The Good Old Days…When People Smiled on the Radio

(This CR blog is inactive now, the 40th anniversary of the program’s debut long past. But now and then a thought occurs…)

My wife and I attended “the theater” the other night. The venue was literally a “storefront” theater, a modest performance space nestled among the Main Street stores of a small town in upstate New York. The play? Actually there were four of them, all recreations of old radio shows, with actors standing at microphones reading scripts, with sound effects, some live and some recorded, coming from a booth near-by.

Among the cast members were four youth, I’d guess from high school to college age. How strange the experience must have been for them. But for the gray-haired audience, the evening was reminiscent of the radio entertainment they had grown up with. The radio shows they recreated that night, all from original scripts, were “Fibber McGee and Molly,” “Palladin,” “Father Knows Best,” and the well-known “Who’s on First” routine of Abbott and Costello. Those four youngest cast members probably had never imagined that radio once told stories, provided family-oriented comedy, and, well, smiled.

But that storefront theater cast reminded me of the radio I grew up with. Yes, I am of that generation that knew life before TV. (But our family had the first TV set in the neighborhood, circa 1953.) Even when TV arrived in the Kellam home, there was only one local station, so the radio still carried comedies, drama, soaps, and variety shows into our living room each day. I won’t list my childhood favorites here. Nostalgia isn’t my aim as I write. There’s a more important point, which is coming soon…I promise.

In contrast to those light radio offerings on stage the other night, there is radio’s angry persona today. We were walking in the neighborhood recently and some workers had a radio blaring as they repaired a house. I heard the local talk show host ranting about something. I’ve heard the guy before as I’ve scanned the airwaves, and he fancies himself cut from the same cloth as Limbaugh and Savage. Except that he has no staff support and has to fill three hours chattering to himself and whoever has the patience to listen to him surf the internet (while on the air) for ideas to mutter about. Less important than content to him is his “personality.” He’s apparently supposed to sound “put out” by local and global events, angry with government (on any level), and generally ticked off.

We walked faster to escape the echo of that radio “personality” and, as his voice faded a block or so away, I recalled how radio used to be. A couple of generations ago, the goal of the local and national radio “hosts” (not deejays, for this was before radio became a juke box) was to lighten the burden of listeners, not to add to the load of bad news. While there were exceptions, of course, radio’s aim was to entertain with warmth, and, corny as it sounds now, a smile. (Before you smirk at that, think about why that’s such a bad thing: to sound friendly and, well, fun.)

Two of the national radio personalities I remember were Don McNeil and Arthur Godfrey. They weren’t musicians, they didn’t do news; they were just warm conversationalists. They paraded their vocalists and comic co-hosts in front of the mics each day, but their primary job was to keep listeners happy, or at least content. Godfrey did reveal his darker side on occasion, once firing a singer right on the air, but for the most part, he played his role well, that of a folksy neighbor you’d enjoy spending each morning with.

When I went into radio, I got this advice from the program director of a local station: no matter how you’re feeling when you turn on the microphone, smile as you talk, and the listener will hear the smile in your voice. Have a throbbing headache? The listener doesn’t need or want to know it. Keep smiling and keep the listener happy. The key was to keep things “up,” warm, and, God help us, carefree.

That script has been shredded. Those radio days are over. To be sure, the former radio hosts did just play a role for the most part. The best of them were actors whose job it was to cheerfully keep listeners entertained, comforted, amused, hopeful. But radio has a new cast of actors whose job is to keep listeners uncomfortable, riled up, worried, and fearful. Be grumpy, the script says. Say something outrageously enraging! Spread fear and loathing. Even if you come into the studio in a great mood, try frowning as you speak, so you’ll sound mean!

Squawk radio.

How strange it must have been for those youthful actors at the storefront theater the other night. They smiled at one another’s lines. Radio was fun once. Now it is downright dangerous.