April 27, 2009
The question most frequently entered on search engines which brings visitors to oldiestelevision.com (aside from 'who was Snooky Lansen') is "what life was like back in the fifties?" In a word "easier."

I was born in 1945 and lived in suburban New Jersey with both parents who were together until death. (Not nearly as many divorces in those days as today), There were no break-ups in either my mother or father's side of the family, each had seven siblings, which gave me fourteen aunts and uncles and countless cousins. The families were always together, at home, for Sunday dinner

TV had just started to expand to 24/7 when I was becoming cognizant of what that big thing was in the living room. Expanded broadcast schedules became better facilitated the next decade when ornery, less than dependable vacuum tube equipment gave way to "solid state" transistor. The new music, rock and roll, was controversial, even moreso than Rap/Hip-Hop is today.

There were no MP3's to download because there were no home computers. IBM was still endeavoring to perfect the "Univac." I loved music and listened to stacks of vinyl 45's on my "phonograph" (like the record player-radio-in case amplifier and speaker nostalgic recreations sold by mail order, except mine had those hot tubes inside). My grandmother called it a "victrola," the model name of RCA's first home record players that used a crank to get the turntable spinning to about 78 RPM, the speed of 40's records that were 10" in diameter, had small spindle holes, and were made of very breakable lacquer. Grandma's "victrola" had no amplifier or speaker, the "tone arm's" huge "needle" was attached to a tin diaphgram that reproduced the music from the record grooves, thus where the phrase "tinny sound" arose. My friends and I spent hours on the latter electronic (and monophonic) "phonograph" listening to Elvis, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee, and, yeah, Connie Francis.

My father, once a professional athlete, worked his butt off in a steamy aircraft foundry, my mother stayed at home until I (an only child - after me mom couldn't take anymore) was eighteen. We, and typically most families, watched about three hours of TV at night, starting with the news. Families then at home cooked meals, the fast food restaurant fad didn't catch on until the sixties. albeit us teenagers oft frequented White Castle for dime hamburgers. They were the originators, Mc Donalds and the rest slowly, but surely, edged their way in.

I remember the fifties as a peaceful time. No terrorists (that we knew of, at least), no suicide bombers and Dwight D. Eisenhour assured us everything was fine on frequent network TV interruptions. On weekends and certain evenings, Dad, an avid Yankee fan, watched his team kick butt on the baseball diamond broadcast in living black and white on then independent WPIX channel 11 in New York, via a rooftop antenna (no cable yet) which did a great job of picking up airplane flutter and lightening cracks (until mom turned the set off). When television networks or stations covered sports in the 50's, using telephone land lines (what else was there?), the event was usually plagued with signal losses which resulted in "Please Stand By" signs on the screen. TV's weren't that dependable either and, I dunno, maybe tubes didn't like baseball, they always seemed to pop during a game.

Life went at a much slower pace in the fifties. TV itself was the new home technology fascination, as was radio in the 20's. Home computers, "PC's," came in the late 70's by way of the Commodore "Vic" 64 and Apple Atari, originally a game, and Radio Shack's Tandy. In the fifties, if you wanted to connect with someone, you either dialed the phone and prayed someone wasn't gabbing on the "party line," or you took pen in hand (or sat before a manual typewriter) and communicated via what we now call "snail mail." Since there was no going online phantasm, fun was to be had at the bowling alley, skating rink, or "hanging out" at the local mom and pop soda shop. I remember Ma & Pa Herschmann's in my home town, with a tiny ten seat counter and, boy, those Cherry Coke's made from the fountain was a taste you just don't have today. My Uncle had a luncheonette, but he despised teenagers. We were a bunch of "hoods," groused he. My mother later worked there as a waitress. Poor gal.

In the fifties, most stores were owner-operated. The pharmacies, then called "drug stores," were owned by the pharmacist who knew every customer by name. The supermarkets were also locally owned; Foodtown then was a buying co-op they joined. My mother used to shop at a local Jewish grocer. I remember once, when I was seven, I'd always see the Rabbi in the store assuring Kosher compliance. All my life, especially when I worked in Manhattan, I was always taken for Jewish. One day the Rabbi approached me while mom shopped the Kosher store and he asked, "My son, why do I not see you at Temple on Saturdays?" A smart ass kid, I replied, "Uhm, maybe because I'm Catholic."

The fifties life did not have the frantic pace we have today. People were more laid back because we may have had much less technology, but we had much less worries. I visited my home town more recently. I recognized no one or nothing. The "drug stores" lost the know-the-owner comfort, they were now all chain operated, as were the once proprietorship supermarkets, clothing stores, appliance outlets, etc. No more Ma and Pa Herschmann soda shoppe, just Wendy's, Mc Donalds or Baskin-Robbins. The 57 Thunderbirds travelling down the main drag at 40mph were replaced with sporty Lexus zooming at 70; watch your behind crossing the street. Gone was the five and dime, find a dollar store in another town. Gone was the local camera store whose proprietor once taught me how to focus a Bolex movie camera (Wal Mart will show you how to pay for it with your Visa card and wish you well). Gone was the Rabbi checking the Kosher food. Gone also were the Parish Priests and Ministers chatting with people on the street. My home town did have FIOS.