โ€œโ€ฆ this Land of the Cretin and Home of the Depravedโ€: US Radio Naysaying Anno 1926 and the Silencing of So-called โ€œLegacy Mediaโ€ in the Age of AI Slop

I was tickledโ€”or, rather, prickedโ€”by the snide remarks a certain John Wallace made in the April 1926 issue ofย Radio Broadcast, in which he expounded on โ€œRadio and the Taste of the Nation.โ€ In particular, Wallace took issue with the assertion that the new medium was threatening to turn the United States into the โ€œLand of the Cretinโ€ and the โ€œHome of the Depraved.โ€

While not actual quotations, the phrases โ€œLand of the Cretinโ€ and โ€œHome of the Depraved reflected, according to Wallace, the

utterances of any one of several of God’s private secretaries, expressed editorially in any one of several pastel colored periodicals on the occasion of that sage’s discovery of the existence of radio.

Their โ€œpious pessimism,โ€ so Wallace, was

that the taste of the American nation is lower than that of any other similar body of men on this sphere, and that, among the agents engaged in undermining it, radio promises to be one of the most effective.

โ€œ[I]n fact,โ€ Wallace opined, the โ€œcustom of unfavorably comparing theย kulturย of America to that of any other nation,โ€ was not restricted to the realm of broadcasting.ย ย Adopted by and cultivated among his countrymen and women, it was an attitude rooted in the notion that โ€œAmerica, in respect to its appreciation of the โ€˜higher things” was an infant among nations.ย ย The belief, according to Wallace, was so โ€œwidespreadโ€ as to constitute โ€œone of the cardinal planks in the American credo.โ€

It finds place in our code of national convictions along side of such sacred tenets as “We must avoid all entangling alliances,” “The French do not know how to make coffee,” “Success is always the reward of effort,” “Newspaper men are conscienceless scoundrels,” “Abraham Lincoln was the incarnation of all virtue,” and “The Japs are a dangerous little people.”

As a US-educated ex-Academic mindful of his European perspective, I shall refrain from commenting on the US aversion to โ€œentangling alliances,โ€ other than allowing myself the aside that, one hundred years on, said view has experienced a remarkable resurgence in the age of MAGA and to pose the question, if only by the by, what America First might mean for the future of NATO.

And while I have nothing to say about the coffee culture of France, or about prejudicial views thereof, my musings on so-called โ€œlegacy mediaโ€ such as radio and their reception does encourage me to consider the anti-wireless bias of which Wallace speaks vis-ร -vis the effectively re-seeded and carefully nurtured suspicion that โ€œNewspaper men are conscienceless scoundrels.โ€ย ย 

After all, never has anti-media bias in the United States been more pronounced than in the second coming of MAGA.

As I browse online century-old periodicals likeย Radio Broadcastย in the year of the 250th anniversary of the US of A, I feel compelled to revisit yesteryearโ€™s attitudes toward radio as a moronizing force in the context of todayโ€™s radically transformed media landscape, especially in light of the Trump administrationโ€™s weaponization of the FCC.ย ย 

Is ridding ourselves of traditional mass media making us more discerning consumers of news and entertainment?

Continue reading “โ€œโ€ฆ this Land of the Cretin and Home of the Depravedโ€: US Radio Naysaying Anno 1926 and the Silencing of So-called โ€œLegacy Mediaโ€ in the Age of AI Slop”

Stepchildren Rejoice; or, Fetching a Grand Ball

Last night, I felt like an old queen. Granted, that is not an uncommon feeling for me; but the Queen in this case was none other than Victoria, who, in the last years of her reign, enjoyed partaking of live opera without actually having to leave for the theater at which it was presented. Her royal box was a contraption called the Electrophone, a special telephone service that connected subscribers with the theaters from which the sounds of music and drama could be appreciated while being seated in whichever armchair one designated as a listening post. Today, we may be accustomed to liveโ€”or, wardrobe malfunctions notwithstanding, very nearly liveโ€”broadcasts of sounds as well as images; but last nightโ€™s event felt as new and exciting to me as it must have been picking up the electrophone or dialing in to those experimental theater relays during the 1890s and 1920s, respectively.

The caption for the above photograph, taken from the 3rd volume of Radio Broadcast (May to October 1923) reads: โ€œChristian Strohm traveled from Oldes Leben [wherever that might be] to Weimar, Germany, sixty-four years ago to hear the first presentation of an opera composed by Wagner. This year, he heard on a crystal set the same music, broadcasted from WIP, Philadelphia.โ€ What, I wonder, was more thrilling to Herr Strohm or to Queen Victoria: the memory of past pleasures or the reality of present technology?

There we were, gathered at a movie house well over three thousand miles away from the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, taking in a live presentation of Rossiniโ€™s La Cenerentola (based on the fairy tale Cinderella or Aschenputtel, its meaner, dirtier, German ancestor, which renowned child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim rightly preferred over the dainty French and glossy American versions). Our local arts center cinema is the first independent movie theater in Wales to subscribe to those high definition broadcasts from the Met (or elsewhere); and, with the exception of the fact that the cameras fail to capture scenes set in near darkness, the transmission was received without a glitch.

True, I wasnโ€™t seated in my favorite chair. I was in an auditorium, with a few dozen others who had come into town for the occasion, presumably undernourished stepchildren of the great cultural centers of the world. This far-fetched ball was a theatrical experience for which one dresses up (and I, for one, enjoys to do so), at which one meets and mingles at intermission.

The last time I saw a theatrical adaptation of Cinderella I was being squirted by a water gun. This time, I was sipping a glass of wine (included in the price of admission). I was very pleased to learn that, based upon the reception, the local cinema is going to book the entire season of opera broadcasts, beginning in October 2009 with Tosca, followed by Aida and Turandot. Tear your eyes out Clorinda and Tisbe. Every Cinderella has her dayโ€”and every dreaded midnight is over in a flash . . .


Related writings
My Evening with Queen Victoria
โ€œNow on the Air: โ€˜Down the Wiresโ€™โ€ (on the Electrophone)
โ€œโ€˜Oh no he isnโ€™tโ€™ (โ€˜Oh yes he isโ€™): Mickey Rooney in Bristolโ€ (in Cinderella)