Now Hear This: Radio leaves more to imagination
It’s all about imagination. That’s why I love radio.
Yes, TV has imagination, but only up to the width of your screen. The degree of imagination is directly proportional to the amount of money you spend on your TV.
Radio forces the listener to create, like trying to put a face with the voices we hear, and shocked, when later we find out what they really look like.
I wonder what Delilah looks like? (What if I find out she’s a guy who’s day job is driving a concrete truck)? I listen to her many nights driving home from work.
For me radio has always been magic. My fascination with it began when I was 5 or 6 years old sitting in my grandfather’s lap listening to his radio (AM only). It was a fine piece of furniture, and occupied a special place in his living room. Twisting those big dials was a thrill ? when I could get my hands on them.
When I was 8 or 9, the afternoon ritual at 5 o’clock would find me in my room, with the door closed, listening to those radio drama shows of the early ’50s. “Sky King” (and Penny of course), “Sergeant Preston of the Yukon” (and King), “The Lone Ranger” (and Tonto), “The Shadow” (the Shadow knows ?), and “The Inner Sanctum” (squeaking door). Mother’s favorite was, “Queen for a Day.”
On Sunday evenings, the lineup included, “Amos and Andy,” (one of Trent Lott’s favorites) and “The Jack Benny Show” (with Rochester).
When I was in the third grade, Mrs. Powell made the class listen each day to Gabriel Heater deliver the news.
My early radio heroes were Bill Stern, Red Barber, Lindsey Nelson, Curt Gowdy and Mel Allen among others, who would describe with authority and clarity the movements of the greatest college and professional athletes of the day. Their voices gave birth to mental images that moved with grace one moment ? force and impact the next. It was all the drama a young boy could stand, and it was wonderful!
Then, one day I decided radio would be my life!
When I was a senior in high school (Quitman, Ga., just down the road from Valdosta), I talked Bill Hoops, who owned the radio station, into letting me do an audition. It was awful, but I guess he saw (heard) something he thought might one day turn into something.
I did it all at that 250-watt radio station (they don’t come any smaller). Our signal, on a sunny day, would reach almost to Valdosta, which was 15 miles away. I worked on the weekends, playing records (you’ll find them in the Smithsonian Institute in Washington), playing commercials from reel to reel tape machines (also on display at the Smithsonian) and reading the news.
In college (University of Georgia), I continued to work in radio, and there began my sportscasting career. My mentor was (and still is) the “Great” Larry Munson. I even worked with the late Harry Carey broadcasting the 1966 Cotton Bowl between Georgia and SMU.
I was listening to the radio as some of the most memorable moments in American history were reported. The assassination of President Kennedy, John Glenn’s orbit around the earth, and the death of Elvis.
I was also listening to the radio that summer night when I was 16, parked on a moonlit, south Georgia dirt road when one of the most memorable moments in my life occurred ? my first kiss!
See what I mean about IMAGINATION!
(Hopes Hines is a television sports reporter and Nashville personality.)