In 1934, the Washington Post called Elder Lightfoot Solomon Michaux, the “best known colored man in America.” He was known as the Happy-Am-I Preacher. His Sunday services were broadcast to over 25 million listeners on CBS radio. Black America saw Michaux as a leader for racial harmony and progress. But during the civil rights movement, his reputation took an unlikely turn.

This is episode 1 of our new miniseries Making Waves, three profiles of people who pushed the boundaries of radio. They used the microphone in different ways: one to warn, one to rile, one to preach. What they had in common is they were all controversial, they spoke to huge audiences in their time, and today, they’re largely forgotten.

From ancient myths of sea monsters lurking below to Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, the ocean has long been both a source of fear and fascination. For Captain George Bond, a Navy medical officer in the 1960s, the deep sea was humanity’s next frontier. Undersea agriculture, deep sea mining, and human colonies on the ocean floor made up his dream for the future.

Today we bring you the story of the U.S. Navy’s little-known experiment building homes on the ocean floor. They called it, Sealab.

Happy 2025! We have a slate of new stories coming soon, but we want to start the year by shouting out fellow podcaster (and friend of the show) Nate DiMeo of The Memory Palace. He just put out his first book, The Memory Palace: True Short Stories of the Past. So to celebrate, we're featuring one of our favorite episodes from The Memory Palace, "These Words, Forever." Joe also sat down with Nate to chat about his book, storytelling and the dream of having a device that could allow you to hear anything. 

Find Nate's book The Memory Palace: True Short Stories of the Past NOW online or at your local bookstore. Check out The Memory Palace wherever you get your podcasts, or on radiotopia.fm. 

If you liked this episode, follow us on X and Instagram @radiodiaries. Hear more episodes on our feed and at radiodiaries.org. 

If you follow boxing, you've heard of Claressa Shields. At the 2012 Olympics, she became the first American woman to win gold in boxing. She repeated the feat 4 years later, becoming the first American boxer — woman or otherwise — to win consecutive medals. Now, she's the subject of a new movie called The Fire Inside, tracing her journey to Olympic stardom.

Claressa Shields' story was one of our earliest at Radio Diaries. We gave her a tape recorder and asked her to document her journey leading up to the 2012 Olympics. She was sixteen at the time. Today, we revisit the story of Claressa Shields — before the world knew who she was.

The Fire Insidecomes out exclusively in theaters on Christmas Day. 

If you liked this story, follow us on X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram @radiodiaries! See more stories in our feed and on our website, radiodiaries.org.

Former Oklahoma senator Fred Harris died recently, at 94 years old. In 1967, Fred Harris and 10 senators came together and released the Kerner Report, a 1400-page explanation of the causes of the protests that filled American cities that summer. It was an instant — and unlikely — bestseller, selling over half a million copies in just three weeks, getting shoutouts by celebrities like Marlon Brando, and sparking debates on news programs throughout the country. The book talked about white racism at a time when that phrase was mostly used by Black activists, not white politicians. Fred Harris was the last surviving member of the Kerner Commission.

You can read the full Kerner Report here. 

If you liked this episode, follow us on X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram @radiodiaries. Visit our website at radiodiaries.org. 

November 23, 1936 was a good day for recorded music. Two men, an ocean apart, sat before a microphone and began to play. One, Pablo Casals, was a cello prodigy who had performed for the Queen of Spain. The other, Robert Johnson, played guitar and was a regular in the juke joints of the Mississippi Delta. These recordings would change music history.
This episode originally aired on NPR in 2011.

****

Right now is Radiotopia's Annual Fall Fundraiser! If just 1% of our listeners donated, we would hit our goal TODAY. Donate today at radiotopia.fm./donate. Thanks so much for your support.

Liked what you heard? Follow us on Instagram, X (formerly Twitter) and Facebook @radiodiaries. To see photos and hear our Casals/Johnson mashup in full, visit us at radiodiaries.org.

In today’s political climate, conspiracy theories are commonplace. But they’re nothing new. In fact, back in the 1960s, there was one organization that built a movement around them. 

The John Birch Society was started by a small group of wealthy businessmen including Robert Welch and Fred Koch. It expanded, with chapters of like-minded Americans meeting in private living rooms and finished basements across the country, fueled by conspiracy theories that caused a schism in presidential politics.

While the Birch Society’s influence has waned, its impact is still felt today.

During the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, millions of desperate Americans abandoned their homes, farms and businesses. It was one of the largest migrations in US history. In the 1940s, Pat Rush’s family were farm laborers, exhausted by trying to make ends meet. So they left Arkansas and followed the hundreds of thousands who had traveled Route 66 to California. There, the federal government had built resettlement camps to help deal with the influx. Migrant stories have two parts: the leaving of an old life, and the building of a new one.

In the spring of 1981, the Pawtucket Red Sox and the Rochester Red Wings met for a minor league baseball game of little importance. But over the course of 33 innings — 8 hours and 25 minutes — the game made history. It was the longest professional baseball game ever played. This story was produced in collaboration with ESPN's 30 for 30. 

Ever since Texas became a state, the Rio Grande has been the border between the U.S. and Mexico. But rivers can move — and that's exactly what happened in 1864, when torrential rains caused it to jump its banks and go south. Suddenly the border was a different place, and Texas had gained 700 acres of land called the Chamizal, named after a plant that grew in the area.

The Chamizal was a thorn in the side of U.S.-Mexico relations for a century, until Sept. 25, 1964, when the U.S. finally gave part of the land back to Mexico. But by that time, roughly 5,000 people had moved to the area and made it their home. This is their story.