Chapter 129: Ultimate Invincible Limited Edition
In the current China, during an economic recovery period with relatively scarce materials, the radio is both an entertainment tool and a window to acquire information.
Very few could afford televisions, so the radio became the best replacement.
And the Panda brand radio, due to its successful export, plus its design truly being a step ahead of radios currently sold in China, was highly noted.
Not only young people like Liu Guodong were following it, but also the uncles and aunties were even more attentive.
At 6 a.m., just as dawn was breaking, the state-run store in Yanjing Xidan was already crowded with people.
Yanjing’s May mornings were still a bit cool, people wearing jackets whispering in conversation, the air filled with expectation and anxiety.
Because there were only five hundred units, no one knew when the next sale would be.
More precisely, there were only 1000 units for sale nationwide to the outside.
China’s current high-purity germanium crystal production capacity was extremely limited.
After producing 9000 units shipped to all over the world, with feedback after the official release, orders from around the world were still continuously increasing.
At this time, just Sony alone in Japan could sell about a million units, but considering for China, it used new technologies, and this was for export, with extra requirements on quality.
Sony TR-57, upon launch in 1957, sold 100,000 units in the America market that year alone.
China had just started; according to China’s pricing, selling hundreds of thousands or even millions across the entire Warsaw Pact was no problem.
This directly reflected the severe production capacity shortage; on one hand, it needed to rely on modified equipment, on the other hand, much of the semiconductor-related production capacity was still in the process of relocation, and expansion from personnel to equipment was all in a state of shortage.
Even so, they gritted their teeth to supply 1000 Panda brand radios domestically.
Nationwide, only the state-run store in Yanjing Xidan and the state-run department store on Shanghai Nanjing Road had them for sale.
Other cities like Yangcheng and Jiangcheng did not.
The line at the Xidan store stretched from the store entrance all the way to the street corner, with two to three hundred people, and more kept joining at the back.
On the store’s glass showcase was a handwritten notice: “Panda brand radio arrived today, only 500 units, first come first served, sold out stops.”
The handwriting was crooked but particularly eye-catching.
“I heard this batch of radios has particularly clear sound! Not only sold to Africa and Latin America, but also to the Germans!” a middle-aged man wearing a hat said excitedly, his voice revealing unconcealable pride.
A young female worker next to him chimed in: “I’ve saved three months’ salary, just waiting to buy one today to take home for my dad to listen to; he keeps nagging about wanting to hear opera.”
The crowd buzzed with discussion; some mentioned it was a fine domestic product, others simply wanted to keep up with fashion—after all, owning a Panda brand radio was undoubtedly a symbol of status.
Nationwide limited to 1000 units.
Because of production capacity, it accidentally carried out a hunger marketing.
At 7:30, the store’s iron gate was pulled open with a creak, and a salesperson in a gray uniform poked his head out, holding a stack of numbered tickets, shouting loudly: “Line up properly! One per person, get a number first, no pushing!”
The crowd immediately stirred; people in front squeezed forward desperately, those in back tiptoed to look, afraid to miss the chance. The salesperson started distributing number tickets, hands flying fast, and in a blink, 50 tickets were gone.
Those who didn’t get numbers shouted unwillingly: “How is it gone so fast? Isn’t it 500 units?”
The salesperson replied without looking up—and not hitting anyone meant good temper: “Goods not fully unloaded yet, selling in batches, what’s the rush!”
At exactly 8 o’clock, the first batch of Panda brand radios was brought into the counter. Plastic casing, shiny black knobs, white body, exuding a simple yet premium vibe.
Current Chinese people had never seen such a designed electronic product, everyone’s eyes lit up.
Those with numbers stepped forward one by one; the salesperson quickly issued receipts, collected money, and handed over goods.
One radio cost 120 yuan, equivalent to more than two months’ salary for an ordinary worker, but no one hesitated, pulling out money swiftly. An old man held his newly bought radio, grinning from ear to ear, carefully stuffing it into a cloth bag, afraid of bumping it.
In less than half an hour, the first batch of 100 units sold out. Those who didn’t buy refused to leave, crowding the entrance waiting for the next batch. By 10 o’clock, the second batch of 200 units was snapped up again. A young man who was a step late slapped his thigh in regret: “If only I’d come line up last night!”
There were a few “scalpers” in the crowd, sneaking up to buyers to talk, wanting to buy at a premium, but most were firmly rejected—who would let go when newspapers said only 1000 units?
At the Shanghai Nanjing Road state-run department store, compared to BJ’s bustle, Shanghai’s scene was more orderly but also more tense.
Some even held signs: “Jinling people prohibited from coming to Shanghai to buy Panda brand radios.”
Indeed, Shanghai people were very worried that Jinling people would come snatch their already scarce stock.
Jinling’s local newspapers were overjoyed, specially publishing that Panda brand radios were on sale, and clearly marking the exact locations: Shanghai Nanjing Road state-run department store.
As if afraid Jinling people couldn’t find a place to buy.
For Jinling people, the Panda brand had a 1+1>2 effect; to them, it was a memory, even childhood recollection—radios made by Jinling Radio Factory in the past were called this name.
Especially after seeing the picture in the newspaper, the desire to purchase skyrocketed.
Nanjing Road state-run department store, as Shanghai’s landmark shopping spot, news of Panda brand radios arriving had spread through streets and alleys days ago. The store decided to issue vouchers a day early, one per person with voucher, limited to 500 units.
Even so, on the morning of voucher sales, the line in front of the store formed a long dragon, with Jinling people and Shanghai people in a 4:6 ratio—can you believe it?
A middle-aged woman in a wool coat stood at the front of the line, clutching a crumpled voucher she’d queued three hours for yesterday. She said to the neighbor beside her: “My old Zhang said, with this radio, we can listen to Yanjing news faster than newspapers!”
A young man wearing glasses next to her pushed his glasses and said softly: “Uneducated Jinling folks, any radio can pick up Yanjing news; the radio’s advantage is clear sound.”
The words were cautious, but still heard by the sharp-eared middle-aged woman, who shrieked: “Little redhead! Who are you calling not Shanghai native? I think you’re not the Shanghai native!”
Calling her a Jinling person was, in the middle-aged woman’s view, the greatest insult.
Soon this small section erupted into argument, though it sounded like the young one was being unilaterally bombarded by the middle-aged woman.
Store staff quickly came out to mediate: “No arguing, can you fight?
If you can fight, then don’t argue!”
“Hmph!” The middle-aged woman was clearly still angry.
At 9 a.m., the store opened for business. The salesperson stood behind the counter, stacks of packaged Panda brand radios behind her, with two police nearby maintaining order.
Customers came forward in ticket number order, handed in vouchers, paid, took goods—the whole process smooth like an assembly line. A little boy followed his mom, eyeing the radio being packed into a canvas bag, couldn’t resist touching it, muttering: “Can I listen to stories at night?” Mom nodded with a smile: “Yes, and singing too!”
By 11 a.m., all 500 radios sold out. Only one prototype remained on the counter; the salesperson specially plugged it in, tuned to Central People’s Broadcasting Station frequency, and the announcer’s rich voice came from the speaker.
Those who didn’t buy gathered at the counter to listen for a bit.
“It’s really clearer than mine at home.”
“Didn’t you notice? This radio can even capture the announcer’s tone.”
“Worthy of the panda; not just good-looking design, the sound effect is clearly a step better than previous radios.”
“Don’t know when there will be stock again.”
After a while, many sighed and dispersed, especially those from Jinling, even more unwilling.
Some were already calculating how much to pay to buy one at a premium from others.
Liu Guodong returned home, seeing his wife’s expectant gaze, helplessly gestured with his hand: “Didn’t get one, really too hard to snatch.
You don’t know how many people; I asked today, minimum double the price.
I hesitated for a moment; after they heard the prototype’s broadcast effect, no one was willing to sell anymore.
The old man who was initially willing to sell to me at double refused to let go no matter what.”
Xiao Fang smiled and pulled him inside: “Okay, no problem, wait for the next sale; hurry back for dinner.”
What she didn’t know was that the next domestic sale of Panda brand radios would be a year later.
China’s Panda brand radio release in Eastern Europe was like a drop of water falling into the sea, hardly causing any waves.
China side held no press conference, East Germany’s sales channels didn’t promote heavily, just placing the goods with other brand radios.
After all, they only ordered five hundred units, scattered across East Germany’s large and small cities’ state-run retail networks, each state-run store getting at most ten units.
On a summer weekend morning, Leipzig’s HO store was packed with shoppers, the air filled with faint coal smoke, the radio counter crowded with heads.
HO stands for Handelsorganisation, East Germany’s main state-run retail network, selling all sorts of goods—almost anything from Council for Mutual Economic Assistance countries could be found there.
Radios were a current necessity, especially in East Germany, where you could only buy from state-run stores specially designed radios that could only receive East Germany and similar countries’ broadcast frequencies.
Anna was a textile factory worker just over thirty, clutching her newly issued pay slip, standing before the glass case, her gaze shifting uncertainly among the array of radios.
On the counter was East Germany domestic RFT Stern-Radio, priced at 350 marks, boxy shape, plastic’s warm sheen exuding reliability, but the price made Anna frown.
Next to it, the Soviet Spidola portable radio was only 250 marks, lightweight and stylish, currently playing Moscow music on the broadcast, but she’d heard colleagues say this brand’s sound quality was somewhat harsh.
East Germany at this time used East German marks.
Also in contention was Tesla Talisman nearby, 400 marks with elegant wooden casing, sound clear like Rhine River water, but that was half a month’s salary, really hard to go for.
This Tesla wasn’t the later American Tesla, but Czechoslovakia’s electronic equipment company, named after Tesla because Nikola Tesla briefly studied in Prague.
To this day, you can still see the company’s LOGO in Prague:
Also, Tesla radios indeed had wooden casings; from today’s perspective, the red-yellow dial colors with dark red wood gave a peculiar feeling, a Cthulhu-like strange beauty.
(Tesla 308U Talisman radio)
Just as Anna hesitated, the salesperson took out a new item from under the counter—a Chinese-made Panda brand transistor radio, priced at 300 marks.
Salesperson Karin, always on good terms with Anna, said: “This is China’s latest product, quality not inferior to West Germany’s Grundig, and much more affordable price.”
Actually not that much more affordable.
China sold to East Germany’s purchasers at 20 US dollars per unit; per East Germany’s official exchange rate, 1 US dollar = 4.2 East German marks, but in reality, among the people, the East German mark exchange rate had long collapsed.
After last year’s Berlin Crisis, on the black market, 1 US dollar could exchange for 10 East German marks or more.
However, regardless of the exact rate, the Panda brand radio’s selling price was still far higher than their import price from China.
Simple design, black plastic shell with white dial, indeed evoking a panda at first glance.
Anna took the radio, turned the knob, tested a segment of Berlin radio news, sound loud and clear, bass steady, even subtle background music distinctly layered.
At this time, few products had manuals, especially in the Soviet camp, where no one did commercial competition, so who thought of including manuals.
Thus, for such goods, whether consumers bought largely depended on whether the salesperson recommended them.
Salespeople knew which goods were good, which were poor quality; this information gap was a key reason why salesperson jobs were popular then.
Anna hesitated: “Chinese-made, sounds now just like the American stuff I heard at my West Germany relative’s home, effect even a bit better.
But will it break easily? I’ve never heard of China making radios before.”
“300 marks?” Anna felt the radio’s weight, calculating in her mind: cheaper than Tesla by 100 marks, better value than RFT, effect much better than those two brands; her only worry now was if the quality held up.
“Don’t worry, I’ve sold five, no one complained,” Karin assured confidently. “Besides, if there’s a problem, just bring it back for repair.”
“This one then!” Anna finally decided, handing over 300 marks to the salesperson. The salesperson smiled, packaged the radio, and when handing it to her added: “This is specially recommended to you given our relationship; you won’t regret it.”
China’s Panda brand in all of Eastern Europe went through a word-of-mouth spread process.
But the true large-scale sell-out, leading Eastern Europe purchasers to increase imports from China, was thanks to Chinese groups’ purchases.
In 1962, East Germany and West Germany combined had about a thousand or more Chinese people.
In East Germany, due to strict immigration policies, the Chinese here were mainly diplomats, international students, and technical personnel here for training.
West Germany, conversely, because America used the Marshall Plan trying to make West Germany a free world showcase, put in great effort, and after the war had a phase of economic miracle recovery, attracting a batch of Chinese immigrants from Asia.
From Hong Kong to 4v to Southeast Asia, many Chinese made detours to West Germany.
Of course, at this time West Germany’s Chinese community was just starting, numbers around a thousand, far from comparable to England and France.
But the Panda brand radio, by chance, sold into the Western Europe camp.
Interestingly, the Panda brand didn’t flow from East Germany to West Germany, but from France to West Germany.
In West Germany’s Hamburg St. Paul’s District, due to the port, it was an active immigrant area, once forming a small Chinatown in the 1930s, later closed by NAZIs, but now slowly reviving.
On a narrow street sat the “Golden Dragon” shop, run by immigrant Shopkeeper Feng from China’s Guangdong province. The shop’s red sign prominently read “Golden Dragon.”
Inside, shelves were filled with tea, porcelain, and sundries, but that day, the most eye-catching was the brand-new Panda brand radio on the counter.
Shopkeeper Feng, over fifty with graying hair, carefully wiped the radio, turned on the switch, tuned to a faint Chinese broadcast channel. Familiar melody came through the static, as if pulling him back to his misty rainy village in Guangdong.
Just then, the shop door creaked open, interrupting his thoughts. Regular customer Sun Youyu, a Chinese descent dock worker at a shipyard, walked in.
“Good morning, Shopkeeper Feng!” Sun Youyu was a regular at Golden Dragon, greeting warmly.
“Good morning, Hans!” Shopkeeper Feng replied in fluent German, tone warm. “What do you need today?”
Sun Youyu’s gaze fell on the radio. “What’s this? New gadget?”
A smile bloomed on Shopkeeper Feng’s face. “This is Panda brand radio, made in China. Sturdy and durable, clear sound quality, not expensive.”
Hans leaned closer, interest piqued: “Chinese-made? Your silk and tea, even if you don’t say, I guess Chinese-made, but radio?
When did China make good radios? I bought the previous Red Star brand out of patriotism, now it’s gathering dust in the corner.
Panda? Just change the name to take my money, Shopkeeper Feng, you’re too sly.”
“Now they can,” Shopkeeper Feng’s voice carried pride. “I only got two; keeping one here, the other—buy if you want!”
Sun Youyu thoughtful, sensing the weight in Shopkeeper Feng’s words. “Can I listen?”
Shopkeeper Feng turned up the volume, Peking Opera’s high-pitched singing filled the shop. Sun Youyu blinked, shocked by the unfamiliar sound: “Not bad, this thing!”
Shopkeeper Feng said proudly: “Of course, this is what I got at high price from Paris.”
