 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 at your command. But there are stories behind radio, 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. 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 since the beginning of broadcasting has been a byword in radio, Graham McNamee. Thank you, Gil Martin, and good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience. This afternoon, Behind the Mic presents the story of how a radio character actor does his stuff. How sound effects are made. The odd story behind the time an announcer was supposed to broadcast from the famous coconut grove in Hollywood. We bring you back a few moments of the old Atwater Kent program. And finally, there will be a dramatization of a remarkable story told by Jimmy Wallington. You wouldn't be a radio listener if you didn't wonder, every once in a while, how those sound effects you hear on programs are made. The sound of a taxi, a shotgun, a train wreck, and all the rest of the noises that are necessary to a script. We have two of the best sound effects met in the business here tonight, and they will demonstrate various sound effects and tell you how they're made. Ted Slade will do the actual effects, and Ray Kelly, head of the NBC sound effects department, will explain how each effect is done. Now Ted, our sound man, has his equipment set up next to a microphone. And I'm going to tell a rather crazy story, which will use many sound effects, and Ray Kelly will explain how each effect was made. Our story begins with our hero's train pulling into the railroad station. Ladies and gentlemen, that sound was created by using four records, each on a different turntable and all operated by Ted Slade. Our hero goes to his home and walks up the snow-covered path. That sound is produced by taking a box of corn starch and squeezing it in the same rhythm in which a person would walk. Our hero opens his door. And that, believe it or not, is a door. He discovers a burglar, and they have a terrific fight. And that was accomplished by Ted Slade, the sound man, engaging in a civil war. He punched the open palm of his hand with his fist, he hit himself on the chest, threw several chairs around, broke some fruit baskets, and finally smashed some glass in front of the microphone. You should have seen that boy beat himself up. Well, our hero now tries to phone the police. But his telephone wires have been cut, so he ties up the burglar and takes him to the police station in his old horse and wagon. That wagon is a box mounted on casters, which the sound effects man wiggles with his foot. Ted impersonated the horse by taking two rubber plungers and hitting them on his chest. Both the caster box and the plungers are worked simultaneously. Our hero takes the burglar to jail where he is safely locked up. And that sound was done by closing a specially built door constructed exactly like a cell door. How do you know? You don't get me on that when I sell the specification. And then to give the scene a punch ending and still another sound effect, our hero, weirdly enough, feeling pleased with himself, decides to go for a row on the lake. The lap of the water is created by using a splash box. This is a tank of water with a paddle in it that just turned slowly to produce the sound of rowing. The squeak of the oar lock was made by using a squeak box, a little gadget that's too complicated to explain here. And as the moon rises, we leave our hero rowing to his heart's content. Equally pleased that he has captured the burglar and that he has made his first and last appearance on a radio program. Those of you who listen to our program regularly will remember that we have had as guests on behind the mic two of the best comedy character actors in radio. Tonight we have as a guest a different type of actor, a legitimate character actor, a man who plays a large number of different roles mostly on dramatic shows. He has appeared in Arch Obler's plays on the Kate Smith show and in a great many daytime serials. Tonight we'd like you to meet him in person. Introducing character actor Gilbert Mack. Kill what background have you got for character acting? Well Graham, I played in stock and I sang in Boardville and I was even a hillbilly yodler. As a matter of fact I broke into radio as a yodler. Don't tell me that being a mountain William helped you to become a radio actor. Well, as a matter of fact, Graham, I think it did. I'm sure that the flexibility of my voice was helped by my yodeling. I believe that one of the reasons I can play so many characters is because my vocal cords are so elastic. Oh, so your vocal cords are elastic. You must come around and snap them for us sometime. Well, now that we've got your background stuff, how about showing us some of the characters you actually portray on the air? All right, Graham, I'll do that in a little sketch in which I'm going to play all the parts. The scene is the home of the rich Mr. Brownlee. In the spacious living room, a group of people are gathered listening to Mr. Brownlee. So if you will tell me exactly what you heard and saw last night, we may be able to find some trace of that missing necklace. Gee, Dad, I was in my room all night. We're sure of that, Tommy, but did you hear any strange noise? Well, Grandpa, I got so interested in my ghost story magazine. Uh-huh, ghost stories. Darling, for me, I just... Quiet, Sam. We'll get nowhere unless we stick to facts. Mr. Brownlee's right, Sam. And suppose we hear from our house boy, Sato. Oh, thank you, sir. Last night, about three o'clock, I was suddenly aware of presence of strange gentlemen in bedsheet. Then I saw a gentleman, a putting seat back to sleep with well-priest up on head. And when you awoke this morning, the necklace was gone from the wall safe. Gee, Dad, this looks like a case for the G-men. See, look at that car pulling up outside. Oh. See, I wonder who that man coming in there, huh? Yes, and who's that little fellow he's dragging along there with him? Well, I'm Detective Mannequin from headquarters, and they brought along a suspect. They found him snooping around outside the house. Well, I know that man. He's Tony, our vegetable dealer. That's right. I'm a jeez-to-poo man. I'm selling fruits and vegetables. I'm a do-nothing. And as you say, to me, I'm a crook. Do-nothing, is it? Well, then, how come this pearl necklace they found in your pocket? Yes, sir, that's the jewelry. It please a Mr. Cop. I'ma tell you, G-Sto, what happened when I come here before I ring the bell? Sato, he's opened up the door and pushing his junk in my hand. What I'm gonna do, eh? So I'ma hang around and wait when you come along to pull me inside, that's all. So, Sato gave you that necklace, eh? Oh, please, sir. Is this our serious mistake? Never mind the alibis. Come clean or I'll take you down to the station house for questioning. Oh, please, sir. I am worrying to tell the truth if you'll promise not to give me no third-degree copper. Gee, Dad, Sato lost his accent. That's right. Sato isn't quite what we thought he was. Well, I thought I could get away with this disguise till I pulled his job off, but I guess it didn't work out. But, Sato, whatever your real name is, where did you learn such a neat trick? That was a cinch. After all, I did a ten-year stretch up in a big house, and I was a star performer every year in the annual show. And it looks like you're going back for return engagement. Gilbert Mack not only played every character, but he also made the sound effects of the scream of the automobile brakes. With my own elastic vocal cord. And you sure did snap them that time. Thank you, Gilbert Mack. Thank you. He's in radio, presenting 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. One of NBC's prominent young announcers is Don Cordray, who appeared on this program a few weeks ago in an interview. Don has an unusual story of, shall I say, an amusing experience which we thought merited his reappearance. Don, suppose you tell us your story. All right, Graham. It's going to take us back a few years, but I was an announcer at KFI in Los Angeles. The time my burning ambition was to broadcast from the coconut grove where Gus Arnheim was playing at that time. Why was that such an ambition? Well, Graham, it may sound silly, but because the coconut grove met, getting a chance to meet those movie stars and be seen by them. For a whole year, I ate off my heart and soul just to do one broadcast on a Saturday night for a full hour from coconut grove. Well, on a Friday, the chief announcer Tom Hanlon called me into his office and said that Freeman Lange, the regular announcer of the coconut grove, was ill. I was to fill in for him on that Saturday. Well, Graham, believe it or not, I was so excited at the thought of doing that broadcast, I went out and hired a full dress suit for $12.5. The next night, I was at coconut grove, but mind you, plenty early. I saw the engineer as I entered the grove, and he called me when he saw me come in and said... Hey, Don, what you doing here so early? Well, I don't know, Paul. Just sort of looking around. Boy, this is some place, isn't it? Yeah. Well, Don, as long as you aren't doing anything, I wonder if you'd help me out. See that microphone tied up against the wall? Mm-hmm. Well, it's hanging from the ceiling, and I'm going to untie it so that it'll swing over the center of the stage. Will you catch it for me? Oh, sure thing. I'll be careful when it swings over. It's heavy. Okay. Here she goes. Hey, Don! Who's that? Why, Charlie, what are you... Hey, look out! It's going to hit you! Oh, man, stand back. Come on, give him some air. Step aside, will you? Doctor, he's got to do a broadcast tonight. Broadcast? Mm-hmm, not this boy. When that mic hit his head, it knocked him out for the evening. And I was knocked out, Graham. They called for another announcer. I think it was Ken Carpenter. I never got a chance to broadcast from Coconut Grove. You poor guy. Socked on the coconut by the coconut. Behind the mic salutes a program you loved. 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 loved. This afternoon, behind the mic salutes the old Atwater Kent Hour. Which, with its national auditions, was designed to select the best non-professional singers in the country each year. We recreate part of the Atwater Kent Auditions of December 11, 1927, with the actual winner of the first national competition, the delightful concert soprano, Agnes Davis. The Atwater Kent Hour. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience. Tonight, Atwater Kent presents the finals of what is probably the most important musical competition ever attempted in the United States. Every singer in the United States, under 25 years of age, has had an opportunity to be heard. By the process of elimination in local auditions, the contestants have been reduced to five young women and five young men who have qualified for the national finals. They will sing tonight in the final competition. The Atwater Kent Foundation will award the young woman and young man winning first place $5,000 cash, a gold decoration, and two years of musical tuition. The winners of this contest will be selected by a jury of nine eminent musical authorities. Each singer will be announced by name. The first singer is Miss Mary Sims, who will sing the Karanome. Here, Miss Marie Brunazek of Chicago, who will sing A Forze Lui from Traviata. Our next contestant, Benjamin P. Deloche, Jr., will sing Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes. As the last of the ten contestants, Agnes Davis of Denver will sing Pache Pache Mio Dio by Verdi. Ladies and gentlemen, the contest which means so much to young singers who traveled so far to take part in the finals of the nationwide search for America's finest and most promising young artists sponsored by the Atwater Kent Foundation is ended. The judge's decision will be announced within the next hour. We hope by the station through which you are listening. This is Graham McNamee saying good evening for the Atwater Kent Hour. When the judges had made their decision, I was happy to announce over the air that Miss Agnes Davis had been a judge as the winner of the first prize for young women singers. $5,000, a two-year musical scholarship, and a gold medal. Today, Miss Davis, who has appeared as soloist with the leading symphony orchestras throughout the United States, is rated as one of the best concert artists in the country. And as an old friend Agnes, let me add that after poche poche, we need no further proof. Letters from listeners. Each week, we invite the listeners of Behind the Mic to write us questions about radio and the three or four we consider to be of most general interest. We have answered on the air by the radio editor of some outstanding newspaper or magazine. Tonight's questions will be answered by C.J. Ingram, radio editor of the Jersey City Journal, and for 10 years conductor of his own program, Stardust. Miss Thelma Reid of Boston, Massachusetts writes in to say, I am a constant listener to Bob Burns' program. I read somewhere that Bob Burns was an expert rifle shot. Is this true or is it just publicity? Well, for Miss Reid's information, Bob Burns is really a crack shot. As a matter of fact, he was rifle champion of the AEF and got a gold medal signifying his championship, a medal which was pinned on him by General Pershing himself. Miss Rose Farrell of Mount Pleasant, Pennsylvania writes in to ask, since radio is now celebrating its 20th year of broadcasting, can you tell me what was the very first broadcast and what were the call letters of the station that gave the program? We find there are two schools of thought as to which was the first station of broadcast, a regularly scheduled program. The majority of persons in radio seem to think that KDKA in Pittsburgh was the first station of broadcast and its program was the Harding-Cock selection returns broadcast November the 2nd, 1920. There are some who claim that station WWJ of Detroit broadcast the first regularly scheduled program on August 21, 1920 when it broadcast the returns of the state primaries. Miss Marjorie Miller of Birmingham, Alabama writes, I am a frequent listener to the broadcast from the Metropolitan Opera. Can you tell me when was the first broadcast from the Metropolitan Opera House? In answer to Miss Miller's question, the first broadcast from the Metropolitan was on January 13, 1910. An experimental station operated by the DeForest Radiophone broadcast the voice of the great Enrico Caruso and Amy Destin from Backstage. The broadcast was picked up at sea by the steamship Avon. Miss Martha Burnett of New York City asks this question, can you tell me what was the first program ever to appear on a network? The first program ever to appear on a network was that given by the sweethearts of the air, Peter DeRose and Mae Singie-Brain, on a network consisting of WRC Washington and WEAF New York City, and the broadcast originated in Washington. Thank you, CJ Ingram, for answering those questions for us. Thanks a lot. A week or so ago I was having lunch with a man whose voice must have been heard by every radio listener in the last 10 years. He's been an important cog in many big programs and right now he's the announcer on the new Fred Allen show. Yes, of course, I mean Jimmy Wallington. Jimmy told me a behind the mic story I thought was so good and so unusual that I invited him to come here this afternoon to tell you about it. And here he is to do that very thing. But first, I want to welcome him back to the east. Jimmy Wallington. Hello, Jimmy, how are you? Fine, thank you, Graham. Believe me, it's good to be back with you and my other good friends in New York City. The story starts back in the early 1920s. The scene was the Mojave Desert way out west in California. The driver was speeding along the dusty highway and there was a good reason for it to speed, too. In the back seat were a husband and his wife. The wife, in agony, had suddenly been stricken with an attack of acute appendicitis. Their friend, the driver, was getting every last ounce of speed he could from the car in an effort to reach a doctor in the town of Mojave as quickly as possible when suddenly... What's the matter? I don't know. There must be something wrong with the engine. I'll take a look at it. Well, don't worry. We'll get you to a doctor just as soon as we possibly can. Oh, this is awful. We're out of oil and one of the bearings is shut. Well, can you fix it? I'm not here. I'm gonna have to hail a car, explain the situation and ask them to take it to a doctor. They can't refuse. Oh, here's one now. Hey! Hey, stop! I'll try the next one. This is terrible. Darling, if there was something I could do, here comes another one. Hey, stop! I don't know. Maybe they're afraid we're gonna hold them up or something. I think there was a hold up along here not long ago. But we've got to get her to a doctor. I've been here for half an hour. Well, here's one. This one's got to stop. Stop! What's the matter? This lady is sick. We've got to get her to the doctor at Mojave as fast as we can. We'll be glad to take him, won't we, Dad? Well, he's sure of things, son. Come on, get in back, folks, and I'll have you there in a jeppy. The scene now changes to an at-water Kent program in 1928. The actual program announcing Graham. As you know, I also worked on that program. On one at-water Kent program each year, as you've shown tonight, 10 candidates for musical scholarships and large cash prizes would compete. And some of the foremost people in the musical world would act as judges to select the winner. And also, as you know, the judges did not see the contestants while they were singing, so they could judge them by the voice alone. Contestants and judges met for the first time after the program when a little party would be held in an adjoining studio. And after this particular program, the evening's winner approached one of the judges who had awarded him the first prize of $5,000. Oh, pardon me, sir, but may I speak to you a moment? Why, certainly. I want to congratulate you, young man. You did splendidly. Oh, thank you, sir. But I want to ask you something. Do you remember a long time ago when you were driving a lady to the doctor and your car broke down in the Mojave Desert a man came along with his son and they took you to the doctor in their car? Well, yes, I remember that vividly. Do you mean... Yes, sir. I was the boy. Well, of course. Now I remember the father's name was Novus and your Donald Novus' son. This is remarkable. Yes, sir. But even more remarkable to me is that tonight, for the first time, I should find out that the man we helped was the great Lawrence Tibbet. Thank you for bringing us a very great story, Jimming Wallington. Thanks a lot. Gentlemen, if you have any questions about the inside of radio that you wish answered on the air, write a letter to us. Address it to Graham McNamee Behind the Mic, national broadcasting company New York City. As many questions as possible will be answered by mail and those we feel to be of most general interest will be answered on this program. Be sure to listen in next week when we will bring you one of the funniest, most fantastic Behind the Mic stories you ever heard. A story behind Dave Elman's Hobby Lobby program, as told by Dave Elman himself. We will also bring you the story of a man who makes a living dying on the radio and more of the human interest, the glamour, the comedy and the drama that are found behind the mic. Behind the Mic is written by Mort Lewis, originally music composer and conducted by Ernie Watson. This is the national broadcasting company.