Broadcasting (Oct 1931-Dec 1932)

A Juvenile Program That Pleases Parents By CHARLES W. BURTON Manager of WEEI, Boston Broadcast Must Loosen Purse Strings of Adults As Well As Entertain Children; Cap'n Bailey Feature Cited WHAT is a good juvenile program? One that creates a demand among children for merchandise adults will be willing to pay Charles Burton ,monev f°r Unless it interests youngsters, the program will fail to make them hungry for that merchandise. If the program fails to hold the attention of adults, Mother, Dad and Uncle Ned will not loosen their purse strings. And there you are. Briefly, a successful juvenile feature must be constructed so as to amuse listeners of every age. It seems as if anybody should be able to understand that. Yet advertisers continue to insist, and agencies continue to recommend, that juvenile programs be aimed at a mental age no greater than six years. Station officials try to point out that six-year-old tots don't buy underwear, sweaters, shoes, or even five-cent candy bars. But it's no use usually. The sponsor, who is spending the money, fondly believes that Junior climbs on his father's knee and says: "Hey, pop! I heard a swell yarn about Ducky-wucky Daddies and the six little skunklings. Gimme five bucks to buy a Ducky-Daddies Sweater." It so happens that Amos 'n' Andy are selling toothpaste, that the Stebbins Boys are selling ham and butter. Yet either program would sell tricycles, cowboy suits and the like. Why? Why not? Is there anything so profound about either program that a child couldn't understand it? Of course not. If there were, few adults would watch the clock for these programs each evening. Furthermore, if anybody doubts that the Stebbins Boys appeal to youngsters, let him come out to my house any night that my daughter, six, and son, four, are made to retire prior to the time John and Eslie come on the air. How it Works HERE is an instance of success in aiming a program at the adults through the youngsters: Eight weeks ago the president of an advertising agency found himself in a hole. He had obtained a contract for the production over WEEI of 40 daily half -hours for a manufacturer of children's wearing apparel. The act he intended using was not available. It was Thursday. The series was scheduled to begin Friday evening. Would the writer of this article produce a program for him? This writer had pounded out approximately a quarter of a million words describing the humorous and exciting adventures of a mythical character called Cap'n Zachariah U. Bailey, a retired mariner of Cape Cod. Of these words 100,000 were contained in a novel, the rest in dialogue programs. A firm of cleansers and dyers sponsored 130 programs, and a manufacturer of gas ranges sponsored 65. Neither of these sponsors realized he was broadcasting a juvenile program. Neither would have believed so if it had been pointed out to him, despite the fact that 50 per cent of the letters received were written in childish scrawl. If the writer had explained his program in detail to the agency man, he would have turned it down on the ground that it didn't have sufficient juvenile appeal. But there was no time for explanations. After inducing the man to sign an agreement giving him carte blanche, the writer went to work. This was the idea: Cap'n Bailey bought a junked clipper ship and turned it into a seagoing club for boys and girls. To join, each youngster had to write the skipper a letter, promising to keep shipshape. That is, he had to wash his ears, clean his nails, hang up his hat and coat instead of throwing them over a chair. Having made the promise, each child was sent a neat certificate making him a full fledged able seaman and a member of Cap'n Bailey's Crew. The skipper installed a pipe organ aboard ship, and detailed an odd character called Blinkin' Burbank to play it. Blinkin' hadn't spoken for 25 years, but he could make an organ talk. Other characters were Jack, the cabin boy who was a singer; Ole Olsen, first mate, who recited queer poems accompanied by Blinkin'; and Widder Dyer, the skipper's business partner. Applications for membership in the crew came by the hundred. Entire classes in rural schools sent letters. Teachers wrote to compliment the skipper on his ability to create in the children a desire to be neat. Mothers were loud in program was over the kids' heads, admitted that his shelves were cleaned out. The routine of the program was somewhat as follows: Opening, strike four bells. Organ, nautical phantasy, Cap'n Bailey breaks out birthday book, happy birthday to kids celebrating. Sick bay — brief reference to kids that are laid up. Blinkin' telling story of his life on organ, or taking a world cruise, or the like. Extracts from interesting letters. Sea-going Dramatic Company in dramatizations of jokes sent in by able seamen. Cap'n Bailey tells about the mermaid who had to go around holding a sea serpent by the neck because she never could learn not to squeeze toothpaste tubes from the top, or some other outlandish yarn, usually with sound effects. Cap'n and Widder in dialogue, a dramatized serial adventure yarn. Sign-off song to tune of Nancy Lee. No two programs were alike. They kept moving. There was no singing by squeaky voiced infant wonders. There were no woofy-goofy, sticky mouthed bedtime stories. There wasn't any preaching. And so, in the opinion of expert critics of radio programs — you'll find 99 of them in any group of 100 you Cap'n Zachariah U. Bailey and Blinkin' Burbank Cap'n Bailey and some of his Crew their praise. Their boys and girls were actually hanging up their things. Half the letters were from adults. Said the agency man: "These programs aren't juvenile enough." My reply: "Do kids buy their own clothing? Wait." And then there was that carte blanche agreement. In the end more than 500 new distributors for the merchandise were obtained in New England. The Boston jobber, who swore up and down the pick at random in any retail establishment— the program hadn't sufficient juvenile appeal. However, after checking sales in the New England territory, it is quite likely that the sponsor thanked his stars that things were as they were. The formula for a productive juvenile feature is about as follows: Make your characters real, sincere. Have the action fast. Inject plenty of humor, but keep it clean. Use a little pathos, but not too much. Remember that everybody likes adventure. That's the correct formula for any program whether juvenile or not, is it not? It must be, for Cap'n Bailey's Crew was a successful program, and those who responded to it ranged in age from 4 to 86 years. December 15, 1931 •BROADCASTING Page 13