. 64 #2). I’m playing the above-mentioned “Serenade,” a selection from Richard Drigo’s ballet Les Millions d’Arlequin, right now. Anyway, here are some sources: