 Radio's own show, Behind the Mic. Radio, with a switch of your 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 whose name has been a symbol of the best in radio since the beginning of broadcasting, Graham McNamee. Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience. This afternoon behind the mic brings you true amusing stories about radio. From the collection of A.L. Simon, a radio columnist. The sound effect of the week. A human interest story behind the broadcast of Alma Kitchells. More amusing fluffs or mistakes made by your favorite announcers. We salute a program you love. One that starred songstress Sylvia Fruce. We answer letters from listeners and finally you will hear what happens when a daytime serial needs fixing up. As told by scriptwriter and consultant, Bill Rapp, editor of True Story Magazine. There are other people besides those connected with the production of Behind the Mic who make collections of amusing stories behind radio. For instance, there is Al Simon, conductor of the radio column, Twisting the Dial. Which is syndicated throughout the country and radio instructor at Long Island University. He's going to bring you some of these stories. And now, Al Simon. Al, how long have you been collecting stories behind radio? Since about 1937, Graham, when I wrote letters to practically all the stations in the country and asked them to send me stories, particularly amusing stories behind radio. Oh, what are you collecting them for? Eventually, in collaboration with Ben Hall. I want to make a book out of these stories and call it Fun on the Air. Well, suppose we dramatize a few of these true Behind the Mic stories that have been sent to you, Al, huh? That's what we're here for, Graham. Go ahead. To start off, one day the harried girl at the information telephone at KFI, KECA Los Angeles heard. Madam, I've got a little bit. KFI gets the correct time. From Western Union. Where does Western Union get the correct time? From the U.S. Naval Observatory in Arlington. Where does the Naval Observatory get it? From the stars. Where do the stars get it? From the KFI time signal. Oh, that was one of my favorites. Here's another one, Graham. This story concerns Arthur Godfrey Radio Commentator. A couple of years ago, a beer concern in Washington, D.C. decided that radio would help their sales pick up in hot weather. They acquired time on Godfrey's sundial program and sat back to view the results. About three weeks later, Godfrey received the following telegram. You're good. Your program is better. Our beer sales are even better than that. We can't fill any more orders. You're fired. Here's another one from my collection, Graham. Eddie O'Shea, the sound effects man at WTIC Hartford once fired a shot during one of the popular mystery dramas broadcast over that station. The shot was supposed to have killed the villain instantly. A moment later, O'Shea tripped over a wire and accidentally fired the revolver a second time. This could have ruined the drama, but the actor at the mic thought quickly and said, Boy, has this place got an echo. That's all right, Al. How about another one? Well, a couple of years ago, out in Butte, Montana, there was a show called Born and Was Right, which featured dramatization from San Francisco's police records. After a brief opening theme and announcement, a voice would say, There's a fool born every minute and a chiseler to take him. At station KGIR one night, the program preceding Born and Was Right ran over time. And the announcer had a rush to a long local announcement advertising bargains at a local store. This is one of the greatest sales that Smith's bargain basement has ever run. You'll get such bargains as genuine full-fashioned silk hose at 36 cents a pair, aluminum pants for 17 cents, hand-cut glassware at a new low price, and other equally good bargains. And now, for Barnum, Was Right. There's a fool born every minute and a chiseler to take him. But one of my real favorites concerns a nervous speaker on a Chicago station who picked up his speech with the last page first and started his tour right off. And so, ladies and gentlemen, good night. I wonder if he can sit down in those aluminum pants. Well, anyway, good afternoon to you, Alson, and thanks for those amusing stories. We hope to have you back on this program a few weeks from now with a lot more of them. The sound effect of the week. From time to time behind the mic presents some unusual sound effect which was used on the air and tells exactly how it was done. This week we again answer requests of our radio audience to explain certain common sound effects. One correspondent asks us how the sound of somebody walking up and down stairs is made. The sound is this. It is made by our sound man simply walking up and down seven or eight steps of a miniature stairway, especially constructed for this purpose. Another listener asks how a baby cry is made. Well, a baby cry is made by one of two ways. Either by having an expert crier weep into the mic and flood the studio with tears like this. Or simply by playing a phonograph record of a balling infant. Several months ago, we showed how this same record played at slow speed is also used for the sound of a man having a, well, a bad case of pink snakes, we'll call it. The same record played at slow speed. And finally received a request from one blood thirsty fan who wanted to know how the sound of a person being beheaded by the guillotine is created. This is done by using a series of pulleys attached to one end of the rope which runs through these pulleys is a weight which is released as the pulley is raised and falls with, we hope, a sickening thud. Which makes the sound of raising the guillotine knife and dropping it. To make the sound of the head falling after a deadly silence, you drop into the basket a Persian melon for the head of an aristocrat, for a proletarian a cantaloupe, and for the hoipaloi a squash. Now, this time a sustaining program will drop a grapefruit. Head bob. That is a guest, Alma Kitchell, conductor of Alma Kitchell's Briefcase and Alma Kitchell's Streamline Journal. She brought us the most absorbing human interest story, and since then I've learned that she knows many others. So here's Alma with another story of what radio meant to one listener. Alma Kitchell, come in Alma. Graham, as you know, or perhaps you don't, the theme of one of these programs of mine is what radio means to its listeners. Of course I do, I listen every day. Thanks. After one broadcast I received such a human touching matter from a widow. She told me that she'd been having considerable trouble with her son. She was worried. For instance, at night after supper she'd say to him, Bob, where are you going now? I'm going out with the gang. I wish you'd find some new friends. I don't like those boys, especially that Bart boy. He's a bad one. Oh, Hank Fox, all right. No, he isn't. It was only by the skin of his teeth that he wasn't sent to reform school last year for breaking into the Russo's grocery store. I wish you'd stay home in the evening once in a while, Bob. What is there to keep me home here? Well, she wrote me further that Bob had been in little trouble in school also. The principal had asked her to come to see him. Unless your son changes his ways, I'm sure he'll end up in the reform school. Yes, but what can I do? Well, for one thing, he ought to develop some new interests. Something that will take him away from the group of boys that are now his companions. Those kids are pretty bad youngsters. I know. He's out with them every night when he's supposed to do his homework. He just won't stay at home. Well, there ought to be some way of making him stay home. Have you a radio? No. Why don't you get one, a small one? You know, the radio might not only keep him home listening to it, but it may help to develop some new interest. She wrote me that she did buy a radio, and her son started listening to music and being a youngster, particularly to dance bands. Very soon he developed such an interest in music that he wanted to get into the school band. But of course he couldn't play because his mother couldn't afford a musical instrument for him. The principal again came to the rescue and got him the loan of an old trumpet. The lad was thrilled and practiced diligently. Well, to make a long story short, Graham, he not only became one of the star performers of the high school band, but on graduation he formed his own dance orchestra. And who knows, someday he may be one of the big leaders. And there's a youngster who might have wound up in a reform school. Well, Alma, that's another swell example of the way in which radio influenced its listeners for the better. And thank you for another grand story, Alma Kitchell. Oddities in 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. We once more present some fluffs and amusing mistakes made by your favorite announcers. Most of these fluffs have been supplied by Al Simon from his collection. Annoucer, Sheb Martino, giving a time signal on station WDZ in Cuscolla, Illinois, once said. The correct time is 10 of 10. No, I mean 10 after 10. Well, anyway, it's somewhere around 10 o'clock. An announcer on a New York station said, Tonight, fair and cooler, followed by tomorrow and Saturday. On station WMBO, Auburn, a new announcer introducing a soprano soloist said, And now we hear Miss Gilbert singing her interpretation of that beautiful old Jewish ballad, McCushland. On station KDKA, announcer Bill Sutherland introducing a very large stout soprano made this slip. Our singer is well known in musical circuses. And Ted Husing once came out with this one. Here come some government dignitaries. All of them high. Finally, an announcer at WMBO doing a time signal said, The time will be 2.30 p.m. at the sound of the musical goat. 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. 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 a young lady who has long been a radio favorite and is not only every bit as good as ever, but maybe just a little bit better. Our guest is Sylvia Fruth. Sylvia, what are you going to sing? Do I worry, Graham? You do, you're crazy. Perhaps you wonder how I feel about your sudden change. I thought at last that this was real. But since you're acting straight, do I worry? Cause you're stepping out. Do I? Cause you've got me in doubt. Though your kisses aren't right. Do I give a back? We've lost the turning dark. And when evening shadows creep. Do I? Cause you're stepping out. Cause your kisses aren't right. Each week we invite the listeners of Behind the Mic to write us questions about radio and almost every week the questions we consider to be of most general interest we have answered on the air. This afternoon's questions will be answered by Behind the Mic and the person of our announcer, Gilbert Martin. Thank you, Graham. And Sims out on Eukon Wilcox asks, are there any women directors in radio? Yes, Graham. There are a few women directors in radio. And several weeks ago we had one of them as a guest on this very show. Although there aren't many such gals, they are all very competent. And believe me, they have to be as the competition with the male sex in this field is terrific. Phillip M. Lewis of New York City writes into us this question. I am told that a number of comedians have dressed rehearsals before audiences to test out their gags. And yet some of them, the gags, not the comedians, die during the actual program. If the gags have been tested, why is this so? Well, no two audiences are alike. And jokes which get laughs from one group of people will not always evoke laughter from another. Now there are other reasons why jokes do not get laughs besides they're not being funny. For instance, during the telling of a joke, somebody walks across a stage and takes the studio audience's attention from the comedian, which of course will kill a gag. Ralph Vogel of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania writes, when a program preceding yours runs into your time, as happened a few weeks ago, when Winston Churchill was speaking, how do you make sure your program will come out on the dot as yours did? After all, you didn't know how long Churchill was going to speak, and he occupied six or seven minutes of the time allotted to behind the mic. Well, in the case of Mr. Churchill, it's true we didn't know how long he was going to speak. But we had the program so timed that we knew by taking out one portion of it, we'd say five minutes. By taking out another portion, ten minutes and so on. We didn't know until the moment we went on the air exactly how long our program would have to be and as pre-arranged we cut to make up the lost time. And I might say this is the usual procedure in such situations. Ralph Adams of Collinsville, Connecticut requests this information for a friend. Does John J. Anthony, conductor of the Goodwill Hour, answer our programs by mail and how does one address letters to him? Mr. Anthony informs us that he does not attempt to give solutions to personal problems by mail. Letter sent to him should be addressed to John J. Anthony and care of the station through which he has heard, and the mail will be forwarded. Jan Hart of Newark, New Jersey wants to know, if your orchestra leader, Ernie Watson himself over there, is the same man who composed that novel music for the old Popeye program. And that answer is yes. Ernie not only composed the Popeye music, but he has composed and arranged for such orchestra leaders and orchestras as Paul Whiteman, the Philadelphia Symphony, Rubinoff, Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, and at present is composing for various NBC orchestras and programs. Ralph Adams of Root Star, not Ralph Adams, of Beaumont Texas wants to know what happened to Schlepperman of the Jack Ernie program. Well, Schlepperman, whose real name is Sam Hearn, appears intermittently as a guest on various radio programs. A few weeks ago he was a guest on the Good News program, and he also makes numerous voodoo appearances. And that's the news. Thank you, Gilbert Martin. Daytime serials play a mighty important part in radio, and there are very vital writing problems in these shows, problems that arise when the script goes stale and listeners start to fall away. In such a case, a story consultant is often called into advise on how to fix the script. Here is one of the best of these story consultants to tell you all about it. Besides being a radio consultant, he is editor of True Story Magazine. Bill Rapp. Hello, Bill. Mike's yours. Take it away. Thanks, Crane. I want to say here at the beginning that a story consultant not only is called in when a script goes stale, but is sometimes called in at the start of a serial to help the author plot the story. Well, what does a Good Daytime Serial have to have, Bill? A sponsor. Oh, you're a dreamer, Bill, but aren't we all? But seriously, a good story for a long serial must have at least two of these three fundamental, a socially significant central theme, a group of characters who naturally generate dramatic situation after dramatic situation, and a hopeful attitude to this business of living. Well, when do you do most of your work, Bill? During story conferences. What are these story conferences like? Well, Crane, suppose we show the audience a typical story conference designed to help out a sixth script, and so that our audience can get them all straight. Let's first introduce the people at the conference. Well, I'm Martha. I write the script. It's always been successful until now. I'm Pete, the advertising manager of the sponsor. Personally, I think the trouble with this script is that it's too highbrow. I'm Joe. I represent the advertising agency. I'm what they call an account executive. Boy, oh boy, I hope that just because our show has lost little popularity, the client doesn't change to another advertising agency. I'm the story consultant, but I won't come in till later. I'm the director of the show. I should be at the conference, but I'm not. I'm homesick, which cuts out another actor and keeps the budgetist program down. And now, a typical story conference in an office of an advertising agency. And don't think it's exaggerated. Get to me. It's a dude everyone speaks in your life. And if you come in here and tell me how I script... Just take a look at that Crosley now. Look at it. Down two points since the last rating. And every point means millions less listeners. And why is the rating down? Why I ask you? Why, Pete? Because we killed Sherman Talbot. Of course. Certainly. Look at the mail we received. This one says, why did you kill Sherman Talbot? He was such a fine man. He had a lovely character. We all like him, and now you've killed him. We'll never buy your product again, and we used to eat it all the time at our home. Isn't that awful? And here's another one too, Joe. Look. It was a disgrace to kill Sherman Talbot. I resent it personally. Not only will I not eat toasted shreddies, but I belong to the Four Deuces Bridge Club and to the ladies auxiliary, and I'll see that none of the members eat toasted shreddies either. You're right, Pete. You're right. I guess we shouldn't have killed Sherman Talbot. Well, I'm glad we've agreed on that, at least. But who killed Sherman Talbot? Who killed him? Why do you know? It was your idea, Pete. You told us your wife didn't like Sherman Talbot. Well, she didn't. And none of her friends liked Sherman Talbot, and that I should get rid of him once and for all. So I had to have him shocked. Yeah, well, I still think I'm right. But if you'd written it right, you didn't dumb it up enough. That was the trouble. You're the first person who hasn't been satisfied with my writing. You've been successful. Then why don't you write a successful script for us? Show's going down. Our product isn't selling. Well, maybe your product isn't any good. Now, look, Martha, do you realize what you're saying? Our product is good. Now, look here. I'll have you know that we sold more toasted shreddies last year. Where is that guy, Raph? We're paying him to come in here and help us lick this problem. He can't even be here on time. Yeah, that's right. Where's Raph? I don't know. We should... Oh, hello, Bill. Well, Bill, we've got a real problem here. You're absolutely right. You're absolutely right. It's a great product. But how about it, Bill? Are you ready to help us? Well, I spent 12 hours last night listening to records of the rise of young Dr. Pepper O'Randell. I must have had about 40 or 50 episodes. Yes, well... Do you know what's wrong with it? Yes. Good. What? You killed Shaman Talbot too soon. Too soon? I didn't think he should have been killed at all. My wife doesn't like him, and she knows her radio. Yes, Pete, probably a lot of people didn't like Shaman Talbot. But a lot more people seem to like him. You're right. This Talbot was a rather nice guy before you decided to get rid of him, wasn't he, Master? Sure, that's the way I built his character. And you got rid of him in about five weeks. That is, you changed his character and made him a heel and motivated his death all within that time. Right. It was done much too fast. What do you mean, Bill? Well, you know that many of your daytime radio serial listeners don't listen every day. Yeah. And a lot of them remember Shaman Talbot as being a good guy. They didn't know that he'd become a villain here at some of the shows in which his character was changed. Good a listener. So when they heard that he'd been shot, they were sorry for him. If you would have spread his becoming a heel out over thirteen weeks, you would have given your listeners a chance to find out that he was a rat. Those letters you got are from women who still remember him as being a good guy. You're right. Absolutely right. Well, what can we do now, Bill? What's the way out? Radio reincarnation. He's got to be brought back. I had him shot, but definitely. He had him found kissing another man's wife and the husband shot, and he's been buried. Well, listen, can we dig him up? That's a constructive suggestion, Pete. I wonder if a man could be buried and then be... wait a minute. Maybe a cataleptic fit. Wait, I'll find out in a second. I'll phone my doctor. All right. Hello, give me a line, please. Hold on a second. This fellow knows. Hello? Hello, Ernie? Yeah, this is Pete. Say, Ernie, can a guy be buried in a cataleptic state and be brought back to life? How long ago was he buried? Uh, a month ago. No, I don't know him. It's a script. Yeah, he was killed. Oh, well, thanks. Thanks very much. Goodbye. Now, if he was buried, he was embalmed, and nobody can survive that. Not even on daytime radio. Oh, I never thought of embalming, sure. Look, I figured this out. The script intimated that Talbot didn't get along with his mother-in-law. He believed that she was interfering in his married life. So let's give him a double, and make the double a guy was shot. This sort of thing happens frequently. Men sent to jail, for instance, because they looked like the real criminals. Now, Talbot was away from home. When he sees his picture printed in the papers with the startling news that he's dead, that gives him an idea. His mother-in-law has been ruining his whole life, so he decided that this was a great break. He goes to Atlantic City. Listen, how are we going to get him back in the story, Bill? Well, one day, a friend comes to the house and asks how Sherman is. The wife says, Sherman, don't you know Sherman's dead? He died a month ago. And the friend says, well, I must have seen a ghost, then, in Atlantic City only two weeks ago, because I met him there, and we talked. And it was Sherman all right. So they call the Missing Patience Bureau of the police department at Atlantic City. A call goes out, and Sherman Talbot is located. Sounds good to me. He doesn't want to come home on account of the mother-in-law situation. Right. So they put a personal ad in the newspapers, and he finally answers and says that he'll come home but no mother-in-law. Yes, but what are we going to do with a mother-in-law? Why not kill her? They could. She could be hit by a taxi or have a heart attack. Wait, wait. You can't kill the mother-in-law. Why not? Everybody hates Sherman. Yes, but you can't kill the mother-in-law. And why not? Because think how many people who buy our product need a pick. Oh, yeah, how? Let's not forget the fate of our fundamentals. A hopeful attitude to life. There you are. So instead of killing the mother-in-law, we'll reform her, but in 13 weeks. Reform a mother-in-law in 13 weeks? Don't you think that's too fast? No, let's go into that. That is typical of an actual story conference. APPLAUSE Thank you, Bill Raff, for supplying that information for giving us a fine technical story and for appearing yourself. Thanks, Bill. Fearing this music is that the show ran a little shorter than dress rehearsal and rather than slow up the pace of our spot about daytime serials, we decided to fill in with music. Next week on Behind the Mic, you will learn how songstress Alice Cornette almost lost a sponsor because she lost her southern accent. We salute a program you'll love that starred orchestra leader and instrumentalist Frank Novak. You will learn how mystery scripts are written and we bring you more of the comedy, the tragedy, and the glamour that are behind the mic. This is Graham Acherich speaking. Good afternoon all. Behind the Mic is written by Mort Lewis, original music composed and conducted by Ernie Watson. This is the blue network of the national broadcasting company. APPLAUSE