Quote:
Originally Posted by GoldenRivet
i too can recall that, probably because i grew up in a small town and all the local broadcasts would show a fighter jet flying across the various landmarks of the USA while playing the national anthem. and when the music stopped and the screen faded to black you got this guy
with a long and annoying "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep" until about 4:30 am when local news would start ramping up |
Well, you were all fancy and had color TV; for most of the 1950s and even on into the 1960s, all we saw was something like this:
This was preceded by a picture of something like the Statue of Liberty and the obligatory National Anthem, although a couple of stations played other songs in addition; one station in San Francisco played "America The Beautiful" sung by the glorious voice of Mahalia Jackson...
One thing about early TV I remember is how some stations showed movies; before the advent of video recording, programs broadcast live were often filmed by means of placing a film camera in front of a TV monitor, a process called Kine-Scope; conversely, films were broadcast by placing a TV camera in front of a film screen; I recall times when a movie on TV would suddenly freeze and the picture frame would either tear to shreds or melt down; these occasions would be immediately followed by a "Please Stand By" card. IIRC, KRON-TV in San Francisco had a particular problem with self-destructing films...
Quote:
Originally Posted by GoldenRivet
You and i have something in common there. My grandfather was in the Merchant Marines and by his sheer diligence and efforts worked his way up as well, he retired as a captain for American Heavy Lift shortly after i was born, he retired to Florida and my family lived here in Texas which afforded us little time together, i had a lot of respect for him and enjoyed what little time we had together and would have liked to have known him better.
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He captained the MV John Henry and the MV Paul Bunyan
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My Dad started out as a teenager on small freighters and tramp steamer in Central America. As I said, he started as a wiper, the lowest rating on merchants at the time. He worked hard, scraped up his savings, got into Merchant Marine school, eventually (IIRC, it was called the Calhoun School or Academy), and worked his way up to his Chief's License. Not too bad for a guy who had only a few years of formal education. You can"t really do that sort of bootstrapping, nowadays; I have real respect for anyone, in any field, who came up the ranks in the Old School manner. My dad tended to work the Pacific Coast, mainly; I remember him shipping out on a variety of lines, both freight and passenger; some line names are long gone and some still hang on: American President Line, Matson, Grace, the Bear Line, etc. He kept up on his dues paying for a couple of the unions he passed through in his work history, mainly the Oiler's and Fireman's union, just in case worked dried up and he need to fall back to a lesser rating; only people who have lived through poverty could have that sense of foresight...
Growing up in San Francisco, I could tell what line a ship was by the paint on her stacks. I only had one real conversation with my father and it was just about the last; it was quite amicable and I learned a bit more about him than I knew before and it opened my eyes to things I had been unaware of before. When I last spoke with him, he had just gone through a bit of a dilemma; he actually had been a crew member of the SS Mayageuz when it was captured by the Cambodians at the end of the Vietnam War; he spent a couple of days as a prisoner before Ford sent in the Marines to free the crew. Given all he had to endure in his life up to that point, I really do hope he found peace and happiness in his later years.; he deserved at least that much...
Thinking about phone service in days gone by brought to mind a particular oddity of service in San Francisco: a special phone exchange was set up in Chinatown and staffed with women operators fluent in Cantonese dialect; this was when they still had plug switchboards and the ladies were highly knowledgeable about Chinatown and its inhabitants; very often, particularly with the elderly Chinese, they would be asked to be put through to a party, not by number, but by something like, "Please connect me with Mr. Wong on Waverly Place, you know, Fan Wong's eldest son", and the operator knew exactly where to route the call...
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