Push-button ballroom

Radio was the first push-button home entertainment device. Families had record players, spinning Rudy Vallee or Ukulele Ike on their Victrolas at 78 rpm, but they had to crank them, and pick a record, one song at a time. It sounded gorgeous, absolutely, but it was a bit of work to entertain.

When radio stations first started broadcasting music, it allowed someone in their own home to set a mood with a push of a button, and then simply walk away.

From Elevator Music, A Surreal History of Muzak, Easy-Listening and Other Moodsong by Joseph Lanza…

A common image of radio days depicts the family seated around a room, listening to an installment of “The Green Hornet” or Jack Benny. But while radio did house a great deal of drama and music meant for active listening, it also presented light music (as one more push-button appliance) designed to serve as background for domestic scenes. There has been considerable celebration of radio’s ability to unite people from great distances, but what about the equally significant time-space transformation involving the radio, the listener, and the household chores? Without the imposed discipline of a symphony hall or opera house, average listeners were at last free to select the music they wanted to match the contours of their parlor and personality.

Just picture it. You’ve only recently had electricity wired into your home. Pushing a button in the wall to bring the sun indoors was magical. And now you’re pushing buttons to hear a symphony playing a hundred miles away. In your smoking jacket. This is the equivalent of me docking my iPod in the living room and pushing Shuffle, turning on the soundtrack for everyday life.

It’s no wonder the future seemed incredibly optimistic in the 1930s, despite the Depression. Technological marvels were coming at a rapid pace, at a time when the rapid pace itself was new. Now, we’re jaded. We expect technology to always be changing. But when buttons first entered everyday life, the wonder was fresh.