OUT OF THIN AIR

What a rush of preparation there was to make ready for them. Everybody was expected to help out. My job was to plug the doorbell and to make sure the telephone was off the hook; Marianne and Bill fetched and carried things. Mother assembled artists, and designed and wrote programs.

Dad’s big worry was combatting vibration and echo. If there was too much vibration or echo, or if a singer prolonged a high note, or sang too loudly, the station would go off the air. Or worse, one of the precious tubes might shatter.

As a consequence the walls were draped with bedclothes. Down puffs, patchwork quilts and woolen blankets adorned the walls during broadcasts. The piano in particular gave a lot of trouble because of the vibration of its strings. If it was not completely cocooned in bedding and moved to the centre of the living-room, its notes sounded mushy. Often during a broadcast a new echo would develop, and there would be a frantic but hushed scurry for yet another blanket. The microphone too had to be muffled. It stood there, its round face atop its sturdy brass stand, sporting a child’s red stocking cap. We children did not mind in the least giving up our bedclothes. It was fun, exciting, and it meant staying up later.

To accommodate those on our street who did not yet own radios, Dad rigged a loudspeaker outside the house. I can see it yet, the big old—fashioned black horn resting on the window sill with the window jammed down on its neck to keep it in place. A rug was stuffed in the window opening to keep out the street noises. Outside crowds of spell- bound neighbours came out of their houses to listen.

In all of these goings on, Dad benefited greatly from Mother’s devo- tion, uniqueness and talents. She was a woman of formidable energy, will and passion which she channeled through a deep love of music. My mother was brought up in a strict Methodist Victorian home in a large family. Grandfather Smith was a Clerk of the County Court and his salary was a modest one. She was taught music by the church organ— ist and we know she passed with honours the Senior Victoria College exams sent from London, England. I am sure had she been given the encouragement which she gave, with great zeal, to my brother Bill, Horace MacEwen, and to other young musicians, she might have gone far as a musical performer.

Be that as it may, she did the very best she could to foster music in herself and in the community. For years she was the organist for Zion

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