The Weekly Fare . . . August 28, 2003

Dialin' It In

I have become very worried about the youth of today.

Not because they wear their hair kind of funny. Not because they don't look me in the eye when they're talking to me. Not even because they walk down our alley at all hours of the night causing our dog to go off as if we were under attack by Russian paratroopers.

I'm worried about them because their radio buttons are too small. Have you had occasion to notice this yet? It's maddening.

Not long ago the stereo on my wife's Dodge Caravan gave out. "Unfixable," was the report at the dealership. "But we'd be happy to put a new one in for around $485.00 . . ."

That's about what my first car cost me. And it came with a radio.

"No thanks," I replied. I had decided to buy an aftermarket unit (certainly better than anything Dodge was providing) and simply install it myself. I'd done several back in the "good old days."

I began my search at Best Buy. "They must have two hundred to chose from," I thought. And they did. But they were all EXACTLY the same, having incredibly minuscule buttons on the front, most of which didn't seem to have anything to do with what you might actually want to do with a radio / cd player - like turning the volume up or changing the channel or cd track.

Some actually had "lavalamp-like" light displays which took up about two-thirds of the panel, leaving room for only three or four "multifunction buttons." These did everything from operating some kind of "local filter override" to creating "pre-set sound matrixes." If you wanted to change the channel, much less the clock, you'd better have more than one degree from MIT - and the time to spend three days reading the manual.

Never in the history of appliance / electrical design has form (or someone's definition of it) so overridden function.

I searched several other stores and found that they all offered stereos with similar variations on the theme - "long on looks and short on content." After finally settling on one, I came to the conclusion that if you want to know what's important to a culture just study their car radios - they'll tell you everything.

The first cars of course had no radios. The only music on anyone's mind at that point was the sound of the wind in your hair as that internal combustion engine actually propelled you down the road. And news? If you were lucky enough to ride in a car, you WERE the news! America's initial fascination with the automobile must have lasted until 1929 when Paul Galvin, owner of the Galvin Manufacturing Company, invented the first car radio. It had two knobs - volume and tuning - and when you selected one of the six pre-set buttons (labeled at the factory for your city) it would tell you what sort of music that station played. (Based on the marketing photo here, http://www.motorola.com/General/Timeline/autorad_.gif the Galvin's must have been Country music fans.)

It didn't take long for Paul to realize that he just might be on to something. As sales increased, he decided to change the name of his company. He needed a moniker that had something to do with the combination of both motion and radio. "Motorola" seemed kind of catchy. So he used it.

By the late 1930's most cars came with a radio as standard equipment. The knobs were big and muscular and almost always chrome. You could change the channel while wearing a heavy glove and the smooth resistance on the dials gave the radio the feel of a precisely machined instrument. Regardless of some of the automotive stylistic expressions of the period, (huge grills in the 1940's and fins in the 1950's) radios of the era remained much the same, reflecting the no-nonsense and resolute core values of the times.

My 1961 Willys Overland pickup truck (the forerunner to today's jeep) came with a radio that next to the single dial that is the Speedometer in the middle of the dash must have seemed rather complex. But just like Mr. Galvin's it had two knobs and a couple of presets. It's simpleness to me being the sheer genius of its beauty.

But not today. Apparently "looking sophisticated and complex" is the thing.

And quality isn't.

After realizing I could never install the radio within the 1200 miles of wiring found behind a Caravan dashboard (a 68' Camaro it's not) I had a local car stereo installer perform the task.

It lasted about six months and tanked out just like our other one. We now listen to two of the four speakers. Sometimes one when the humidity's not right . . . Sounds just like my Willys.

I like it just fine, and the kids are too young to tell the difference yet.

I hope things change before they're able to.