Speaker 1: Ephemeral is a protection of my heart radio. Since I
Speaker 1: started working on this show, which was longer ago than
Speaker 1: I cared to admit, I've been asked a lot of questions,
Speaker 1: good questions, but sometimes hard to answer. The basic what
Speaker 1: do you talk about? The trick here? Why is that interesting?
Speaker 1: And the pointed why is it important? But let's slow
Speaker 1: down a second. If something is ephemeral, what does that
Speaker 1: actually mean? I tell people what I'm working on, and
Speaker 1: they're like, what, that's Sarah Wasserman who has made a
Speaker 1: career out of answering questions like these. My name is
Speaker 1: Sarah Wasserman, and I am a professor of English and
Speaker 1: this other thing called material culture studies at the University
Speaker 1: of Delaware, and I am finishing a book about ephemera.
Speaker 1: It's called The Death of Things. A good place to begin,
Speaker 1: as you might expect, is to pull the word apart.
Speaker 1: It comes from a Latin Greek combination word so epi,
Speaker 1: meaning of or on, as we have in Epicurius something
Speaker 1: like that, and camera meaning day. And the word was
Speaker 1: originally used to signify things that basically only lived for
Speaker 1: one day. So the mayfly was the classic example in
Speaker 1: a single day or sometimes a long weekend, depending on
Speaker 1: the particular species. The mayfly transforms into its adult winged stage,
Speaker 1: flies around, molts, mates, lays its eggs, and dies. Over
Speaker 1: two thousand species of may fly make up the aptly
Speaker 1: named order if Optera. In the most rigid connotation, ifemera
Speaker 1: refers to paper, it's come to mean mainly printed material
Speaker 1: that doesn't stick around for long. So we use it
Speaker 1: to think about broadsides, ticket stubs, brochures, pamphlets, flyers, envelopes,
Speaker 1: lottery tickets, paper dolls, maps, posted notes. You can drive
Speaker 1: yourself crazy trying to make an exhaustive list of all
Speaker 1: the printed material that passes through people's hands. That's the
Speaker 1: textbook definition, right for me, someone who's interested in expanding
Speaker 1: that definition. I always think of it as an object
Speaker 1: that is signaling its own imminent disappearance or destruction. So
Speaker 1: it's an object that sort of announces when you encounter it, hey,
Speaker 1: I'm not going to be here for long. I'm not
Speaker 1: going to be here in the nearer future. And that
Speaker 1: makes it different than other kinds of objects that people
Speaker 1: think about sometimes as being ephemera. It's really about that
Speaker 1: knowledge when you encounter the object, that that it's short lived,
Speaker 1: it's transigent. But there is an inherent paradox here that
Speaker 1: I get stuck on. The thing isn't supposed to last,
Speaker 1: and yet in spite of or even because of its transience,
Speaker 1: it is given a second life. Is a mysterious piece
Speaker 1: of tape still ephemera if you put it in a
Speaker 1: podcast and push it out to the web. We don't
Speaker 1: have to think about contemporary media to answer that question.
Speaker 1: Let's take a classic example a stamp. Ironically, they're called
Speaker 1: forever stamps. Doubly ironically, I think one of the very
Speaker 1: first forever stamps depicts an Iceberger polar ice cap that
Speaker 1: is melting. But if you take the stamp right, Generally,
Speaker 1: when people buy stamps, you use them once you send
Speaker 1: your letter, and then it's done. Someone's going to throw
Speaker 1: it out somewhere. It's not meant to be kept. But
Speaker 1: of course many people have stamp collections. They're worth a
Speaker 1: lot of money, they have sentimental value. People collect them
Speaker 1: in albums, they save them forever. You get your grandfather's
Speaker 1: stamp collections, so on and so have you ever in
Speaker 1: your entire life seen anything so beauty? I'm sorry, I
Speaker 1: don't know anything about steps. I'll give you another example,
Speaker 1: me to innovation promotional shoot for Winnebago. The RV company
Speaker 1: was going horribly wrong. The Winnebago concepts and engineering departments
Speaker 1: have developed a multi functional bathroom privacy. I don't need
Speaker 1: what the im reading frustrated salesman Jack Revney kept blowing
Speaker 1: his lines, erupting with anger, and swearing continuously on camera.
Speaker 1: Things got so bad that the crew cut together a
Speaker 1: tape of the most egregious moments. Thank you very much.
Speaker 1: I appreciate that. Tony don't slam. The star reportedly in
Speaker 1: an effort to get Rebney fire. Listen. I've got to
Speaker 1: give a clue here now. I don't want any more
Speaker 1: both any time during the day from anyone that includes me.
Speaker 1: This video would become known as Winnebago Man and would
Speaker 1: become infamous for years. The videos survived within fringe cultural institutions.
Speaker 1: Individual collectors duped and traded it on VHS along with
Speaker 1: other art. The clip would air, believe it or not,
Speaker 1: on public television. Flies in my head the vehicles like
Speaker 1: the show with No Name out of Austin, Texas. We
Speaker 1: had this all right, this, this is this is one
Speaker 1: of the all time favorites, and it really is this is,
Speaker 1: this is the golden clip. Um, this is And in
Speaker 1: two thousand and six, a digitized version would be posted
Speaker 1: on a then fledgling YouTube, quickly going what would be
Speaker 1: called viral. Let us get stuff here. That could have
Speaker 1: been the end of the story, but over the next
Speaker 1: few years, filmmaker Ben Steinbauer tracked down Rebney, now in
Speaker 1: his eighties, and united the former salesman with fans he
Speaker 1: didn't know he had at the Found Footage Festival in
Speaker 1: San Francisco. They documented the adventure in the two thousand
Speaker 1: nine film, also titled WINNI begg a Man? So how
Speaker 1: do we chase the distance between those two poles? On
Speaker 1: one end, the salvage raw tape of an obscure commercial
Speaker 1: that I'm not sure ever went to air. On the other,
Speaker 1: a phenomenon that's been adapted, remixed, and viewed millions of times,
Speaker 1: A unique work that could last physically and culturally for
Speaker 1: who knows how long. If Winnebago Man is a modern
Speaker 1: example of ephemera, and I think it is, how do
Speaker 1: we reconcile that duality? It's not that ephemera just by
Speaker 1: default are gone and lost to us. But I do
Speaker 1: think it takes some effort. Because the things aren't meant
Speaker 1: to last. Someone somewhere has to decide that they're meaningful
Speaker 1: and resurrect them, or maintain them, curate them, disseminate them.
Speaker 1: It's not just de facto going to come to us.
Speaker 1: Part of the reason it feels tricky to talk about
Speaker 1: ephemera is that in English, at least, we have an
Speaker 1: underdeveloped vocabulary on this subject. And curiously so, given how
Speaker 1: into our stuff we are, we have a lot of
Speaker 1: terms that are very indistinct. I mean, I think when
Speaker 1: we talk about the objects in the world that we
Speaker 1: encounter that we use, we talk about stuff, is it,
Speaker 1: how stuff works? Dot com? We talk about things this thing,
Speaker 1: that thing, very undifferentiated, and then there's rubbish, trash, refuse.
Speaker 1: There's obsolescence which BCR is right for you, obsolete object,
Speaker 1: the outmoded object, and all of those terms I think
Speaker 1: are related and intersect in interesting ways. The stamp, at
Speaker 1: some point it becomes trash. You might also argue that
Speaker 1: they're becoming obsolete. Who sends letters anymore? The particularity of
Speaker 1: ephemera is that they're not really meant to leave a remainder. Generally,
Speaker 1: unless someone is doing some work of saving them, they're
Speaker 1: lost to us. That's different from something like trash, which
Speaker 1: we throw away. I mean, there's that a way. We're
Speaker 1: not meant to see it. We put it somewhere. We
Speaker 1: don't really know where it goes. We have a suspicion
Speaker 1: that it's going somewhere that's probably not good for the environment,
Speaker 1: but it's still around in some form biodegrading. Maybe the
Speaker 1: obsolete is something that if you have a box of
Speaker 1: VHS tapes or c d s and they're taking up
Speaker 1: space and you don't know what to do with them,
Speaker 1: you are encountering the physical remainder of the obsolete that
Speaker 1: sticks around in a way that ephemera doesn't. When a
Speaker 1: bego man, in a way is reconstituted trash. The tape
Speaker 1: was bound for the cutting room floor, which is actually
Speaker 1: an outmoded term, since you don't generally cut the physical
Speaker 1: video tape when you edit it. The ported YouTube version
Speaker 1: retains the artifacts of its obsolete VHS origins, and as
Speaker 1: it gets remixed and re remixed, it's picked up some
Speaker 1: digital artifacts along the way. Studying ephemera is a way
Speaker 1: of touring our history. There are so many incredible objects
Speaker 1: that are keyed to particular moments in history, like a
Speaker 1: World's fair, you know New York nine World's Fair. That's
Speaker 1: a big one, or World War Two memorabilia, These moments
Speaker 1: where the objects can teach us about our own history
Speaker 1: and make meaning for us. In Chicago, tears of joy
Speaker 1: mingled with cheers as a minion, people saying and danced
Speaker 1: in the streets. Narrative meaning affective meaning, different kinds of
Speaker 1: meaning that you can maybe get at better through a
Speaker 1: depiction of these objects than just you know, a plot
Speaker 1: point or straight history. Let's say you've done a podcast
Speaker 1: episode on no longer available or obsolete form of television
Speaker 1: broadcasting I have, but more on that later. So let's
Speaker 1: say there's a museum exhibition on that form of broadcasting,
Speaker 1: and you can go to the museum and you can
Speaker 1: see all the equipment they use, and they have the
Speaker 1: stage set up, and they've done a recreation. You are
Speaker 1: a dandy crowd the museum in trying to recreate this
Speaker 1: and trying to make it available to visitors to experience.
Speaker 1: You get a sense of the thing, the object, you
Speaker 1: know what it is, what it was, but you don't
Speaker 1: get a sense of its disappearance. In effect, by resurrecting
Speaker 1: and recreating it, they don't recreate the disappearance, which is
Speaker 1: obviously the thing that I think can be really poignant
Speaker 1: and meaningful. Sarah's thesis is that narrative storytelling in fiction
Speaker 1: or elsewhere, functions especially well at this difficult task because
Speaker 1: it's not giving you the object itself. It's giving you
Speaker 1: a descript and of it that you you know, you
Speaker 1: have to read, You have to imagine. There's an imperative
Speaker 1: to narrate the object and its disappearance, and it's vanishing,
Speaker 1: and it's loss that I think other forms have trouble
Speaker 1: getting to Winnebago Man the movie four grounds this aspect.
Speaker 1: Whatever happened to this character would occurred in the twenty
Speaker 1: year gap between commercial shoot gone wrong and Internet sensation.
Speaker 1: If narrative helps us see the whole picture, the moment
Speaker 1: and the loss of the moment simultaneously, well what do
Speaker 1: we do with that knowledge? One art by Elizabeth Bishop,
Speaker 1: The art of losing isn't hard to master. So many
Speaker 1: things seem filled with the intent to be lost, that
Speaker 1: their loss is no disaster lose some thing every day,
Speaker 1: except the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
Speaker 1: The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice
Speaker 1: losing farther, losing faster, places and names and where it
Speaker 1: was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
Speaker 1: I lost my mother's watch, and look my last or
Speaker 1: next to last, of three loved houses went. The art
Speaker 1: of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities,
Speaker 1: lovely ones and vaster some realms. I owned two rivers
Speaker 1: a continent. I missed them. But it wasn't a disaster.
Speaker 1: Even losing you. The joking voice a gesture I love,
Speaker 1: I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing
Speaker 1: is not too hard to master. Though it may look
Speaker 1: like righte it like disaster. Elizabeth Bishop published one art.
Speaker 1: I think she really gets at the way that the
Speaker 1: written work can do more than just give us an object,
Speaker 1: give us a historical object, but give us the loss
Speaker 1: of that object. It's like the poet saying to herself,
Speaker 1: if I write it, if I write about this loss,
Speaker 1: I turn it into something that isn't disaster. Although clearly
Speaker 1: it is right. I mean, it's so it's filled with
Speaker 1: so much pathos. What happens when you take that loss
Speaker 1: and the cycle of production, consumption and disposal that creates it,
Speaker 1: and ratchet it up to eleven. That's the recipe for
Speaker 1: America in the twentieth century. We Americans in the twentieth
Speaker 1: century become I don't know what to call it, ephemerad juggernauts.
Speaker 1: Making has been on a companying sound effect to all
Speaker 1: of American history. Listen to the heartbeat of a great industry.
Speaker 1: We are the pioneers in many ways of technologies for
Speaker 1: creating disposable goods, everything from I don't know, paper plates
Speaker 1: and plastic cups to paper tablecloths and hygiene products. The
Speaker 1: wide variety of fabrics that pour out of textile mills
Speaker 1: plays a great part in your daily life, a far
Speaker 1: bigger role perhaps when you realize in your home and
Speaker 1: in every home rich your poor, from coast to coast.
Speaker 1: Susan Strasser is a great book called Waste and Want
Speaker 1: that chronicles this consumer history of Americans in their obsession
Speaker 1: with disposable things that happens in the twentieth century. Hey
Speaker 1: in the American way of doing things as produced and
Speaker 1: is producing a better living than anywhere else on earth.
Speaker 1: We also have planned obsolescence. The famous one is the
Speaker 1: light bulb. The light bulb companies figure out, hey, if
Speaker 1: your light bulb burns out sooner, you're gonna have to
Speaker 1: buy a new light bulb sooner. So we're gonna make
Speaker 1: some more money on that. And that's still very much
Speaker 1: present today. If you're looking at your iPhone ten and
Speaker 1: you know that the iPhone eleven is around the corner,
Speaker 1: we're still in that market mindset of planned obsolescence. If
Speaker 1: the first half of the century was about maximizing means
Speaker 1: of production, the trend of the second half has been
Speaker 1: away from physical goods and toward the digital. So we
Speaker 1: create all these technologies to have cheap paper goods of
Speaker 1: all different kinds, the new paper towel that actually attracts moisture,
Speaker 1: even like clothes made of paper that you can throw
Speaker 1: away after one where it feels different too. In the
Speaker 1: second half of the twentieth century, we start to move
Speaker 1: away from paper and print, take you towards everything being
Speaker 1: seemingly immaterial as it becomes digital, how would you communicate.
Speaker 1: Most people don't have hard copy printed photo albums anymore.
Speaker 1: They have digital photo albums, so they just have their
Speaker 1: photos on their phone. What digital technology like this drive
Speaker 1: into your local photomac could be a thing of the past.
Speaker 1: And so there's a way in which the long history
Speaker 1: of consumer society in America is really a trend from
Speaker 1: the solid, the durable, I'm going to have a sweater
Speaker 1: that I mend and re mend, and I'm a steward
Speaker 1: of this object to the opposite poll, which is something
Speaker 1: like Snapchat, where it's designed to just go away instantly.
Speaker 1: It's a it's a really strong arc in our consumer history.
Speaker 1: Pick your poison, if it's Facebook or Flicker or a
Speaker 1: Google drive, where you start to wonder, Okay, this thing
Speaker 1: seems immaterial, and yet I can never delete it. We're inundated.
Speaker 1: We're flooded by this immaterial, seemingly immaterial data about ourselves.
Speaker 1: And so we have this new activity in the twenty
Speaker 1: one century, which is something like self curation. You know,
Speaker 1: there was the court case not long ago in Europe
Speaker 1: about deletion and Google. People had to fight for the
Speaker 1: right to be able to delete things from Google. On
Speaker 1: the one hand, everything seems immaterial, all the objects seem
Speaker 1: to have disappeared, from our hands. But they're also, in
Speaker 1: certain ways ever more enduring. You know, one thing that's
Speaker 1: been great as a as a researcher of this topic
Speaker 1: is I can access a lot of the ephemera I
Speaker 1: want to work on online. Oh I want to see
Speaker 1: an inverted Jenny stamp from the nineteen thirties. Okay, I
Speaker 1: can look that up online. I don't have to go
Speaker 1: to a physical archive. But I wonder if we're losing touch.
Speaker 1: I mean to use that word conscientiously with the materiality
Speaker 1: of a lot of things, and we lose something in
Speaker 1: that process of translation. I have students tell me things like, oh,
Speaker 1: I didn't really grow up drawing on paper, I just
Speaker 1: grew up drawing on an iPad, you know. My I
Speaker 1: stop and pause and think, Okay, what does what does
Speaker 1: that mean? What gets lost if you didn't hold crayons
Speaker 1: or eat paste or uh, you know, have to crumple
Speaker 1: your paper turn it over to the other side. And
Speaker 1: I don't want to be so conservative to say everything
Speaker 1: is lost and it's terrible and we should go back
Speaker 1: to the way things are. But I am deeply committed
Speaker 1: to thinking about the differences and and just making sure
Speaker 1: that we understand them at the very least, try to.
Speaker 1: If these things that were quote never supposed to last
Speaker 1: paradoxically continue to exist, is death somehow cheated. More to
Speaker 1: the point is interacting with ephemera and experience that consciously
Speaker 1: or subconsciously connects a person with their own mortality. Ephemera
Speaker 1: I think are especially moving because they seem to have
Speaker 1: their own life cycle. They're made, they're born, they enter circulation,
Speaker 1: they live, and then they die. We think of things,
Speaker 1: We think of matter as being the opposite of mortal.
Speaker 1: We think of it as being enduring. We think of
Speaker 1: it as being stable and inert. And ephemia have this
Speaker 1: kind of time scale, this temporal dimension that makes them
Speaker 1: seem mortal like us. I think that's part of the
Speaker 1: reason that authors find them meaningful. They can become proxy
Speaker 1: stand ins for humans or nations or communities. To make
Speaker 1: that more concrete, take an example, New York World's Fair
Speaker 1: Tomorrow was actually built on the Valley of Ashes, as
Speaker 1: Fitzgerald calls it. In the Great Gatsby gate Way, five
Speaker 1: million dollar one land, they transform what is basically a
Speaker 1: dump into this bright, shining, gleaming future city and everyone
Speaker 1: goes I mean really everyone in a way that we
Speaker 1: can't comprehend today. Everyone goes from come countment, visiting by
Speaker 1: every mode of travel, every means of transportation. They arrived
Speaker 1: to view the marvels of the greatest exposition in history.
Speaker 1: You go and you say, oh, this is the world
Speaker 1: of tomorrow, this is the world as it could be.
Speaker 1: There are all kinds of problems with the vision that
Speaker 1: gets staged. I mean racial problems, nationalistic problems, colonial issues,
Speaker 1: all sorts of things, but in that particular instance, people
Speaker 1: knew that it wouldn't be there. The fair was a
Speaker 1: temporary installation, like a carnival set up in Queens. It
Speaker 1: was open for two seasons from April to October and
Speaker 1: closed permanently as most of the participating countries sank into
Speaker 1: another World war. That experience, knowing that it's going to
Speaker 1: be gone feels exhilarating but melancholic for a lot of people,
Speaker 1: and so the souvenir craze, you know, the souvenir boom
Speaker 1: is huge around that fair because people want to take
Speaker 1: something with them so that when the fair is gone,
Speaker 1: when they're no longer there, but also the buildings are gone,
Speaker 1: they have something to remember it by the Paris here
Speaker 1: and the Trial On were the two iconic buildings, and
Speaker 1: they get sort of one on everything rises above all
Speaker 1: else and the circling helocline that leads even the parts
Speaker 1: there's exhibits democracity is a pathway to the future. One
Speaker 1: of my favorite souvenirs is after you came out of Futurama,
Speaker 1: which was General Motors vision and sort of model city
Speaker 1: of the future, you would get a little button that
Speaker 1: says I have seen the future. Sensational is the Futurama
Speaker 1: that projects you into nineteen six the highways and a
Speaker 1: rise and show you know that you have this item,
Speaker 1: this object that's going to commemorate this event. It almost
Speaker 1: feels like it's shoring up against that feeling of mortality.
Speaker 1: Susan Stewart talks about the souvenir as an object that
Speaker 1: you need when an event is no longer repeatable. So
Speaker 1: if you go to your Ariana Grande concert, you want
Speaker 1: the ticket stuff because you're probably not going to go
Speaker 1: to another Ariana Grande show where you're certainly not going
Speaker 1: to go to the one in Philadelphia, and so you
Speaker 1: need an object because it's not repeatable. Men any ephemera
Speaker 1: are doing that work. They're kind of saying, I was there,
Speaker 1: I saw this thing. It's gone now, but I save it,
Speaker 1: and that allows me to project myself into the future,
Speaker 1: to project myself into the past, to stave off that
Speaker 1: encounter with death that might be implicitly happening. In the
Speaker 1: intro to Sarah's upcoming book, she lends a warning to
Speaker 1: those embarking down this path. Once you're looking for it,
Speaker 1: everything seems to be stamped with a half life. I
Speaker 1: start to wonder, like, is everything just becoming ephemeral? Is
Speaker 1: everything immaterial? I do think it's a kind of condition
Speaker 1: of being in the world. Some things just don't stick around,
Speaker 1: and things that we don't necessarily think about. So, you know,
Speaker 1: in the early twentieth century, you can look at these
Speaker 1: records where urban planners tell architects what the lifespan of
Speaker 1: a building should be. So a hospital should die, let's
Speaker 1: use that word, sooner than a bank, because the hospital
Speaker 1: has to adapt to technology. But the bank should make
Speaker 1: people feel secure that their money is going to be there.
Speaker 1: So even our buildings, our city scapes have lifespan. So
Speaker 1: I do think it's baked in. But I do also
Speaker 1: think that we have encountered it and baked it into
Speaker 1: our experience, even more in this country in the past
Speaker 1: hundred years or so than than some other places. Drink
Speaker 1: the fact that it is baked in that if femorality
Speaker 1: surrounds us in immeasurable, unpredictable ways, suggests perhaps that the
Speaker 1: best course of action may not be to draw exhaustive
Speaker 1: lists of disappearing objects, but to think of this as
Speaker 1: a lens for viewing the world prescription glasses we learned
Speaker 1: to see only as we practice using the eyes. If
Speaker 1: you recognize that things don't stick around forever and yet
Speaker 1: leave some kind of trace, sometimes that's a physical trace,
Speaker 1: sometimes that's an emotional one, a historical one. I think
Speaker 1: many different things happen. I mean, I think one is
Speaker 1: that there's a kind of different relationship to environmental concerns.
Speaker 1: If we recognize our attachment it's ironic, our attachment to
Speaker 1: disposable objects, we can think about what that's doing to
Speaker 1: the environment more. But I guess I'm also interested in
Speaker 1: recognizing that total loss, the complete erasure of an object,
Speaker 1: and total presence as an I possess it, it's mine forever,
Speaker 1: that they're both kind of fantasies. I think we do
Speaker 1: have something like a more realistic or realist relationship to
Speaker 1: the world. I think that that teaches us that temporary
Speaker 1: formations and temporary objects can can be meaningful. I think
Speaker 1: that it maybe helps us understand that we don't need
Speaker 1: to cling so tightly. It's a kind of anti nostalgic
Speaker 1: position to realize that that some things change, and things
Speaker 1: aren't ours necessarily in the way that we think they are.
Speaker 1: To begin with. The fiction that I'm interested in is
Speaker 1: really good at reminding us of how important it is
Speaker 1: to to let go of things. You know, the trial
Speaker 1: and in the Paris heere that I mentioned from the
Speaker 1: World's Fair. When the fair closed, they stripped off the
Speaker 1: plaster and they melted down the steel for bullets. It's
Speaker 1: an amazing moment that fiction Eel Doctor's book World's Fair
Speaker 1: helps us remember that these things that were icons of
Speaker 1: the beautiful, gleaming future just around the corner, in fact
Speaker 1: went into the most literal manifestation of the war effort.
Speaker 1: Stories like that remind us of how flexible and fluid
Speaker 1: the material world around us is, and that we two should,
Speaker 1: in response, maybe try to be fluid and flexible thinking
Speaker 1: about disappearance and thinking about it as meaning making and
Speaker 1: something to sometimes celebrate and something that's really interesting and
Speaker 1: there should be podcasts about it. You know that that
Speaker 1: that actually can teach us that disappearance is a part
Speaker 1: of our history and how it moves forward if Ehemeral
Speaker 1: is written, assembled by me, and produced by Any Reese,
Speaker 1: Not Frederick and Tristan McNeil, with technical assistance from Sherry Larson.
Speaker 1: Special thanks this episode to Master of Introductions David Weinstein,
Speaker 1: and to Sarah Wasserman. Please always bring along a home.
Speaker 1: Follow her on Twitter at Sarah L. Wasserman and at
Speaker 1: her website Sarah Wasserman dot com. This track and much
Speaker 1: of the music in the episode came courtesy of the
Speaker 1: artist mon Plazier. Learn more at Loyalty Freak Music dot com.
Speaker 1: You'll find links to all this and more at ephemeral
Speaker 1: dot show Next time on Ephemeral. There are currently thousands
Speaker 1: of television networks, but once upon a time there were
Speaker 1: four NBC, CBS, this is the Colombia Broadcasting System, ABC
Speaker 1: and Dumont. There's a treasure plature, a moment of leg
Speaker 1: There wasn't a lot of money in staving programs in
Speaker 1: the forties and fifties that they duman television at work.
Speaker 1: One of the big selling points of television is it's
Speaker 1: live in our TV. You're watching something as it's happening.
Speaker 1: Well bother you want to take this Trob loyal life,
Speaker 1: Its prepared nineteen thousand seven, ten meals there. He is
Speaker 1: beautiful a night. It is hardly forgotten today, but it
Speaker 1: doesn't deserve to be. I don't I joke, got a
Speaker 1: little story about Dumart Brand visit us in the world,
Speaker 1: wind and in act with us and social media at
Speaker 1: the ship. It's on about podcast and I media. It's
Speaker 1: not that I media Apple podcasts are wiever years A
Speaker 1: you favorite Hills