Why, Mr. Marconi,
this is baloney—
you can’t keep this thing to yourself.
You really must share it—
one day folks will wear it,
on wrists, in their pockets,
or just displayed on a shelf.
At 1:45 pm, a message was received...warning of large icebergs in Titanic's path. However, Titanic's wireless radio operators, Jack Phillips and Harold Bride, were too busy to relay what they considered "non-essential" ice messages to the bridge. They were employed by Marconi Wireless Company...to relay paid messages to and from the passengers.
Marian's prompt today at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads is for us to discuss “Radio has changed our lives and practically saved our lives.” (Rob Zombie)
Although I didn't listen to the entire video clip Marian provided, I can certainly relate to the statement.
I grew up in a small city in the mountains of British Columbia. Television didn't reach us until 1957, although we had seen some of it when we visited our grandparents in the Vancouver suburbs.
Therefore, radio was a large part of our indoor entertainment, along with the encyclopedia and a big orange book called "Who's Who in the Zoo"!
The family radio, occupying one corner of the kitchen countertop, was almost always left on in the 1950s. We were sometimes allowed to stay up late to listen to "the fights" with Dad, when Rocky Marciano was boxing.
Some of my friends, with the help of their parents, made "crystal sets" which were small radio receivers. I thought they looked like fun, but radio fun at our house really started when I got a transistor radio for Christmas, 1960.
Dad made an antenna for my little radio, going out my bedroom window and up to the roof. Late at night we'd try to get "far away" stations on it. Our biggest triumph was a radio station in Sacramento, California, which advertised Shakey's Pizza Parlor. I had never heard of pizza, and my father had only the vaguest notion of it. "I think it's a tomato and cheese pie," he said.