My Sony Radio

Monday, April 11, 2022

Like Marcel Proust commenting on the cookie that brought up memories, the Sony transistor radio serves the same role in my life.  It was probably the first real serious object that I owned.   I haven’t the foggiest idea what the radio initially cost, but it was a magical entrance to another world.  As I was going through my storage boxes, I ran across the radio, and I couldn’t believe I still had it.   The first time I seriously listened to music was on this handheld machine.  The sound or the reception was never perfect, but it somehow added a sense of magic to the process.   You hear what you heard when you see musicians play live, then there is music in a recording studio, and then, of course, on the turntable, where we had one colossal speaker - mono only in the mid-1960s.  But the transistor radio had its tinny sound, and of course, it would be annoying to listen to music that way.  But alas, my earliest impression of contemporary music that I liked was on the transistor radio.  Also, it was the first medium or tool for me to use that separated me from my parent’s taste.  Otherwise, I would get my music from my parent’s record collection and turntable.  My radio allowed me to wander into another world, where only I could decide what to hear and when to listen to it.

The two radio stations that were important to me were KHJ and KRLA.  The latter was more important because it appeared to be more Beatle related than KHJ.  That was likely to be an illusion on my part, but also, the radio station had a newspaper called KRLA Beat, which was sort of like Rolling Stone for the teenage mind.  In this publication, I first started reading about music, or rock an’ roll stars, as they were happening at that time.   KHJ was more personable due to its DJ, specifically the Real Don Steele.

When I was close to 11 or 12, I went camping on the beach, a real horror show for me.  I can never understand the allure of nature for people. It is like they prefer dirt to a nice clean lighted place.  The point time when the hot afternoon turns into a bitterly cold evening is disgusting to me.  I remember spending most of the time in the tent, we brought with us.  The temperature was so hot, but I still didn’t want to be outside. So I put up with the heat to read the comic books that I brought with me to fight off the boredom of sand, blue sky, and ocean.  The transistor radio gave me a sense of relief because I used it as an object to block out the noise on the beach.  But what was beautiful to me was playing the radio at night, and I often would go off by myself near the ocean to sit on the cold sand.  I put the radio by my ear, and it was like getting messages from another world.  I couldn’t imagine life without that radio.

Also, the use of my imagination kept me alert during our beach holidays.  I imagine myself as Boy, the son of Tarzan.  Often I would imagine that my dad was the King of the Jungle instead of Johnny Weissmuller.  I would have these elaborate narratives running through my head that I saved my dad and Jane (actually my mom) from some horrible circumstances that went beyond their control.   Those fantasies came with the soundtrack on the radio, and I remember listening to  “The Shadow” program while on the beach.  Hearing a show like that was very mysterious and a tad scary -especially in the nighttime on the beach.

Ironically I played “Boy” to Taylor Mead’s Tarzan in an Andy Warhol film, but that’s another narrative.  Nevertheless, I am always thankful for Sony for bringing the magic of another world to me.