Radio age research, manufacturing, communications, broadcasting, television (1941)

denly the weather went bad. (Was it fog or rain or snow, Hirohito?) and the announcer found himself with nothing to describe because the planes had lost the field. But he described it anyway, pretending the planes were merely out of ear- shot. For fifteen minutes that an- nouncer ad-libbed and never once did he give any inkling of what was wrong. In fact, the NBC engineers and producers in Radio City never suspected themselves what was hap- pening. That was just one of "The Army Hour" headaches,—and there are a lot of them. Second major problem is wartime conditions. While the Army extends the fullest cooperation, it is still a wartime Army, and "Army Hour" producers never know when an emergency alert will send a squad- ron of planes, (and the broadcast) "scrambling". The technical side of "The Army Hour" presents its problems, too. A microphone is a very accurate in- strument, but also a very sensitive one. When a light finger tap on a "mike" will make V.I. meters go crazy, imagine what a cannon shot or a bomb will do. Wherever pos- sible "The Army Hour" insists on reality—whether it be a thousand paratroopers staging a special at- tack for the broadcast, or a demon- stration of a new machine gun. "Big sounds" have been licked by keeping them in the background. However, the "smaller sounds"— pistols, hand grenades, small bombs have had to be simulated. Generally a small charge of TNT does the job very well, and saves the microphone ribbons for future broadcasts. Tough Problems Solved All of these problems presented by "The Army Hour" transcend into the larger problem of organi- zation and production. Stop and think for a minute what you would do if you wanted to present a pro- gram that would include a speech from London, a report from Cairo, an interview from Sydney, a dem- onstration of thirty planes in flight, aerial gunnery training in Texas, and a special new war song from New York City. Picture the maze of wires, phone calls, telegraph messages, and letters that would have to be sent, multiply that about 100 times and you have a rough idea of the organizational work that goes into the making of one "Army Hour". Each remote broadcast within the United States t and there have been as many as fifteen on one pro- gram) requires an announcer, a BRIC. GEN. JA.MES H. DODLITTLE. .\S HE APPEARED ON "THE ARMY HOUR" SHORTLY AFTER HIS FLIGHT TO TOKYO. production director, one or two en- gineers, at least one microphone, a "remote" outfit, a field 'phone direct to Radio City, Army passes for the proper people, [ilus all the advance arrangements so that the right soldiers and equipment will be at the right place. In New York an orchestra, choir, and actors (for action and "stand- by" duty) plus the usual array of announcers, engineers, etc.. must be on hand. For the overseas broadcasts, NBC reporters must be advised, radio channels cleared with RCA Com- munications, Inc., and tests con- ducted. In addition, the entire pro- gram must be integrated into one script, cues must be exchanged with overseas and remote domestic points, and important information cleared with international censors. As if that isn't enough work to cram into one week's time, the en- tire thing must be rehearsed and timed, and all set to go to air time. It is not an easy job, nor a simple one. To do it, Eddie Dunham, XBC Production Director, and Wyllis Cooper, civilian writer for the Army, have made close to 2,000 long distance calls (excluding the over- seas conversations conducted mainly by shortwave) and sent about the same number of teletype messages. Telegrams, radiograms, and letters are literally innumerable. The overseas problem falls squarely in the lap of Lathrop Mack, manager of NBC's Department of Special Events, who calls London or Cairo as casually as you'd call the corner drug store. It is he who sees that "Go ahead London" (or Cairo, or Ankara, or Leopoldville) will bring "Hello America" in reply. At work, he is a dervish of activity, speaking to Australia, while Egypt is on the air,—giving cues, orders, cuts. It is his wizardry in setting up channels and emergency alter- nates that accounts for the few fail- ures of remote broadcasts on "The Army Hour." Hears His 0»u Voice It is all in a day's work to Mack to have his voice circle the globe several times over. In fact, he is greatly amused by a recent two-way circuit with Australia. As he speaks overseas giving pre-broadcast in- formation, he wears headphones to hear what they have to say from the other end. But while he is speaking he hears his own voice coming back from the down-under continent. Despite the fact that his voice travels with the speed of light, the vast distance of the round-trip journey from his microphone back to his headphone was so great, that there was a "time lag" of about 1 7 of a second, and Mack sounded to himself as if he were stuttering. His work and "The Army Hour" reached a new climax on December 7. The Army had concluded its first year of war—a year of tremendous progress. With a lavish abandon, the pro- gram commemorating the first an- niversary of Pearl Harbor siianned thousands of miles, broadcasting from a dozen overseas jioints, wher- ever U. S. troops are stationed. And like the Army, "The Army Hour" and NBC look forward to a bigger and better year of military operations in 1943. 14 RADIO AGE]