Mourning the loss of storytelling virtuoso, Charles Osgood. On that sorrow-laden day, January 23, 2024, at the age of 91, Osgood left behind a tapestry of memories woven with the threads of his remarkable life. Join me on this melancholic journey as we traverse the echoes of his recollections, initially aired on May 23, 2004, that illuminate the poignant chapters of his youth in the heart of Baltimore.
Baltimore, Maryland, a city that birthed legends like Babe Ruth and echoed with the verses of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Amid this historical tapestry, Charles Osgood Wood emerged, a name etched in the annals of a bygone era. Transport yourself to the year 1942, where a nine-year-old Osgood, enamored by the magic of baseball, radio, and the world unfurling around him, navigated the tumultuous waters of a world at war.
The ambiance of wartime Baltimore, with its rationing, air raid drills, and victory gardens, may have been a somber backdrop for many, but for young Charlie, it was a realm of enchantment. Amid a war-torn world, he found solace in the innocence of his nine-year-old heart, dreaming of a universe that stretched beyond the confines of Baltimore.
Take a moment to envision that blissful boy, finding happiness amidst the chaos, a boy entwined with a place and a moment in time that would forever be etched in the fabric of his soul. Yet, as fate would have it, January 2 brought news that shattered the illusions of childhood innocence. The Japanese took Manila, and a young Osgood reluctantly pinned a tiny Japanese flag on his bedroom wall—a stark reminder of the harsh realities that unfolded beyond the borders of his beloved Baltimore.
And then came June 4, a day when America’s triumph in the Battle of Midway allowed him to proudly replace the miniature Japanese flag with the stars and stripes of his homeland. A poignant moment in the life of a baseball-loving boy, a moment that resonated deeply in the corridors of his memory.
The Orioles of 1942, were not the powerhouse they are today, but a struggling AAA team playing AA ball. Osgood’s love for them, kindled by moments spent with his father at the ballpark, transcended the team’s challenges. Picture the white wooden houses, adorned with grand porches, and the Bromo Seltzer Tower standing tall in the skyline. A city painted in nostalgia, where meeting under the fizz of the Bromo Seltzer bottle was as iconic as rendezvousing under a clock in Manhattan.
In those days, milk was delivered in bottles, mail arrived twice a day, and a young Charlie Wood had a paper route. Imagine the simplicity of a boyhood where accuracy in journalism was measured by the avoidance of bushes and rooftops during newspaper deliveries. Amidst these everyday adventures, his closest companion was an unexpected one—his younger sister Mary Ann, a fellow lover of baseball, war updates, and the enchanting world of radio.
On an April day, bathed in mist reminiscent of the foggy tendrils of boyhood memories, Mary Ann and Charles revisited their old house on Edgewood Road. The echoes of radio, a portal to a world more fantastical and real than the tangible one around them, lingered in the air. “The Lone Ranger,” Edgar Bergen, and “The Shadow” – invisible yet vivid in the mind’s eye – shaped a young Osgood’s perception of the world.
The radio waves of 1940s America held a profound influence on the trajectory of Osgood’s life. It redirected him from playing the organ at a skating rink to the path of storytelling. The dream of being a shortstop for the Orioles flickered but faded, shadowed by the fear of ground balls.
In those golden days of radio, Osgood welcomed the intrusion of sponsors, finding entertainment in commercials that he and Mary Ann both adored. “If you want a peppy pup, then you better hurry up; buy Thrivo for himmmmm.” The jingles of yesteryears, etched in the memory of a man who found joy in the simplest melodies.
The Peabody Institute, an august institution in Baltimore, held a surprise for Osgood during his piano lessons. Director Robert Sirota presented him with a report card that acknowledged four terms of piano played satisfactorily. The recital, featuring “The Happy Farmer,” almost slipped away when they momentarily forgot to call his name.
Evenings at the Wood household unfolded around the piano, a ritual amidst the shades drawn and lights dimmed during the throes of war. Families, in those tumultuous times, found solace in music, momentarily escaping the harsh realities beyond their sanctuary.
As we bid farewell to Charles Osgood, the masterful storyteller, let us carry with us the vivid imagery of boyhood in Baltimore, a time when innocence and wonder coexisted with the grim shadows of war. In the twilight of his memories, Osgood leaves behind a legacy of tales, an eloquent reminder that even amidst the darkest chapters, the human spirit can find solace in the simplicity of a radio’s whisper and the timeless tunes of a bygone era.
