Be Realistic

 I had a passion for audio equipment when I was a kid. It started for me, I guess, with my sister's Sears stereo. I decided I wanted one when she moved out and I couldn't use hers anymore. Dad let me choose mine, and I did. It was from Sears like my sisters. It was a cool looking little cube, about thirteen inches a side, consisting of an integrated amp/tuner/cassette deck, with a Matrix stereo enhancer feature. We bought the optional BSR turntable to go with it, and the matching rolling wooden stand rounded out the package handsomely, if I did say so myself. It housed the main unit on top at one end, and the turntable at the other, and the speakers sat below with album storage space between them. The main system was $189.00, I think, plus the turntable and stand, for around $329.00, total. Well, the cassette deck quit working in very short order, so we took it back, but kept the optional turntable and the stand.

I had my covetous young eye on the Realistic SA-500 amp and the matching ST-500 tuner combo at Radio Shack. It was classy and futuristic at the same time. It had the usual silver controls, but with burgundy faceplate accents, and slim, clean lines. Truth be told, it was a little on the elegant side of taste for a farm boy, but I can't recall ever having been told I didn't have good taste. Well, not until I met my wife Sharon, anyway. Since then I have been reminded many times... 

Regardless, I wanted it. I didn't need it, but I wanted it. My best friend and buddy and pal and adopted Little Brother, Cory, said, "In your DREAMS..." He didn't mean anything bad about it; he was just being Realistic (ahem), because we were, after all, just poor farmers. I had no income of my own, as farm kids already have more work than they know what to do with, so looking for more is to completely blow your childhood. Well, nobody could ever say I wasn't determined, so I settled in to wait for the SA-500/ST-500 combo to go on sale.

The disconnected turntable looked naked and ridiculous to me sitting neutered there on its end of the cabinet in my room. Fortunately, Dad agreed a better quality setup would be a good idea, so was willing to put a little more money in, and something better was going to take place.

I watched ads like a hawk for months on end, and then, lo and behold, RS had a great sale on... the SA-500/ST-500 combo... and a half price sale on Optimus 40 speakers! Total cost was under $500.00 at that time. We went to town and bought and paid for it. The RS guys treated me like royalty, God bless them. They knew it was a REALLY big day for me, because I hung around there every chance I could get, and they acted accordingly. The interminable drive home was almost certainly the longest in my life.

When we finally made it home, I called Cory over, and hurriedly but carefully unpacked it. I hooked it up, and connected a Walkman for a cassette deck, and we turned it on. Cory and I were totally into Joan Jett at the time. When we heard the first strains of Crimson and Clover out of those Optimus 40's; so warm, so smooth, and so rich, and so unexpectedly, powerfully deep, it took our breath away.

The new system's power and depth seemed like a battleship next to a corvette over the old one. It was unexpected... unprecedented to us. Music took on a whole new presence from that moment forth. Those Optimus 40's looked awesome with their long throw eight inch woofers, ten inch passive radiators, and recessed/time aligned tweeters. And very classy brown grilles with a taper at the top for the set-back tweeters. They were big; maybe not as big as Mach One's, but still big, and commanded visual - and sonic - attention and respect. They smelled fantastic in my room, too, with their oiled walnut veneer. The quality  - and quantity - of sound out of those beautiful speakers never ceased to amaze me.

The whole new system was classy - and it was actually mine! It was ultra-modern and incredible to me. 

Thoroughly motivated now, I cut the stereo housing off of the one end of the Sears stand and re-trimmed it with its own tape, and it looked like it was made for the job with the amp and tuner at one end and the turntable at the other.

The readout dials on the SA-500/ST-500 were illuminated in a soft green light, and the LED's for power output on the amp, and signal strength on the tuner, were also green, except the red 'Stereo' indicator LED for FM. A unique feature of the amp was that it had a pair of microphone inputs on the front, with sliding volume controls so you could accompany your music by voice or electric instrument such as a guitar or keyboard, or both. It also had a variable echo control for added effect. In hindsight, it was actually an early Kareoke machine. It had a 'Muting/Auto Fade-In' feature, that, no matter where the volume control was set when you turned the system on, the sound came up slowly, and never startled you with a loud POP! like some systems did. You could also hit the Muting button beside the volume control, if the phone rang, or someone knocked on the door and wanted to talk to you. The large 'Muting Auto Fade-In' light would illuminate, indicating you were on muted setting. When you pressed it again, the light glow would dim as the sound came back up. At night, listening to CHEZ 106, the soft green glow of the dials and the dancing LED power indicators was mesmerizing. I liked to turn the volume way up, with the muting light on, for that extra little bit of twilight pizzazz, as shown in the picture below. The system was sharp; the focal point of my bedroom, and my pride and joy.

In time, a good sale on the matching SCT-500A cassette deck came up, and Dad bought that for me too to complete my system. Now it REALLY looked sharp! The SCT-500A was perfectly matched and mated to the SA-500/ST-500 combo. No detail was overlooked for a seamless system unity. The cassette deck's LED VU meters perfectly matched the SA-500's power meters, plus ended in red on the high end for an awesome extra splash of colour and contrast. It looked AWESOME at night! I was on Cloud Nine, baby. Each and every time I turned that system on, and the SA-500's yellow 'Muting Auto Fade-In' light glowed up and back down again with the slightly audible click of a relay signifying it was ready to go, I could scarcely believe it was all really mine. We were poor, but man, I felt rich.

Now, I had all I could ever want, but I still lu-uved looking at the higher end gear at Radio Shack. I didn't really want it, and knew it was all too big (monster STA-2300 receivers, Mach One and/or T-200 speakers) for my room, but I still could look, right? 

Well, I had no idea how tuned in Dad was to me and my passion (when I was 14 he would have been 67, so there was a very large generation gap at play), but one day when I was looking at a LAB-395 turntable (on sale) at RS, he said, "That's a lot better than the one you have, isn't it?". He was referring to the original Sears/BSR unit. When I replied it was, he just turned to the cool, tweed jacketed dude that managed the store and said, "We'll take one of those". Just like that. 

I was young, but I was also practical enough to know we were 'poor', and that I already HAD a turntable, albeit it what it was (remember me making do with a Walkman for a cassette deck?). So, sadly and reluctantly, but irresistibly behooved by my Dad's ingrained integrity and honour, I told him we couldn't afford it. Not something like that. Dad said something to the effect of, "I'll tell you what we can and can't afford", as he paid for it cash on the spot! 

I was DUMBFOUNDED: the turntable of my DREAMS... I just sat in a silent stupour on the way home.

Cory's reaction was, "WHAT?! HUH?!", when I called him over and he saw that gleaming beauty sitting there. That LAB-395 TT, with its Shure cartridge, brought out things we'd never heard in our albums before. It was the crowning piece of that puzzle.

In the slow revelation of maturity, I realise now that was Dad's reward to me for hard and uncomplaining work on the farm. And even though he is now long gone, and a Grand Canyon of loss yawns massively agape in his absence, his cherished, sincere and heartfelt, lasting reward to me is sitting in the place of honour in my basement rec room in tangible form to this day. And chances are, in all the quiet, fathomless depths of his common sense and earthy country wisdom, he knew it would be, too.