 Radio's own show, Behind the Mic. With a switch of a dial, radio brings you tragedy, comedy, entertainment, information, education, a whole world at your command. But there are stories behind radio, stories behind your favorite programs and favorite personalities, and radio people you never hear of, stories as amusing, dramatic, and interesting as any make-believe stories you hear on the air. And that's what we give you, the human interest, the glamour, the tragedy, the comedy, and information that are behind the mic. And now, presenting one of radio's most popular announces, our master of ceremonies, Gilbert Martin. Thank you, Gilbert Mac, and good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, on Today Rather Behind the Mic, brings you another story about a Zulu radio star, as told by Joseph Meray. We present the sound effect of the week, and then a story about another unusual NBC employee, photographer Tommy Weber. You'll hear some amusing mistakes of favorite radio personalities. We salute a program you love, Paul Wing Spelling Bee. We'll answer letters from listeners. And finally, you'll hear a demonstration of an instrument that might revolutionize radio, the Sonavox. Well, those of you who heard behind the mic a few months ago will probably remember an extremely unusual story about a Zulu radio star which was related by Joseph Meray featured on NBC's program, African Trek, which incidentally soon celebrates its 100th broadcast. And now, here is Joe with another true behind the mic story about the same character, Joseph Meray. Well, Joe, for the benefit of our listeners who didn't hear you the last time you appeared on our program, will you give us a brief summary of the story you told? Certainly, Gil. It was about my discovering a magnificent Zulu singer in London when I was doing a program for BBC. The Zulu's name was Tukili. He was a near relative of the Regent of Zululand, and I related how, through his appearances on my radio program, he met a Zulu woman whom he later married. Ah, yes, and that was a grand story too. Well, now suppose you go on telling us about Tukili. Well, I'm glad to say that in spite of Tukili's success on the air, he always remained a modest, retiring person. But you know, Gil, it was most interesting for me that although he was educated and certainly to all appearance completely civilized, he would never erase the legends and superstitions of his youth. I remember I took him to lunch one day before an important broadcast. We were sitting there about to order... Inkosi, I think I will have some soup. I will too, Tukili, and since this is a special celebration, will you have some chicken? This restaurant makes a specialty of it, you know? Oh no, Inkosi, please. I do not want chicken. Why? What's the matter, Tukili? Don't you like chicken? Inkosi, I do like chicken, but tonight I must sing and speak on the air. I must have courage. If I eat chicken, I shall be as timid as that bird. Yes, I know that many of your fellow tribesmen believe that what one eats affects one's character and ability to perform or not perform certain deeds. But Tukili, you certainly know this is mere superstition. Perhaps, perhaps you are right, but nevertheless... Let's prove these beliefs are foolish. I'll order the chicken and you eat some. You will see that nothing bad will happen and you won't be a slave to such silly superstitions. Very well, Inkosi. Well, what happened that evening, Joe? Well, when we went to the studio for the broadcast, in which I not only appeared but directed, I was seated in the control room and we were nearing the queue at which Tukili was to speak and then sing. Oh, I see. What's the matter with Tukili? He's positively shaking. Yes, I've noticed it myself. Well, look, he's running out of the studio. He's to go on in a moment. Well, fetch him back quick. He'll ruin the broadcast. And did he come back? Yes. Right on cue, Tukili came in calmly. He spoke and sang and did a magnificent job. Well, after the broadcast, I talked to Tukili. I took him to one side and said, Well, you gave me a fright, Tukili. I asked Inkosi pardon, but that's chicken. Well, don't tell me you blame the chicken. Yes, Inkosi. I should not have eaten that weak, timid hen. I became chicken-hearted. But, Tukili, you did splendidly on the air. That is because, Inkosi, I had something that I didn't know. And that was? The tongue of a nightingale, Inkosi. All afternoon, I have spent looking for a bird shop, searching for a bird of magic voice. It cost much, but if I had not swallowed the tongue which I had with me in a little box, I should not have been able to sing. And thank you, Joseph Murray, for another swell behind the mic story. Thank you. And thank you, Joseph Murray, for another swell behind the mic story. The sound effect of the week from time to time behind the mic presents some unusual sound effect. One of Radio's more popular new programs is The Adventures of the Thin Man and Asta, the wire-haired fox terrier who was introduced in the motion picture The Thin Man is a very important character. Asta greets his master and mistress. Somebody steps on Asta's paw. Asta begs for attention. And how's it done by records? No, by mirrors? No. No, Asta is actually about five foot four with a little mustache. Yes, in fact, one of Radio's cleverest character actors, Gilbert Mack. And this is his only animal impression. Say, Gilbert, I think our listeners might like to hear you interviewed. Now, of course, most good interviews with celebrities at least contain some reference to tastes. What is your hobby? Taking home movies of my pup. My baby. And what is your favorite program? I am now on behind the mic. Nicely said. And what is your favorite food? Dog biscuits. All right, thank you, Asta. Or rather, Gilbert Mack. As we said on a previous broadcast, there are men and women in the employ of the national broadcasting company, people you don't hear regularly on the air who have backgrounds and stories as fascinating as any of the stars that broadcast. This afternoon, we present another of these interesting people whom you don't generally meet but who are behind the mic. Our guest is NBC's chief photographer and photo editor Tommy Weber. And Tommy, what is your job at NBC? Mainly, Gail, I either take pictures or supervise the photographing of NBC's performance and operations. And why do you take these pictures? They are sent to a large number of newspapers and other publications throughout the country. The number of people reading the radio pages is increasing constantly. And these folks show a decided interest in seeing their radio favorites in their local newspapers. Tommy, I know that before you became chief photographer for NBC, you were a newspaper reporter covering many big stories. But the reason we singled you out this week as an interesting NBC employee was because of something you initiated in American journalism. And now, suppose you tell us about it. I was working for the New York Journal of America. One day back in 1935, Tommy, you fool around with photography, don't you? Yeah, I have a candid camera taking pictures as a hobby. Well, look, we're getting consistently beaten on pictures. Our papers in this town are, other papers are getting their pictures into paper before we do. Now, you're a bright boy. See if you can't figure out some way in which we can beat these other papers on photos. I think one of the things you might do is... Well, later I was walking with George Reedy, a journal photographer who had been a signal officer in the First World War. Just talking about photos, Reedy was one of the lads that taught me to shoot pictures when he happened to look up. Say, Tommy, look at that fellow go. Yeah, what is it? It's a homing pigeon. Gee, he certainly does travel, doesn't he? Yeah, about 50 or 60 miles an hour. We use them in the war to carry messages. Tie a little capsule to their legs with a message in it. Yeah, that's interesting. Say, why couldn't we use pigeons to carry pictures? Pictures? Yeah, pictures back to the paper. Say, I've got an idea. Well, what did you do then, Tommy? I told my boss about the idea and at first he thought I was a little nuts. Then he said to follow it up. I went down on the east side where a lot of kids have these homing pigeons on their roofs and I hired a dozen of them for two bucks. That Sunday I went up to Bear Mountain with Reedy and shot some pictures. I put the negatives in an empty lipstick container and attached it to the pigeon's leg and released them. I bet they sped right back to their home, didn't they? Well, no, they didn't. I wish they had. Only two of them got in but it took about three hours for them to make it. We could have driven down from Bear Mountain in an hour and a half. Well, I told the city desk about it. Well, that's not so good, Tommy. Three hours for those birds to get in. I'd like to keep working on it. I think we have something here. Okay, I'll give you a couple of weeks to fool around in. And what was the result? Well, I'd go out on assignments by myself and take the camera along and try to fly the picture back into the office. And how did it work out? Not so good. Then we decided to hire an expert on pigeons. He was Harry Meyer, who had been a pigeon specialist in the United States Army Signal Car. He really knew pigeons. This Meyer was a completely amazing chap. He got some hands and had them set their eggs on the roof of the Journal American. These pigeons were of a special stock that Meyer had bred for the Army, and they could fly circles around most of the birds. Pidsons home, as you might say, to the place where they are born. And these squeakers, which is the slang for the youngsters, were soon flying back to the Journal. Shortly, we thought we had an opportunity to prove how really valuable they were. The ex-Marry Jimmy Walker and his wife were returning from Europe. The Journal hired a plane to take Meyer and me out past Sandy Hook to meet the boat. I radioed phone to Walker and asked him and his wife to be up on the top deck of the ship. Then we flew out. We actually flew the plane between the stacks of the ship and photographed Jimmy and Mrs. Walker waving to us from the boat deck. Then we removed the film from the camera, placed it in the pigeon's leg, wrapped the pigeon in gauze, and threw him out of the plane, holding onto one end of the gauze of course. Well, why'd you do that? Well, the pigeon couldn't fly until he was completely unwrapped from the gauze. And by that time, he was free of the slipstream. If he got caught by the stream, it would have been bye-bye bird. It took two hours for the boat to dock. And when we landed, Walker's picture and story were on page one of the Journal. All this before the other cameraman had gotten off the boat. Again, we had beaten the town in hell. Well, I think that certainly proved the pigeons could do their stuff, didn't it? Yes, Gil, but their real value was better proven in 1938. Meyer and I had just covered a story in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and we're driving taught in New York when we got a message from our city to ask over-the-shot wave radio. Say, where banks in Hartford's underwater? Well, we turned around and drove to Hartford. The state guardsmen were there and they wouldn't let us into the city. No one could get in or out. We drove back a couple of miles and we came upon a girl's school and there was no idea. There was an American flag on the porch of the school. We lifted the flag, pulling all, stuck in the front of our car and drove back to Hartford with the siren screaming. This time, the soldiers let us go by. Matter of fact, they saluted as we went past. Well, tell me, how about that took plenty of nerve? Gee, I don't know about nerve, Gil. I think it's more crust than nerve. At any rate, we drove into Hartford and we could see that some of the streets were pretty well underwater. We got a blow torch out of our toolkit. The soldiers' fellow, Meyer, had everything, Gil, and removed some asphalt from the pavement. With this, we sealed the breather vent on the car. We did this, of course, so that the water wouldn't get into the oil and stall the machine. Then we drove through the water. When it got too deep, I hired a boat and rode into the lobby of the Bond Hotel and registered. Then we went out and got the pictures. You see, Gil, the lights, telephones and telegraph lines were all down. So if we could get our stuff from Hartford and New York, we were really going to have a real beat. Later that night, I wrote the story on tissue and developed the pictures. Then we went on. We let 14 pigeons go with story on photos. And what happened? Well, they brought 26 pictures and 1,200 words, flying 135 miles to New York in two hours and 55 minutes. And the Journal American was the only one to have any pictures or story of the tragedy that day. We beat everybody, but how? Well, that's a mighty interesting story. And our thanks to you, Tommy Weber, for another story behind the career of a guy who is behind the mic. Audities and Radio. This week, through the courtesy of Movie Radio Guide, we present another group of unintentionally amusing remarks made on the air by favorite announcers or commentators. Tom Latimore, announcer on station WRAL, bloomed with this beauty. It is said that Abraham Lincoln wrote his famous Gettysburg address while traveling from Washington to Gettysburg on the back of an envelope. It is said that Abraham Lincoln wrote his famous Gettysburg address while traveling from Washington to Gettysburg on the back of an envelope. And today we have to use trains. Well, Bill Henry, commentator on station WCAU said, Yesterday I called up head of hopper and found her right in the middle of a cool glass of lemonade. Boy, a nice way to spend the hot day, that is, if you can get in the glass, of course. Well, Don O'Brien, baseball announcer on station WNAX during a broadcast of a game, said, Catcher Baker stands there with everything off but his shin guards. Ah, ah, ah. If television ever comes in, that kind of thing will have to stop, believe me. An announcer on station WJPR with more truth and tact said, This is a transcribed announcement. And an announcer on station WENR in Chicago, my old station, came out with this one. If you have to struggle with your baby to eat it, it's a strain on both of you. Boy, you said it, especially on the baby. Radio has a tradition of what you can well be proud. A tradition of good programs that linger fondly in our memory. And so each week we bring you a star or a part of a program you used to hear, a program you love. This afternoon behind the mic salutes, Paul Wing Spelling Bee, which was on the air from 1935 to 1939. And Paul, well-known writer and radio actor, also conducted a thousand pennies for your thoughts, which was featured on the air this past summer. But now Paul Wing Spelling Bee, four of the people appearing on today's behind the mic will participate and try to spell the toughies that Paul throws at them. Our contestants are Tommy Weber, Joseph Murray, our orchestra leader, Paul LaValle, and myself, Gilbert Martin. And now here is Paul Wing to conduct the Spelling Bee. Thank you. Thank you, Gilbert Martin. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. You may remember that one of the features of the Spelling Bee is always what we call the verbal treasure chest. And that each word in the verbal treasure chest has a price upon its head, depending on how difficult it is to spell. Well, every word in this behind the mic version of the Spelling Bee is going to have a treasure chest word with a value for its correct spelling. The words are unfolded slips of paper here in this goldfish bowl. The spellers will draw them out and hand them to me as their turns come. And of course the man who has won the most money at the end will win the match. Now, will you draw the first word, Tommy Weber? Here it comes. Only one. Will you be satisfied with this one? He gave me two. All right, this is a 69 cent word. That's for today only. 69 cents for today only, Tommy. The word is benign, the adjective of a joyous and kind and gentle disposition. Gracious. Benign. You know, just at a glance that you was enough to tell me that you are benign, but that spelling is wrong. Oh, I'm going back to taking pictures. Benign. Around here to the end of the line, Tommy. Now, here's Joe Marais. Joe, will you give me your first word out of the goldfish bowl here? Here it comes. And as soon as I get it unfolded, this is the 51 cent word. That's 51 cents including sales tax, Joe. Ducid. The adjective meaning plaguey, confounded. Used in mild implications. D-E-U-C-I-D. D-E-U-C-I-D. Come on over. Come on over. It's D-E-U-C-E-D, Joe. All right, here's Gil Martin. Gil, let me have your first word. Out of the goldfish bowl, eh? That's right. Here it comes. And it is the 29 cent word. Booze. The verb meaning hoots, jeers. Booze. B-O-O-S. Poster-P-S. No, I was only waiting for you to pronounce it. B-O-O-S is right. That's quite right. And booze didn't go to your head that time. Thank you. That's correct. And you got the 29 cents. And here's Joe Marais for his first word. And I mean Paul of Al. Pardon me, Paul. Here's Paul for his first word. And Paul, I know that musicians are notoriously weak spellers. So I'm going to give you a break on this word. You can spell this one on your clarinet. Just get your clarinet, will you? In other words, you may play it instead of spelling it. Now, the word is the word efface, the verb meaning to cancel, to blot out, to obliterate, to erase. Efface. Why, Paul? That's wonderful. E-F-F-A-C-E, just as plain as the nose on your efface. I'm a clarinet. If you'd only compose an introduction and a coda to that, I think you'd have a number one hit on the hip parade. Say, maybe that's a new idea in composition. Let's get a copyright today. All right, fine. You get, for that, you get 49 cents. And that's priced especially for you. Thank you very much, Paul. All right, here's Tommy Weber for his second word. Tommy, let's see it. Oh, this is a good one, I'm sure. This is the 39-cent word, Johnny Cake, a kind of bread made of Indian meal, flour, eggs, milk. And so you must remind me after the program to give you my recipe for Johnny Cake. I can't cook either. J-O-H-N-Y-C-A-K-E. 39 cents is yours. Oh, am I lucky. That is correct. All right, Joe, let's have your second word. Oh, dear. Out of the goldfish bowl. Here it comes. And he's having a little trouble getting it. A little nervous. It's elusive as a goldfish, wasn't it? 39 cents, this one is worth. Where with all? That with which anything can be purchased or done. You know, Mazuma, the long green. W-H-E-R-E-W-I-T-H-A-L. And that's correct. There's 39 cents more for you to pay an income tax on next year. All right, Gil, let's have your second word. All right. This is the 49-cent word. It's going up a little bit. It's not better. Yes, going up a little bit. This word is yours. Yeah, I know that, but what is it? Oh, oh, yours. Wide-mouthed pitchers or jugs. Yours. Yes. U-R-S. Paragraph. Yeah. U-R-S paragraph. Well, it's E-W-E-R-S, Gil, I'm sorry. But, Gil, you're one of my favorite announcers. All right, Paul, let's have yours. Here's Paul LaValle for his second word. And this is the... Paul, this is the 69-cent word. Gossipy. Gossipy, the adjective full of or given to gossip. Can I use a clarinet on this one? You can if you can put S's and Y's and things in your clarinet. Gossipy. G-O-S-S-I-P-Y. Why, Paul, that gossip that's going around the studio is that you're quite right and that you win 69 cents. Thank you. That is absolutely correct. Now here's Tommy Weber. Lucky Weber, Tommy Weber. Lucky Weber, he says. Come on up to the microphone, Tommy. And the word is the 79-cent word. Tiddlywinks. Tiddlywinks. Praise God. T-I-D-D-L-Y-W-I-N-K-S, I hope. Well, you know you have spelled another word. You've spelled tiddlywinks. And that's also a name for the game, but you didn't spell the word I gave you. Tiddlywinks. Oh, you just left out a syllable so that I... I didn't understand in the corner. I didn't leave it out, but you did. It's T-I-D-D-L-E-D-Y-W-I-N-K-S. You know, Mark Lewis is making a lot of money on this. He doesn't have to pay any of these prizes that you lose. Joe, this is the most expensive word in the whole treasure chest. This is the 98-cent word. Hobby Horsicle. Hobby Horsicle, the adjective meaning having a hobby. H-O-B-B-Y-H-O-R-S-I-C-A-L. And what do you pronounce it? Hobby Horsicle. And that's correct. All right, here's Gil Martin for his last word. And it is the 79-cent word, Gil. Champagne. Oh, perhaps I'd better define this one for you. I don't suppose you're any more familiar with it than I am. A sparkling white wine made originally in the province of Champagne, France. 79 cents. Of course, at that price it's domestic champagne. Well, it sounds mighty appetizing, and I would spell that C-H-A-M-P-A-G-N-E champagne. You were familiar with it, after all. You're the 79 cents is yours. All right, Paul, let's have your last word. And this is the 89-cent word, Sockdollager. Sockdollager. Something unusually large. Tommy Weber is handing Paul his clarinet. Sockdollager. Sockdollager. S-O-C-D-O-L-G-E-R. Sockdollager, that is. See, that's wonderful. That's wonderful, but it's not right. It's S-O-C-K-D-O-L-A-G-E-R. Well, our time is up. Gentlemen, you are magnificent, or shall I say wonderful, spellers. But the most magnificent of all, the man who wins first honors, is Tommy, is Joe Marais. Joe Marais with a total of $1.37. Thank you all for your gargantuan efforts. And aren't you glad you didn't have to spell that word? Thank you. Thank you, Paul Wing. First from listeners, Enterprise of Duluth, Minnesota says, I heard that Una Merkel, the film comedian, has been signed for a regular radio series. Can you tell me what it is? Yes, Miss Merkel will play the title role in Nancy Bacon Reporter, which starts on the Johnny Presents program Tuesday, November 4th. Miss Merkel will portray a dizzy girl reporter who always manages to get her story. James Freeman of Jamaica says, I heard Everett Sloan playing the lead on Intersank to Mystery over NBC last Sunday. Now, this is the first time I've ever tuned him in, and I wonder if he's been on radio before. Everett Sloan is one of radio's best-known character actors. His big chance came in the rise of the Goldbergs. Since then, he has appeared on hundreds of radio programs and had one of the leading roles in the motion picture, Citizen Kane. And thank you, Don Cordray. The table in front of our microphone is an invention that may well revolutionize radio. It is called Sonavox. Gilbert Wright, the son of Harold Bell Wright, recently invented this device in Hollywood. Those of you who have seen Walt Disney's The Reluctant Dragon will recall seeing Sonavox demonstrated in that picture. Two radio men, James L. Free of Chicago and H. Preston Peters of New York, recognizing its possibilities have formed a company to develop Sonavox for broadcasting. Our next guest is a young lady who can tell us about this device and demonstrate some of its uses in radio, presenting now Miss Sally Franklin of the Wright Sonavox Company. And please, Miss Franklin, just what is Sonavox? Well, Sonavox is really a substitute for the human larynx or vocal cords. Outwardly, this pair of units resembles a set of old-fashioned earphones except for a red vibrating button in the center of each. Now, by placing these two vibrating buttons against my throat, any sound which is fed into Sonavox will come out of my mouth and can be made to talk. Mm-hmm, that's very interesting. Now, suppose you demonstrate this. All right, let's turn on a recording of the Foghorn. Feed this into Sonavox and let us hear the Foghorn coming out of my mouth. Now, by moving my mouth, tongue, and lips, just as if I were talking, but without using my own voice, I can make that Foghorn speak. Let's listen. Danger, danger. Believe me, Miss Franklin, that's the first time I've ever heard a Foghorn voice that wasn't human speak. Well, now tell me, in what way can Sonavox be used in radio? Well, for one thing, it can be used in commercial announcements. For commercial announcements to better identify the product. Instead of the human voice describing an automobile, the automobile motor can describe itself. If that sounds unbelievable, let's give some examples. All right, we're listening, so go ahead. Let's take the case of an electric power company as sponsor. We feed the sound of a power hum through Sonavox into my mouth and throat, and the voice of electricity speaks. Waves of power. I light your houses. I run your radios. I relieve your labor. I work for you. Or we might have a fire insurance company as a sponsor. Well, the sound of a siren on a fire engine might be used to identify the fire insurance, and the commercial would sound something like this. And now Sonavox has many other uses in radio besides heightening the commercial, hasn't it, Miss Franklin? Oh yes, it might be used in a dramatic script. Let's say the hero has been hit by an automobile. He's in a hospital about to be operated on after his accident. As he goes under the ether, he imagines he hears an auto talking to him. Like this. Closer, closer, closer, closer I'm about to hit you. Look out. Look out. Well, believe me, I was way out of the way that time, and now can you make musical instruments sing? I sing like a crow myself, but with Sonavox I can borrow a voice of a violin or a clarinet or an organ of any musical instrument. By the way, Sally, can you make animals talk? Yes. Let's say we have a dairy advertising. We might plug their milk by broadcasting a cow moving and then having that cow talk. First, here's the cow, as you and I have always heard her before. And now here's what the cow says. I'm Daisy, the famous cow. My milk is swell. Oh, we're sold, Daisy, completely. And thank you, Sally Franklin, for a most unusual demonstration. Next week we present more of the glamour, the comedy, and the tragedy that are found behind the mic. And now this is Gilbert Martin saying good afternoon, everybody. Behind the Mic is written by Mort Lewis, the original music composed by Ernie Watson. This is the blue network of the national broadcasting company RCA Building, Radio City, New York.