One of My Ambitions

As a kid, my father took me to the radio studios sometimes. Hal Raynor, his radio name, was working for Joe Penner in those days, a radio comedian who started his show with, “Ya wanna buy a duck?” Corn was the best way to describe the comedy of the 1930s, really corny stuff, but often really funny, too.

One of the memories that frequents my archival mental library has to do with sitting on the soundman’s (a foley's?) bench with him as he did his gig for various shows. I wanted to grow up and be a soundman in radio. It was about 1936 to 1938 and I was about four or five years of age. It seemed to me the soundman had more toys than anyone in radio.

On his horseshoe-shaped desk he had an inventory of toys I can almost picture even eighty years later. There was a tray with gravel and several spoons for the sounds of walking and running in gravel. There was a hanging sheet of aluminum, for thunder. A small door that which squeaked one way and creaked when opening the other way, complete with several latches that clicked and clunked. There were coconut shells to make hoof sounds, walking and running, which he taught me how to do. On a small rack there hung a triangle and some bells of different timbres, from gongs to tinkles. He had a few little hammers and several boards that he used on cue. The most intriguing item was a small pistol with blanks. He also had a washboard, a few grades of paper, including sandpaper, that he could tear, fold, unfold, scrape together. He had three or four small turn tables with small records he could use for engine sounds, falling trees, breaking windows, etc. On his counter was a rack of small records that he had labeled for various sounds, from trains and cars to airplanes, from several kinds of engines to crashes. He had every sound imaginable and some he could make with his mouth or tapping fingers on various media. He had a tray with gravel in it and with a spoon or two, handle right, he made the sound of someone running or walking. There were two microphones he moved to where the most effective positions would pick up the sound called for in the program. Those are most of the items I recall.

He was especially nice to me, taking time to explain things, until the program started. Once the “On the Air” light came on, I had to sit, quietly, out of his way and watch him perform his craft. I wanted to grow up and be a soundman, a foley.

Alas, I never became a radio soundman. I didn’t become a lot of things, from cowboy to fireman to chimney sweep. Garrison Keillor had a soundman who was very talented and handy with whatever Garrison’s dramas required. I can’t remember his name, but every time I listened to his contributions to Prairie Home Companion, I recalled those childhood days of sitting on the soundman’s bench at CBS, and later, NBC.

Those radio days were wonderful. I could picture everything that was happening when absorbed in those radio dramas, Captain Midnight, The Lone Ranger, I Love a Mystery, The Shadow, The Whistler, and others, better by far than the television of today, where no imagination is needed. Television's constant images eclipse the need or the gift of imagination. I grew up with radio. I fell asleep most every night with the radio on.

On KSPC (88.7 FM) every Sunday afternoon at 2:00 PM, Randy Brian (his radio name) on his show, Foreward Into the Past, often plays the old shows, along with great old music of the 20s, 30s, and 40s. Listen in if you want some entertaining nostalgia.

Nostalgia can help assuage the dumps from our daily news, good medicine for sure. I’m grateful for such memories. I suppose any times we have survived can be thought of as “the good ole days.” The present has its rewards, of course, but memories certainly add flavor to life, whether the memories are good or bad. One definition of comedy is “tragedy plus time.” Even in times of catastrophes, wars, etc., we have humorists like Bill Mauldin's Upfront of WWII and Mash. How could anyone find anything to laugh at in war times? But, Americans can find humor in anything. I hope that continues. Do we ever need humor! If you ever want to hear a chicken cackle or a rooster crow, give me a call. I can do those on cue anytime. Thanks for the memories. ###