I’ve always been a fan of music. When I was a kid, long long ago, music was listened to on the radio, on a phonograph, or live. I think it was 1959 or so that I got my first transistor radio. It was about the size of a pack of cigarettes but much heavier. Mine had a brown leather case and could pick up AM radio stations and it also had a band for shortwave stations which was mostly useless except at night. But I could take it almost anywhere and listen to a myriad of songs, programs or shortwave broadcasts.
On AM I would tune to KBCH “The voice of the Twenty Miracle Miles” (my friends and I spent some time trying to figure out what was just one miracle mile, let alone twenty). As I listened, if I was lucky, they would actually play a song or two that was popular with teens. Why did I listen to all the schmaltzy Perry Como and Doris Day songs mixed in with commercials for Jones Colonial Bakery, Kenny’s IGA or the Rexall Drugstore? Because it was the only station I could receive! OK, if I pulled the antenna out to the full 14 inches and held the radio just right, I could get Newport’s KNPT which wasn’t any better program-wise.
At home my radio picked up stations in Portland that played music a teenager wanted to hear. Stations like KISN and KGON and even KEX knew teenagers liked a certain kind of music and played songs by artists such as Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley, Ricky Nelson, The Teddy Bears, Etta James, The Del Vikings or Connie Stevens to name a few.
The home radio was a Halicrafters S-38C with four bands to choose from. White paint along side of the dial marked where my brother liked to listen. We would listen to the fishing boats, tugboats and Coast Guard on the shortwave bands. When Dad went back to sea we would listen for his tug as it went by Taft. “WC3839 the tug Daring calling the charter boat “Jimco” are you on Freddy? I’m just off of Cape Foul Weather and if you come along side I’ve got an item for my wife.”
I remember Freddy Robison retelling that story and how the passengers on his “Jimco” were thrilled to come along side a 130 foot tug with spray soaking everyone as the 50 foot “Jimco” got close enough to pass the items from tug to charter boat. Then the two skippers raced to the respective helms and the 3,000 horse power tug raced the swifter charter boat for a few drenching minutes of fun!
So I drifted into shortwave listening and found a fascinating array of stations from the BBC to Asian broadcasts. But the ones that really grabbed me were the 75 meter rag chewing hams. Their broadcasts came booming in with powerful AM signals as they yakked back and forth drinking copious cups of coffee (so they said) and discussing everything from the best radio to some thing new to their ham shack or the fact that they really needed to mow the lawn but the radio was more fun.
To me, they were just having a great conversation with friends just like people I saw at the local cafe … but across the table of ham’s coffee cups was miles and miles of air. Of course, they couldn’t see their round table friends but that didn’t bother anyone.
I guess we were brought up in a more aural society than the children of today. As those hams talked I could “see” the radio gear with glowing dials and tubes and a big chrome microphone on the desk. It was amateur radio and it sounded good, but if wasn’t the polished sound of commercial radio stations it was amateur radio. I could “see” the ham with his cup of coffee in front of the microphone just like when I listened to “The Whistler” I could “see” a shadowy figure in the fog and gloom tracking the bad guy.
One on the hams who was a regular on the net had a stutter and I was amazed that he was treated no differently by the group. That was not how my friend Larry was treated by his teenage peers. So subconsciously hams grew in my mind as accepting and cordial people. I’ve since learned that although we hobbyists are generally understanding and empathetic people, we are a slice of society and have the good, the bad and the ugly within the ranks of our hobby. Although to be honest, it is seldom that I have heard a ham criticize another ham’s operating skills. More often I have heard them try to help a ham improve their skills.