 Radio's own show, Behind the Mic. Radio, with a switch of a dial, radio brings you tragedy, comedy, entertainment, information, education. A whole world is 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 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. And now, presenting a man who has pinched hitting for Graham McDonough this week, one of Radio's most gifted announcers, George Hicks. Thank you, Gilbert Martin. Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This afternoon, behind the mic, brings you the story behind orchestra leader Inak Light's disappearance from the airwaves. Using mistakes made by your favorite announcers, how an advertising agency builds a program for a prospective sponsor. We give you the sound effects of the week. We salute a program who loves the Don Amezzo program that featured violinist Godfrey Ludlow. We answer letters from listeners, and finally, in celebration of his 10th anniversary on the air, we bring you from Hollywood, the one and only Jack Benny being interviewed by Don Wilson. Last year, one of the fastest-rising orchestra leaders in radio was a young man named Inak Light. He was on the air four or five times a week from the Tafts Hotel and had numerous commercial programs. Then, suddenly, he dropped completely out of sight for a month. As a matter of fact, from June of last year to January of this. But here's Inak Light to tell you all about it. Inak, suppose you tell us what happened to you. Well, George, last year I went on a road tour with my band. We played at the University of Michigan Prom, the Carnegie Tech Dance, a couple of dates in Boston, and then we went up to Old Orchard Main to open up the pier. It was a very successful opening, I might say. After the job, I was driving back to Boston with a couple of my musicians. It was 4 a.m. on the morning of June 2nd, a Sunday morning. We were traveling along the Newbury Port Turnpike. We topped the crest of a hill. I remember we were talking about Old Orchard. That was a great opening, Inak. Yes, it was. They seemed to like us all right. I hope we do as well on our next date as a matter of fact. Hey, what's this guy trying to do? He's on the wrong side of the road. Pull over to the other side. I am. Look out! I had tried to pull over to the side of the road, George, but they caught us head-on. The driver of the other car was killed immediately, and the man with him was badly injured. One of the boys with me had a broken leg and nose, and the other musician was thrown out of the car and had his jaw broken. How about you, Inak? Well, the motor was pushed right into my lap. I had a hip, one arm, six ribs, my jaw and nose all broken, and my head was cracked open. My face was also badly cut. When I was hit, I was knocked out. I regained consciousness about 4 30 a.m., shortly after the accident. This fellow looks to be in pretty bad way. Say, what happened? Well, you were in an accident, buddy. Yeah? I remember. How are the other fellas? Well, they've been taken to the hospital in private cars. We're waiting for an ambulance to take you there. Oh. Oh, just take it easy, buddy. It's live still. I felt that I was going to die. I wasn't afraid, just kind of curious. They took me to the Anna Jakes Hospital in Newbury, Florida. I was given an antithetanus injection, and they removed 36 pieces of glass from my face and body. I was semi-conscious for about two weeks. The doctors didn't think I was going to live, but I fooled them. I was in the hospital for months. Eventually, they moved me to my home in Danbury, Connecticut. It took me to January of this year to completely recover. How about your band? Well, of course it broke up. They were all good men. They all found jobs within two weeks after my accident. When I felt okay, I started putting a band together again. Six of the old boys, including Art Lombardi and Fowler Hayes, who'd been in the accident with me, came back and formed a new field. I added five others. We've been playing various college dances and weekend dates. And now I'm just waiting till I get the right spot with the radio. You feel you can get right back there all over again, huh? Yes, I do, George. I think that three or four more weeks on the road and then a spot with a radio wire will put me over further than I was before. That accident was a terrible experience, Enix. Yes, George, it was pretty bad. But it's a funny thing. That experience has helped me. Wow! Well, I always worried a lot. Too much, I guess. But when I was in that hospital, I saw so many people who really had things to worry about. Injuries and all kinds of sickness. And I myself was so near death that by comparison, all the worries I have about work and success seem so small and unimportant. Besides, I feel that if I could come through such an experience as I did and be all right today, that everything's going to be all right from now on. I'm not trying to be a Pollyanna, George. I really mean it. Well, Enix, you're making a grand comeback. And to prove it, Song Hit's magazine has just awarded your band a plaque as the Orchestra of the Month. Here's wishing you the best of luck. You deserve it. Thank you, George. Oddities and radio. Offering 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 Oddities. Every once in a while, we present plus. Beards as they're sometimes called or amusing mistakes that favorite radio personalities make on the air. An alter Ben Grower was on his very first appearance in radio and was quite proud of himself because he was doing very well. He was announcing a program which featured a talk by Mrs. Carrie Chapman Katt, a well-known suffragette. A new announcer was supposed to say at the finish, thank you, Mrs. Katt, we are deeply grateful. What he said was, thank you, Mrs. Katt, we are doply grateful. George Putnam, well-known NBC announcer, made a very rare boner only recently when he said, this is the national bread casting company. Katt, you're a bread casting company on the waters and it'll come back to you as a plus. An announcer at the World's Fair introducing Grover Whalen said, you will next hear the voice of Grover Cleeson. But this week's prize is taken by Dick Dudley, master of ceremonies who conducts NBC's program Who's Blue and who finished his program by saying, listen next week for another dripping grandma. For examples of some of the best of the plus we've featured, see the article on Behind the Mic in this week's Liberty Magazine. A few weeks ago, Behind the Mic showed how a program was originated and prepared for sale to a network for use as a sustaining feature. Well, this afternoon we're going to show you how an advertising agency originates and prepares a program for sale to a prospective sponsor. Here's a man who can tell you all about that. A member of the radio department of one of the biggest advertising agencies, Jay Sterling Gatchel. Our guest is Stuart Ludlop. Well, Stu, how does an advertising agency go about preparing a program for a prospective client? Suppose we take an actual experience of an agency preparing such a program. Last summer it was for a bread account. Let's call it white flour bread. That wasn't the name, but it'll do. We'll change the name of the program, too, but the actual details are accurate. Well, what's the first thing you do to prepare a program? This was a campaign to extend from July through September when bread sales are at their height. You see, strangely enough, it has been found best by advertisers to plug their products most when their sales are highest so that people will buy their products instead of someone else's. After all, every sponsored radio program has a prime purpose, and that's to sell the product advertised. Now, the first thing to do in figuring out a radio program is to find out from the client what are the problems to be met in selling his product. We discovered that since this was a bread, the program couldn't cover the entire country. We had to concentrate our efforts where the client had his bakeries and distributed his bread. That's right. Why advertise in places where people can't buy your product? So we decided to buy time on individual stations, mostly stations connected with the large networks. Various executives and myself got together to discuss where we'd go from there. Well, fellas, the problem now is what sort of audience are we going to try to appeal to? Well, how about a kid show? Kids eat a lot of bread, and they're very loyal to the programs they like. You must remember, Pete, this is a summer program, and the time for a kid's program is generally between five and seven. We'll have daylight saving time, and the kids will be out playing. So you're not going to reach your audience. If you have a kid's program after seven o'clock, and the whole family's home, they'll probably want to listen to something else. Well, how about a program for the whole family? The cities in which we have to advertise white flour bread are so scattered we can't buy a network show. We'll have to put it on by record, you know, transcription. Yeah, sure. If we do a show for the whole family, we'll have too much heavy competitions in the big network shows, but you're also built for the whole family. We're competing with shows like Benny's. Well, I think the person to appeal to is the one who buys the bread. Yes, the woman of the house. You mean we should present a daytime cereal? Maybe you're right. Well, was that what you offered the client? No, he didn't, George. You see, one of the men in the advertising agency traveled from city to city. Actually rode the bakery delivery trucks and called on the groceries. When he came back from his trip, he had additional information that changed our plans. You know, one of the most important things I found out on my trip was, how important it is to get bread placed on the top of the bread rack in grocery stores. Why? Well, I watched the women buy, and they almost invariably reached for the bread on the top of the rack. They feel it, and if it's fresh, then we buy it. I think that it's important that we try to get the groceries and put our bread on the top of the bread rack. How could a program help to do that? Yes, yes, it could. If we'll try to have a program that reaches not only the women, but the grocers as well. How can we do that still? One thing, I don't think we can use the daytime cereal as we plan, because they primarily appeal to women. Most grocers have radios in their stores, Joe. Yes, practically every one of them has. And they're generally tuned into news or music programs. Well, then I think we should present a musical program that will appeal to both the women and the grocers. And the best time to put it on the air would be either in the morning or in the early afternoon, when the women listen. We'll go on every day, and we'll tell the truck drivers to tune the grocers' radio to our station when he makes his daily deliveries. You know, if we din the name of White Flower Bread into the grocers' ear long enough, he might put our bread on top of the rack and might even recommend it. Well, Stuart, have you any musical program in mind? I've been investigating as many possible programs as I could. I think I've got something here that'll fit the picture, especially since we haven't too much money to spend. And this will be inexpensive. What is it? There's a fellow who has the program of dance records. He's on a small station. He introduces the recordings and comments on them. Although he's on a small station, he's so popular and such a good salesman that he generally draws more listeners to his station than the big ones with whom he's in competition. Now, if he can do that, I think he's the right program for us. Sounds like a good idea. Let's get busy on it right away. And then George, we, and by we, I mean the head of the agency, the account executive and the whole radio department, presented this program to our prospective client. He gave them the reasons why we thought it would be good for him. And we sold him the program for presentation on the air. He did a darn good job too, as we believed it would. Thank you, Stuart Ludlam, for that interesting information and forgiving what is undoubtedly for the first time on the air a legitimate picture of how an advertising agency goes about presenting a program to a prospective sponsor. The Sound Effect of the Week. From time to time, behind the mic presents some unusual sound effects. Every once in a while, on various programs, there's a sequence involving an air raid. We're going to show you the difference between how an air raid actually sounds and how it's done for radio. This is how an air raid sounds when made for a radio program. This is done by playing three records on three different turntables. One record is a recording of a flight of bombers in formation. Another record presents the sound of airplanes zooming and diving. The third record is a series of explosions. Not actual bombing during a raid, but sounds made at army-proving grounds and consisting mostly of artillery fire. Once again, the sound of an air raid has done on radio programs. Now the following record was made during an actual air raid. Well, some difference. But here's one case where the genuine doesn't seem half as real as the synthetic. Radio has a tradition of which it can well be found. A tradition of good programs that linger fondly in your memory. And so each week we bring you a star or a part of a program you used to hear. A program you loved. Among the programs you loved in the 1920s was Don Amezzo. Don Amezzo was a Spanish violinist, a part created by Godfrey Ludlow. Don Amezzo's interpreter was played by the late Colonel C.T. Davis, also well-known to listeners of those days as old man Donaldson. Don Amezzo's stories were written by Colonel Davis and Malcolm LaPraz. The interpreter related incidents from the life of Don Amezzo, who would illustrate these stories with melodies played on his beloved Stradivarius. And now let's turn back to the year 1912 a long time ago at Radio for a brief memory of a program you loved, Don Amezzo. I have often told you of Don Amezzo's boyhood days in the old city of Granada and how he used to slip away from home to visit the gypsies of the Albertine Hills. The gypsies of Granada and Albertine Hills. The gypsies liked young Don Amezzo and taught him to play many of their old tribal melodies. Don Amezzo has suggested that I tell you of his first experience in buying a donkey from the gypsies. Just in case there happens to be a gypsy camper in your own neighborhood. Now this particular donkey belonged to the king of the gypsies and his majesty assured Don Amezzo that the animal was unique in all the world. It could read. Well, Don Amezzo saved his money for months and at last the bargain was concluded. He hurried home with his donkey and placed a book instead of a bunch of carrots before the astonished animal. Not a brain. Not even a snort. Don Amezzo hurried back to the gypsy king. See here, you've lied to me. This donkey can't read the word. I held a book before his eyes and he said nothing. Of course not. Of course not, said the gypsy king. But you told me he could read. Oh, that he can, said the gypsy. But I forgot to tell you the donkey cannot talk. This is Don Amezzo. I had to have some good excuse for going to the gypsy king's hut and buying a donkey, so when Don Amezzo went so often to the albicine hill, well, I think a pair of flashy black eyes and lips like rose buds would do. And that's another story. Perhaps Don Amezzo will permit me to tell it to you someday. Let me just say, when a snort is amicus. Good night, my friend. Thank you, Godfrey Ludlow. It's a real pleasure to hear that you have played again, as only you can play it. That Don Amezzo was a program. Many thanks to Malcolm Le Prado, co-author of Don Amezzo, who supplied us with the material you heard. May night marks the 10th year of regular appearances on the air for a comedian who is unique in the history of radio, Jack Venet. As a matter of fact, Jack will be honored on this anniversary of the Gala banquet this Friday night. And our orchestra leader, Ernie Watson, was saxophonist in George Olson's orchestra, which appeared with Jack on that show. That's why we think it's particularly fitting that behind the mic helped Jack celebrate his anniversary. Now after a 15 second interval to make the switch, we take you to Hollywood, California where Don Wilson will interview the one and only Jack Venet. Thank you, George Hakes, and good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Jack Venet will be honored on his 10th anniversary in radio at the Gala banquet this coming Friday night, May 9th, at the Biltmore Bowl of the Biltmore Hotel here in Los Angeles. Since Jack is one of the very few radio stars who can point to such a record of achievement, there's only fitting that he should appear on today's broadcast behind the mic. Both Jack and I have just left rehearsal for today's general program. And while the cast continues across the hall, we come over here to this little studio to take part in behind the mic for a few moments so that Jack can answer some questions about his career in radio, and I'll try to put myself in the role of a typical Jack Venet fan. First, Jack, here's a question that especially fits the occasion. Supposing we can go back 10 years and have you tell us about your very first appearance on radio. What was it like and was it a sponsored show or on the cuff like this one? Well, Stu, they're done. I went on the radio for the first time early in 1932 when Ed Sullivan, the Broadway columnist, invited me to make a guest appearance on his program in New York. Do you remember what you said? No. Oh, yes, yes, yes. I'll ever forget it. Look what it got me into. Well, let's hear about it. All right, I'll give it to you. Now, just to illustrate how time changed, particularly in radio, it was a little monologue up there where I walked to the microphone and said, ladies and gentlemen, this is Jack Venet talking. There will be a slight pause while you say who cares. Now, that was funny then, Don. You may not sound funny now, but they screened at it then. Anyway, I went on. I said, I am here tonight as a scenario writer. There's quite a lot of money in writing scenarios for pictures. Well, there would be if I could sell one. Now, even that, even less than that then. Anyway, I'm going back to pictures in about 10 weeks. I'm going to be in a new film with Greta Garville. They sent me the story last week and it's a very novel idea. When the picture opens, I'm found dead in the bathroom. I hear, you know, they screened at that, Don. Imagine 10 years ago. Anyway, I was found in the dead in the bathroom. I say, it's a sort of a mystery show. I'm found in a bathtub on a Wednesday night. I should have been in Ms. Garville's last picture, but they gave the part to Robert Montgomery. You know, politics. The funny, funny part of it is I'm really younger than Montgomery. That is, I'm younger than Montgomery and Ward. You'd really like Garville. She and I were great friends in Hollywood. She used to let me drive her car around town. Of course, she paid me for it. Don, that's what I said when I first went on the air. That was my first crack at radio. Well, Jack, if you don't mind my saying so, it sounds a bit like a both-bill routine. That's true, Don. Don't forget that radio was unknown to me then. I didn't know whether it was good material or not. I could judge only by stage standards, particularly vaudeville, where I had gained most of my experience. What was the reaction to your first broadcast, Jack? Nobody liked it but me. However, on the strength of it, I landed my first radio commercial just two weeks later. Well, I don't blame you for saving the script as a souvenir. But tell me, Jack, when did Mary Livingston start her heckling career on the air with you? Oh, she's been in my hair since June of 1932. But she did all right by herself before that in vaudeville. When was that? Well, about 12 years ago in New York. And it all happened because the girl who ordinarily worked with me became ill just before the show one night. Mary volunteered to substitute and she's been working at it ever since. Our listeners would like to hear something about the other members of the cast, Jack. Take Rochester, for instance. How long has he been with you? Well, Rochester started with a program back in 1937 when he won an audition over 50 other contenders for the role of a Pullman porter. Just a bit part that we had written in for one broadcast only. But it didn't work out that way. That's right. He was so good that we kept him on for another week then another until he finally became a regular member of the cast. Well, Jack, I am often asked about the preparation of your program. How long does it take on the average? Well, we never stop working. The schedule is something like this. After a Sunday night broadcast, I get together with Bill Marrow and Ed Beloin, my writers, and we hand over different ideas for next week. Then we meet early Monday morning and start working. That goes on throughout the week until our first rehearsal generally held either Friday or Saturday. Then rewriting Saturday night and Sunday morning for the actual broadcast. You know, Jack, when Mort Lewis asked me to interview you today, he made a specific request that I inquire about your fan mail. He'd like to know about some of the odd and unusual letters that you receive each week. Well, they are odd and unusual. You should have my tinfoil trouble. Tinfoil trouble? Now, what does that mean? Well, you remember the program early this season when I talked about my collection of tinfoil? Yes. Well, ever since that time down, I've received letters by the hundreds containing the letters that he added to my collection. Believe me, I must have gotten at least 30 pounds of it, and that doesn't count the letters asking me to give the tinfoil to various charities. Well, Jack, no interview with you would be complete without a few words about your classic feud with Fred Allen. Did Allen make the first crack at you or vice versa? Well, naturally, Don. He started it. I wouldn't say anything nasty. Well, here's what happened on a few years ago when Allen had amateurs on this program. A little nine-year-old Kenan played the B on his violin, and when he got through, Allen made a crack that Jack Benny couldn't do that. He ought to be ashamed of himself. Naturally, I was wounded, so I let my nails grow and clawed back. And as many times I've given him a good scratching, I have yet to strike blood. Anyway, Don, that's how it started. That has been going on ever soon. Yes, sir. Well, Jack, we're just about through now, and as it's your anniversary, of course, you get the last word. All right, Don, I just want to thank you for the invitation to appear on today's broadcast for Behind the Mic. That goes for me too, Jack. We now take you back to New York. Thank you, Jack Benny and Don Wilkton. May you both have many more radio anniversaries. On Behind the Mic, you'll hear the story of how the national broadcasting company gets its foreign news by shortwave, as told by the head of NBC's listening post, Jules Van Items. We salute another program you love, and we bring you more of the comedy and the tragedy and the humor that are behind the mic. This is George Hicks saying good afternoon. Behind the Mic is composed or rather written by Mort Lewis, the original music is composed and conducted by Ernie Watson. This is the blue network of the national broadcasting company.