Welcome "back"! It's time for some TV talk. Let's dial it back to the times when "going digital" meant switching your alarm clock. When the closest thing to a TIVO was "Devo." I want to cover the early days of cable in the Caldwells.

Background in the Foreground

Cable television was originally created as a method of content delivery (there's a modern-day term) for remote folks—and I don't mean remote control. It was for people in areas far away from television broadcast signals; rabbit-ear antennas and the like weren't able to grab and send anything from the air to your 19-inch Magnavox console set.

Rather than deprive folks of The Rockford Files and Donny and Marie (wow, what a great one-two punch those shows were), someone came up with an idea: what if a TV signal could go through a wire? Then, reception wouldn't be an issue—everyone's Telly (not Savalas) would be connected to a source of the source. By the mid-1970s, the concept was applied, new cable-exclusive networks were formed, we all paid for it, and watched until our eyeballs almost fell out.

In the Caldwells, cable television didn't "hit"' until 1979, at least on my block. I was a wee lad, all of 9 years old, but I knew of it from going to relatives houses in Belleville and Nutley, where according to Caldwells Patch reader Mike Casale, "They got it in '78."

That Man's Epidermis Is Showing

Somewhat ironically, a class trip at Wilson School was responsible for my initial exposure. In second or third grade, we were bused over to the TV-3 studios in Orange to watch a taping of an in-studio program. The station was the perfect archetype of a local cable channel, part community bulletin board, part News 12, and yet something more: they would have performers come in and do shows.

There was a main host guy for these segments, and he would say hello and announce the school that was in the audience. Then, the performer would come out. We Wilson kids were treated to an appearance not by the cool entertainer "Goowin's Balloowins" (he was a fixture on TV-3), but the scientific, slightly creepy, leotarded Slim Goodbody.

Yes, Slim was outfitted in a skin-tight bodysuit that on one side displayed the bone structure of the human body, the other the musculature. It looked like someone skinned this man alive, in varying degrees, and there he was, running around in front of about 100 kids. I remember we all kept laughing at the animated gluteus maximus on his right cheek.

Anyway, none of us could later watch what we witnessed, as we didn't have cable yet! To catch the broadcast of Slim and his exposed internal organs, my mother took me to my Aunt Maryann's in Belleville, where cable was up and running. Soon enough, we would be hooked up at home.

A Televised Reception

I clearly remember getting cable in the Whitaker house. What I think makes it  memorable is the fact that since the whole block was freshly constructed, the power wires were all underground. It was actually a new thing at the time, getting neighborhood streets away from having hanging webs made of live wires all over the place. The cable dudes would have to dig, install and cover their tracks. I could imagine the installers' collective cursing.

"Suburban Cablevision" was more than up to the job, and soon enough, we all had freshly-filled holes in our lawns, and cable TV. HBO was the ticket back then— they just kept playing and playing things like Precinct 13, a Kiss concert from Japan, and later, the comedy classic Superfuzz. The Nickelodeon network was soon born, and we watched that. We caught up on some sitcom reruns on a Philly station (Happy Days Again). In a nod to minimalism, there was even a channel that visually showed nothing but a test pattern, but carried a feed of a local college station (Seton Hall's WSOU?).

I wasn't much of a TV kid before, but now it was on.

Readers, did you really want your MTV? I confess, I did. My grandparents in Nutley had it from its launch in August 1981 (not that they watched), but when I was down there one weekend, I couldn't stop watching the thing. The videos blew me away, just adding to the cinematic images one's mind conjures when listening to music. The two videos and songs that resonated with me were Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend" (stop laughing) and Van Halen's "So This Is Love?" (consider me redeemed). I actually taped the tunes from the TV with my boom box, and as soon as I got home put on a bandanna and jumped around my room, acting out the videos, since I couldn't watch them.

Intermission: Anatomy of a Caldwells Cable Box

The first cable boxes—as in the actual channel changers—were about 9-inches wide, had a bank of buttons, that were multiplied by three by a level switcher, and ... a cable connecting the thing to the TV. They hurt if someone threw it at you.

As folks accepted this new device and mode of TV transmission, they added more around the house—one in the family room, basement, kids' rooms, etc.

Later models were lighter, smaller, and had a nice faux-wood motif not unlike a Ford LTD station wagon. They also had an additional tuning knob that would help when doing the following trick.

The Cable Box Button Masher

Like now, "premium" channels were offered back then, at an additional cost. There was a way—or so we thought—to get one for free.

"Press 2, 4 and 7! It works!" The numbers varied by kid and neighborhood, but the method and goal were the same: by jamming three buttons down on the cable box and then toggling the reception knob, you could sort of confuse your cable signal, and cause the Playboy Channel to appear on your screen.

It never worked for me, nor have I heard of it working, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. I compared notes with others: "Does that switch on the left have to be set to the middle?" I jammed every single button on the cable box in my room, three at a time, for months. All I ever saw was a super-fuzzy, slight picture with lines running through it and static for sound. It was really hot, lemme tell ya.

What was hot was Stevie Nicks, and one day, through the magic of cable television, she appeared in my house.

I Wanted My MTV. I Got My MTV!

It was a weekday summer's morning; I delivered the newspapers, and was now hanging around, waiting for the rest of Whitaker to wake up. The phone rang—a nice, old fashioned ring, from an actual bell housed inside the salmon-colored and wall-mounted, rotary-dialed device about seven feet away from me. I picked it up.

"Did you see it?"

"See what?" Sam Lin was trying to tell me something, but I was busy watching Popeye reruns on the telly—my kid brother loved those Kings Features produced shorts. Heck, I did, too. Cable or no cable, New York's Channel 5 had us in their grasp—"It's 7 p.m., have you hugged your child today?"

"We have MTV."

I stretched the phone wire to its limit, and grabbed the cable box.

"It's on Channel 19."

I set the knob thing, and pressed the corresponding button in the middle row of the box. Almost immediately, Stevie Nicks was in our family's rec room. Her band Fleetwood Mac's promotional clip for the rather mediocre "Gypsy" was the first video I ever saw in my house. The band was cavorting in the sand, and I watched every one of Stevie's twirls—she was no Olive Oil, though.

MTV wasn't just about getting a new cable channel, it was about getting a new way of life; activities started revolving around it. That summer, every kid I knew— everyone, not just the musically minded–watched that fledgling network like nuts.

We'd act out videos; many a time, at Mark Fraiser's house we'd swing from a rope he lassoed around a tree branch and swung from it ala the safari guy in Haircut 100's "Love Plus One" video.

If the neighborhood pals and I weren't together, we'd call each other when a cool video (by our judgement) came on: "'She's Tight' is playing right now!" We especially went nuts when Cheap Trick came on—they were in commercial decline by 1982, but we kids still loved them (I pushed them hard), and kept mental logs of which of the band's clips were played and when.

57 Channels and Something's On (Sorry, Bruce)

We knock TV, but secretly watch it. Case in point: smart phones are smart, and do all sorts of neato-torpedo things on them, but what's one of the first things we do? Try and watch TV on it. It follows us, and we follow it.

For me, it all started with Slim Goodbody, a "Gypsy," and by pressing buttons.

Related links—follow for the maximum "Remember When?" experience!

1) Slim Goodbody is still going strong, terrorizing, er educating and entertaining kids with his body suit! www.slimgoodbody.com

2) And, so is "Goowin's Balloowins"! www.goowinsballoowins.com

I guess I'm stuck being POLKA DOT! for another 20 years.