RadioDoctors
Some people, I'm sure, might find it peculiar to look through old telephone books for rest and recreation. But it's not the listings that interest me, unless I'm checking on the various money-losing establishments the Lauderdales have owned and operated over the years. No, I'm mainly intrigued by the ads for old and unusual businesses.
And here's a perfect example: an advertisement for the "Radio Doctors."
Nowadays, it might be hard to find anybody who actually listens to a "radio." And even if they did, if the device failed, there are so many other ways to get the music or news you need that it's unlikely it would be considered such an emergency that you would call a "doctor" to repair your ailing radio.
But things were much different in 1931, and with a quick telephone call, a "skilled Radiotrician" would come to your home "at any time of the day or night."
The cost — only $1.00 per call, which was actually pretty high in those days, and if you read carefully, you'll notice that this was just for a check-up. Parts and service were almost certainly an additional charge.
The Radio Doctors' office was located at 1581 Forrest, then as now a cozy bungalow in Midtown. So who were these "Radio Doctors" of Memphis? Well, I can't tell you.
In 1931, that home on Forrest was occupied by Mrs. M.E. Eagle, who is identified (in the same phone book where the ad appeared) as the widow of a fellow named Thomas Eagle, who was an employee of Sears, Roebuck & Company. Perhaps I'm being sexist, but it just seems unlikely that a 59-year-old widow (I determined the age from other sources) would be driving around Memphis, tinkering with radios. Quite obviously she could have learned how to do this job — perhaps as a way to bring in extra cash after her husband died — but it's the "any time of night" visits that concern me. Such a thing just wasn't done, you see. What would society think?
Despite the eye-catching ad, there is no listing for "Radio Doctors" anywhere else in the phone book, such as the business listings, so I can only presume that Mrs. Eagle rented out rooms in her home, and somebody else there was doing this work on a freelance basis.
Of course, it's possible that Mrs. Eagle just answered the phone, and then dispatched a technician to cure the "sick radio." I don't know what else to make of this.
I doubt they maintained a whole staff of doctors, either. It was probably just one guy and a car, with a satchel of tools and tubes and wires and parts.
I wish I could tell you more. I would have liked to know how somebody acquired the title of "Radiotrician." My, it certainly sounds impressive, no?
Well, okay. NO..
