Legendary oral historian Studs Terkel was a lover of the human voice. He shares a story about an experience he had at an airport searching for, and later finding, the “vox humana.”
Originally aired November 7, 2008, on NPR’s Morning Edition.
Legendary oral historian Studs Terkel was a lover of the human voice. He shares a story about an experience he had at an airport searching for, and later finding, the “vox humana.”
Originally aired November 7, 2008, on NPR’s Morning Edition.
Studs Terkel (ST)
ST: What has happened to the human voice? Vox humana. Hollering, shouting, quiet, talking, buzz. I was leaving the airport, this is in Atlanta. You know you leave the gate, you take a train that took you to the concourse of your choice. And I get into this train — dead silence. A few people seated or standing. Up above, you hear a voice, that once was a human voice, but no longer, now it talks like a machine. Concourse one: Fortworth, Dallas, Lubbock — that kind of voice. Just then the doors are about to close, pneumatic doors, one young couple rush in and push open the doors and get in. Without missing a beat, that voice above says, ’Because of late entry we’re delayed 30 seconds.’ The people looked at that couple as though the couple had committed mass murder you know. And the couple was shrinking like this, you know. Now I’m known for my talking — I’m gabby — so I say, ’George Orwell, your time has come and gone.’ I expect a laugh… dead silence. And now they look at me, and I’m with the couple, the three of us, are at the Hill of Calvary on Good Friday. And then I say, ’My god, where is the human voice?’ And just then there’s a little baby… maybe the baby’s about a year old or something. And I say ’Sir or Madame,’ to the baby, ’what is your opinion of the human species?’ Well what does the baby do? The baby starts giggling. I say, ’Thank god, the sound of a human voice.’
Freedom School students Deborah Carr, Stephanie Hoze, Teresa Banks, Linda Ward, Glenda Funchess, and Don Denard came to StoryCorps to reflect on their memories from 1964.