Episode 02: The First Broadcasts - KDKA and the Birth of American Radio

Step back in time with the RUSC Guide to Old Time Radio as we journey to 1920 and the electrifying moment that changed how Americans connect with the world—the very first broadcast by KDKA. This episode unpacks how a handful of Westinghouse engineers in a makeshift rooftop shack transformed radio from a quirky hobby into a groundbreaking mass medium, forever altering news, entertainment, and culture.

Hear the fascinating story of how KDKA’s broadcast of the Harding-Cox presidential election returns captured the imagination of a nation hungry for immediate connection and real-time updates. Discover how skepticism from the mainstream press gave these pioneers the freedom to experiment, setting the stage for everything from variety shows to live sports coverage—and eventually, the golden age of radio we know and love today.

We’ll explore the challenges, the triumphs, and the human stories behind that rainy election night in Pittsburgh, when a crackling signal brought Americans together like never before. Whether you’re a lifelong fan of old time radio or new to these classic tales, this episode will deepen your appreciation of the roots of broadcasting. Tune in as we celebrate the bold innovators who sparked the radio revolution!

Welcome to the Rusk Guide to Old Time Radio podcast. This week's episode is titled the First KDKA and the Birth of American Radio. We're going to travel back in time to when a simple transmission transformed how people connected with the world around them. So join us as we peel back the layers of this incredible story and unveil the seeds of this revolution in broadcasting. Here's a quote from just over a hundred years Radio is just a passing fad, a parlor trick for hobbyists. Now, the exact source and wording of this quote are a bit fuzzy. It might be more of a paraphrase or an urban legend than a direct citation. But back then, there were plenty of similar opinions floating around.

And as it turns out, they were spectacularly wrong. Because within just three years of the broadcast we're about to explore, radio went from being a simple novelty to an absolute necessity. The story of KDKA's first broadcast centered not just on engineering and technological innovation, but on human connection. Around 1,000 people heard that first transmission that announced Harding's presidential victory. Sadly, none of them are still around today to give us a first hand account, but we do have lots of reference material. One listener telegraphed, Heard your broadcast clear as day. Felt like I was standing at the election office. These responses revealed something profound, and that was that people craved immediate connection to world events.

This fundamental human desire would fuel radio's explosive growth, establishing patterns that future media would follow. But in 1920, while Americans were glued to newspaper headlines about Warren Harding and James Cox battling for the presidency, a small team of engineers at Westinghouse Electric had their sights set on something far more revolutionary than what print media could provide. In a modest facility in East Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, they were quietly preparing to unleash a new technology. This technological innovation would transform how people experience the world and would have long term implications that I'm sure those people working on it would never have thought of in their wildest dreams. Westinghouse had built its reputation manufacturing electrical equipment that was used to power factories and light American homes. But some forward thinking executives saw an opportunity beyond just transformers and generators. Radio technology, until then largely confined to military applications and amateur enthusiastsheld untapped commercial potential that Westinghouse was uniquely positioned to exploit. Harry P.

Davis, a vice president at the company, recognized something his competitors hadn't. If Westinghouse could create compelling reasons for average Americans to own radio receivers, they could sell more of their electrical products. So they flipped the game from meeting demand to actually creating it. This was a complete shift in strategy and Venturing into entertainment broadcasting was a huge step into uncharted territory for an industrial manufacturer. The spark came from Fran Conrad, a Westinghouse engineer who'd established amateur station 8XK in his garage. His technical experiments evolved when he began broadcasting phonograph records, live music and baseball scores on a regular schedule. When executives noticed what he was doing, they realized Conrad had, without realizing it, created a market for content which went above and beyond just the technology itself. The company faced a pivotal choice.

Continue viewing radio as a technical curiosity or take a big commercial gamble. Harry P. Davis championed the Boulder path, proposing that Westinghouse establish an official license station with regular programming, something unprecedented in the business world. The moment of transformation arrived on October 27, when the government issued a commercial license with the call letters KDKA. The station was authorized to broadcast at 360 meters, which is 833 kilohertz, as they wanted to avoid interfering with Morse code communication at sea. And this is when it gets exciting. As with the presidential election approaching, KDKA stood poised to make history. The preparations that followed were remarkably amateurish.

Engineers who had no broadcasting experience built a wooden shack on top of the factory roof. This was to house all the bits and pieces that made up their transmitting equipment. It was like a makeshift laboratory in a man cave where the future of communications was being assembled from spare parts. Their 100 watt transmitter, about the same power as a household light bulb, connected to an antenna consisting of wires strung between two poles. Inside this improvised wooden shack, they installed a single microphone, basic controls and a telephone line to receive election results. Leo Rosenberg, a Westinghouse publicist with a pleasant voice, was selected as announcer. Their plan? To broadcast presidential election returns as they arrived, providing instant news. Today, that sounds perfectly normal for an election night.

But back in 1920, it was completely unheard of. As election day approached, uncertainty loomed. Would anyone be listening? Could their signal reach beyond Pittsburgh? Unlike newspapers with established distribution, KDKA had no guaranteed audience and no certainty their transmission would work. What makes this moment remarkable is that it birthed scheduled broadcasting as we know it. Prior radio transmissions had been primarily point to point communications, or irregular experimental broadcast. KDKA established something revolutionary. Programming created for a mass audience, delivered on a reliable schedule, inventing an entirely new relationship between media and audience. As the rain pelted down on election night, the KDKA team faced a sobering what if they created the world's first scheduled broadcast and nobody could hear it? Their modest 100 watt transmitter, barely stronger than a modern WI FI router, was all that stood between revolutionary success and embarrassing failure.

Rain continued to drum on the roof of their small wooden shack as team members exchanged nervous glances inside this cramped room. Their primitive broadcasting equipment was connected to a transmitter via a 60 foot wire antenna, which was strung between steel towers. The sensitive microphones picked up everything from whispered conversations to the occasional whistle of passing trains that interrupted the broadcast. Storm clouds darkened the Pittsburgh sky as the team made their final adjustments. It was like the weather was determined to hamper their ambitious goals. While crowds huddled elsewhere in the city watching bulletin boards for election updates in the downpour, the KDKA team was worried about their signal penetrating the thick cloud cover. The tension resembled a modern livestream launch where creators anxiously watch viewer counts. Except these pioneers had no real time feedback.

Instead of seeing listener numbers flashing up on a screen, they just had to have faith that their signal was actually reaching someone. This is KDKA of the Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Company in east coast Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. We shall now broadcast the election returns with these simple words. At 6pm they began an 18 hour marathon that would test both technology and human endurance. Their programming strategy remained necessarily Election returns read aloud music from a Victor Victrola, Filling dead air and frequent appeals for listener feedback. They were inventing broadcast programming in real time. Five miles away, Frank Conrad remained at his experimental station, 8xK, ready to take over transmission if needed. This was a sensible and critical backup plan that highlighted their cautious approach to this unprecedented venture.

As darkness fell, the team settled into rotating shifts for the 18 hour broadcast, continuing until noon the following day. The telephone line bringing election results became their lifeline to the outside world. Each time it rang, a staff member would transcribe the latest figures, passing them immediately to the announcer for broadcast. This created a striking contrast with traditional media. While newspaper presses were preparing tomorrow's headlines, KDKA delivered results instantly. Listeners with radio receivers could learn about distant election developments before newspapers had even begun printing, completely eliminating the delay between event and newspapers hitting the streets. Throughout the night, technical challenges mounted as team members fought fatigue. The cold, noisy studio conditions added to their discomfort.

Yet they persevered, driven by the knowledge they were making history and doing something that had never been done before, and and all without any audience feedback during the broadcast. Hour after hour, they maintained their schedule, relaying returns as Harding's victory became increasingly certain. And when results slowed, they filled airtime with music, establishing techniques that would eventually become standard practice in broadcast media. By noon on November 3, as they came to the end of their broadcasting marathon, the team had accomplished something extraordinary. They'd successfully produced the world's first scheduled broadcast and come out on top of all the technical challenges and unpredictable conditions. And they demonstrated radio's unique capability to compress distance and time in ways no previous medium could match. But when the final sign off echoed through their tiny makeshift studio, the KDKA team had no way of knowing if their 18 hour marathon had actually reached beyond Pittsburgh's city limits. Technical achievement meant little without listeners, and in those first days following the broadcast, the question as to whether anyone heard their efforts hung heavily in the air.

The answer wouldn't come through modern instant feedback, but through a much slower, more tangible medium. The first hints arrived when the Westinghouse switchboard began lighting up with calls. People across the region claimed they'd heard election results coming through their receivers. While encouraging, these reports were met with healthy skepticism. Were these genuine listeners or merely friends of employees trying to be supportive? Without verification, these calls remained little more than hearsay. What the team needed was concrete evidence, something that would prove beyond doubt that their signal had traveled beyond the immediate vicinity. Then came the postcards and letters. Hundreds of them arrived, each containing detailed accounts of specific election results, quotes from announcements, and descriptions of the musical interludes played between updates.

One card from Cleveland, written in careful blue ink on a cream colored postcard, precisely quoted the 11:40pm announcement about Harding's lead in Ohio. Details only someone who had truly listened could have known. These weren't vague claims of hearing something on the radio. They were precise recollections that could only have come from actual listeners who had paid close attention to the broadcast content. What stunned the KDKA team was their geographic reach. The postcards arrived from distances that defied their modest expectations. Listeners in Massachusetts described clear reception of specific election tallies. Michigan residents wrote with enthusiasm about hearing results from their home receivers.

The signal had traveled up to 500 miles away, transforming a local experiment into a regional phenomenon. It was mind blowing that someone hundreds of miles away could hear the victory announcement on KDKA hours before their local newspaper delivered the same news. This demonstrated radio's big advantage. It provided an immediacy that collapsed time and distance in ways media just couldn't match. It was a major change in the way Americans could follow events happening around the country and even the world. A ham radio operator from Massachusetts wrote in to say he listened to the election results as they came in over the radio, wrote them down, and then put them up on his town's bulletin board next to the general store. With his letter, he included a sketch he'd done of the sizable crowd that gathered around the bulletin board. He'd become a minor overnight celebrity for being the person who brought national news to his community faster than any other source.

He was the John King of his day. For the executives at Westinghouse, getting those 732 postcards was proof that people were genuinely interested. That kind of response showed them there was a real business opportunity here. So they decided to invest more in developing kdka, realizing they'd found something with huge potential. What started out as just a way to sell more radios was quickly turning into a brand new communications industry beyond what it meant for business. The response really showed us something important about people. Listeners were craving an immediate connection to what was happening in the world. In the postcards, people talked about gathering their families around the radio, staying up all night just to hear the results, and feeling more personally involved in the election than ever before.

That basic need to know things as they happened is what drove the rapid growth of radio in the years that followed. As that flood of postcards continued to pour into KDKA's offices, another equally important feedback channel was already reshaping radio's future. While listeners across America experienced the election broadcast in isolation across town from KDKA's modest studio, Pittsburgh's elite was were having a remarkably different experience. The Edgewood Club, an exclusive gathering place for the city's most influential citizens, had arranged a special election night listening party that would prove pivotal to broadcasting's development. The Edgewood Club gathering was really like a live testing ground for Westinghouse executives. Instead of waiting days for feedback from listeners who sent in postcards, they could see right away how their bold experiment was landing. The reactions from these influential club members were immediate and impossible to miss. More like thunder than the quiet trickle of postcards that showed up days later.

As the night went on, the main thing people asked for was more news and less music. That might seem odd to us today, but it actually tells us a lot about what the audience wanted back then. The club members didn't just listen. They steered the show by giving honest, direct feedback. When the election updates started coming in more slowly, the broadcast would fall into these awkward silences. The reaction from the folks at the Edgewood Club was instant. They made it clear that these pauses were breaking the flow and causing listeners to lose interest right when it was most important to keep them engaged. Their fix was whenever there was a lull, fill it with something interesting so people would stay tuned.

One club member had a specific why not play piano music between the election results, KDKA took that suggestion on board and put it into practice that very night. What made this feedback especially valuable was where it came from. These were real listeners sharing what actually made a broadcast engaging for them. Their perspective cut through all the technical talk that usually filled engineering meetings at Westinghouse and brought the focus back to what really matters the listeners experience the real time feedback from the Edgewood Club was eye opening for kdka, not just for the election night broadcast, but in the months and years ahead. It made them realize that radio wasn't just about sharing information. It was about creating an engaging experience that blended news with entertainment. Instead of sticking stubbornly to their original approach, KDKA's management showed real flexibility. They listened to their influential audience and took their suggestions on board.

Before long, the station was trying out new content formats to keep listeners interested, especially during quieter news periods. This shift represented broadcasting's pivot toward becoming an entertainment medium rather than merely an information delivery system. By recognizing that successful radio required a mix of content types, KDKA established the variety format that would define radio programming for decades. Without this early course correction, radio might have remained a niche technology primarily used for specific information purposes. The Edgewood Club's influence and the postcards and letters received after election night helped transform radio from a technical novelty into a genuine mass medium. This feedback highlighted an important lesson. To create successful programs, you need to really listen to what your audience wants. KDKA stood out because they were open to changing their content based on listener input, which gave them a real edge over other fledgling stations that were only focused on technical upgrades.

Back in late 1920, the Pittsburgh Post stood out as something of an exception in the world of newspapers. While most publications barely noticed the rise of radio, the Post was quick to spot and that something special was happening at kdka. They even praised the station's election broadcast for what they called its instantaneous realism, a phrase that really nailed what set radio apart from print. Meanwhile, nearly every other American newspaper seemed completely unaware that a revolution in media was happening right under their noses, not dissimilar to how much of mainstream media didn't notice the Internet until the late 1990s. Back in February 1995, Clyfford Stoll wrote an article for Newsweek about the Internet. He said visionaries see a future of telecommuting workers, interactive libraries and multimedia classrooms. They talk about electronic town meetings and virtual communities. They claim commerce and business will move from offices and malls to networks and modems.

Baloney. Of course, looking back now, it's clear he couldn't have been more wrong. But it's worth remembering. When radio first appeared, most people in the media responded with the same kind of skepticism and disinterest. Leaf through the pages of the New York Times from November 1920, and you'd find no mention of radio until November 6, days after KDKA's groundbreaking broadcast, the paper of record was too preoccupied with Prohibition and other pressing matters to notice the birth of a new medium that would soon challenge its dominance. This institutional failure of imagination extended across the entire newspaper industry. A comment in the New York Times in the early 1920s said, radio broadcasting will never be able to hold the public's interest. It is merely a passing amusement for the few enthusiasts who like to tinker with wireless sets.

This embodied the prevailing sentiment among media professionals. These dismissive attitudes created an unexpected gift for radio pioneers the freedom to develop without scrutiny or defensive competition from established media powers. Like a sleeper hit that builds momentum while critics look elsewhere, radio grew in the shadows. This media blind spot proved to be broadcasting's greatest advantage. KDKA seized this opportunity to experiment, boldly expanding its programming far beyond election results and news bulletins. The station quickly diversified its content, pioneering broadcasts of religious services that brought church into the homes of the elderly. Ann infirmities, live music performances showcased local talent and introduced audiences to new genres, and sports coverage brought the excitement of games directly into living rooms across America. August 5, 1921, marked a watershed moment when KDKA broadcast the first Major league baseball game.

Harold Darlin's vivid Play by Play transported listeners to Forbes Field as the Pittsburgh Pirates faced the Philadelphia Phillies, creating an intimate connection to the action. Just two months later, in October, the station aired the first live college football game, establishing sports as an essential pillar of radio programming. These innovations completely changed the way Americans got their news and entertainment. With every new kind of broadcast, radio proved just how flexible it could be. What started as a tool for simple point to point messages quickly grew into something much bigger, a platform that could bring almost any kind of content straight into people's homes. The public's reaction was incredible. In just four years after KDKA's very first broadcast, radio in America changed dramatically. What had once been the domain of amateur operators quickly became a booming industry.

With 600 license stations up and running across the country, owning a radio receiver soon became a top priority for families everywhere. Many even made big financial sacrifices just to bring this new technology into their homes. For the very first time, people living thousands of miles apart could take part in the same cultural moments all at once. Imagine a farmer in Kansas, a factory worker in Detroit, and a banker in Boston all tuning in to the same baseball game, laughing along with the same comedy show or catching breaking news. As it happened, radio brought the whole country together, letting everyone share in the same experiences no matter where they lived. All of this was happening while traditional newspapers were asleep at the wheel. They had no idea how much of a threat radio would become, and by the time they finally woke up, it was too late. Radio had already built its foundation on three key things live reporting that made news immediate and accessible no matter where you were, a business model powered by sponsors and a new way of connecting with audiences, turning listeners from passive readers into active participants.

These foundations carried forward into television's golden age, the Internet revolution, and today's social media landscape. The direct line from KDKA's election night experiment to today's 24 hour news channels and live streaming platforms remains remarkably straight, all built on principles established while traditional media looked the other way. Today, KDKA still broadcasts at 10:20am and simulcasts on 100.1 FM, carrying forward the legacy it began on that historic November night in 1920. The station proudly celebrates its position as America's first commercially licensed radio station, regularly commemorating that inaugural broadcast with special programming. After a century on the airwaves, KDKA stands as living proof of radio's enduring relevance in our digital age. What makes the story of KDKA so powerful is how it taps into our deep human need to feel connected. Back then, those first listeners were eager to be a part of events as they happened, even if those moments were unfolding far from home. That desire for real time connection is what sparked radio's explosive rise, and it's the same force that still drives our media world today, as one longtime Pittsburgh listener recently shared.

My grandmother used to tell me about gathering around the radio on that very first night. Now I stream KDKA right on my phone. But that same sense of connection is still there. And you know, that listener really hits the nail on the head. The technology might look different, whether it's coming through the airwaves over WI Fi or straight to our smartphones, but the feeling we get from radio, that human connection hasn't changed a bit. But it all goes back to those early Westinghouse engineers who transformed a point to point communication system into a broadcast medium. You know, it's incredible to think that a rickety old wooden hut balanced on top of a factory roof in East Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania could change the course of history. Imagine those engineers huddled together on a rainy November night back in 1920, working late into the evening.

I bet none of them could have guessed they were setting the stage for radio's golden age, or that their efforts would one day lead to the amazing variety of shows we all enjoy now. If it weren't for those early pioneers, would we have ever had shows like Fibbermagee and Molly Dragnet, suspense the Life of Riley, the Jack Benny Program, Amos and Andy, or the Shadow? We'll never really know the answer to that. But as a fan of old time radio, I have to say I'm grateful for their boldness and creativity. They gave us the first sparks that lit up the golden age of radio and that wraps up our journey today. Through the exciting early days of radio, we've watched how one simple broadcast grew into a cultural phenomenon, bringing people together across miles and setting the stage for a media world that keeps evolving. KDKA didn't just invent a new way to share information. It sparked a revolution that changed entertainment and connected people like never before. Next week we'll dive deeper into the evolution of radio as we explore the rise of the networks NBC, CBS and the shaping of a medium.

Join us as we explore how radio networks like NBC and CBS completely transformed broadcasting. We'll take a look at how coast to coast networks were built, how national programming came to life, and the corporate maneuverings of, or some might say shenanigans that changed American entertainment forever. So tune in next time and let's discover together how these networks not only shaped radio but also influenced the very fabric of American society. Until then, keep those radios tuned in. And as Ned at Rusk always says, Happy listening.