“Well, my heart went boom, when I crossed that room. . .”
Nope. We didn’t have Apple Music, Spotify or SiriusXM satellite. No Bose Bluetooth wireless speakers or stereo headphones.
As kids growing up in West Los Angeles in the early 1960’s we’d listen to 93 KHJ Boss radio on the AM radio dial. Our small tabletop Zenith with the 3” paper speaker was our magic gateway to rock n’ roll music. The stations jingle “93 K-H-J” sung by the Johnny Mann Singers would ring out, and we’d be hypnotized, as if it was a Jedi mind trick controlling the weak minded. No wireless earbuds but if you were lucky, you had a pocket transistor radio with a mono one channel ear piece to take the crackling music with you.
We’d listen with great anticipation to the likes of Robert W. Morgan, Charlie Tuna, or the Real Don Steele spinning those 45’s and transmitting that heathen music into our home (much to the chagrin of our parents).
The only other tune that could make us break away from listening to our beloved rock n’ roll radio was when we heard the ice cream man’s truck blaring from down the street. Then we’d be off and running.
Sorry Elvis.