Locomotive to the Past by George Schultz (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

for the three-plus hours, in which Eric had devoted himself, to teaching the new bride how to drive—listening to radio station WXXD. This was the target entity. The one that Our Hero was hoping to crash.

They’d arisen early, that morning—after a surprisingly-fulfilling Saturday night (sleep-wise). Valerie had, immediately, tuned in the designated station. After two back-to-back religious broadcasts (which, in those days, were mandated—by the FCC), the station began playing popular music records.

This was, pretty much, before “record hosts” had become referred to, as “disc jockeys”—and well before the jockeys had established their own, specific, “on-air personalities”. The voice—coming from the speaker—was, pretty much, filling the traditional, articulate, role of “announcer”. The deep, baritone, annunciations were merely identifying the title of the next musical selection—and, most often, the name, of the band performing the recorded ditty.

The music was, for the most part, delightful. Jason had often heard his grandfather refer to several of the tunes. Especially what were known as “novelty songs”—such as I’ve Got A Gal In Kalamazoo and Jingle, Jangle, Jingle. But, there was no such thing as “DJ chatter”! At least, not on WXXD. Our Boy believed—and with good reason—that, virtually, none of the local stations would’ve featured any such “patter” programming. Probably, that would literally hold true—for all stations. Even across the entire country!

This gave Our Hero the idea! Why should he not be—the very first? The true original?

He did not want to express that possibility, to his wife, of course! She’d had—he’d felt—enough unanswered questions, about his background! (More than enough!) The same would hold true, he believed—for Susan and Eric. (Well, Susan anyway.) Instead, first things first! He’d have to get employed—in the industry! Toward that end, he could tell—that he’d need to work, primarily, on projection.

WXXD featured a complete 15-minute newscast at 8:00AM, at noon, at 5:00PM—and at 9:00PM. They’d always signed off at midnight—like virtually every other radio outlet, in the area. Well, WJR had lingered till one o’clock. There had been only one 24-hour station, in the Detroit area: CKLW—in Windsor, Ontario, across the Detroit River. (Remember Hockey Night In Canada?)

On virtually every one of these entities—no matter what the announcer’s duties—the man had never failed to project well. Always! The only female personality—that Jason had ever known of—was Myrtle Labbit, of the Canadian station. She’d conducted a weekday, household-maintenance, show. Why his grandfather would’ve remembered that—would’ve remembered her—was beyond comprehension!

The overwhelming number of males—whether record-playing hosts, or newscasters—each of them had always featured strong, deep-pitched, articulate, “empty rain-barrel”, booming, voices.

The same held true for the “sob serials”—which had filled out the weekday schedules, of the CBS outlet (WJR) and the NBC station (WWJ). On the very few occasions—that Valerie would tune in, to Hilltop House, or Our Gal Sunday, or Mary Noble . . . Backstage Wife. Jason always noticed how articulate, all of the actors, or actresses, were. No matter what their, called-for, emotional state.

To a point. the same situation was ever-present in evening “prime time”. This, of course, was well before Hugh Downs ever coined that phrase.

Actually, some of the stars, of those, very-popular, shows, may not have been all that articulate—Fibber McGee comes to mind—but, they all had projected well.

Valerie volunteered that Jason’s voice was “a shade too nasal”. They’d have to work on that! Our Boy had not the slightest idea—as to how many times he’d be “projecting” those classic, historic, four words, “How now brown cow?”, over the coming weeks, and months.

The distaff member of this dedicated team would write out—in longhand, on loose-leaf filler paper—various scenarios, that her husband would, dutifully, recite (hopefully-project-well) back to her! Ad infinitum! Until he’d—eventually—“gotten it right”! Then—onto the next one!

Whenever one of the WXXD personalities would finish imparting a really impressive announcement, she’d insist that he recite the same passage—“as verbatim as possible”—until the required projection had, at long last, passed stringent muster.

Over the next three-and-a-half weeks, the pair seldom deviated from that dedicated formula! Then—“Hoo-HAH!—a refreshing change! The much-less-weighty-but-still-as-cumbersome-as-ever cast was about to come off!

Jason had made substantial progress—on many fronts! Not the least of which—was the mastery, of “those damn crutches”. He was getting around so well—as “the end of the crutches culture” approached—that his wife had observed, “You’re getting just a little too persnickety… with those things”.

Valerie had also mastered driving the ’35 Dodge—and its “four-on-the-floor. (As opposed to what would become known as “three-on-the-tree”—which Eric’s Nash had provided) Their trip to the hospital—was her first “golden opportunity” to show off this, newly-gained, source-of-pride, prowess, to her husband.

Said husband had offered—just before his liberation from “those tons of damnable plaster-of-paris”—to donate those equally-damnable crutches, back to the hospital.

“You’d better wait… before you make that offer,” the nurse advised. The buxom, very-portly, woman had gone on to explain, “You’re not going to be anywhere nearly, as strong . . . down there… as you may think! Certainly not as strong as you were… just before the accident.”

She was right! Jason was unable to put nearly the amount of weight, on the limb! Not nearly the weight—that he’d expected! He would need “the stupid crutches”—to, actually, make it back to the parking lot. In addition, he had so looked forward—to being able to drive his “pet”, once more. Instead, he was required to delve, even further—into the wonderful world of his wife’s motoring expertise. (Which was, to Jason, “just the slightest bit scary”!)

The couple had been listening to the radio—particularly WXXD—so often (and for so long), that, on the way home from the hospital, Jason had come to realize that his beloved Dodge did not have “one of them newfangled radios”. Eric’s Nash, now—that auto had possessed one—though its owner had not played it, all that often.

Without the “needless interruption”, of the radio, the heavy-laden silence gave Our Boy the “opportunity” to think! To try and resolve his immediate future! He wasn’t sure that he’d reached the point—of “projectivity”—where he could, realistically, expect to crash the hallowed halls of radio broadcasting! Particularly those surrounding WXXD! Who knew—if they’d even have an