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- BOOKS, Page 99The Ghosts of Studio B
-
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- By JOHN SKOW
-
- WLT: A RADIO ROMANCE
- By Garrison Keillor
- Viking; 401 pages; $21.95
-
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- When Garrison Keillor reinvented the radio variety show
- some years ago with his Prairie Home Companion program Saturday
- evenings on public radio, the driving emotional force was a
- shameless, moony nostalgia for the never-was. But misty
- reminiscence taken straight out of the bottle is saccharine.
- What gives Keillor's wamblings about Midwestern small-timers
- their cutting edge (they continue on his new American Radio
- Company show) is a rare mix of exile's longing and eye-rolling
- exasperation. Were we really that awful, and was it really that
- grand?
-
- These are the elements, more or less, of this loopy,
- endearing novel (the author's first, it is surprising to
- realize) about the early days of radio. The time is the
- mid-'30s, the place is Studio B of Station WLT, Minneapolis.
- There is a jinx on Studio B, "the snakebite studio at WLT, the
- tomb of the radio mummy . . . Dad Benson gasped for breath
- during Friendly Neighbor and two huge flies dove into his throat
- and almost choked him . . . Reed Seymour once got the hiccups
- in there so bad his partial plate came off and he had to gum the
- news. And a week later, three of the Shepherd Boys, a gospel
- quartet, slipped in and quietly de-pantsed him during a long
- account of a tragic house fire leaving 6 Persons Dead in St.
- Paul. He kept talking but he yipped twice when they pulled off
- his shorts."
-
- The rubes out in radioland believed everything they heard,
- and some of the performers did too. Dad Benson ladled out
- cow-chip philosophy on or off mike, effortlessly spooning out
- such nifties as "East or west, home is best. There's no summer
- without winter . . . Hunger makes the beans taste better." But
- Marjery Moore, who played sweet, 10-year-old Little Becky on
- Dad's show until she was a raunchy 29, was a Camel-smoking
- delinquent who learned "within days of coming on Friendly
- Neighbor that she could get a big rise out of the radio folks
- by saying things in her Little Becky voice, such as `Hi, mister,
- want to see my panties?'"
-
- Even after WLT is making big money, owner Ray Soderberg is
- worried about radio's insubstantiality, which seems to him "like
- running a hotel with no rooms, just a lobby." He broods about
- the false bonhomie of fathead announcers, the fake warmth of
- radio stars laying on the charm to sell you hair tonic. But the
- big money keeps getting bigger.
-
- That was then. Glory days, but as the years and the story's
- somewhat invertebrate plot progress -- Keillor's authentically
- rural narrative method is infinite digression -- the pickings
- thin out. Like the rest of WLT's hayseeds and gallus snappers,
- the Shepherd Boys begin to lose listeners. In their prime,
- Keillor relates, they "could kill a quart like it was lemonade
- and and then they would jump in the sack with anything in high
- heels, hop out and sing `The Old Rugged Cross,' and feel so good,
- they'd jump right back in." Maybe they still could, given the
- chance, but unemployment looms. With Frank White, the author's
- bright-eyed hero, they are exiled to the sticks, sent on the
- road "in an old schoolbus, rattling from one end of the five-
- state area to the other playing $15 dates at high school
- assemblies and insane asylums and sleeping in your clothes on
- couches and eating slabs of grease and enduring the shame and the
- squalor until one day your mind snapped and they found you in
- your underwear crawling down a corn row in Kandiyohi County with
- an empty in your hand."
-
- This is ranting excess of the finest quality, and a case
- could be made that its author is the most gifted and prodigious
- humorist the U.S. has heard from since the old steamboat pilot
- ran aground. Prophetic stuff too. One doubter, foreseeing the
- twilight of radio, broods that "they will invent something.
- It'll have the same effect as bourbon but it won't give you
- headaches or upset the stomach, so it'll be used even by the
- kiddos. It'll earn gazillions. And boys, they are not going to
- deal us in on that hand." What Keillor has sketched is the West
- in Spenglerian decline, with cable and pay-per-view just beyond
- the horizon.
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