Radio mirror (Jan-June 1948)

was a birthday party for Noel Owens, too, and she received a beautiful mama doll which she hugged and wouldn't let go. Bobby was tickled with his policeman's suit complete with gun, holster and billy club, and proceeded to put it right on. After they had said their pieces, Bobby took Noel on an inspection tour of the house. While the other children were admiring their gifts, Don went searching with a hand microphone for Bobby and Noel. He found Bobby alone in the reception hall. Then came one of "those" remarks which occasionally sneak out on radio — and which Don has never forgotten! "Bobby," he said, "what've you been doing?" "I showed Noel the house," Bobby replied over the air. "I showed her the living room, and the dining room . . ." he hesitated, looking worried. "Yes," prompted Don, "and then what?" "And then she had to go!" blurted Bobby. Quickly, Don found one of the other children to interview. WE had a lot of unscheduled and unexpected things happen on the broadcast— just the sort of things that make Breakfast Club such a down-to-earth program. The front doorbell rang twice during the broadcast. First, it was one of our neighbors inviting Don and me over to share a cup of Christnias punch. The next time. Tommy answered the bell. And the network audience heard another neighbor inquire, "Tommy, when is your dad going to get out and shovel the snow off his sidewalk?" Then, our milkman appeared at the back door, to the accompaniment of jingling bottles. I invited him into the living room, where he roared, "Merry Christmas, everybody ! How much milk do you want?" That went all over the coiintry, too. Breakfast Clubbers do seem to like the little "inside" stories of Don's home life which somehow come out when I get in front of a microphone, and those "personal appearances" have resulted in a new addition to the Breakfast Club, too. For under the terms of a new contract which Don signed with the American Broadcasting Company, I must appear a certain number of times on the program myself. When this was first suggested as part of the new contract recognizing Don McNeill Enterprises, Inc., it caught me a little by surprise. True, I had appeared on the program several times — at Christmas, and on other occasions. But I had certainly never thought of myself as part of the show. Getter-upper and breakfast-getter for Don, yes — but hardly a performer! I got used to the idea, though, and I'm looking forward to my program appearance. But despite our bantering, the warm feeling that exists between Don and myself goes far back to the lean years — before there was anything like our present home in Winnetka, and when we were living on five dollars a week. I'm sometimes glad that success didn't come to Don too quickly. For in that common struggle through the difficult times we grew to know and understand each other. We found that a firm foundation for marriage is simply to be happy together — taking any reverses in stride, and not worrying over them. Next, we made it a rule that each of us would be willing to give a little, and take a little. I met Don when he«was a journalism student at Marquette University in Milwaukee, and I was secretary to the dean of the journalism school. Although I had seen Don about the buildings (And I must admit I had noticed him, for his six-foot-two, athletic build and blue eyes were hard to miss), we first spoke at a fraternity dance. I invited Don to a Sunday dinner with my folks — the first of many. We weren't exactly "sophisticated" people, and we stayed home more than we went out — probably a good thing, for that's certainly the schedule today, too! After dinner we would play the piano and sing — now and then trying out an Irish jig. Later on, I met Don's parents in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. By this time, Don was beginning to get the idea that we were in love. A friend mentioned to Don that a local radio station was looking for an announcer, and Don asked me if I thought it might be worth looking into. "Certainly," I said, "it might even mean a j-ob!" So Don went over to talk to the station manager. The manager was in need of a date that evening, it seemed. So rather than have Don read a sample announcement, he merely said, "If you think you're a persuasive talker, I'll give you a chance to prove it. You get me a date with a co-ed for the evening, and the job is yours." I^on is a persuasive talker — he got the job. For six months Don was a combination announcer, sports commentator, engineer, radio column editor and office clean-up man, at $15 a week — then he was fired. "Better quit radio-," the manager told him. "You'll never make good." But Don wouldn't quit, and he found a job doing the same work at another Milwaukee station, WTMJ, which paid him $30 a week. DON was made radio editor of the Milwaukee Journal, while at the same time he was editor of the Marquette yearbook. (Incidentally, Fred Montiegel, who was editor the year before Don, is now handling Don's public relations!) Don wrote under the initials B. C. L. — which are still used on the Journal — announced, and conducted the "Around the Dinner Table" hour from 6 until 7 P.M. One day the Marquette paper ran a cartoon showing Don striding forth with a typewriter, an artist's pen, and a microplione. For Don was really a triple-threat man — he'd announce his program, write it up among others in the radio column, and then illustrate the column with his own cartoons! Don graduated as valedictorian of the 1929 class, and stayed on at WTMJ through graduation and almost a year afterward. In April, 1931, Don received an offer to become radio editor of the CourierJournal and Louisville Times at Louisville, Ky., and to be an announcer on their station, WHAS. It was a fine opportunity— and Don took it. Of course, I hated to see him leave Milwaukee. In Louisville, Don found a friend in Van Fleming, who was vocalist and guitarist with the Kentuckians, a dance orchestra. Don worked on his liking for comedy and impromptu gags with Van, and they turned up with an act named The Two Professors. Don and Van burlesqued "lectures" in the classroom, and Don began to receive fan mail in volume for the first time. We had a heavy correspondence all through the summer and fall. Then, over the Christmas holidays, my mother let me spenci my two weeks' vacation in Louisville. The question (I knew it was coming) , actually came then. Don and I were driving through beautiful Cherokee Park. Don stopped the car under a tree, and turned to me. "Will you mar TIRED EYES LOVE EYE-GENE Tired, Dull one minute . . . Rested, Cleared the next! SAFE RELIEF NOW IN SECONDS! 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