I was born in the year 6
BT, that is to say, six years before television. In the evenings back when I
was a child our family sat around the radio and listened to spoken radio dramas
and comedy. My father sat and read the newspaper, my mother knitted pensively
in the corner and my brothers and sisters gathered around a large table and did
their homework.
Then TV burst upon the
scene and took control of people’s lives. It entered the home as a welcomed guest
and replaced every other form of evening entertainment. How could radio
compete? Here were visual images, voices with faces, sounds with pictures.
I went to school in the
morning and found myself surrounded by the din of excited voices.
“Wasn’t it great?”
“Oh so funny! When he came out dressed like a lady! Ha!”
I had no idea at first
what they were talking about. Ho was “he” and what was so funny? Piecing
together fragments of the conversation their comments soon brought forth a
picture of what I had been missing. Television! I was only seven at the time
and TV was the new rave of the time. It was technology taken to its highest
limit.
“Oh, you’ve gotta get
television,” I was ordered by Ben, my classmate who sort of dictated to
everyone what they should do. “You can’t live without it. Nobody can.”
I was in no position at
the age of seven to purchase a TV. The matter was beyond question. “Why don’t
you ask your father to buy one?”
I realized that this
lack of access to this new invention had isolated me from my classmates; I was
not “in” and my conversation was irrelevant among my peers. They spoke of Uncle
Miltie and other celebrities whose faces entered their homes on a regular
basis. I was at a loss to comment on what they had seen the night before and
could only remain the passive listener. The tension between myself
and my classmates became unbearable. I finally mustered up enough courage to
confront my father. One evening after dinner as my father sat in the living
room reading the evening paper, I approached him with nervous trepidation.
“Papa,” I asked, “Why
don’t you buy a TV?”
He looked at me sternly
and said, “What7s wrong with the radio?”
“Nothing. But, everyone has TV,” I suggested.
“But, we’re not
everybody.” After a pause, “Besides, it’s too expensive.”
Being the new technology
TV came with a heavy price tag. Outside of the price of a home and a car, TV
was one of the most expensive items for the new home.
Repeated petitions for a
TV fell upon deaf ears and I knew that following this path of petition was
leading me down a futile road of rejection.
I needed to follow a new
strategy. I convinced my sister, one year older than I, to go on a hunger
strike. Surely, this will be more effective, going from petitions to actual
protest. We decided not to eat breakfast, lunch or supper until our demand to
have a TV was met.
The morning came and
mother placed breakfast on the table; toast and, eggs and jam with hot
chocolate.
“No we protested “we are
not eating.” With a defiant gesture we pushed our breakfast away from the table
and sat while the other ate. Then in silence we left for school.
In the same way we
refused lunch and supper. Meals were placed in front of us only to be rejected.
Warnings about the starving children in
It was not long before
mother became alarmed. She lad no control over family finances and was the last
person to challenge my father’s domain and authority. His word was law. In
desperation she pleaded with us. “If you don’t eat you’ll die.”
To this we became quite
melodramatic. Our simple answer was, “It is better to die than to live without
television.”
In total despair and
maternal distress my mother approached my father one evening after supper. He
was sitting in his chair reading his paper. In a subservient voice she begged, “Please,
buy a TV for the children. If you don’t they will die.”
My father at first
ignored her plea and affirmed the benefits of radio over television saying it
was sufficient for entertainment.
“They don’t need a TV. The
radio is good enough. If we get a TV they will stop doing their homework.”
“But, they are not
eating. If they don’t have a TV, then the will not eat. And if they don’t eat
they will die.”
My father sensed the
alarm in her petition and his silence indicated that the plea was under
consideration.
***********************
A week later a truck
pulled up to our home and the driver delivered a large carton which weighed him
down as he dragged it to the door. It came on a Saturday morning when most of
the family was still at home. My father supervised the opening of the carton
and soon its contents were revealed – a brand new TV.
We gathered around the
machine in awe. Could it be? Could our prayers have been answered within the
span of a lifetime? What messenger from heaven had taken pity on us and
delivered a TV to our door?
There was no messenger
of such compassion. My father had harbored a very deep desire of his own to
have a TV so that he could watch the Wednesday evening wrestling shows!
The TV was taken from
its carton and placed in the living room between the two windows. By today’s
standards it was a curious piece of furniture. It stood five feet tall and was
as much a piece of furniture as it was a TV. On both sides of the screen were
massive speakers with hardly the power to produce much volume. Beneath the
screen were four rather large knobs. He one on the far left was for turning the
TV “on and off”; next to it was a knob for volume, “loud and soft”. Next to
that was the knob for picture clarity, “light-dark”, followed finally for the
knob for channel change. Unlike the dozens of channels which are now available
on an average set, the first TV only offered three channels with not much of a
choice to satisfy a modern viewer.
Beneath the TV was a
radio and phonograph with storage space for magazines and records. It was a
virtual, self-contained home entertainment center all packages into a massive
piece of furniture. By far the greatest curiosity of the TV was the size of the
screen. It measured less than ten inches across and seven inches high. The
reception was not very good and often blinked and blurred. So this was TV!
There was one final salient
feature of our first TV. It had doors which closed in front of the screen when
not in use. The doors had a lock and my father had the key. The TV was not ours
at all. It was his! He was the master of the new technology and possessed the
final say on its use.
One could not contain
the joy we felt at possessing this new invention. Our poor family which lived
on a tight budget and struggled to portion even the bare necessities of life
had finally made the crossover into the world of technology.
Now, I could go t school
and tell my classmates that I also had a TV. I could say to them that I also
watch Uncle Miltie and his clown like antics. I would no longer be excluded
from classroom conversations which created camaraderie among the students.
It was not long after we
had our own TV that my father had a family meeting concerning the use and abuse
of the new machines. It was a solemn occasion and we gathered in the living
room to hear what had been decided and the rules which had been formulated without
any recourse to a democratic vote.
We met in the living
room where the radio had been and where the TV now stood king.
“This is a very
expensive machine,” my father began. “If we want it to last a long time we must
take good care of it. It is for us to use and not to be used by it.”
We could not imagine why
the tone of his instruction was so serious. After all, it was only a television
and now everyone had one. From his general opening tone we could begin to
imagine what was to follow.
“I bought it so that we
can all enjoy it together but there are certain rules we need to follow
whenever we use the TV. First, there is no TV in the morning. Second, there is
no TV in the after
The litany of “nos” and “don’ts”
weighed heavily upon us back in those days but one hour of TV a day was better
than none at all, and with the passing of time the rules were relaxed. First,
we could watch up to two hours a night, then we could watch in the afternoons
and mornings. Viewings became more frequent until finally TV took total control
of the home and complete possession of our minds and hearts through a power of
its own.