The Voice Keepers

Thomas Y. Levin is a professor of German at Princeton University. During the week, he lectures on Weimar cinema and the Frankfurt School. On weekends, he sometimes goes to flea markets. His preferred spot is west of campus, in the old mill town of Lambertville, New Jersey, and it is known locally as the Golden Nugget. Every Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday for the past fifty-three years, hundreds of vendors have set up tables on a seven-acre lot by the banks of the Delaware River and laid out the week’s assortment of cast iron, coins, and midcentury decor. Levin, a media theorist and cultural materialist, appreciates the landscape of commonplace objects. “It provides a marvelous overview of the bizarre detritus of daily life,” he says. “The flea market is the unconscious of the recent past.”

Some years ago, Levin was browsing the Golden Nugget when he came across a strange item. The object was a blue mailing envelope about six inches square. In the upper right corner was an image of an airplane. In the bottom left, a battleship. The envelope was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. F. G. Lewis of Louisville, Kentucky, from Private C. W. Lewis of San Diego. A merry midcentury script sang out: “Letter on a Record.” Levin poked a finger inside and extracted a cardboard disk. The disk was coated in shellac and was cut with a spiraling groove.