One of Your All-Time Favorite Shows

Aw, gee! In advance of my visit to his house for the holidays, my father asked me to dig out a cassette tape containing an audio project I created in high school. It was a piece of comical faux-propaganda promoting the new British colonies in America, recorded to the happy strains of Handel's "Arrival of the Queen of Sheba." It was an easy way for me to earn a good grade in English, but my dad has always had a high opinion of it and wished to make a copy for himself. Anyway, dusting off the old tape reminded me that, as a child, I was quite fond of making little amateur audio productions, and that I apparently still lament the passing of the great, creative days of radio.

Back before every kid had her own laptop computer, video camera, and smartphone, I had a big, boxy tape recorder, and I made much use of it. Sitting at my scarred wooden desk, the door closed against parental intrusion, with only my voice and imagination as tools, I started the cassette rotating and unfolded an improvised war drama that was based on characters my best friend Tom DiDonato and I had developed at his house over many a cup of cold apple juice. The narrative was rapid-fire and the sound effects were graphic. I excitedly replayed "Freedom for All" for my folks, who curiously inquired about all the running water in the background ("That's people getting punched, Mom!").

Some time later, at school, I happened upon an album (yes, an LP) of Star Trek episodes--not original TV episodes, but new stories recorded by soundalikes. I was fascinated and, of course, had to do my own Trek pastiche at home. Once I'd tired of that, I did an impromptu DJ session in which I invented parody versions of Michael Jackson songs (I was never any threat to Weird Al Yankovic). Occasionally, I enjoyed conducting interviews with friends and family, even my baby brother when all he could say was "Yeah." And there was the memorable time Tom and I did our own rendition of the first Star Wars movie. It went something like this:

ME: It'll cost you fifteen thousand. Now you say, "Fifteen thousand?! We could buy our own ship for that!" TOM: Fifteen thousand? We could buy our own ship for that. ME: But who's gonna fly it, kid, you? Now you say, "You bet I could! I'm not such a bad pilot!" TOM: You bet I could. I'm not such a bad pilot. (Voice gets more distant) Ryan, I don't wanna play this anymore... ME: Fine, I'll do all the voices. You've got yourself a deal, I'll meet you at the Falcon!

If I wasn't mounting a new audio production, I might have just popped in my copy of an old Lone Ranger show from the Golden Age of Radio. When the announcer told me it was "one of your all-time favorite shows," just before the "William Tell Overture" sounded, I really believed him. It was terrific stuff: I followed Dan Reid, his brother John, and the other Texas Rangers on their fateful ride into the canyon where they were ambushed by the dreaded Butch Cavendish. Bang-Bang! Pyow! Twang! "Guh!" It was tragic. But then, once the baddies had left, the faithful stereotype Tonto arrived to bring John Reid back from the brink and inspire him to become the mysterious masked man who rode a white horse and fired silver bullets. Gosh!

Ah, to have worked in radio back in the day! To churn out stories for groups of talented voice actors and foley artists (who did the sound effects) to turn into the "theater of the mind." This was the amazing stuff that kids ran home from school to hear every day at the same time, that whole families gathered around the radio for after dinner. No videogames, no cable TV, no internet, no 3D movies--just people performing for other people across the airwaves. Magical!

But radio plays are just as viable today as pulp magazines, meaning that I simply was born in the wrong era. That's okay, though. Those bygone days, when it was just me and my tape recorder, were great practice for future storytelling, see? And how!

#radio #storytelling