On December 25th, 1964, I opened a Christmas
present from my parents, a gift they were hoping would somehow appeal to their
grade-school-aged son’s affinity for writing, electronics, and communication.
What I received that day was a portable radio about the size
of a shoe box--American-made (what a concept!) and transistorized, no less. While equipped with a carrying handle, AC
adapter, AM and FM bands, a large speaker, a lighted dial, and a telescoping
antenna, one feature immediately captured my imagination and hasn’t let go of
it since: it could receive shortwave radio broadcasts.
With that humble beginning, my lifelong fascination with international
radio had begun.
The mid/late 1960s was one the most turbulent eras in
American history. To say that the tapestry
of American life was being torn further apart with each passing day would not
be an exercise in exaggeration. We were
still reeling from John F. Kennedy’s assassination in 1963; little could anyone
have predicted that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy
would meet similar fates in the coming years.
The Vietnam War was polarizing the nation into hostile and
irreconcilable camps: hawks and doves; police and protestors; conservatives and
liberals; old school and new school; patriots and draft dodgers; students and
draft boards; politicians and average Americans; the military establishment and
pacifists. Each faction trumpeted its
“perfect” solution to the unsolvable: letting South Vietnam deal with its own
problems; more soldiers and more bombs; immediate withdrawal; pacification; more
effective weaponry; a negotiated peace; nuking North Vietnam ”back to the
Stone Age.”
The air waves of the time were crackling with anti-war songs
from iconic folk singers and rock-and-rollers alike. Even the beloved Glen Campbell got into the
act with his hit song “Galveston”—whose lyrics included “I am so afraid of dying,” and “While
I watch the cannons flashing/I clean my gun/and dream of Galveston.” At the opposite end of the musical spectrum,
Sergeant Barry Sadler proudly sang of the bravery and patriotism of “The Green Berets.”
(Sidebar for those who are interested: Glen Campbell is
currently suffering through the final agonizing stages of Alzheimer’s Disease. He reportedly can no longer play his beloved guitar; neither can he
communicate in any meaningful fashion. The
day he leaves us will be a very sad day in my life.)
It was amidst this international turmoil that I began my
shortwave radio foray. I quickly
discovered that battle lines had been drawn along the air waves. Each day’s listening found mega-broadcasters
such as Radio Moscow, Radio Peking (as it was known back then), and Radio
Havana Cuba on one side—and the Voice of America, the Armed Forces Radio and
Television Service, Radio Canada, and the BBC on the other duking it out for
the hearts and minds (and support) of millions of worldwide listeners. One concept I instantly learned was the
extreme “spin” employed by both camps. Objectivity? Forget it.
The same news stories routinely assumed radically different meanings depending
upon the station. This served as my
real-world introduction to Propaganda 101
and spin control.
I recall a Radio Peking newscast which was prefaced with: “My God, Dean Rusk must’ve made another
appeal for peace.” What followed was
a detailed recounting—accompanied by somber, funereal music--of a Hanoi bombing
raid that allegedly destroyed private homes, hospitals, and orphanages. That same raid—as reported by the VOA--reported
the successful destruction of weapons caches, military command posts, and guerilla
safe houses.
Who was right? I don’t
know; I wasn’t there. But the truth was
likely somewhere in between.
Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, Secretary of State
Dean Rusk, and then-President Lyndon Johnson were the favorite targets of those
newscasts and were pilloried daily … and mercilessly. Imagine if social media had been around then.
(shudder!)
Okay, enough of the political background. This blog isn’t meant to be a forum for
ideological or political debate.
But shortwave wasn’t all propaganda during those war years. Moscow and Peking did occasionally present
culturally-oriented programs showcasing their finest artistic talents. And I vividly remember an evening’s enjoyment
of sensuous Latin rhythms during a broadcast entitled “Cuban Music of Yesterday and Today.”
Some stations avoided the war news as much as possible. Radio
Netherlands Worldwide focused rather on Dutch culture, upbeat music, cheerful program hosts,
and informational dialogues with its global audience. I recall one of its most popular shows was called "The Happy Station." Ecuador’s HCJB
("The Voice of the Andes") and Trans World Radio
beamed a steady stream of soothing religious programming from their
transmitters in the southern hemisphere.
As my appetite increased for more distant and exotic
stations from around the globe, I gradually acquired higher quality and more expensive
radios to feed my shortwave jones. While
I drooled over the top-of-the-line receivers from Hammarlund and the R. L.
Drake Company, they were well beyond a teenager’s financial resources. But I must admit I didn’t fare too badly with
an Ameco R5 made in North Carolina (Electronics made in America? Those were the days!), and a Knight Kit Star
Roamer from that center of the electronics universe, Allied Radio Electronics. Both are pictured
below:
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| Ameco R5 - my primary receiver |
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(Photo courtesy of Universal Radio, Inc.)
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| Knight Kit Star Roamer |
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So what exactly was shortwave radio listening (otherwise
known as SWLing or DXing)?
Many stations were either supported,
subsidized, operated, or owned outright by their governments.
Broadcast operations were very costly, and the politicians wanted proof
that their programming was being heard. Maximum
bang-for-the-broadcast-buck, as it
were. After all, listeners were the raison d’être for the station’s
existence.
Was anybody listening?
When I encountered an interesting station from amidst the
atmospheric noise, static, and interference of other stations shoehorned into a
very small range of frequencies, I would keep the “fix” going as long as
possible, continuously adjusting my radio’s controls to improve the
reception. I would take perhaps 30
minutes of program notes including announcer names, music, news, commercials,
features, etc. This was needed to
convince the station that I had actually heard them. Finally, I would rate the broadcast signal’s strength,
consistency, intelligibility, and clarity.
This information was then snail-mailed to the station.
If my reception report was validated, a “verification of
reception card” (or, as the early telegraphers’ brevity-oriented code dubbed
it, a QSL card) would arrive via
return mail. This was legitimate proof (and
a badge of honor) within the SWL fraternity that I had indeed heard that
station. QSL cards were as varied as the
stations themselves; no two were alike.
Below is what remains today of my former collection:
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| Armed Forces Radio and Television Service |
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| British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) |
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| Canadian Broadcasting Corporation |
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| Radio Moscow |
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| Radio Finland |
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| Trans World Radio |
If you were really lucky (or if your report was
especially valuable to the station), they might also gift you with a memento or souvenir. These station pennants are some examples:
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| Radio Deutsche Welle (West Germany) |
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| Radio Bucharest (Romania) |
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| Radio Nacional de Espana (Spain) |
My most noteworthy gift was from Radio Peking: a copy of Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung, the
infamous “little red book”. While I neither
embrace nor endorse Communist ideology, I keep the volume as a fond keepsake of
that turbulent era.
But hard times have befallen the hobby in recent years. Technology, national economics, and shifting
audience tastes have prompted many major broadcasters to shut down their radio
operations (and dismantle entire transmitter facilities) in favor of digital-delivery-based
(spell that I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T) platforms. Are
these methods more cost effective?
Yes. Are they more dependable
than broadcasting? Yes.
But I ask you: where’s the sense of achievement in that? Where’s the thrill of searching the dial for
THAT elusive station you’d been pursuing for weeks or months? Where’s the challenge of straining to hear a
station long enough to complete an acceptable reception report? Where’s the serendipitous pleasure of scanning
the shortwave frequencies and discovering a new and unknown station to explore?
Simply put, the thrill of the chase is gone. It just ain’t the same anymore.
But I still have my memories of listening to war news,
cultural exchanges, ethnic music, travelogues, concerts, and interviews at all
hours of the day and night. I still have
the memories of meals eaten in my radio “shack” while straining to listen to
some rare station I had spent months pursuing.
I still have the memories of receiving those treasured QSL cards in the
mail and proudly pinning them to my bedroom wall much to my father’s disapproval. I still have my memories of discovering Radio Somewhere-or-Other completely by
accident at 3 a.m.
And what wonderful memories they are.
With that, we will now conclude our broadcast. This is Ross Ponderson Radio signing off. Thanks for listening and Good Night!
P.S. Don’t forget to pet your Thesaurus today.
