John F. Waldron raided his memory to present on Tuesday a collection of slogans and snippets from ye olde Pittsburgh radio. Today, some readers join in:

The world in a box: surfing on radio waves

The world's first commercial station -- KDKA -- was certainly a fixture in my house in rural Hampton. The Philco set (the one with the arched top) sat in the dining room and was revered for its noon newscasts, and the early morning antics of Ed and Rainbow. There were "approved" programs in the evening, but at 9 o'clock when my dad went to bed, so did the radio.

Stacy Innerst/Post-Gazette

I got around that by hiding a small radio under my bedcovers, and listening to "other" stations which broadcast popular music late at night. This was during the 1930s, when radios consisted of tubes and thick wires. How I never started a fire is beyond me.

The KDKA transmission tower was on a high hill overlooking Route 8 through Allison Park. It was built on land bought from the Summers family, whose sisters happened to be the neighborhood music teachers. Their older mother, who was probably 90 at the time, refused modern conveniences and listened to her radio crystal set as she sat by a window in a room lit with gas. But really, all she needed to do was step outside -- often the programming was audible from the nearby transmission towers. They were probably a nuisance, however, to drivers who could not pick up other stations as they drove within range of the towers.

For me, radio was a gateway to the outside world. Soap operas began with radio, and the newspapers published grid schedules for the 15-minute soap operas as well as the evening comedies and quiz shows. Some of these migrated to television -- "One Man's Family" in particular, which always noted the episode it was broadcasting that night. Most of them were live, too, and challenged imagination in a way that television can never do.

Live radio broadcasts were, for this "square" teenager, a magnet during the lunch hour when I entered the working world. As often as possible, I changed my lunch hour (actually 35 minutes) to coincide with activities on the third floor of the Grant Building, where Bernie Armstrong played a pipe organ and Paul Shannon spun "transcriptions," kind of a recording in reverse.

And then at Christmas time, I gave up lunch completely to wander down to Rosenbaum's department store, where organist Johnny Mitchell played Christmas music on the balcony.

It's many years later, and I still prefer radio. I don't have to keep it hidden under my bedspread any more, but I still have to fiddle with the dials. All-night talk shows are my sleeping pills.

-- GARNET E. ROTH
Baldwin Borough

Calling Joseph Ziskind!

John F. Waldron's wonderful reminiscences brought back happy memories of 1960s and '70s Pittsburgh Pirates radio broadcasts, with our beloved and unique "Gunner," Bob Prince. One of my favorite old radio commercials aired so many times during those baseball broadcasts and was so catchy as to leave an indelible impression.

The audience was told that it was sung by "Chiquita":

"Joseph Ziskind takes your house of hiding ... brrrr-ightens it up ... with beautiful siding. No money you'll be riskin' when you call Joe Ziskind, so dial this number, and do it quick: HAzel 1-7866."

-- OREN SPIEGLER,
Upper St. Clair

Making life brighter and shinier

Don't forget: "Loaded with soap! Loaded with soap! S-O-S is loaded with soap!"

-- BARBARA POGUE,
Strasburg, Va. (and Ross)