Dumb and Ugly - Part 2, The Fifth Grade

Harry S. Truman won the Presidency in 1948, I don’t recall his election, but do remember all thereafter. My fifth grade teacher, Miss Gilbert, brought a radio to school in 1952 so we could hear an address by him. That was a big deal in those days. The class, filled with awe at the gravity of the event, sat in complete silence. It impressed me enough to remember, even yet, that he spoke about a steel strike and recent actions he had taken.
The country enjoyed a growing prosperity throughout the fifties. Industries ran at full capacity, business boomed. The only people without jobs were the ones not looking. I often heard phrases that suggested the nation looked boldly into the future, and was fearlessly marching in that direction. The General Electric Company frequently aired its motto, "Progress is Our Most Important Product”, and that statement, more than any, accurately expressed the mood of the era . The fifties offered endless opportunity, but didn't appear to hold much promise for me.

Miss Gilbert handed out copies of The Weekly Reader, a newspaper-like publication of current events. Each edition contained a half dozen articles, followed by four or five questions. Every student got a copy. I remember desperate searches through articles, looking for answers that didn't seem to be there. My classmates found them, busily penciling responses while I groped, mystified by their ability.

Math was no easier. School got more difficult with each passing year, but I made no progress. I had not failed any of the elementary years, my grades always managed to raise to a passing level; but they were nearly at that point of neutral bouncy and floated with just the top of the "D" showing. The way things were going I had no doubt my grades would eventually sink to any level I chose, and that most likely would be on bottom.

Grandmother Frank worked at the American Legion as a cook. I often walked the few blocks from Central to the Legion for lunch. I would eat in the kitchen with Grandma and hang around for the remainder of the period. One day she stepped from the kitchen to find me sitting in the hall close to the door. A look of surprise came over her face. It was mixed with sadness. "You heard what I just said." Her tone was such that I couldn’t tell whether she had made a statement or asked a question. I asked her what it was but she would not tell. After a while I didn’t persist - I knew. Some people may not know they are dumb but it is humiliating when you do. It grinds on you. My family didn’t taunt me with the fact, but we all knew. I don't remember anyone ever saying anything. They loved me, but everyone knew that little Joe was a bit slow. They thought I’d grow up to dig ditches or have some other menial job.
GO TO: Part 3: The IQ Test

Old-Time Radio, Part 2

With radio you could be blind as a bat and see everything clearly. It was like a kid playing with a box that a toy fire engine came in. I had a toy fire engine once. It was a windup red plastic one with an extension ladder. It was always a fire engine, but the box could be anything. That was the way radio was. You didn’t need a fire engine or a rocket; all you needed was your imagination. There was nothing to see. All you needed was the sounds coming out of the darkness; sounds that conjured mental images: door slamming shut, police sirens screaming, footsteps loudly clicking on sidewalks, or barely heard stalking a helpless victim, squealing tires, heavy breathing, church bells - everything was there. The era was called the Golden Age of Radio. There were some music shows, but I mainly remember the comedy and suspense shows.

I remember many different shows over that period of the late 1940s. It was probably the peak of the Golden Days. We listened to some of the shows regularly. I can still hear the “Creaking Door” open and shut, as it did at the beginning and end of each “Inner Sanctum” episode. I can still see the junk come flying when the closet door in the Fibber McGee and Molly show was eventually opened. Sometimes you waited till the end of the show, but you knew that Fibber McGee was going to eventually open it. I remember the booming voice of The Great Gildersleeve and his grand schemes. There was the quote at the beginning of The Shadow, “Who Knows What Evil Lurks in the Hearts of Men?”, then sinister laughter followed. The alter-ego of the Shadow, Lamont Cranston, would answer, “The Shadow Knows!”. Red Skeleton had a phalanx of characters, but the one I remember most was Klem Kadiddlehopper. The singing cab driver character was a good natured, slow-witted, country bumpkin that poked fun at city slickers, but he didn‘t seem to know he was doing it.

The Jack Benny Program with Rochester and Mary Livingston was one of my favorites. The perpetually 39 year old comedian played the part of a cheapskate that was vain and self-promoting. I can still hear Rochester’s scratchy voice.

There were many others: The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show, Marie Wilson of My Friend Erma, Eve Arden in Our Miss Brooks, Hattie McDaniel in The Beulah Show, Bob Hope as the Lemon-Drop Kid, Jack Armstrong the all-American Boy, Amos and Andy, Blondie and Dagwood, on and on…

We moved across town in 1950, and in 1952 Dad brought home a television set. All of our attention shifted in that direction after that. Many of the old radio shows moved on to television, but things were never quite the same. Radio shifted to a music format and to talk shows. It was never the same either. Garrison Kellor resurrected a facsimile in the 1980s that most resembled Old-Time Radio. I listen to A Prairie Home Companion when ever I can and I’m reminded of how it use to be.

Old-Time Radio, Part 1

I remember Old-Time Radio in a personal way. I can yet see images in the room cast in silvery silhouettes at evening twilight. Don, my older brother, and I were usually lying on the floor, sometimes on our backs looking up at a distant ceiling. Or we would be lying flat on our bellies with chins resting in cupped hands - looking at images that were not there.

We had hardwood flooring. Maybe we laid on those bare floors, maybe on throw rugs; I no longer remember. Mom and Dad laid transverse across the bed with their heads propped up on folded pillows. Sometimes Don or I might be up there next to them. That is the way I remember listening to radio in the 1940’s. In Mom and Dad’s bedroom, in the dark, on the floor.

We had several radios in the house. It was not because we were rich. Dad knew a lot about them. He picked up broken ones, pirated parts off others, and resurrected them. There was a big floor console in the living room. It had a phonograph player under the radio dials. You got to it by sliding flexible double doors, one on each side, back into the console.

The basement, a radio graveyard, was stoked with tubes and empty chassis. This was before transistors came into common use. Radios were, by necessity, big and heavy. The chassis that radio tubes were plugged into were made of steel, and radio tubes were large, ran hot, and sucked up electricity. You could quickly run a car battery down by turning the radio on while the engine was off. Don and I did just that when Dad went in a store one time and left us sitting in our 1947 Pontiac.

There were only a few books in the house. Paperbacks would not become ubiquitous for a couple of decades, and kid’s books were rarely found in most homes. Mom read The Bears of Blue River, a book about early settlement in Indiana, to us a couple times, and there were selections from Hurlbut’s Bible Stories. There was a stereoscope that we looked at once in a while. It had ten or twelve heavy cardboard photos, each a bit larger than a postcard. There were two images on each card. The images looked identical, but had been taken a few feet apart. You slipped the card into a metal frame of the stereoscope, and slid it back and forth on an arm to focus - presto, a 3-D image appeared. I don’t remember what the photos were about - maybe WWI scenes. Don and I looked at them a few times, but it was mostly for idle curiosity. We had a phonograph player and a few records. I don’t recall any music for sure. There was one by Elmo Tanner, a whistling song called Heartaches. I remember hearing it a lot, but maybe it was just on the radio. Radio was the major source of news and entertainment in those days. President Roosevelt comforted America with his "FireSide Chats" during the Depression and the War, and we gathered around it at night - the focus of our entertainment.

GO TO: Part 2