Radio age (Jan 1927-Jan 1928)

RADIO AGE for January, 1927 The Magazine of the Hoiu 13 Try-out Hour for Radio Performers By GWEN WAGNER IT WAS an off hour in one of Chicago's largest radio stations. In the reception room sat a varied collection of human beings, ranging in age anywhere from 10 years up to 55. All wore expressions of rapt expectancy and all clutched satchels of some description or another. In the studio beyond, a soprano was singing. Passionately and determinedly, but not too well she was caroling, "In the merry, merry muh-UNTH of May !" Just then the studio director, whom I happened to know, appeared. I went up to him. "Pardon me," I inquired, indicating the varied collection of human beings and also the soprano voice out in the offing, "but just what is going on around here?" "Oh," replied the director with a harassed look, "this is try-out hour. They all want to get on the air you know." I didn't, but no matter. I found out. According to this particular director, half the people in the world want to go on the stage and the other half want to sing for radio. "It doesn't make any difference how young or how old they are," he observed, "they're all determined to get on the air. Just let someone make some remark about what a grand voice they've got and they're off." "Do you give them all a chance?" I queried. "Oh, certainly!" retorted the director. "Occasionally we run across a find. For example, a bell boy from one of the hotels came up here one afternoon and wanted to sing for us. We tried him out and found he had a very good voice, exceptionally good for broadcasting. Now we use him regularly." i j J LI m '^^ *' ''Am H *i*A i M\ " 1 i 4f M ^ i [l j The young lady in front of the microphone is being tried out at WHT. Gwen Wagner tells about it in this article. Al Carney at the piano and Pat Barnes near the organ Finds Are Scarce HOWEVER, according to variout directors whom I later interviewed, "finds" are as scarce as hair ribbons on flappers. In fact, in one studio I was told that out of all the hordes that apply there, less than five per cent exhibit talent that would lend itself to broadcasting. Even this five per cent usually have to be coached in studio technique before they can be used. These applicants have various reasons for wanting to get on the air. The main reason, according to practically every director I asked, is that they want their friends to hear them. Two others are: publicity and the desire to make money. One man, however, had rather an unique reason. He came bolting into the studio and wanted to be put on the air instantly. He could sing, he said and that very well indeed. The director courteously suggested a tryout. "Tryout?" repeated the gentleman "Tryout?" "Yes," replied the director. "To see whether your voice is suitable for broadcasting you know." The gentleman cast his eyes toward heaven. Between clenched teeth he muttered something in a foreign tongue. Then he brought his eyes down and his voice up — in English. "But I don't want a tryout! I don't need a tryout! I am an operatic tenor. I can sing ! But !" and here he appeared about to brandish something, probably the inevitable music satchel with which all applicants seem to be equipped. "They won't hear me! Can you believe that? They won't hear me! Just now I have come from a manager of an opera company. I have been to him many times. He says he will not hear me sing. He will not listen to me ! But," and here the radio aspirant lowered his voice to a husky, confidential tone, "I want to sing on the radio and then he will have to listen to me ! Understand? He will HAVE to listen to me!" It might be said in passing, however, that the "manager" didn't. Arrives now the little boy whose mother knows that if there (Continued on page 50)