By Esti DeAngelis, Opinions Editor
When I was twelve years old, my mother introduced me to the world of old-time radio. From the birth of commercial radio broadcasting in the early 1920s through radio’s gradual replacement by television in the 1950s, the era of old-time radio was the time period during which radio served as Americans’ primary source of both entertainment and news. This era is also known as the Golden Age of Radio.
Fifty years after the final radio shows went off the air, I was hooked. I became obsessed with the world of old-time radio shows: dramas, comedies, mysteries and everything in between. CDs of old-time radio episodes became common birthday and Chanukah presents. I would look forward to Saturday night every week because that was when WGN Radio aired their weekly old-time radio program.
My obsession with old-time radio was not my first nor last acquaintance with the media of generations past. In fourth grade, my favorite book was Little House on the Prairie. In high school, I fell in love with classic literature. If you see me walking to class with my AirPods in, there’s a good chance I’m listening to Chopin or Mozart.
Now, I must address what is likely on your mind: everything I have said until now sounds snobby and pretentious. To be honest I don’t know if there’s a way to write a piece like this and not sound that way. This is a problem. Our society has adopted the notion that if art is not modern, you must only be pretending to enjoy it to appear, well, snobby and pretentious. In short, you read old books and listen to old radio and music just to say that you do.
A society that thinks this way is a society that does not see the value in old media. It is a society that believes that as culture changes, art that does not fit improved standards around things like gender and race loses all of its value. I know that the radio shows and classical music I listen to as well as the books I read were created during times quite different from my own. I am not oblivious to the racial and gender discrimination pervasive in these creative industries in the past few centuries.
Yet, to ignore the art of the past is to ignore that injustice has existed in every age, including our own. The story of Western civilization is the story of continual efforts in pursuit of progress, and the art created along this winding path has always been complex. Are all actors in an old-time radio drama complicit if the studio discriminated against African-Americans? Similar, perhaps even more troubling, questions could be asked today: is everyone in Hollywood complicit in the culture that enables the casting couch and that hid the abuse of Harvey Weinstein?
Creative industries, like every industry, are plagued by the immoralities of the time. Art is a product of the time period in which it was created. How could it not be? We can choose to either shun all art that exists within a problematic context or we can see its value despite the flaws of its time.
Our society has chosen the first option. We are rightfully horrified by the injustices of the past. But to impose this improved standard onto every individual who lived in previous generations as if they chose where and when they were born is unfair.
There is, of course, nuance in this conversation. I’m not expecting anyone to listen to the music of the famous raging antisemite Richard Wagner; I choose not to listen to his music myself. I may also not be comfortable listening to two white actors’ stereotypical portrayals of Black characters on the radio show Amos ‘n‘ Andy because it is so obviously racist. These same considerations can be made when we choose what to watch, read and listen to among the art produced today.
There’s something more to this whole conversation though. The art that has survived for generations has survived for a reason. Time has, like a sieve, filtered through the work of thousands of composers, authors and creators, and the best have survived because their work is timeless. Books like To Kill a Mockingbird taught me the importance of standing up for what is right. The Bell Jar and The Catcher in the Rye portray the trials and travails of growing up in any generation. I enjoy classical music because it is beautiful, because it expresses a sprawling range of emotions without any need for words.
I love the art of the past because it is human. That’s why I fell in love with old-time radio all those years ago. The shows I still listen to today have no ulterior motive nor political agenda. They’re just real, and flawed, and ever so completely human.