Orville Taylor | Radio Jamaica 94 at 75

We called him ‘Ridiff’. To this day, his name is unknown. Maybe he never told us. Sitting on the veranda that was as small as a hypocrite’s mind, I would watch as he rode into the yard, at month end, skilfully navigating the standpipe, the sole source of water for all of the houses in the Compound tenement yard, ensconced in the northeast quadrant where Bay Farm Road and Olympic Way intersect.

A Lambretta scooter I believe it was, although it looked remarkably like a Vesta Comet, he came to collect the monthly fee for that little brown box screwed up in the corner of the ceiling with a single black button. It was off, on, and volume all in one.

Except for the stale newspaper my father brought, rolled up like a relay baton, The radio was the only source of external knowledge.

Of course, we did buy the Sunday Gleaner and relished the comic strip, with Katzenjammer Kids, Little Iodine, Beetle Bailey and Bringing up Father.

But, radio talked to us, and the on air personalities were family; not just familiar.

When hurricane Flora came, the BBC streamed in. Perched on the thigh of ‘Ole Vas’, Basil Taylor, my maternal grandfather, yes my mother’s father, life in Hopeful Village was a staple.

From the Dulcimina drama, Pressa Foot, Melva, Naana, Daisy Deep Sea, and Cyclops were the regular visitors to the one room house we all were crammed into.

In an era when people embraced a white Jesus, but baulked at the idea of a local healer man, Bredda Emmanuel, the ‘sciance’ man, was my hero. Doubtless, this had to be kept to myself in a household where Elder Taylor had Jesus on speed dial.

FAITH

Funny, people had so much faith in the healing ministry of Oral Roberts, who used RJR as his platform, that they would stretch their injured or lame body part, up to touch the radio unit. No one thought that the act of exercising the arthritic arm, was actually the reason for the reduced pain.

My ‘am I right or am I right’ is straight from Emmanuel.

In the ninth year of RJR getting its licence to operate, we moved and without the rediffusion service, six Berec batteries powered the three-banded transistor radio.

Tuning to find 760 on the AM band, anything between 720 and 780 brought us to our favourite station. The imprecise nature of the device sometimes leeched us into Radio Transmundial.

Back down the dial, the radio returns to the Evening People Show. Neville Willoughby, with a voice as clean as Father Ho Lung’s criminal record, Henry Stennett with the most melodious baritone, smooth as silk. Along with Alan Magnus, these were the voices of the 1970s as I entered my teens.

But the 1960s were the formative years. Miss Ivy was a faithful follower of Dr Paul and Portia faces life. True, they were foreign based programmes, but much was identifiable with our daily lives.

Except for the images in the Gleaner’s Sunday Magazine, we would not have known what Charlie Babcock looked like. And Tony Verity, a strange name as well, these men unwittingly but thankfully, taught us proper diction. In primary school at St Patrick’s during this formative era, our beloved teacher Miss Mills used to force us to listen to Dottie Dean, Marie Garth and of course although we would have needed tonnes of testosterone with a little bit of velvet, the voice of the other Georgian Ralston McKenzie.

Some may be too young to remember, but ‘el numero uno’ Don opping sett the template for afternoon jocks. A few emulated and copied, but none his equal.

JAMAICA WAS RJR

RJR was Jamaica and Jamaica was RJR. Long before we had Barbara Gloudon, Wilmot Perkins and others, who were precursors of the modern Hotline, there was Philip Jackson. Even today I am tempted to ask when on air, “What’s your grouse?”

This amazing radio station brings Jamaica to the people and the people to us.

At 75, RJR, now Radio Jamaica 94FM, is not only the oldest radio station in the country, but it is just about the average life expectancy of the typical Jamaican. Most Jamaican men do not make it to 75.

‘Active for the good of our nation’, a motto we have taken on since our renaming a few years ago, this is the station which introduced, children’s programmes like Colgate Cavity Fighters Club, Children’s Bible Club and myriad others.

Swap Shop, which had low cost advertising and Market Place, which prevails until the present moment made real connections.

Thousands have been given assistance via this station.

For the last 21 years, it led Cross Country Invasion, incorporating all brands under the group. But, without being disrespectful to our sisters and brothers, it is 94FM that is the heart of the people.

Just over 20 years ago, a year after I became a regular columnist on this page, the abovementioned Stennett of blessed memory and Tanya Powell-Edwards recruited me. Fan became colleague, and the rest is ‘sociology’; never history.

For the past 20 years, I have occupied the privileged chair of Hotline host.

My chance came to stand on the shoulder of the giants who set the tone before.

Ralston is still with us, the last of the legendary crew. Yet, as I continue to write my chapter, I am still in awe of those icons whom I met or got to work with.

To the legends of RJR I say, “No matter how High I get, I’ll still be looking up to you.”

Happy 75th birthday, Radio One. And thank you Jamaica.

Orville Taylor is senior lecturer at the Department of Sociology at The University of the West Indies, a radio talk-show host, and author of ‘Broken Promises, Hearts and Pockets’. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and tayloronblackline@hotmail.com