 Radio's own show, Behind the Mic, comedy, entertainment, information, education, a whole world at your command. But there are stories behind radio. Yes, stories behind your favorite program and favorite personalities and radio people you never hear of. Stories as amusing, dramatic, and as 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. Presenting a man whose name has been a symbol of the best in radio since the beginning of broadcasting, Graham McNamee. Thank you, Gilbert Martin, and good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience. This afternoon behind the mic shows you how a radio comedy broadcast is written. We bring you the sound effect of the week, a dramatization of an amusing little incident involving orchestra leader B.A. Rolf. How a singing trio is being groomed for radio success by NBC. A salute to one of radio's favorite old programs. Whittles Anglo-Persians featuring the music of Louis Katsman. And finally, a dramatic story behind a broadcast by Tom Powers, well-known star of radio and stage. For those of you who wonder how your favorite comedian puts together a program, we're going to show you how this is sometimes done. And if you think it's easy, Gandhi is India's best dressed man. And now, writing on a comedy program very often starts two weeks before the broadcast, as most comedians like to keep at least a week ahead of their scripts. Nowadays, a comedian may have, say, two main writers or more, and a number of subordinate writers. Let's say we attend the meeting of a comedian whom we'll call Eddie McGee and his two main writers, Jack Pon and Joe Gag, at Eddie's home, where they're getting their first program ideas. All right, fellas, now what do we do for our opening routine? Well, how about some jokes about you going to the racetrack and losing your shirt? No, no, I think that's been overdone. Comedians have lost their shirts so much, laundrymen are picketing the bookies. I think he's right, Jack. But look, I've got some good gags for it. How the racetrack had a beautiful infield, and after the third race, you had it for lunch. Oh, another guy picks your pocket and takes your wallet and the list of the races you were betting on. Then the guy takes one look at the list and he hands back your wallet with an extra dime for coffee. Very funny. Don't like it? Didn't Bob Hope do something like that? Well, so what? We'll twist him. What twist have you got? Well, instead of eating the infield after the third race, you eat it after the fifth. Oh, fine. I don't like the jokes anyway for Eddie's program, Jack. Even your wife wouldn't laugh at him. What do you mean, wife? I'm married to my jokes. It'll never be a successful marriage. Why not? Your wife's older than you are. Hey, that's not bad. That's not bad. We can use that in a script. Hey, boys, we're forgetting something. What is it, Joe? That's going to be the Washington's birthday program. We've got to have the first routine on George Washington. Oh. How you never tell a lie and stuff like that. Yeah, that's right, Joe. Now, for our second routine, we'd better carry on the feud between Phil and me about the money, I say I let it. Mm-hmm. He still refuses to pay me back. Yeah, yeah. We could carry that out for two spots. Well, how about the last spot, fellas? We need a good sketch. It's getting around income tax day. And that's a goodie, an income sketch. Yeah, if you can say it. Yeah. Well, listen, suppose you fellas start thinking about that. I think we ought to... There may be several other fellas, or perhaps enough to... enough of them to give us adequate national defense. Working on the show. But their function is generally to submit jokes on subjects that the main writers and the comedians have selected. Two or three days later, the main writers and the comedian get together again. Everything's been written except the sketch. Here it is, Eddie. Here it is. Look, Joe and I have been talking this thing over and we got a sketch that works out like this. Listen now, you come into the income tax office. Yeah. You've been looking through your income tax and you find out that you didn't pay the government enough for 1938. You owe them five bucks and 42 cents. Well, now, being an honest guy, you want to pay the income tax department as back tax, which they ain't discovered that you haven't paid. The income tax collector doesn't believe you. Yeah, naturally. Well, that's good. Go on. He says that probably the real reason you want to pay a back tax is that you're a crook and that it's your way to ease your conscience. Oh, yeah, I like that. There's always comedy and menace. Well, it gets you sympathy. That's what makes Jack very neat. He thinks you're a criminal, so he calls the police station. In the next scene, you're in the police station being third-degreeed. The police are trying to find out what crime you committed. And you keep saying that all you want to do is pay your five bucks and 42 cents back income tax. We throw in a lot of gags back and forth. Then the cops decide your nuts. It isn't a case for them, it's a case for the psychopathic wards. So in the next scene, you're in the psychopathic wards. You've been there a month. A psychoanalyst comes in and he starts to psychoanalyze you. And after you psychoanalyze, the guy from the income tax department comes back and he says that they studied your case and they decided to let you go. Yeah, but that's no punch finish. Yeah, but that ain't the finish. Oh, boy. Listen, you go back to the income tax department and the income tax collector isn't there. He's out. He's on a vacation. There's a new man taking his place. You tell him that you're there to pay five bucks, 42 cents back income tax. He starts giving you the same business as the first guy. He's just about to accuse you of being a criminal. When you say, I'll save you the trouble. You grab the phone yourself and say, hello, give me police headquarters. Hey, that sounds like the nuts. And I just thought of a great gag for the psycho-lalances scene. Yeah, if you can say it. Yeah, well, anyway, the doctors... Well, after the writers whipped the sketch together, the comedian usually goes over it himself and makes changes and working with his writers, gags it up or cuts it. And now some, although not all, comics have previews of radio programs. That is about a week before the broadcast. They try out their script in a live studio audience, invited especially for that purpose. After the tryout, the main writers and the comedian get together at the comedian's home once more. Hey, did you fellas mark down the gags at laid eggs? I laid so many, I feel like front man for a hand. Oh, go on. Oh, no, it wasn't bad. It wasn't bad. If those weekies go out, it'll tighten the script and we'll get better laughs on the other gags. And so the script is cut and strengthened. Meanwhile, the boys have started work on the following week's script. Then comes the broadcast. When the script, which the writers and the comedian have written, will stand or fall. And that, ladies and gentlemen, shows you how easily the spontaneous script you hear on the air is often ad-libbed. Effect of the week. From time to time behind the mic presents some sound effect which was used on a program of the past week and tells exactly how it was done. On the program Manhattan at Midnight, the sound effect of a toboggan sled going down a slide was used. It sounded like this. This effect was made, believe it or not, by taking an ordinary pie plate with a hole in the center and spreading it with cornstarch and salt. And then it was placed on a phonograph turntable and using a needle with a flat end, the pie plate was actually played on the phonograph like a record, a toboggan sled going down a slide. Ladies and gentlemen, this afternoon we're going to take you behind the scenes to show you what happens when NBC decides to build an act and attempt to promote it towards radio success. As a current example, we're going to use a trio called the Singing Powers Models. I want to introduce you to the man who had the idea of forming this group and who is generally responsible for building them up, an executive of NBC's program and talent department, Mr. Ruby Cowan. Hiya, Ruby. Graham, how are you? Ruby, exactly who are these girls that NBC decided to try to promote towards radio success? Well, Graham, they're three gorgeous powers models. I can see that. Girls who pose for advertisements in the big magazines. They are lulus. You're not kidding. You're not kidding. If they were only flowers and I were a bee, oh boy. Well, I tell you, the name of John Powers' model has great advertising value. So we figured that if we could get three of his girls who could sing and sing well, well, then they had a chance of clicking. After conferring with Mr. Powers and auditioning 30 of his models, we selected the trio. By we, I mean myself and Bob Kerr, who was to be their personal representative when we sent them out into the theaters. Could you have rung me in there somewhere, Ruby? It's too late now, Graham. Too bad. The next step was to get a vocal coach, and we decided to select a girl who herself had sung in a trio, Ms. Joan Brooks. Joan had been one of the three little words in Phil Spitalney's group, and she'd also been responsible for much of the success of the four bells. We hired a crackerjack songwriter, J. Levison, to write and arrange special material for the trio. He and Joan Brooks got together, and we told him what type of music the girls should have. Look, Jay, these kids have never worked together as a trio before, and I don't think we ought to give them anything too difficult to start off with. All right, Joan, what do you want? Well, they have fresh, sweet voices. I think they should have fresh, sweet tunes and novelty numbers. Yeah. I'd make trio arrangements of melodies like Song of the Islands, and you write whatever novelty numbers you want to. Okay, I'll get to work right away. After the numbers are written, Jay and Joan rehearse the girls at Joan's apartment. Just a minute. Listen, Carol, and you're singing a little too loudly. I'm sorry, Joan. Here's a good thing to remember. Next time any one of you girls can't hear the other two girls, then you're singing too loudly. Now let's take it again. Now we figure that we're having a trio work together before an audience would be the best way of seasoning them so they could eventually be presented to a radio sponsor, as well as having them pick up some money. Now, Ruby, you're just getting commercial. Well, anyway, Graham, we booked them in out-of-town theaters. In order to get the publicity for them, their personal representative, Bob Kerr, goes into those towns a week before their appearance so that he might make an appointment to see the head of the fashion shops and department stores. Now, look here. How about having a little fashion show at your store sometime next week when the girls will be in town and use them as models? You can advertise a fashion show and mention that the girls are appearing at the theater. You'll get them as models and we'll get a plug for their personal appearance. Well, I think that's a great idea. I'll be glad to, Mr. Kerr. Due to their ability to sing, their beauty, and the publicity they get, they break records in several of the cities in which they appear. And when an act does that, it stands to reason it will be good for a radio sponsor. And that's what we're building them up for, sponsorship. Well, where'll they be next week, Ruby? They start Friday at the State Theater in Hartford, Connecticut, with Cleveland and Dayton to follow. Uh-huh. Well, how about getting some radio publicity for them? Well, we've got them on this program behind the mic, haven't we? And I think that's a good start. Yes, that's true, Ruby. Well, girls, suppose you show our listeners the type of singing that we hope you'll be doing regularly on the air someday for some nice, big, juicy commercial sponsor. Bum-ping-bum, bum-ta-rum as Mary goes up and down and round and round and round on her merry-go-round. Oh, I love to hear the Calliope's play. Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum. But I'd rather swing every night. This is a wall. You can swing a wall, so you'll just have to bloop-bloop and do as we say. A one, a two, a three, head. Mary goes round on her merry-go-round at the music place. She galey-shouts as she goes round the bar on her humble ring and zing as she takes the swing and grabs at the ring. The day away, each hour is one sweet song and merry-merry-go-round. Even the grown-ups don't want to be shown up they ride and ride a treat to feel the beat of a thumping drum. Bum-ta-rum as Mary goes down There he goes up, and down, and round, and round, and round. Got no television sets. It practically got me in tears. Odd little true behind-the-mic stories that help make radio sometimes amusing, sometimes exasperating, but always interesting to the people in it. This week's oddity. And here's one of radio's veteran band leaders and one of the grandest guys in the business. B.A. Rawl, to tell you an experience of his when he had the Lucky Strike program back in 1928. B.A. Rawl, a shadow of his former self. Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. B.A., that was some band you had back in those days. Yes, Graham. We had the loudest band that ever hit the airway. Yep. It was a perfect musical shooting gallery. Well, what was the story, B.A.? Well, Graham, one day we were rehearsing in a studio. It was up at 7-Eleven, Fifth Avenue, before the NBC moved to its present palatial quarters. And Dr. Walter Damaroche was NBC's very highly respected and somewhat feared musical director. He had heard about our band. And one day he paid a visit to the studio. He sat in the control room and listened while we blasted away rehearsing. Take five minutes. Good morning, Mr. Rawl. Oh, hello, Dr. Damaroche. How do you like the band? Mr. Rawl, let me ask you one question. Do you broadcast on a network? Yes, Dr. Damaroche. We are heard coast to coast through 46 stations. What a waste of money. Why don't you just open the window? Thank you, B.A. Rawl. Thank you very much. We in radio believe that radio has a tradition of which it 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 we salute Wittall's Anglo-Persians, which was on the air from 1926 to 1930, and which featured the music of Louis Cotsman and his orchestra, Wittall's Anglo-Persians. I am the voice of the crystal ball of fate. I lift my eyes unto the crystal ball low. I see a city of ancient alibi. And my eyes are amazed to view flying over the city, even as I have read of it in the Arabian nights, a magic carpet on which is sitting a turban prince. The magic carpet fades into the crystal ball of fate once more and low. The magic carpet has returned from its journey to distant lands. It descends to the palace roof of its princely rider. Let's recreate a small part of that happy program. It takes me back 16 years. Tom Powers, no relation to John Powers, the model impresario, is undoubtedly one of the most proficient actors of the stage and radio. He's also one of the most delightful recontors to whom I've ever had the pleasure of listening. Tom's present program is called That's Not New York, in which he tells true stories about America's largest city, presenting Tom Powers. Well, Graham, this story is about a former program of mine called Life Studies, in which I used to tell unusual stories about real people. I offered a certain amount of money for every true story I could use on the air. One day, a man came into my office and told me he was an international jewel thief who had just gotten out of prison after serving a long stretch. His cellmate, Bill, a much younger man when he was only 18 years old, had killed a policeman. As the jewel thief told it to me, during the boy's trial, things were going pretty much against him. And it looked as if he might wind up in the chair. Then the boy's mother was called as a witness. And as she walked by him toward the stand... Oh, Willie. Listen, ma, I don't want you to say nothing. Just keep your mouth shut and I'll beat this rap. Don't you say nothing. If you do, I'll never talk to you again. This way, please. You do swallowing and a solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Willie, he's a good boy, Tom. He just got in with a lot of bad companions. I think it's my fault too, Your Honor. I had to make a living for his boat. I just couldn't give him the time a growing boy should have. If I could have been with him more, I could have shown him what was right. Oh, please, Your Honor, please. You'll give him a chance, eh? I'm sure that if he... And therefore I sentence you to spend the rest of your natural life in the state penitentiary. Come to see you as soon as they let me. Don't you ever come near me. You and your preaching, preaching, preaching. That's all you ever done. I don't ever want to see you again. All right, Bill. Come along. Okay. The jewel thief told me that Bill became his cellmate. He was a sullen, difficult prisoner and he spent a lot of his time in solitary. Bill was an ignorant boy who could hardly read or write. He'd never known what went on in the world outside his own immediate problems. One day, after he'd been in prison for about a year... Telegram for you, Bill. Here. Telegram? Want me to read it to you, Bill? Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, Slick. It's, uh... Bad news, Bill. Your mother died this morning. Yeah? Well, that's too bad. Gee. Gee, so... so much died. The jewel thief told me that he'd become very much interested in Bill. The boy became stricken with remorse and began to feel that his crime had been responsible for his mother's death, and quite rightly so. In the meantime, his cellmate, the jewel thief, for lack of something better to do, because he found Bill basically intelligent, began to teach him to read and write. They used books they got from the social service agencies. Family Robinson. Already, the tempest had... Continued? Continued six days. And on the seventh, it's... Well, you're certainly doing better now than you did six months ago. Go on. Okay. And Tiny Tim said, God bless us everyone. Say this ain't... Isn't a bad story, is it? Peace whole. Let us hear him. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. Can you imagine? Two years ago, you could hardly read. Go on. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them. The good is often... The jewel thief told me that when he was ready to leave prison, he found that Bill's viewpoint on life had undergone a considerable change. He was no longer quite as much of a troublemaker as he had been. I thought this was a splendid story. The story of how a thief had helped with the regeneration of a, well, a murderer. I told the story on my program, Life Studies. Shortly afterwards, I got a beautifully written letter from the boy himself. He'd heard about my broadcast from one of the men on the prison farm who had listened to it. We began to write to each other. I asked him if he ever had any visitors, and he wrote me that since he'd been in prison, he hadn't had a single one. So that Christmas, I went to see him and took him some books. I write to Bill regularly and make it a point to see him every Christmas. I'm the only visitor he ever has. I'm not saying he's become an angel, Graham, since he's learned to read and write, but since he's learned another angle of life through books, he says he's convinced that he's through with crime. I do my best to keep him in contact with life by writing to him as often as I can, giving him the color of life through my eyes. How old is he now, Tom? About 32. Well, is there any chance of him ever being paroled, Tom? I don't know, but if he does get paroled, I think he'll be worthy of it. It's a grand story. Thank you, Tom Power. Thank you. Next week's program will be most unusual. It'll be entirely devoted to a salute to the entertainment pioneers of radio. Those gay people who amused you in the days when nobody knew if radio was here to stay, you will hear the voice of the silver mask tenor. Once more, the music of Godfrey Ludlow and the voice of my old radio twin, Phillips Carlin. The piano of W.E.A.F.'s first accompanist, Winifred T. Barr and many others. This is Graham McNamee saying good afternoon all. Original music composed and conducted by Ernie Watson. This is the national broadcasting company.