My First Experience with Radio

By Harold Snyder

It was a hot Wednesday afternoon at the fair in 1923.   The county fair was a big event, especially for me, then 13 years old and my five younger brothers and sisters.   This fair had an added attraction.   A new invention was being shown.   It least it was new to the small farming communities from which most of the people at the fair had come. 

          “There will be a radio broadcast at 2:00 today.   You will be able to hear for yourselves this revolutionary new invention.”   The Salesman warmed to his subject.   “ Yes, right in you own homes you’ll be able to hear from distant cities.  On the isolated farms, you’ll hear music which the largest cities enjoy.”   The sultry heat did not melt his spirits, though he sweated profusely.   We stood and waited as the crowd grew.   Finally, it was time.  He confidently seated himself before the large box, adjusted the headphones, and began turning the five dials.  Finally he said,  “I can hear something, but it’s awfully weak.  You won’t be able to hear it.” 

          “Humph,” I said,  “just as I thought.”

Our family climbed into the Model T Ford and headed back for our farm near the village of Winn.  The next day my friend, Earl Scott, came over.  “ What did you think of the radio?” he asked seating himself of our porch.

“It’s a big joke,” I hoped that the finality in my voice would impress Earl.  

“No, it isn’t.   I was there last night and you could hear it all over the fair grounds,” he announced with an air of superiority.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I hear it myself,” I replied defensively,

 That was all we heard about it for a while until one day Sears Roebuck Catalogue pictured a one tube receiving set.   Father had especially been captivated with the idea of owning a radio.  It wasn’t too surprised when he came to with the question.  “Harold, how much money did you earn picking cucumbers the summer?”  

          “$25.00,” I answered proudly, and to silence any possible request for my hard earned income I added, “just enough for my bicycle.”

          Undaunted, father urged,   “Well, you know $27.50 will get us that radio.   That is something everyone could enjoy.”

          Making the decision was not easy.  The chances of my family getting a radio without my help were small. Father worked hard to meet the needs of our large family.  If I gave up my $25.00, I didn’t know when I would ever get my bike.

I finally weakened and we ordered the radio.   The neighbor men were helping us fill our silo the day the radio came in the mail.  They had brought their horses and wagons and planned to spend most of the day helping us.   It was an unwritten law that the silo filler‘s noon meal would be provided by the family that they were helping.

With the extra twelve men to cook for, our mother was very busy and tired when the meal was over.   After we had eaten, we all gathered around to look at the ten inch, wooden black box.  Each neighbor examined it curiously.  All that we could see were a bunch of coils and one tube.  There were two sets of headphones but no directions.   Finally someone said,  “Don’t the headphones hook on with those two screws?”   Using a pocketknife to turn the screws open, the hooks to headphones slipped into place.

We had to wait until evening when the silo was filled and our neighbors had all gone home to begin setting up the antenna for our radio.   Father and I decided to have the wire attached to the roof of the tool shed then lead in through an opening to the house and radio.

Dad climbed onto the roof of the tool shed and perched precariously on the edge while I tried to hand the wire up to him.   “What are you doing up there!” demanded my chubby mother as she hurried from the house,  “You are going to break your neck!”

My brothers and sisters were watching with anticipation and giving advice.   “Dad and Harold are getting the antenna up for our radio,” they informed mother.  “We’re going to listen to it tonight, my brother added enthusiastically.

While Dad was still trying to get the wire fastened to the right place on the roof, we heard a racket coming down the old dirt road.   “Grandpa is coming,” yelled Inez, the oldest sister.

Grandpa had been a traveling minister in Southern Michigan but had retired and was now living with us.  He had just taken his “new” car out for another drive and seemed to have fairly mastered driving it. 

The car turned noisily toward the drive with Grandpa looking uncertainly at our group.  Seeing Dad on the roof, the children below and mother worriedly ringing her hands, made Grandpa forget momentarily at our group.  The car rolled steadily toward the farm building, which we had converted, to a garage.   Grandpa, responding to the impulse gained from years of driving a wagon, yelled,  “Whoa, Whoa!” to the mechanical beast, and disappeared in to the garage.   A crashing noise echoed from the building accompanied by the clanging of the engine.  The front of the car emerged from a huge hole that it had newly created in the back wall.

The grandchildren all ran over to the garage followed by panting mother and father, who had managed to climb off the roof.

“Well, at least I got it to stop “ explained Grandpa as he switched off the ignition and alighted from the car to survey the damage.   Having decided that Grandpa was all right, the family headed to the house to try our radio.

We had to split the headphones.  One person held one and another held the other.   That way four people could hear at a time.   We wrapped towels around our heads to hold on our half of the headphone.   The signal was very weak.  Having brought an apple, I decided to munch while I listened.   “If you’re going to make all that noise I may as well give up,” dad informed me pointing to the offending apple.    We listened, turned dials, and listened again.   Finally, we heard a faint sound.   We heard KDKA Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.   About that same time, WWJ Detroit was operation also.   If everyone would sit very quietly, we could hear.

The Pittsburgh station was broadcasting a band concert.   The announcer announces the next number and we waited for about ten minutes without hearing anything.  “Maybe the radio quit” suggested my sister,   “Maybe the station is too weak for us to hear anymore,” younger brother Max postulated.

At last, they played the son.  The announcer immediately announced the next song, followed by another tem minute pause.  They gave the weather forecast then the announcer said,  “Let’s give it again.  Nobody heard it anyway.”

Eventually we added two more tubes in another box and wired the two boxes together.  Then we could hear it all over the house.

Though the one tube radio seems crude in comparison with men walking on the moon, our family was just as thrilled that night long ago when we first heard a faint voice on our radio as many children are with the great advancements the see on television today.

This story was told by Harold Snyder and written down by his daughter Linda.   Harold Snyder is retired.  While he was in the Army during World War II, he learned to repair radio’s.   When he returned home from the service he started a radio and T.V. repair business. When he retired at age 84 he was the oldest licensed electrician is the State Of Michigan.   Harold once said that his interest in electronics began with his first radio when he was just a kid.