- By Marian Goe -
Family life at our house back in the 30s centered around the radio. First came the tabletop model that sat near the bay window in our living room. My sister and I would sit quietly by waiting our turn to hear Little Orphan Annie or Jack Armstrong. Mother"s special moment occurred earlier when she would stop all work to hear Ma Perkins and Stella Dallas. We knew when dad came home because he would listen to the ball game. An announcer by the name of "Dutch" Reagan was broadcasting games and sportscasts on WHO in Des Moines, and I"ve never forgotten the marvelous resonance of his voice.
You might say the radio controlled our very existence and kept us in a pleasurable daze most of the time.
My sister, who was the oldest, was allowed to turn on the power switch and scan the dial looking for the appropriate station. One day we sat patiently by, but no sound was forthcoming—total silence! The next day, Dad dropped the radio off at the repair shop and was told the old workhorse had seen its last days. As the days went by, it became obvious that this family was hooked on radio. Dad arranged for monthly payments to be made for the new Radiola to provide us with the best that money could buy. However, we would all have to make our own sacrifice to buy this marvel. There would be no more ten cent movies or ice cream cones. Mother"s plans for a refrigerator to replace her icebox went by the wayside. When this elegant piece of furniture was delivered, the neighbors were invited to view this for themselves.
To this day, I never pass an antique shop or collectible without thinking of the pride and joy that instrument brought us. I only hope that wherever this mighty machine ended up, it gave as much joy to someone else as it did to our family.