The First Radiolab
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Listener supported. WNYC Studios. Wait, you're listening? Okay. Alright. Okay. Alright. You're listening to Radiolab. Radiolab. From WNYC. See? Yeah. That sounds great. I'll say the thing. You guys know what I'm going to say because I've already said it. I probably won't cry this time.

Yeah, we can make you cry. Oh, shit. What is it? Hey, Chad here. A couple days ago, I sat down with Lulu and Latif because I had something that I wanted to tell everybody. Maybe you've already seen this on Twitter or heard about it, but I just wanted to say it here to all of you and also to have them with me when I did.

Yeah, do a rough... Get yourself in the mood. Yeah. Okay. Well, so everybody, hello, everybody. This is Jad. I have, I would say I was going to start the year with some big news, but actually we're already into the year. But what is time really these days? I have some news I'd like to share. It's almost 20 years ago, roughly, that I started Radiolab. And it has grown and grown and become this incredibly...

vibrant, amazing team of people. And for a while now, I've been wondering to myself, when would be the right time for me to step aside as host and allow this thing that I've created to evolve into its next chapter? And I think that time is now. So I've decided to step aside as host of Radiolab.

My last episode will be on your story, Lulu, coming up in the middle of next month. You guys know that you'll never completely get rid of me. I'll be around. I plan to take long walks with all of you in Fort Greene Park, at least the Brooklyn contingent. And I plan to support you guys however I can. But this...

you know other founders have gone through this and i sort of look to how various people have dealt with this but like this feels to me like a natural step um everybody here at the team has worked so hard to establish this group and it really is the most beautiful talented collection of people i can imagine and this team you guys in particular along with soren and susie and pat and dylan and everybody you guys are poised to take the show

to new places. And it just felt like this is the moment for me to kind of do anything in my power to allow that to happen. And I just can't wait to be a listener and to just experience what you guys make along with everybody else. Can I just say like when, when you told everybody, the moment you told the whole team, there was this pause and then there was just

all this really authentic gratitude and this sense of people being happy for you. Like not happy that you won't be around because we love your edits and we love your like grumpy comments to have us take an idea further and past the first thought and everything. But I think there was just this sense of like, this man deserves to unfurl a little. Yeah.

Well, let me know. I don't know. We'll see. To articulate a question that maybe is on people's minds. I don't know. Are you about to, did you just sign a contract with some giant company for kajillions of dollars to go make a new thing or something? No, the real answer is no, no, I'm, uh, I'm just going to take a minute to recharge and sort of look around. That's the honest answer. Um,

And it felt like, I mean, I just want to say this as loudly as I can. Like, so many of the stories that I have loved on Radiolab in the past, God, year, two years, have happened with very little involvement from me. And so it just...

I feel so comfortable walking away now, and I needed to feel that. I needed to know that this was in such good hands. And that's one of the reasons it made so much sense to me to bring the two of you on. You both are like these hybrid humans. You are of Radiolab and that we've been working together forever.

And we share powerfully a sensibility, but at the same time, you are radically, fiercely your own people. And you make decisions I wouldn't make, and I end up loving it. It's that sort of sense of knowing where you're coming from, but also my inability to imagine where you will go. That's what makes me excited for you guys to...

you know, in partnership with Soren and Susie and the whole crew to take the show into the future. So peace out.

Good luck. Bye. CEO wouldn't want to be you. No, no, no, no, no. I just love you guys to death and my heart will always be with the show. I mean, first of all, we love you too. But also, there's no way you won't always be at the heart of this show in some way. Like, you know, the way we do things, the way you've sort of impressed on...

Every one of us on the team, you know, we're always just going to push the show to do unexpected things, to go to sort of very intimate places, to be, you know, just so ambitious. Like those things more than any topics or set of voices like that's what's in this show's DNA. Yeah, totally. Yeah.

And for me, I just want to continue the tradition of always making shows that take you somewhere. They take you up into the stars with a laser or they take you into the mind of someone erasing memories in real time or right up to a canvas, Painter Joe, and you hear that swash, like I'm being shaken awake and I'm being taken somewhere. And then I come back with that slight glow of a

visit, you know, like I've been elsewhere, but it's of this world. So I want to make sure we keep doing that. And just looking at what we already have on deck, like we have so many treats in store. The very next thing we're going to play after this, that's a one that's going to take you somewhere beautiful. That's a pine scented psychedelic listening experience about something that actually takes place here on earth. Yeah, totally. I mean, that

It feels like the beating heart of what we've always tried to do. And in terms of both of you continuing to do that, I can't even stress how little I worry about that. And I'm really excited. The thing that actually makes me, keeps me from being sad and whips me into happy is to think, well, I'm not going to know what's going to come in the feed. And that's going to be really exciting. That moment when I see something show up and I don't know what it is and I experience it like everybody else, I'm just going to be so excited.

I can't wait to give myself that gift. Yeah. And we're very honored to give it to you. Truly. But we do have a thing to play today. Should we turn to that now? Yeah. Yeah, actually, I'm so in the dark about this. What are we doing? Purposefully. Okay, so while we were thinking about what to play... Reached out to the archives. We went. We went into the dusty archives of WNYC. Oh.

The very first Radiolab ever, which was, do you remember what this was an episode about? Unfortunately, I do remember. It was called Firsts, I think, right? It was called Firsts. It was called Firsts. Have you listened back to it? Well, a couple of years ago, Ellen and Soren dug it up and I heard just a tiny piece of it. But I don't think anybody has heard this before.

Which was by design. Well, we are going to change that wildly. You're actually going to play it? It's really good. You're going to play the whole first hour? Because here's something else you guys don't know. So it was a three-hour show, which meant three CDs. And in between the CDs, I would actually do the weather. Really? Yeah, I would do like the weather and the news. So basically, so here's what would happen. So in the basement of this house that I'm talking to you from,

I would create the show. And, you know, this will not surprise you. I would work right up until deadline. Yeah. Show's on Sunday night at 8 p.m. I'd be still like bouncing it Sunday at 7.15. And then I would get the CDs, throw them in my bag, and I would bike down Flatbush onto the Brooklyn Bridge. And I would like rock it over the Brooklyn Bridge.

as fast as I could. And I would run up there and I would like throw the CDs and hit play. What time would you have been doing that bike ride? It was 8 to 11 Sunday nights. Dark. And it was on the AM. Yeah. So you know how WNYC has an AM and an FM. Oh, I didn't know it was AM. Yeah. So you're kind of super like,

Because the AM signal was so weak, especially that time of night. And I was like, oh, this is so low stakes. Nobody can even hear this show. So that was it for about a year. That's what people heard. Okay, we're going to listen to him. I'm going to attempt. Hold on. Okay. Every radio producer has this idealized image in their head of you. Maybe you're sitting on the couch drinking coffee.

staring out the window. Maybe you're the person who's driving and you pull over to really concentrate on a story. Whatever the case, that image in the radio producer's brain of you, the listener, that's why they make this stuff. It's a lonely thing. You know, they don't get paid much. They lug around these heavy recorders and mics and they look, frankly, silly in those headphones they have to wear. But it doesn't matter as long as you are there to listen to what they make.

WNYC is about to embark on an experiment. We're calling it the Radiolab. Oh my god. Just need to pause right there. The Radiolab. The Radiolab, I die! And what we're going to do is take great documentary radio and stories of different sizes and shapes, colors, from different places all over the planet, from different times even,

And we're going to mix it all together. Like this. A big brew of people and places. But it'll take two hours and 59 minutes to get through all of it. And trust me, it sounds better that way. Jad Abumrad here. I'll be your host. Is not the right word. Curator. Guide, maybe. How about DJ of documentary? Oh, Jesus. Love it.

Since this right here is our first ever radio lab, how about we string together a series of stories about firsts? What do I say? What's the first thing I play? Oh, it was not what I expected at all. It made me love you even more. Well, you'll hear it in just a second because here's what we're going to do now. We are going to stop interrupting.

And just play that whole first hour exactly as it was. Because yes, it sounds different. The pace is way slower. The production is different. But you can clearly hear how maybe the most central thing to you, Jad, is so alive in this first night, which is that you're handing off the mic to other people. You want them to be the guides into worlds you couldn't otherwise reach.

And that's something that's still so alive today. I know that we're going to carry that forward. So here we're going to play it. We'll come back at the very end to ask you a few more questions. But without further ado, the first piece in the first episode on First. Here's youth reporter Arielle Adams.

She brings us a story she aired on Blunt Radio in Maine about a traumatic first of hers. My first memory of menstruation is the voice of my grandmother asking me if I'd started to menstruate. And since I hadn't, not to worry, it would come soon. Growing up, I always imagined I'd get my first period right in the middle of school. I pictured blood flowing out of my body, soaking through my white skirt and dripping onto the white classroom floor.

I was not only petrified by this image, but the idea of being physically able to have a baby develop inside of me wasn't too pleasant a thought either. I got my period when I was 14 years old. It was Christmas break of my 8th grade year and my family and my parents' close friends had traveled to Mexico.

I don't remember how I felt during the days leading up to my first period, but I do remember exactly what happened when it came for the first time. We had been traveling around Mexico all day, driving through remote villages and climbing Mayan ruins. One hot evening, halfway through our trip, I went to the bathroom, pulled down my pants, and there it was. Not heavy in red, but light in a brownish hue.

For a second I didn't even know what it was. I walked outside of the bathroom and assessed the spectator situation. See, I didn't want my dad or my sister to know, but I had to tell my mom. She was excited and gave me the whole "You're now a woman!" tampon pad speech and took me out to get some supplies. After about half an hour of wandering, my mom and I found a little convenience shop and quickly searched for feminine products.

When we couldn't find any, my mom approached the counter. Remember, this was Mexico. And in English, asked the rather matronly employee where pads were located. When it was clear the clerk was not bilingual, my mom began to use her hands and body, pointing to me, simulating the flow of the menstrual cycle and demonstrating that I had my period. Immediately, the woman took us to the aisle where the pads were located.

Putting the pad on for the first time was a demeaning experience. Five inches thick and twelve inches long? Honestly, who invented these things? My final days in Mexico were punctuated by the joys of a four-pound weight in my underwear and the knowledge that I was now a woman. I had expected to feel different about myself, but I really didn't. Getting my period wasn't a monumental experience of my adolescence. It was just a big hassle and a letdown.

But let's not leave it at this. Half of the world's population does have a first period story. So here are a few more. First time I got my period, I called up, this was before it happened, it was during the day, and I called up this girl to go mountain biking. And we went, and the terrain was pretty rough. It was rough terrain. So the terrain was rough.

And we were riding along. How rough was it? It was really rough terrain. There were rocks and sticks and things. And so I'm riding along. It was a hot summer's day. And I hit this, like, rock log thing. And I fall into the bar, and it hurt like a bitch. And I thought that I broke my pubic bone.

which is, you know, where the bones meet in the front. And it was killing me. And I was like, this hurts a lot. And, you know, I probably got a bruise. I didn't look that closely. But anyway, so, you know, it hurt. And I was like, wow, I wonder what's going to happen. So I went home after. You know, I continue mountain biking because I'm tough. And I'm

So I got home later and I was playing a little Super Mario and I was like, "I think I'm gonna go upstairs to the bathroom." And then I'm like, "Whoa, I'm bleeding." And I thought it was because I broke my pubic bone, but actually the next day it turned out that I had my first period. It was three days before summer vacation of seventh grade.

And I remember I was wearing one of my favorite dresses and I came home from school and my stomach had been feeling really funny all day. So, well, I discovered the little surprise. ♪

It was the summer after fifth grade and I was at summer camp and I don't really remember where it was but it was somewhere in the middle of nowhere and I got my period and like my mom had always talked to me about it like so I knew what I was supposed to do but I was so freaked out because I was like away from my mom and I was like I'm not going to do this.

I was so homesick as it was, and I didn't know what to do. And so I spent, like, two weeks, like, in total, like, horrification, if that's a word. And I would, like, write letters to my mom and be like, please let me come home. Please. This is horrible. And, like, it just, it was so bad. And, like, my best friend was at camp with me. But I just, for some reason, and I still don't know why, I just wouldn't talk to her about it. And I didn't end up telling her for, like,

three years that I had gotten my period that summer at summer camp. So how did you get any sort of supplies? I had to like, I don't even remember. I think I ended up like stealing stuff from my best friend and then like

like getting stuff from the health department or you know from at the at the camp or whatever but I just remember it was so bad and I came home and I told my mom and I was like crying and she was like oh and she never sent me back to summer camp after that

Like I was in student council, right? And like my stomach's starting to hurt. And I was like, it feels really weird, like I'm cramping or something. And then Vanessa's like, Lindsay, you probably have your period. And I was like, no, I don't, because I was like 13. And so then I went home and had my period. And then it was like, oh, my God, yay, because now I'm a girl. You were excited that you got your period? Yeah, because now I'm a woman. What did your mom say to you? My mom was like, oh, my little girl.

- Little girl's curling up.

Well, beginning the night before it really started to happen, I had a really long rehearsal for a Portland Stage Company play. And our costumes were white shorts and white dresses. So I'm thinking, all right, I'll survive. Everything will be okay. And I made it through that. Nothing big happened. Nothing stained any of the dresses or the shorts. Went home, got into bed, and I knew it was coming. I knew. But I refused to put on a sanitary napkin. I was like, this is not happening to me. I woke up the next morning at 7.45 a.m.

covered in my own blood. I was petrified. I started to cry and got in the shower and I was like, Mommy! And she told my father. And my father told his best friend. So by the time I went to school that day, everybody knew. What were people saying to you? Congratulations, Becca. Now you're a woman. I didn't want to be a woman. No, no. I was 13. I was not ready and I refused to acknowledge it was happening. For the home of the sick.

Girl, you'll be a woman

It was on the last day of seventh grade and my parents were away and I was staying with my aunt and I went over to sleep over at my friend's house and I had it there and then I had to go home, go to my aunt's house and tell her and I'm not really close to my aunt so it was kind of weird. Then my uncle took me out shopping for pads. Was that really weird? Yeah.

Yeah, because he's like my step-uncle. He's not my real uncle, so. Why didn't your aunt take you out? Because she had to go to work. So what did you feel like? What did you feel like when you were going around with your uncle? Because you didn't know what you were doing, right? Did you know what to pick? No, I had no idea. So we just picked the cheapest kind. ♪

Well, it was the fall of my eighth grade year, and it was the day before my championship meet for cross country, and I went to the bathroom after practice, and I was like, oh,

oh my god what is that I thought there was something wrong with me and I was like I can't believe it I think I just started my period so I went home my mom was like oh my god she's like here take this pad and it was like 7 inches thick and like 10 feet long so I was like okay so the next day I had to wear that and like you know when you first get your period you don't bleed that much at all so like there was really no point in me wearing it so I had this

huge pad on and I had to wear like these running shorts and try to run my race and I was like wobbling across the track. It was so awful. And like my period was irregular for a long time so like it didn't really bother me but my mom insisted that I wear these really big fat pads all the time and it was so awful and so uncomfortable. For Blunt, this is Ariel Adams. That piece was called What's That in My Underwear? First Period Stories.

It was produced by Arielle Adams from Blunt Radio in Maine. We were turned on to it by our buddies at Third Coast Audio Festival in Chicago. That site is filled with new voices and cool stories, so check them out at thirdcoastfestival.org. As for Arielle, here's what she would like New Yorkers to know about her.

Let's see, I'm reading now. She likes hot chocolate, fat beets, and a stimulating conversation. We can at least give her some fat beets.

Okay, we're going to take a quick break. When we come back, we're going to play the rest of the first ever hour of Radiolab. Quick warning for when we come back. There are two more stories still to go. The last one, the last 15 minutes of the hour has some pretty explicit discussion of the dark thoughts that go along with mental illness. May not be right for you or your kids.

But we'll be back in just a second.

I'm Maria Konnikova. And I'm Nate Silver. And our new podcast, Risky Business, is a show about making better decisions. We're both journalists whom we light as poker players, and that's the lens we're going to use to approach this entire show. We're going to be discussing everything from high-stakes poker to personal questions. Like whether I should call a plumber or fix my shower myself. And of course, we'll be talking about the election, too. Listen to Risky Business wherever you get your podcasts.

Okay, we're back with the second part of the first ever episode of Radiolab. Jad Abumrad here. This is WNYC's first ever Radiolab. Version one, we'll call it. We actually have a lot more youth voices sprinkled throughout the show. So here's one right now. This next story is a first, but not in subject matter.

At the time this documentary originally aired on All Things Considered, there had been other radio pieces done about inner-city youth. Probably a whole bunch, but none quite like this one.

The story is told by the people who are the story, Leland Jones and Lloyd Newman. The other person to be aware of is Dave Isay, the producer. Dave hired Leland and Lloyd as public radio reporters to document their lives for a week as they grew up too fast in a rough neighborhood in Chicago. This was in 1993. Both were 13. They decided to call their documentary Ghetto Life 101. Good morning, day one.

Walking to school. Leaving out your dog. This is my dog, Ferocious. You know why he got that name if you hear him bark. I see the ghetto every day, walking to school.

Guys standing on the corner burning a fire. Be here summertime, wintertime, spring, fall, every day. The drink in the hand, probably some white port, will it pee, some Jack Daniels, E&J. I live here. This is home. What's up, baby? What's up, doo-doo?

This is my walk every day, son. Take me on a little journey through my life. Yes, my life. Yeah. My name's Le'Allen Jones and I'm 13 years old. I live in a house just outside the Otterby Wells Projects. My best friend Lloyd Newman lives in the Otterby's.

This is our story. Everyone and I pick up Lloyd on the way to school. Today we were ready to work. Strapped with our tape recorders and microphones. You got the Tom Brokaw look being like Tom Brokaw. You got the Tom Brokaw look niggas said I am. This is Lloyd Newman and I'm 14 years old. I live with my brothers and sisters in the Ida B. Wells Project.

Let me describe Lloyd. Lloyd is short. He weighs about 75 pounds. I have an inch between my fingers when I put it around his wrist. He's got a head like a Martian. All right, now let me talk about Leala. His belly take up his whole body. Like your head take up yours. We've been friends since first grade. That's seven years. Yeah, seven years of our life together.

Our first stop today is Donahue Elementary School. We're both in that grade. It's right across the street from Lloyd's house in the projects. Good morning, Vietnam. Monday morning at 8:30. Trying to rowdy in the morning.

That's Miss Ford, our homeroom teacher. We give her a hard time. Sometimes we learn. Most of the time it's just too rowdy to learn. I can buy you bread because I learned to use my brain. Now let's try working on yours. Okay. The Ellen and I interviewed our principal, Mrs. Tost, about working at a school like Donahue. Is it hard being a teacher in this neighborhood? Yes.

Yes, it's difficult. Not so much because the children are really indifferent. It's difficult because of the publicity that surrounds the area. And you don't believe that we believe you're smart. But sometimes there's no denying we're smart. After school, day one, me and Leella head downtown with our tape recorder. On the bus, someone tells us that there are professional basketball players standing at the Hyatt Regency.

for being top-notch reporters. We head to the hotel and check it out. You hear the nice music they're playing?

We're going to come here. A few minutes later, we scammed our way up to the 20th floor. That's where we found Dale Ellis, a guy with the San Antonio Spurs. He let us interview him in his room. Yeah, I'm from Rottabee Wells. Where in the United States are you from? Atlanta. Actually, Marietta. I'm 20 minutes north of Atlanta. I know that. You play for the Sonics. You won a three-point contest. What are some of your greatest achievements in life?

Well, you know, the biggest achievement, I think, is just being here, one. We chilled out with Dale for about 15, 20 minutes. It was cool. Math was always my favorite subject. Thank you. Now your autograph. That's good to see you. That was Dale Ellis. That was Dale Ellis, man. That was Dale Ellis, thank you. Dale Ellis was a San Antonio Spurs.

After we finished with Dale Ellis, Lori and I figured we did enough for our first day as reporters. Man, I'm tired. You ain't tired. I think I'm about to have a backstroke carrying this stuff on my back. Okay, I'll be talking to you guys later. I'm out. My house, day two.

The Yali lives just a block away from me in an old house on Oakwood Boulevard. There are three houses attached to the side of here. One of them's burned and two of them just abandoned. And one of them, it leans over and keeps moving our house over to the side. When it get cold outside, it get cold in here. When it rain, the rain coming in. Whatever nature do, this house do. I'm in my front room now.

How you doing, Tucci? Okay. That's my mother. Everyone calls her Tucci. Say hello, Jerry. Hello. My little sister, Jerry. Walking up the stairs. Leala, Grandma and Grandpa lives on the second floor of the house. A pericardial flight of steps. Listen, I showed you how really, uh... My grandmother moved into this house in 1937. Her name is Zuma Marie Jones. I interviewed her in her room.

It's still day two. It's 12.06. Hello. Hello. What are we going to talk about tonight? We're going to talk about the neighborhood. How it changed in there, then. Yeah. How do you think it's changed? To the further worst. When we first came in the area, there were no projects. They were all homes.

And at one time we had nice hotels where different movie stars would come in and stay. How weird did you start seeing a major change in the neighborhood? It wasn't all of a sudden. It happened gradually. Day by day, year by year, you could see the change when people would move out or maybe the original owner would pass and their family didn't want the buildings anymore.

And they would just go down. My grandma raised eight kids in this house. Her two oldest boys died. Now she has six kids. I have three boys and three girls. They all spoiled rotten. And so are the grandchildren, and especially you. I get you. What type of child was I when I was a whining child? No. No.

He was a nice little red-headed boy with blue eyes. I had blue eyes, a brown eye. They're blue. They was lighter when you were young. And your hair was lighter. And it would turn white in the summer and darker in the fall. Well, how was I named? You got your name from your two oldest uncles.

The oldest boy's name was Allen, and the second boy under Judy's name was Eric Lee, and your mother made your name out of the two names. Why is your name no common name? Why my name had to be Sentimental? Because you're different. Your name is different, and you're different. My name is Lee Allen Marvin Jones. And she gave you the Marvin. The Marvin Gate. The Marvin Gate, because she liked to hear him sing. My name is Sentimental.

Yeah, your name is special and you're a special person too. Thank you, thank you. Compared to other people in this neighborhood, my grandma said she's had it easy. I think I've been blessed because things could have been a whole lot worse than they have been. But she has had her share of troubles. The kinds of things you see in every family around here. My grandmother had one son who was murdered. She has another son who's addicted to drugs and is in and out of jail.

Her grandson, my cousin Jemaine, came down with leukemia when he was six. He was cured, but the medication left him learning disabled. It upset his mother so much that she started drinking. Now he lives here with my grandmother, sleeps in her bed. How old are you? I'm 11. I'll be 20 this year.

What do you think about your mother? She okay. You love her? Yeah. When she not drink, I love her. She start drinkin', I don't. Me, my mother, and my little sister all stay downstairs in the front room. I sleep on the couch. My mother and my sister sleep on the mattress on the floor.

Even though my mother lives with us, my grandmother also has custody of me and my sisters because of my mother's mental illness. This is my mother, Tucci. I've been on medication off and on since 1977. She's okay now, but she's had a lot of problems in the past. It's upsetting to see her when she's sick. One time, I had went downstairs...

And it's a long story, but I started seeing shadows on the porch, on the back porch, when I used to look out the window at night. And it looked like Ronald Reagan, and he was talking to my grandmother. And I was hearing voices, and the voices told me to get butt naked. I had did that before, too, checking my clothes off. What's up with voice oddies? Are they a man voice or a female voice or just voice? Just a regular little voice up there. Oh.

Who is my father? Your father is a fella named Toby Flippum. He's saying he know you exist. He's saying he knew you was about two. And I ain't seen him since. What do you think happened to him? He probably dead. Thank you. Okay. Loy lives about two blocks from my house in the Otterby Wells Projects. The Otterby's are made up of about 3,000 units. Most of them are low-rise houses. A lot of them are in miserable conditions.

Now we're walking in the Outer Bay Wells, which is 50% houses I've boarded up. Now we're going into my house. We're knocking on the door, kicking on the door. Oh, she hurry up, bro. Now we're walking into our house. Lowe's house is kind of messed up. There's a lot of roaches creeping around. The toilets have been stopped up off and on for years. The place is always noisy. Lowe's mother died two years ago from drinking.

His father is also an alcoholic. So Lori's two older sisters have been bringing him up since then. Lori's sister Sophia was the closest to their mother. How did you react to when you heard that she died? I was very upset. I just thought my life wasn't worth living. I wanted to die too. I just thought we wasn't going to make it without her. But I see that we made it, and I'm very proud of us. Do you think it's hard bringing us up at the age of 20?

Well, I'll be 20 this year. I'm 19. But sometimes you all give us a tough time, but I love having y'all as my brothers and sisters. All together, there are four boys and three girls living in the house. Lloyd's sister is bringing them all up on a $500 a month welfare check. It isn't easy. My name is Michael Murray. His name is Chili Back. He's at the liquor store. Almost every day, Lloyd's father visits the house.

His name is Michael Murray, but everyone calls him Chill. They gave him that name. I used to shoot pooh. I used to hustle. Any kind of way, I'd get some money. When he comes over, he's almost always drunk, and the kids make fun of him. Like today, they asked him, can he spell food? Spell food. L-O-O-F. L-O-O-F. You don't know how to spell. Wait, what is your spelling? We said spell food what you eat. Oh, food. Yeah.

What you eat? Yeah, buddy. Boy, spare food. L-O-O-L. I asked my father, Chia, what his best memories of my mother are. We had a lot of fun putting our feet in the water together. We were sober then. Once you start getting high, the memories gone. They gone. Why are you drinking? I don't understand why I'm doing it. Do you think you're going to stop? Yeah, I'm going to rehab.

and take care of myself. What do you drink? I drink about two or three pints of wine a day. But it ain't helping me. It ain't no more killing me. Do people understand it's destroying you? If it's destroying you, why do you still drink? That's why I got to go in the rehab program next week because I don't want to destroy my family. I want my family. Do you think you've been a good father? Yes, I have to the best capability I could. I have no further questions.

Every Saturday evening at Lloyd's house, a bunch of people come over to play cards. Mostly Lloyd's sister friends. Usually the game lasts all night. I left about 11:30 or 12:00. I met up with Lloyd the next morning. How'd the card game go last night? I won all the money. It was $80. Gee, but how you been winning all the time? I don't cheat, which everybody think I do.

But I'm hooked now. Once I start, I can't stop. What you want for breakfast? Since you bound. I took the other to Joss's restaurant on 39th Street for breakfast. All right, what else? Since Lori had $80, we ordered everything on the menu. Then with the army, I want a hash brown and grits. Okay, now, what about this French toast? I want the French toast with sausage. I want a juice. Hold on a minute. Let's hold on.

Man, that was one good breakfast. French toast with bacon. Just now got through Lady Johnson's restaurant. I ate 12 French toasts. Two almonds. I'm going to eat you all. We all ate the whole store up. Man, I can eat again once I'm starting at home. That's all we do is eat, man. Tell you the truth, man. Eat and talk. Let's get a little bus, man.

We take bus rides whenever Lloyd wins playing cards. We'll be there, I have a little money, while he gets a little money. Just ride to the end of the line. Take a break from everyday life in the ghetto. They're going to cut, they're going to bust. Yeah, let's go, let's go, let's go. Hold the bus, hold the bus, hold the bus, hold the bus, please.

On the bus, we just sit back, relax, look out the window, and trip out. What's your favorite food? Breakfast food? Lunch food? Or dinner? Dinner food? This is what I be doing, G-Glone. When we on the bus, we talk about anything and everything. I don't see how them Chinese people go to school seven days out of a week. Man, it's a couple billion Oriental people. Oriental Dutch is spelled like O-R-I-E-N-T-A-N.

I think that's right. Because that's the name of a ramen noodle. Don't you know those noodles that we eat? Yeah, I love them. Oriental noodles. When a nice looking female gets on the bus, who like to let her know we there? Hey girl, he said he like you. He said you attractive. He said it's just an animal magnetism that just attracts him. He said he so all alone. Man, he say he love you. I just love you. I just love you right now.

We just like to act a fool on the bus and get some attention. We almost hit a car. Woo, that car came out. We almost hit it. I think we did. Or no, we didn't. If we would have had an accident, do you think we would have had it? I would have faked it. I would have sued. My neck hurts. I can't move. Man, I can't move my neck.

My nose broke. Would you rather have a rubber nose or a plastic nose? I ain't talking about the kind like my projection. A rubber nose. If I have a fight, they hit me and it just bounce right off. When they hit me in my nose, it just bounce right off.

When I got home from my bus ride on Sunday afternoon, I found out that in the morning, while we were eating breakfast, my cousin Tony got jumped by one of the gangs in the neighborhood. They beat him up so bad they put him in the hospital. He wouldn't let me interview him, but I recorded him while he told his friend on the phone what happened. I'm out home, you know what I'm saying? I'm breathing and everything, but I can hear everything, but I ain't, you know what I'm saying? I ain't woke.

Tony's saying they beat him up until they knocked him unconscious. Then they hit him a couple more times in the mouth. That woke him up and he got away. He says it's just a blessing that he made it back home. It's just a blessing that I made it back home. This is where the drive-by took place last year with an L-rooker.

Shut down some folks right in this area where we walking now. It's a little... Gangs and violence are just the way of life in this neighborhood. And now we see the fort where the fort used to stand. Just a block from my house is a big vacant lot. That's where the fort used to be.

In the old movie theater that was the headquarters for the El Rickon Street Gang. Until the city tore down. We stand on the grounds now. We still see the caution, police barriers. We're just in eighth grade. A lot of kids we grew up with already joined gangs. When we were walking around the neighborhood, we spotted our friend Gary selling drugs. Leala asked him what he thought he would be doing in ten years, since he already dropped out of school.

I ain't gonna be alive until you knock on some of my cars and see they gonna pop my ass. He says he won't be alive in two years because with his son's joint, someone's gonna shoot him before then.

I don't know why some kids just give up hope and others like me and Lloyd hold on. Maybe it's just that both me and Lloyd have at least one strong person in our families to watch over us. But no matter what the situation, every kid who lives in this neighborhood has to grow a family. When I was nine, I knew where drugs came from. When I was ten, I seen my first automatic weapon.

A Glock 9. Two clips. I see all kinds of cars. 44, 22. Tex. Tex. That's a rifle. Mac 10s, Mac 11s. Everything. Living around here, you get shooting all the time? Like Vietnam sometimes. I'm out here. Booga, booga, booga, booga. Sound. Booga, booga, booga. I remember one time I was over at my aunt's house spending the night. We playing Super Nintendo. I hear this lady out. I heard you been looking for me, nigga.

Then she just, "Boo, boo, boo, boo, boo." She let off about eight shots. Then I heard the other gun fire off. And we was just still there playing now, like nothing had happened. And then in Vietnam, some people came back crazy. I don't live in Vietnam, so what you think I'ma be if I live in it and they just went and visited it? Living around here, man, is depressing. Man, it's depressing. It's not a normal childhood by any means.

Now we walkin' towards the lakefront. Sometimes when we bored, nothing else to do. We get on the bridge which goes over Lakeshore Drive. We drop rocks in the cars below, try to crack their windshields, and then run. Minivans are one of my favorite targets. That's my brother in there. Hit the white blazer. Red blazer! Go now. You just driving your car now. Boom! You just hit the car.

It definitely ain't easy growing up in the ghetto.

So far me and Lorde are okay, but it's always tough to stay out of trouble in this environment. The poverty, the drugs, the pressures, the tragedies. It gets to people. You never know who's going to get in trouble or when they're just going to give up, like Leala's sister, Janelle. We're back at Leala's house. My sister back here asleep in her room. What time you got in this morning?

You stupid. When was the last time you've been to school? My older sister, Janelle. When she was my age, 13, she was an honor student. She wanted a spelling bee. She was the salutatorian of her class. Then when she hit 14, she started bugging out, hanging around with the wrong crowd, staying out all night, stopped going to school. The week before we did our recording, Janelle almost died. She drank too much and had to be rushed to the hospital.

Can I interview you? Come on. Janelle, tell me about yourself. Well, I'm very energetic. I like to have a lot of fun. Like to drink a lot? No, I don't. Yes, you do. You smoke marijuana? No, I don't. Yes, you do. Tell the truth. No, I don't. You're 17? Yes. Have a child? Yes. How old were you when you had this child? 15. Let me see you.

How many close friends of yours have got killed through the years? I don't know. I can't count all of them. It's been a lot, though. You think it's around 50? I don't think it's that many. I think it's around 30 or 40. Probably somewhere in that area. Maybe a little less than 30. Do you know who killed or murdered these people? I know who killed someone. Like who? Like Bill. Who killed him? I ain't going to tell you who killed Bill. Who else?

I know who killed Slick. Who? I don't want to tell you that either. Uh, who else? Cheesy. Who killed him? I ain't gonna tell you that either. Thank you. My grandma sleeps across the hall from my sister, while she keeps an eye on Janelle and the rest of us. She's been through a lot in this house. She spent a lot of years worrying about her children. Now she has to worry about her grandkids. But she's a strong woman.

Sometimes I think about what might happen to the family if my grandmother dies. A lot of times I've had dreams that she died. And when I wake up, I run upstairs to make sure that she's still there. I get onto the bed with her and my grandfather and talk about all kinds of things. Like what my grandfather was like before he had all his strokes. He was wild. He liked to stay out in the street all the time. He over there batting his eyes. He acted like he sleeped.

I see them eyes going, trying to see what you thought about them. He'd go to work all day and stay out in the street all night. Then he worked at the cow company of Stockyards. He worked at the Stockyards as a lugger. He would carry the cows on his back. A cow weighed 1,500 pounds. He lugged it. He carried half of it and put him up on the hook. How did you carry them cows, Brenda? How you didn't get squashed? Carry the half of the cow on your back.

That's why we all got strong backbones, huh? Yeah. My grandmother says she gets her strength to carry on, her wisdom from the Bible. She loves gospel music, and of all the songs she knows, the one she loves the most is called One Day at a Time. Could you please sing that song for us? With my voice all messed up. Do it. One, two, one, two, three. Do you remember?

When you walked among men. Well, Jesus, you know, if you're looking below, it's worse now than then. They're pushing and shoving. They're crowding. Lord, for my sake, teach me to take.

One day at a time, sweet Jesus, that's all I'm asking of you. So help me today, show me the way, one day at a time. She was hoarse, but she still can blow. Thank you.

♪♪ This is Lialyn Jones. Hello, I know. Peace out. Peace out. No, goodbye. Uh-oh. What's that? Asalaamu alaikum. Asalaamu alaikum. Asalaamu alaikum. See ya. And we want to be. Peace out. I'm out of here. Peace out. ♪♪

You know how theater people always talk about the fourth wall, that invisible barrier between audience and performer? Ghetto Life 101 breaks down the fourth wall, don't you think? Lee Allen Jones and Lloyd Newman, they basically come into your home and hang out with you. And Isay's work in general is very visual. It's like a movie, except better. You know, you don't even have to imagine the images. They just pop into your head.

The story was produced by Dave Isay, as I said, and it won a Peabody Award and basically created this whole subgenre of docs which we now call diaries. I'm Jad Aboumrad. This is Radiolab, WNYC's weekly experiment in documentary sound. To recap, we're smack in the middle of a journey through a series of stories about firsts. What is the first image that comes to mind when you think of electroshock therapy? Torture? One flew over the cuckoo's nest?

Clear your brain of those thoughts because in this next story you're going to meet a guy who feels very differently about electroconvulsive therapy, as it's commonly called. He says it saved his life. You'll hear tape of him during an ECT treatment. That might be a first.

The piece is produced by Dan Collison, and it's narrated by Rob McGruder. This is his story. Sometimes it comes without any warning. I wake up, and it's just there, like a dense fog that's descended on me during the night. One day I'm fine, and the next day I'm severely depressed. I feel like I'm hanging on the edge of a cliff.

There doesn't seem to be any way of pulling myself back up to safety, and it gets harder and harder to hold on. I have impulses telling me to end it all. I have bipolar disorder. I've attempted suicide three times and have thought about it more times than I can count.

I've been in and out of mental hospitals more than a dozen times. I've been homeless and have lived in shelters and on the streets. I've been arrested for vagrancy, have lost jobs, and have had two marriages fail, all because of my mental illness. I'm 45 years old, and as I speak, I'm doing pretty well. My wife and I have moved into a new apartment on Chicago's west side, and I'm starting to think about working again.

Last winter, I was hit hard by another severe depression. It took many months to come out of it. The fact that I'm speaking to you at all is a victory of sorts. I'm going to tell you how I got to this point. The story begins about a year ago. Yeah, this is Friday the... I have no idea what the date is today. No, today's Thursday. Tomorrow's Friday. I guess I'm a little confused.

I haven't worked since Tuesday when this really kind of got started. Mostly I've just been laying around feeling completely awful. The depression has just taken over again, like it does. And there are just weird kind of thoughts that pop into my head. Well, I could do this, you know. I could drive the van into a railroad pylon at high speed, that kind of thing. I'm going to...

Have an ECT treatment tomorrow. And I'm glad I have something that, at least in the past, has worked and I hope will work this time because I was so suicidal that it was, I've got to, this is like the last thing I'm holding on to. Come here, I'll raise your hand.

The next morning, I wake up early and ride the L down to the University of Illinois at Chicago Hospital, where I check in to the outpatient surgery center. I've got to ask you, how tall are you? 6'3". 6'3". How much do you weigh? 305. 305. I've been through all this before, so I know the routine. I change into a hospital gown, and a nurse inserts an IV needle in the back of my hand. Ah!

For me, it's probably the most painful part of the whole procedure. Mm-mm-mm.

My psychiatrist, Dr. Jack Krasuski, who will be administering my ECT today, drops by the prep room to have me sign the consent form and see how I'm doing. His pattern is one of some people slowly kind of slide down like a gentle slope into a depression, but for Rob it's almost more like a cliff, you know. He'll just kind of feel it coming on and within a day or two he can be severely depressed and, you know, just be overwhelmed with suicidal thoughts and impulses.

you know, unable to kind of get his mind off of that and he'd be a high suicide risk and that could develop very quickly over a day or two. Then I'm wheeled on a gurney into the ECT treatment room. The staff all know me by now.

Getting bigger, he's hardly a baby anymore. The room is unassuming, small and cramped, barely enough space for me and Dr. Krzyzewski and his team, a resident, a nurse, and two anesthesiologists who immediately start working on me. We attach electroencephalographic leads

to the person's head so that we are able to monitor the brain waves before, during, and after the procedure. This all used to be a little scary, but after so many treatments, I'm pretty relaxed, although there are still some things I get nervous about. A couple of things, getting the mouthpiece

in correctly is really important. The mouthpiece prevents me from biting my tongue during the procedure. During an ECT treatment at another hospital years ago, the mouthpiece wasn't positioned correctly and I ended up needing several stitches in my tongue. You got him there, Felix? Yeah. Got a good jaw thrust? I've also found that taking in a whole lot of oxygen just before the treatment prevents memory loss and post-treatment headaches. Memory loss is one of the major side effects of ECT.

Patients have lost as many as two years of their memory after receiving an ECT treatment.

So when the oxygen mask is placed over my mouth, I begin to take a series of deep breaths. Hyperventilated pretty good there? I'm given a general anesthetic through my IV, followed by a muscle relaxant. Robert, this stings, and you know that. So the point of these agents is to have them be asleep, and then the muscle relaxant prevents their body from moving, because when a person has a seizure, those discharges from the brain cause the body to convulse and move.

and if that is not controlled, the person could hurt themselves. There could be a lot of very strong movement and very strong muscle contractions. And before, the use of these kind of agents, like compression fractures of the spine or even broken limbs were, I wouldn't say common, but they did occur. You got 140 of such, that much? Yes. I'm completely unconscious now as the drugs work through my body.

A blood pressure cuff around my right ankle prevents the muscle relaxant from reaching my foot.

This allows Dr. Krazuski to observe the muscle contractions in my foot to determine if the procedure is working. A few feet from my head, a device that looks like a home stereo system sits atop a Red Craftsman tool cart. It's the ECT machine or Thymotron box, said to be the Cadillac of electroshock devices. On the front panel are five knobs, including one that controls the voltage and a yellow button labeled "treatment."

Two cables come out of the back, attached to two paddles that look like they're from an old crank telephone handset. The resident smears globs of conducting jelly on the stainless steel cups on the end of each paddle, the electrodes, and places one paddle on each of my temples. Then Dr. Krazuski gives the okay, and the resident standing at his side presses the yellow treatment button. Ready? Mm-hmm.

And there's a brief electrical discharge which can last on average one or two seconds. The total amount of current that is given is usually less than one amp, 0.8 of an amp. I'm not aware of anything at this point, but I'm told that when the electricity passes through my head, my body tenses and my face grimaces. My right foot, the one with the blood pressure cuff,

twitches, which means the electrical charge has caused a seizure. And the whole point of the procedure is to induce a seizure that lasts between 20 and 40 seconds. And we like to have at least about a 30 second EEG seizure. This seizure lasts 34 seconds. No one's certain why inducing a seizure with an electrical charge makes severely depressed people like me feel better. There are plenty of theories.

One is that a seizure changes the level of chemicals in the brain. Another is that it causes a shift in the body's hormonal system. Some have compared ECT to a reset button on a computer. Or, an even cruder analogy, that it's like banging the side of a fuzzy TV set to clear the picture.

After that, we're pretty much finished with the procedure and then we give the person a few minutes. It usually takes a few minutes for them to get over the muscle relaxant so that they can start breathing on their own and also to start waking up for the anesthetic. And usually that does occur within, certainly within five to ten minutes after the ECT stimulus is given. Robert, we're all done, okay? You waking up?

The coughing is actually a good sign because it means the anesthesia and muscle relaxant are wearing off and I'm beginning to breathe on my own again. The whole procedure takes about 20 minutes. Once it's over, I'm wheeled into the recovery room where I sleep for about an hour. Robert? Yeah? It's time to go home. Oh, okay. I wake up feeling groggy, but a whole lot better than when I checked in. You slept pretty good. Historically for Rob,

you know it does tend to work and the single treatment can really make him feel better quite quickly. So our plan is just to do another one next week to kind of consolidate any gains that we expect him to have. Just ready to go home and go to sleep. I'm just glad I have something like this that makes me feel better. That weekend I take it easy. The following Monday, three days after my ECT, I feel good enough to go into work.

I'm a licensed clinical counselor at a mental health agency on Chicago's South Side, but I'm at work for just an hour or so before I'm sent home and told to set up an appointment with my boss. I suspect I'm about to be let go. Two days later, my suspicions are confirmed. On Wednesday, I'm fired. My boss says I've fallen too far behind in my paperwork.

Two days after that, I show up at the hospital for my next ECT treatment. Let's see, today is Friday the I have no idea. Let's see, Wednesday was, so today's got to be the 16th. And I'm feeling more than a bit rough. I've never been dismissed from a job before, so that was kind of a real negative experience. It kind of brought me down.

I was starting to do better. You know, it's a difficult thing to accept if I wasn't depressed. Mr. Magruder, I'm just going to clean up your forehead. The ECT team gets me ready, and I do my part and hyperventilate using the oxygen mask. Deep breath. After getting the anesthesia and muscle relaxant, I drift off to sleep. Okay, let's put this pipe lock in and go ahead. And now we're applying the treatment.

This time the seizure causes my arms to fly straight up like a football referee signaling a touchdown. I don't feel anything, but when I come to I'm a little more disoriented than usual. Something's not right. I don't know if it's not ready or what the deal is. I feel a little confused. I'm not sure.

Typically, I feel better after an ECT treatment, but this time I continue to feel confused and still very depressed. This lasts for several days. I'm exhausted all the time and have no concentration. All I can do is just lie around. We live at my wife's grandmother's apartment, which is a mess, and I have no energy to help clean things up.

The Department of Children and Family Services, DCFS, is concerned about our living situation and is even threatening to take our kids away unless things improve. My wife Angela and I have a 15-month-old baby, and Angela has four other kids. I'm completely overwhelmed and go to see Dr. Krasuski. You look like you're looking down. What's been going on? Yeah, ever since Friday, I've not been feeling well. It started from when I woke up.

from the last treatment. I just, I had a headache, I didn't feel right. I don't know if it's issues particular to the treatment itself or if it's just, you know, the stress of everything that I'm coping with. Dr. Krazuski tells me that everything seemed to go okay with the latest ECT. The seizure was the right length and the oxygen level indicated that I was hyperventilated, which normally prevents confusion and headaches.

We talked for a while and agreed to continue my weekly ECTs. You're going to get better, Rob. This was just a lot of stuff, a lot of stuff. It overwhelmed your emotional resources. But I'm confident, you know, you'll be ready to go back to work and you're going to enjoy it and you're going to feel ready and you're going to be raring to go. But you're right to give yourself some time right now. All right? All right, good to see you and I'll see you in three days. Okay. All right.

Dr. Krasuski has helped me through a lot of ups and downs. He's 40 years old and has been administering ECT regularly for the past four years. He became a believer after his first two ECT patients came out of severe long-term depressions. The response rate is really, you know, the highest out of any treatment we have in psychiatry.

For people who have a severe form of depression, 60 or 70% will respond to medication treatment. That still leaves a huge percentage and a huge total number of people who will not respond. And out of those people, 50% of patients who failed multiple medication trials will still have a substantial response from the ECT.

Dr. Krazuski has always been clear about the possible side effects: the memory loss, the confusion, even a real, though very slight, risk of death. He's also clear about the risks of doing nothing for his patients. You know, I can sit there with them and suffer along with them and feel terrible that there's no way I can help them, or I can go ahead

and accept the risks for myself and have them accept the risks for themselves that is entailed with the treatment for the possibility of getting better. And so many of them do get better and so many get better so fully that I think it would just be almost criminal if this procedure was not made available. The average course of treatment in the United States is 11 ECTs.

After six treatments, I remain stuck in sort of a fog. Not severely depressed, but not ready to go back to work or do much of anything. So Dr. Krzyzewski recommends a more intensive treatment course. Three ECTs a week for the next two weeks. The goal is to try to break through the fog. Okay, good. I'm going to press and hold. Okay.

Really went great. No complications and we'll see, you know, I guess the proof of the pudding is in the eating and the proof of the ECT is in how Rob will feel. The intensive ECTs make me a little more tired and forgetful. I'm losing my keys and having trouble concentrating, but the depression does start to lift. I think I've kind of turned the corner this week and I'm finally, you know, starting to see a little bit of head above water.

My activity level is still a little on the low side, but at least I'm starting to feel motivated to do more.

For the next two months, I have ECTs once or twice a week with an occasional break. I continue to improve. I'm able to concentrate for longer periods of time. I can read a book, for example. Still, I'm not jumping back into things too quickly. I'm afraid if I try to do too much now, I'll take another downturn. Life with all its responsibilities doesn't stop, though. My monthly Social Security disability check doesn't stretch very far, so I'm forced to apply for public aid.

That sends me into a tailspin, and for a couple of days the suicidal thoughts return. Meanwhile, the bills keep piling up, and our van is about to be repossessed. I think it's inaccurate to think that when someone is depressed and then recovers, that all of a sudden everything kind of falls into place. It often does, and a person's life has just been very disrupted, and, you know, just the kind of daily routines of life, the kind of drive...

motivation, energy doesn't necessarily like just come flooding back in the absence of the symptoms. It takes often a specific focus intervention to kind of help a person get back in the swing of things. So I think that's kind of the point we're at right now.

In May, I return to what's called maintenance ECT, weekly or biweekly treatments. The goal is to manage the stress and to prevent the mood swings and the psychotic and suicidal thoughts from returning. They don't, and I continue to feel better. But just when I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, I take another hit.

So Rob, how you doing? It's been quite a two weeks. Last Tuesday DCFS took our kids, all of them. That's a terrible blow. How are you and Angela coping? We're holding up.

As we feared, the Department of Children and Family Services ruled we haven't done enough to clean up the apartment and that we are unfit parents. Our baby, who's now 17 months, and Angela's four other kids have been placed in foster care. What's the kind of future hold for you, Angela, and the kids? Well, Angela and I have got to get into a new apartment because the current apartment is just not acceptable.

My anxiety level is very high and I'm having trouble sleeping. After three years on the wagon, I've even thought about drinking again. This is a high risk time for you for relapse on alcohol and relapse into depression. And when the anxiety level is that high, I think this is all kind of a sign that things aren't going in the right direction. Dr. Krasuski recommends returning to a more active course of ECT treatment twice a week for at least a couple weeks.

That's fine with me, but the DCFS caseworker seems to have a different idea. Her first comments to me when she came over to introduce herself to me were to say that I see you're getting ECT and you may want to consider not doing that anymore. She was very negative about ECT. I don't know to what extent she would hold up reintegration of the family because of those beliefs.

But it was the first thing out of her mouth when she introduced herself to me. So it must be something she's significantly concerned with. You know, it's really not her place to be suggesting to my patient what the right treatment ought to be. It's really...

I just think inappropriate for her to be saying that. I think you and I are both clear that your function doesn't decrease when you get ECT. It decreases when you're depressed, when you're anxious, and you don't get it right. As a person with chronic mental illness, I'm used to being discriminated against. Having ECT just adds to that stigma. I've lost friends, jobs, and now I've been labeled an unfit parent.

The fact is, severe depression is a disability, but it's a disability that can be managed. For me, the most effective way to manage it, perhaps the only way, is with ECT. It was last February when I was hit with this latest bout of severe depression. Now, more than 30 ECTs later, I'm finally feeling like my old self. The depression has lifted and my energy and concentration have returned.

I've started doing some computer consulting work. Angela and I have moved into a new apartment, and we've begun the difficult process of trying to get our children back. Okay, very good so far.

I'm never completely out of the woods. It's possible that I'll wake up one day and feel as though I can't go on. Considering the alternatives, ECT is not a difficult choice. And who knows, maybe there will be other choices one day. After all, over the last couple of decades, new medications and better counseling have helped people cope with severe depression in ways that weren't possible even a few years ago.

So much has happened in my lifetime. Maybe something other than ECT will be developed that can help me and others like me. But until that day comes, ECT is there when I need it. That was Rob McGruder telling his own story. Dan Collison produced that documentary. Gary Covino was the editor. It was made possible by grants from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and the National Endowment for the Arts.

Dan Collison has made, I don't know the exact number, but at least 30 documentaries. Check him out on his website at www.dcproductions.com. I think you'll find his work has an amazing empathy. I'm Jad Abumrad. This is WNYC's Radio Lab. Before we move on to the next chunk, let's shake off that last piece. It was great, maybe a little depressing. A little funk, please. ♪

I love that jazz. I want to think that jazz. He was trying his best.

Like, I bet there's so many people out there who were like you were then. Like, you were a kid. You had, like, some experience but not a lot. But you had big ambitions. You had big dreams. Like, what do you say to that, Jad, now? I almost feel like that's a different—it's so hard to know what to say to the people who were like Jad was then because the then and the now are so different, right? At that point, when I started doing the thing, no one really listened, right?

And there wasn't the stakes were super low. And they said they just left me in a kind of benign neglected state for, I don't know, a year before anyone really heard me, which is it turns out, I mean, I hated it. I felt very like taking advantage of, but actually it was what I needed.

You know, I needed to just try stuff and to figure out how does one talk in a microphone? What kinds of stories are the stories that I want to play versus the stories other people play? For me, that was a whole year. I don't know if people now have the luxury of that year. I really don't. It's in many ways the exact opposite state of the world. And that now like,

The podcasting industry is like a bunch of coked up worms having a feeding frenzy on a carcass or something. Like it's just a completely different reality. What do you think, in the honor of first, what do you think is the first thing you're going to do when you are no longer here, on your first day beyond? Gosh, I don't know. I feel like I should have a good soundbite-y sort of answer, but I have an actual honest answer. Yeah, we want that one.

What's that? Well, you know, what would be the first thing? The first thing would probably be to take my kids to school and then come back. And then I'm working on a bunch of music. It's funny in a way. It's inspired by a very early episode of Radiolab. I've been thinking back and reminiscing these days. And I was thinking back on one of the first episodes we made.

And I'm not going to tell you which one because I kind of want to keep the concept a little bit sort of on the DL for the moment. But I'm basically creating a series of very, very long, slowly evolving music compositions. And I'll be putting that out soon. That's cool. Working on some music. Do you think it'll be totally... Is it wordless? Is it totally wordless? I think it's totally wordless. I am interested to try, yeah, to go back to that. Because that was me before radio and...

I don't know. I'm not sure I'm done with that guy. Would you be willing to share a minute or two of that? Right now? Yeah, sure. Give the listeners a little glimpse. A little billboard for an upcoming project. You haven't given enough, Jad. Yeah. We need more from you. Yeah, all right. Sure. Okay. I just want to say to the two of you, I love you guys dearly. I can't wait to listen to you along with the rest of the people listening. And I am just so honored that

to pass the baton. Thanks, Jed. Yeah, thanks. The Radio Lab will be back next week. And the week after that. And the week after that. Stick around. See you soon.

Radio Lab was created by Jada Boomrod and is edited by Soren Wheeler. Lulu Miller and Latif Nasser are our co-hosts. Susie Lechtenberg is our executive producer. Dylan Keefe is our director of sound design. Our staff includes Simon Adler, Jeremy Bloom, Becca Bressler, Rachel Cusick, W. Harry Fortuna, David Gable, Maria Paz Gutierrez,

Our fact checkers are Okay. Nice job, guys. Hey, Jad, don't forget to return that mic. You know the address.

Hi, this is Barbie calling from Portland, Oregon. Radiolab is supported in part by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, enhancing public understanding of science and technology in the modern world. More information about Sloan at www.sloan.org. Science reporting on Radiolab is supported in part by Science Sandbox, a Simons Foundation initiative dedicated to engaging everyone with the process of science.