From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The scratchy strains of "You're a Grand Old Flag" drifting from a neighbor’s pricey Victrola Phonograph can’t drown out the terrifying chatter about that poor insurance manager’s automobile plunging thirty feet off a Bronx embankment. Every time I hear the roar of a passing machine, I clutch my five-cent loaf of bread tighter and wonder if some blockhead driver is about to lose control right into the storefront. I’ve heard talk of sonar concepts and the potential for AM Radio Broadcasting to fill our homes with news faster than the papers, but the thought of more wires and crackling static just keeps my nerves on edge. Everything is moving too fast and costing too much, making it impossible for a man to feel fit as a fiddle when death is just one steep hill away.