radio

Friday May 2

by


Home & Radio

To be alone in the house
to sleep alone in my rooms
is a trying experience.

When evening comes
along I feel more then
ever the emptiness of my
life. I hear the dance
music on the radio, I would
so gladly dance to the sweet
tunes but whom with?

I would talk my heart out
to someone now but whom to?

—————-

Matt’s Notes

When I read passages like this, written when Papa was in his lowest, loneliest moods, I feel like it’s best to leave him alone and let him listen to his tunes meant for two.

What else can I add to such beautiful, sad sentiments, other than to say

Papa, this is you:

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My mother adds:

I’m sure you’d be interested to know that the photo was taken at Flamenbaum’s resort Kerhonkson, N.Y. My memory was jogged by the car in the background. I believe my mother and I stayed up there for the week and Papa came on weekends. One time I was so happy to see him that I didn’t even notice that he had shaved off his moustache.

Audio source:

That Naughty Waltz (1920) from archive.org

Wednesday June 11

by


[no entry]

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Papa went several days without writing last week due to a deep depression over his father’s death, and even though he’s emerged from it over the last few days I can only assume today’s blank page means it’s not over yet.

Meanwhile, the world still turned. Some articles in the New York Times that might have helped Papa pass the time on this day included:

LOEB AND LEOPOLD WILL PLEAD TODAY – Papa would have been ashamed of the killers’ Jewish backgrounds, but he presumably found the trial as intriguing as everyone else in the country.

HUMANE TO IMMIGRANTS – Certain immigrants, hung up by quota laws that had changed while they were on their way to Ellis Island, were finally allowed to enter the country. Papa no doubt watched the quota laws closely since he dreamed of bringing his family here.

NATION HEARS BY RADIO. – Fifteen Stations Broadcast Convention to 25,000,000 Listeners. – “Fifteen of the country’s most powerful radiophone stations” broadcast the opening of the Republican National Convention, a radio first. (Papa would have been especially interested in this since he was an avid radio listener.) As was typical in those early days of commercial radio, other stations in the New York area went dark temporarily so that WEAF and WJZ could operate without interference (in the 492 and 455 meter bands, respectively). The American Telephone and Telegraph Company delivered the broadcast to its national affiliates by phone line, a still-novel way of doing things. AT&T would continue to use its established infrastructure in this way to become a strong player in the broadcasting business.

RULES FIGHT LOOMS AT CONVENTION HERE; Strategists See McAdoo Victory Under Unit Rule With Two-Thirds Rule Voided. – An ominous harbinger of the upcoming battles that would plague the 1924 Democratic National Convention in New York. With Republicans solidly behind incumbent President Coolidge, the potential clash between Wilson Cabinet luminary William McAdoo and New York Governor Al Smith was one of the national political scene’s more intriguing storylines.

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Meanwhile, if you’re just getting started with Papa’s diary, here are a few good subjects to check out:

Wednesday June 18

by

Nothing important

I am listening in to
sad melodies on the radio
no other music will appeal
to me during my mourning

These classic melodies by
great masters are matched
to my thoughts, something
like lost paradise, the
loss of my father, and my other
many disappointments, –

I am not yet old, and oh God
what I have been trough. (sic)

Vanished dreams, etc.
Does the future hold a little happiness
in store for me?

—————–

Matt’s Notes

I don’t know if the words “lost paradise” are a direct reference to “Paradise Lost,” but I think it’s appropriate here. Despite all he has been through to this point, including his emigration from Eastern Europe at 18 and the struggles he went through to establish a life in New York, Papa sustained himself in part by believing he would one day return to “Paradise” — that is, he would reunite with his family and recapture some of the carefree sense of belonging he once enjoyed. The death of his father put an end to that illusion.

Still, when he asks if the future holds a little happiness for him, I can answer with this picture of his own “Heaven on Earth,” or Paradise found:

And Papa, this is you:

My own version of Paradise lost.

Tuesday June 24

by


11:30

I am now listening to the
proceedings of the opening of
the democratic convention

I love to listen in to Robert
McN Graham McNamee
Official announcer of W.E.A.F.
He certainly has a beautiful
way of presenting a picture of
everything in the most vivid
language, Before the Convention
opens at 12 now a fine band plays

2pm.

Whether I approve of the Democratic
platform or not their proceeding brings
forward my tears, a mighty party
of a mighty liberal country in convention
to chose a nominee for the Presidency.

——————-

Matt’s Notes

More than any other entry Papa has written about radio programming, this one puts us right in the middle of a hugely important moment in American popular culture. Though some early radio experimenters had taken stabs at live Presidential election coverage (most significantly in 1920, when the Detroit News shared updates from its news desk about the Harding-Cox election through its “radiophone” station, 8MK) live political convention coverage — in fact, any detailed, live look at the American political process — was entirely novel in 1924.

When Papa heard the opening remarks of the convention on WEAF, he was on the receiving end of American Telephone and Telegraph’s most ambitious national radio broadcasting effort to date. AT&T had previously managed large-scale broadcasts by linking its many radio stations by telephone wire (and renting its wires to other stations that wanted to receive and rebroadcast their programming) but the Republican and Democratic conventions “provided sensational stimulus at precisely the time the broadcasters were technically ready for the challenge.”1

According to the New York Times, “twenty radio stations extending from Boston to Kansas City and from Buffalo to Atlanta” broadcast the Democratic convention. Eighteen of these were AT&T’s, while their corporate rivals, RCA and General Electric, connected a couple of other stations through Western Union telegraph lines to carry broadcasts from WJZ, New York’s other station on hand for the convention. Public address systems played radio broadcasts for crowds in various New York parks and squares, and radio set retailers set up their own loudspeakers to draw crowds to their stores. It was, as an advertisement proclaimed in the Democratic Convention Official Program, “indeed a radio summer!”

Papa’s enthusiasm for Graham McNamee also shows him catching the beginning of a cultural wave. McNamee had made a name for himself as a sports broadcaster over the previous year, becoming one of the first practitioners of what would later be known as color commentary. His career continued to grow with the popularity of radio, and before his untimely death in 1942 at 53 he had secured himself a reputation as one of the great voices of radio. He would cover many political conventions during his career, though the 1924 Democratic Conventions may have been his most challenging; as we’ll soon see, the Convention would go on to be the longest and perhaps most contentious in history, and McNamee’s performance bordered on the heroic.

When Papa says “whether I approve of the Democratic platform,” he’s most likely referring to the divisive debate about whether the platform should include language explicitly condemning the Ku Klux Klan (America’s relationship to the League of Nations, prohibition law and immigration law were also important issues of the day, but none were as publicly contentious). The Democratic front runner William McAdoo (it looks like Papa started to write “McAdoo” instead of “McNamee” in the second paragraph of this entry) received support from the Klan and declined to condemn them, while New York Governor Al Smith, the other leading contender, rigorously supported anti-Klan platform language. (The Klan’s influential role in national politics was prominent enough to earn the Grand Wizard, Dr. Hiram Wesley Evans, a Time Magazine cover photo on July 23, 1924.)

As in many other matters, though, Papa’s idealism and romanticism helped him overcome his apprehension. This entry may be filled with interesting historical and political tidbits, but nothing about it is more compelling to me than to read how Papa shed tears of admiration for his adopted country’s political process. Would he still do the same today?

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Update 7/1/07

I just came across an article in the New York Times archive entitled
“Radio Taxi for Delagates; Cab Keeps Tabs on Balloting During Trips to the Waldorf.” It describes the curious and unexpected phenomenon of a car equipped with a radio:

Delegates rushing back and forth between the Garden and the Waldorf-Astoria need no longer fear when stepping into Frank Bagan’s taxicab of being out of touch with the balloting.

Bagan…turned up at the Waldorf yesterday afternoon…with a radio outfit installed in his taxicab.

He and whatever passenger he is carrying are each equipped with ear phones, and the aerial standing about two feed above the roof of the cab is the only grotesque feature to distinguish the cab from hundreds of others.”

Bagan did not charge extra for the “radio service.” Looks like the trend caught on, too. Here’s a photo of a radio-equipped campaign car from 1924, via the Library of Congress:

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References

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

Friday July 4

by


Spending these days
at home doing nothing
but reading listening to the
radio.

This greatest of American
holidays the birthday of the
U.S. Independence I celebrated
quietly within the confines of
my home.

—————-

Matt’s Notes

I suppose someone unfamiliar with Papa’s diary might find Papa’s description of his solitary Independence Day to be mildly sad, but I expect he was more than just a little blue. Holidays and milestones usually made him feel particularly lonely, and a day like this, when it seemed like the whole country was having a party to which he wasn’t invited, couldn’t have made him feel any less alien (he was not yet a citizen) and adrift (the recent death of his father in the old country had left him without any true image of “home” to cling to).

While the above interpretations of Papa’s feelings are speculative, I’m more confident that the sounds of the Democratic Convention on his radio didn’t do much to cut through his gloom. Papa’s beloved party remained locked in limbo, still unable to settle on a Presidential candidate after seventy ballots. The New York Times increasingly cast the struggle in warlike terms; guest columnist Will Rogers compared the delegates to veterans of the Great War while accounts of near-riots and attendees collapsing to the floor made other headlines.

Yet the leading candidates, Smith and McAdoo, still soldiered on even though neither had a chance at the nomination. It was 12:18 AM when the convention finally adjourned and allowed Papa to switch off his radio and go to bed. I suppose the day’s demonstration of democracy at its sloppiest must have made for a strange and sour Fourth of July. Still, Papa would live to see his adopted country recover and accomplish many impressive things, which is some small comfort on July 4th, 2007, when our President has just set a new standard for grotesque tolerance of criminal behavior in his administration. Maybe we’ll get the taste out of our mouths one of these days.

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References from the New York Times:

Tuesday July 8

by


After listening till 4 am
to the dem. convention at the
Garden, there is still no choice
of a candidate.

There is a new and powerful
radio station W.N.Y.C.
run by this city. I expect
to derive the most benefit from
it as I am an ardent radio
listener. The first nights
program was an indication
that they will give good programs
in the future!

—————

Matt’s Notes

Papa felt compelled to listen to the Democratic Convention broadcast until 4 AM because the voting deadlock that had crippled the nominating process (and kept the convention in Madison Square Garden for a week longer than originally intended) had finally broken. William McAdoo, who seemed a stone’s throw from the nomination just a couple of weeks earlier, had finally faced the impossibility of his candidacy and released his delegates, as had all other candidates including New York Governor Al Smith.

The nomination, of course, was not going to be more than a door prize at this point. The 1924 Presidential conventions were the first ever to be broadcast on the radio and accordingly received unprecedented scrutiny. The Democrats’ public, drawn-out conflicts over how to treat the Klan and the League of Nations in their platform, as well as their comically protracted balloting, had pretty much sealed their party’s defeat in the upcoming general election.

For those of you just joining us, we should note again that commercial radio was just finding its footing in 1924, and the novelty of the Democratic convention’s broadcast had New Yorkers enthralled. They clustered in public parks to listen to the action on public address systems, crowded the entrances of radio stores, and, if they were early adopters like Papa, stayed up until all hours with their headphones on. I suppose many people, including Papa (pictured below with his radio) must have spent the week of the Democratic convention, especially during its final days, in a hyper-attenuated, sleep-deprived state.

Yet even as New Yorkers wondered how the action at the convention was going to play out, they must have also wondered, in some way, at the strange cultural phenomenon unfolding in their city. New York may have been familiar with hosting large events, but until now there was no such thing as a broadcast “media event” of such scale and profile. Buildings were lined with bunting, the streets were full of parades and local businesses played host to packs of seersuckered delegates from all over. But now, in addition to what they could see, New Yorkers had the odd, new ability to witness the raw goings-on inside the Garden. There simply had never been anything like it. The ubiquity must have been disorienting, maybe even thrilling. How did it feel? Like a child tasting ice cream for the first time? A blind person suddenly seeing a rainbow? (Or, more appropriately, someone discovering e-mail in the early 90’s?) What was it, exactly, they were a part of? How were they supposed to regard it?

But, let’s get back to the night of the 8th: At some point around 9:00, well before he realized he’d be up until the wee hours with the convention broadcast on WEAF, Papa tuned his radio to the 526-meter wave and caught the first sounds of WNYC. Today, New Yorkers of a certain demographic know WNYC as their city’s public radio station and take its existence for granted, but back in the 20’s municipally-financed radio was a strange innovation; it would not have arrived in New York but for the political savvy and tenacity of Grover A. Whalen, the city’s Commissioner for Plant and Structures.

The New York Times‘ coverage of the opening ceremonies quoted Mayor Hylan’s descriptions of the station’s rather broad goals:

To insure uninterrupted programs of recreational entertainment for all the people is one of the compelling reasons for the installation of the Municipal Radio Broadcasting Station. To assist the Police Department in the work of crime prevention and detection; the Fire Department in the expeditious employment of its land and marine equipment in fighting fires; and the Health Department in safeguarding the physical well-being of New York’s gigantic population are also some of the conspicuous services to be rendered by this municipal plant.
…

Municipal information, formerly available only after patient perusal of reports, is not to be brought into one’s home in an interesting, delightful and attractive form. Facts, civic, social, commercial and industrial, will be marshaled and presented by those with their subjects well in hand. Talks on timely topics will also be broadcasted. Programs sufficiently diversified to meed all tastes, with musical concerts, both vocal in instrumental, featured at all times, should make ‘tuning in’ on the Municipal Radio pleasant as well as profitable.

According to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, the night’s programming that so excited Papa included these highlights:

Clergymen of three different faiths pronounced invocations. Mons. Charles A. Cassidy, the Rev. Dr. Charles H. Nauman and Rabbi Bernard Drachman offered prayers. The program included several musical numbers in addition to addresses by many city officials. Vincent Lopez was there with his orchestra. The Six Brown Brothers saxophoned several selections. Miss Estelle Carey, who is widely known from her connection with the Mark Strand Theater in this boro, rendered a vocal solo. Several other features, including the Police Band and the Police Quartet, made the initial program pleasant to the musical ear.


Note that Papa almost never used exclamation marks in his diary, so I think the last line of this entry — “The first nights program was an indication that they will give good programs in the future!” — shows his excitement not only for the programming, but for the development of the radio medium in general. As I’ve mentioned before, Papa’s love of radio made him something of a proto-media geek — he likely built his radio set from a kit before commercial sets were commonly available, he listened obsessively (and, in his lonelier moments, wistfully characterized the radio as his “only companion”) and he recorded with boyish excitement the music, speeches, and sporting events he heard.

Alas, few recordings of 1924 radio exist (though WNYC has a simulation of their opening night’s programming on their 80th Anniversary retrospective Web site) though a few are still around. Earlier in the year, I paid a lunchtime visit to the Museum of Television and Radio and listened to a clip of Al Smith’s campaign manager, young Franklin Delano Roosevelt, announcing the release of Smith’s delegates to the roaring approval of the Democratic Convention crowd. I must admit I wasn’t prepared for how solemn I’d feel when I realized I was listening to the very sounds Papa must have heard himself. I sat there and stared for a while at my carrel’s desk. Some guy behind me chuckled aloud at the old sitcoms he was watching, and I felt offended somehow, as if he should have known how close I had just come to Papa.

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Thanks to Andy and Jennifer at WNYC for their help with this post.

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References from The New York Times:

Other references:

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Image Source: “One of the delegates to the convention who comes from Texas.” Library of Congress #LC-USZ62-132243. Image rights not evaluated, according to the LOC.