TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/caps/81/81.56

Text File | 1992-09-25 | 6KB | 116 lines

                                                                                May 18, 1981

LIVING

A Great Way to Snub the World


Miniature stereo tape players tune up a silent revolution


Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins  Absurdly hammering a
prelude of its own.

--T.S. Eliot

The symptoms:  eyes focused in the middle distance, a smile as
wide as a convert's and a telltale glint of metal covering the
ears. The body may undulate with faint intimations of a boogie.
Sometimes the hands fly upward in imaginary conducting motions.
No doubt about it, it is an epidemic, brought on by America's
mania not only for music, but for the gadgetry on which to play
it. On streets, in parks, on bikes and buses, the latest
transistor toy is the portable stereo cassette player. Weighing
less than a pound and smaller than a paperback book. It has
feather-light earphones that transmit sound of concert-hall
clarity directly to the brain of the wearer, without bothering
anyone near by. As Detroit Audio Salesman Thomas Badoud puts
it, "These babies are unreal!"

Unreal or not, people are now bowling to the Beatles,
Frisbeeing while learning French, skiing to Shostakovich and
jogging to Jagger. The thin wires of the headsets uncoil from
Brooks Brothers blazers and Gucci bags, as well as from bib
overalls and warmup suits. Commuters, pitchers in bull pens,
shoppers hovering over the meat counter and sunbathers soaking
up rays are tuning in by the millions. In Houston, prospective
buyers of the Sony Walkman, the original device that touched off
the craze last year, must sign up for at least a 60-day wait at
major audio outlets. In the Boston area, the waiting period can
be up to 30 days, and some dealers require the full locally
discounted price of $170 to reserve the mini-Mozart machine.
Says Harvard Square's Tech Hi-Fi Sound Consultant Douglas
Corley:  "Our sales depend only on how fast they can build
them."  Some 30 other manufacturers have rushed more than 50
competing models onto the market, ranging from $60 to $300.
Some units, like the KLH Solo and Toshiba KT-S2, have FM stereo
radios, and most accept such accessories as additional
headphones, microphones for direct recording and AC adapters.
Sony, which devotes an entire Tokyo factory to the units'
production, this year expects to double its 1980 U.S. sales of
a million of them.

Invented by Sony Chairman and Co-Founder Akio Morita because he
wanted to be able to listen to high fidelity music while
playing tennis, the sets allow the novelty of taking one's
favorite music where it could never go before. Said Los Angeles
Carpenter Howard Bogaz, 25, while roller-skating on the colorful
Venice, Calif., strand:  "I use it while I'm working. I take
it when I ski or on long drives. I'm into my music!  The sun
is out, the wind is blowing, and you're on your wheels!"

But rolling along with the sounds is also a form of aural self-
defense for some, such as New York TV Producer Anthony Payne,
34. "There are buses, airplanes, sirens," says Payne. "You have
to replace them with something louder, by forcefeeding your own
sounds into your ears."  Manhattan Computer Executive Michael
Starr, 43, suggest that the private concert "is a great way of
snubbing the world. Can you imagine if Philip Roth had one
growing up?  He'd never have written Portnoy's Complaint. He
never would have heard the nagging."

It may be too much to hope that the invention will offset "the
box"--the 20-lb. chromed stereo radio that thickens the air of
so many American cities with noise pollution. But the
mini-stereo makes possible a silent revolution indoors. Denis
Ilkovics, a Belgian tourist, bought one in New York for his
13-year-old daughter. "I hope she'll use it instead of those
loud speakers," he sighed.

Hospital patients previously condemned to loud daytime
television are blissfully recovering to Pavrotti, and some
dentists offer headphones to distract from their drilling. Adds
Boston's Corley: "People use them to fall asleep. I hear these
things are going to replace Quaaludes."  Detroit Law Student
Richard Green has found one potential hazard:  "I put on my
earphones when I fool around with my girlfriend. But sometimes
the cord gets in the way."

Getting in the way of traffic is a more pressing worry. Police
are braced for what could be an audio-accident season this
summer, with stereo-deaf sportsmen crossing the paths of
oncoming cars. As for those behind the wheel, many states
prohibit driving with both ears blocked, but few enforce such
laws. "Motorists already listen to car radios that are so loud
they can't hear our sirens,"  says Michigan State Policemen
Wayne McKalpain. "If they put on headphones, they'll hamper our
ability to respond to emergencies."

The Walkman, with its imitators, is a product defining its time,
the way television focused the style of the late '50s. Says
Detroit Psychologist Gail Parker:  "The growth of these things
is another result of the 'me society.'  These machines are very
selfish. When someone is involved in loud music, they're
sending out a signal to the rest of the world to be left alone."
Pinstriped Businessman Wade Schilders, 24, listening to Dvorak
in midtown Manhattan, hits his "hot line" (allowing intrusion
by real-world noise) to disagree: "Some people say the gadgets
are isolating. But another person with phones comes up and
plugs into your music or you into his. There's a camaraderie
among users. And now I smile when I walk, because I like what
I'm listening to."  As he strides off, a truck driver leans from
his window in appreciation of a shapely woman crossing the
street, small earphones pressed to her blond tresses. The
driver shouts to her:  "I know you can't hear me, but I think
you're gorgeous!"  She may never get the message.

--By J.D. Reed. Reported by Nick Balberman/Detroit and Georgia
Harbison/New York with other U.S. bureaus