Recently I became the recipient of a few old magazines. It’s been really interesting to page through them. One is a McCall’s magazine, from June 1962, two years before I was born.
Open up the magazine, and what is on the first page, prime advertising space? No makeup ads or clothing, nope — it’s a full-page spread for a Hammond organ! Can you imagine this ad leading you into a current magazine?
A June Cleaver-type mom, complete with pearls, is playing the organ: “Playing-type music pours out of you … bursts out, sometimes … and takes with it any small shreds of discontent and tension you may have been carrying around.” Goodbye, Prozac, hello Hammond organ!
And you’ll no doubt be pleased to know that “(after a few simple lessons) … the music you make can make you want to LAUGH or SHOUT or MARCH or DANCE or CRY or PRAY. And that music can almost always turn a family-ful of noisy kids into quiet, listening angels.” I am not making this up. I couldn’t make up copy this good :).
How many of these exact same organs are now sitting in basements and Goodwill stores everywhere? Quite a few, I bet. My mamaw had one in her living room. I tried valiantly to play a little Bach on it, but all she wanted to know was, “Do you know anything by the Oak Ridge Boys?” A prophet is always without honor in his (her) own hometown.