There are few things I fear more than radio. More specifically my having to talk on the radio.
Several days ago one of the local stations called to ask for an interview. The night before the taping I was so nervous I stayed up half the night eating cold General Tao chicken, tossing and turning and rehearsing what I was going to say in my head. When the time came, my prepared three-hour speech of witticisms and great insights from the night before turned into an embarrassing mass of unintelligible mumbles and stammers. Hopefully they have great editors at their station and I didn’t appear too much the fool.
I like to think I have an understandable explanation for my mediocrity in and, therefore, fear of radio. Radio has only been around Cree society for, at the most, three generations. Of course at the beginning it was only the choice few, the Hudson’s Bay Company agents and such, who had access to the dial.
My father tells the story of the time transistor radios first hit the Cree market. A large crowd, withcash in hand, had gathered at the Bay, lining up for their first family radio. An old man stood in thecrowd looking over the merchandise. He turned to my father and said, “Let’s you and me not buy theseright now because in the future we’ll be able to actually see the people we hear talking on them.Then, we’ll buy them.” The old man went on to describe what the people on the “radio” would look like.”They will have huge heads, eyes and teeth.” he said. Years and years later, long after that old manhad passed on, the first television sets appeared in Waskaganish and my dad was reminded of the oldman’s words. My dad would smile and say the beings the old man saw in his dream were the puppets onSesame Street, The Muppets and the characters on Saturday morning cartoons.
A love affair began between this new technology and trappers who would drag
their radios deep into the bush to listen to programs coming in from the U.S. on shows like the Grande Ole Opry. The batteries, as large as the radios, had to be kept warm and were wrapped in blankets.
People loved their radios so much that when Crees were able to rent long-range CB radios for their traplines, one person actually broadcasted music from his camp. He stopped only when a CTA rep told him he was taking airtime which might be needed for emergencies. Too bad; his choice of music was unparalleled.
Native control of the airwaves only came in the early 80’s in Waskaganish. The station was staffed by a small group of enthusiastic volunteers who passed on the usual news, weather and sports. They even had a time slot for games, trivia and of course the ancient Cree pastime of bingo. It was great.
Gradually though the station’s performance spiraled downward and airtime was filled with mostly bingos and music dedicated to this and that person on their birthday. Or little messages for this person to call this person.
One day I turned on the radio to see which cheesy song was playing for the millionth time. A friend of mine was live on the air. As his program “progressed” I started to notice slight changes in his delivery and sloppy mixing of songs. I walked to the station to investigate. There he was stooped over the turntable struggling to place the needle over the right track on the LP with a mickey bottle tucked inside his sleeve. Not long after, someone called and ordered him off the air. There was nothing left for him to do but raise his bottle in a toast to his all-too-short career in radio.
Things can only get better though. Today the James Bay Cree Communications Society is working tomodernize and better link their network. There are also plans for a new building to house studios anda training centre. Apply at once all you radiophiles.
