Broadcasting (Jan - Mar 1950)

aHiTiH!EarAH.U5RAlDa!DSS I January 17, 1950 Mr. Sol Talahoff Editor and Publisher Broadcasting Magazine Washington, D. C. Dear Sol: A3 Day approaches for the film, "Lightning That Talks," we of the All-Radio Presentation Coninittae want you to know how much we appreciate the cooperation of Broadcasting Magazine over those arduous months . If we are a bit Jittery, it is because of the wide acclaim we have received even in advance of the premiere. There were times when we thought it probably wasn't worth the tribulation, although none of us even for one Instant lost our enthusiasm for the job that could bo done. 'Ve are now set to go. ',Ve have no doubt that this inspired work will do more to sell radio by the American plan to America than any single promotional effort since the cat's whisker. Your preview in the January 23 issue of BroadcastingTelecasting is another of many timely and encouraging displays you have published on our committee's efforts over these last three highly active and exciting years in the production of this film. How comes the curtain-call. This is to thank you, on behalf of our committee, and of radio for your contributions over nearly 20 years to development of a sturdy, wholesome and effective art and indu&t'i'y^ knuckles, providing the only static in sight. His hand pulls away from the key as though in astonishment, as he says, "What! They have made the lightning talk?" ■ Through a series of heavenly sweeps, Franklin approaches the ground, traveling through the years of radio as he desires to learn how radio is being used after 30 years of development. History from 1921 to 1941 is depicted by snatches of broadcasts, including events, personalities and music. "Every aspect of America . . . and the world . . . every interest . . . every mood of the people is reflected by radio," Franklin observes. As he gets closer the sound track introduces a series of commercials, the audience becoming aware of messages promoting soap, cigarettes, food . . . DIAMONDS. The camera stops short, the earth ap\i pearing as a ball in the distance as 3 Franklin says, "Verily, can even a I diamond be sold by the unseen i spoken word." I Thus the first of a series of sequences showing commercial radio in operation is presented, abetted by the techniques of the cameraman and the producer. SEQUENCE 2 has been introduced by the diamond reference and opens with a radio commercial built around "D. A. D. . . . not Dad but . . . Diamonds at Davison's." The voice is coming from WDAK Columbus, Ga., which Franklin obit serves from his heavenly perch via an airplane shot of the city. The commercial continues: "This is Bill Byrd, the manager of Davison's Department Store in Columbus. That explains one D — Davison's . . . Yes, Davison's has opened a new department of fine jewelry. . . ." The shot dissolves from a Columbus street scene to the facade of the store and into the counters. Franklin exclaims, "How wonderful the general store has become since my time." A jewelry counter scene is spiced by the babble of customer-clerk discussions. The camera moves up a few floors to the office of Mr. Byrd, the manager, who is chatting with Allen M. Woodall, president and general manager of WDAK Columbus. "The boys in the New York office," Mr. Byrd observes, "are so impressed with our diamond campaign, Allen, that I can now go along with you on this new idea. And it was only a month ago that I called you in." Follows a flashback showing Messrs. Byrd and Woodall in Mr. Byrd's office after store hours. Here is their dialoge : BYRD — Allen, I've got a sick baby on my hands. I've tried to push our new diamond department but it won't go. Frankly, I don't think you and your radio can do much with it, either. WOODALL— The trouble is. Bill, though everybody knows Davison's, people down here just ain't used to buying good jewelry in a department store. They have got to be taught that they CAN buy them at Davison's, and can buy them cheaper here. BYRD— Heck, I know that, Allen, you don't have to remind me. But can radio do it better? WOODALL — Bill, give it a chance. You've spent $400 this month advertising diamonds in the newspapers — and sold two of them. Spend the same money on my station. We can beat that. BYRD — You'd have to beat that . . . WOODALL — How many sales would you be satisfied with? BYRD — Sell four diamonds for me and I'd be happy. WOODALL (as they walk away)— 0. K. Here's what I want you to do. The scene shifts to a romantic moonlight scene with a young couple sitting on a swing listening to a radio on the window sill as an announcer's voice intones: Yes, Diamonds at Davison's. Davison's Department Store has just opened a brand new department. Now you can buy diamonds at Davison's. Davison's can afford to give you top quality for at least 10% less, since the purchasing power of . . . Another closeup shows a wife ironing kiddy clothes as hubby smokes his pipe and reads. They hear a Davison's commercial which inspires the wife to suggest buying mother a dinner ring. He's highly unconcerned at first, does a slow burn, but a few frames later he's at the Davison jewelry counter approving the wife's selection. End of flashback and Messrs. Woodall and Byrd are talking again in the latter's office: WOODALL (chuckling)— Well, did we sell your four diamonds for you?" BYRD— Oh Brother! We'd never been on the air before and in less than three weeks we sold more than 60 diamonds. WOODALL — What does that come to in dollars ? BYRD— Does Macy's tell WDAK? Mind your own business. WOODALL (laughs)— That's right, you ARE an affiliate of R. H. Macy's. BYRD — And now they've okayed our establishing a radio program on all merchandise for their southern stores. I'd like to . . . As a comely miss admires a diamond ring on her finger, she picks up the telephone to put in a call for Cedar Rapids, Iowa. GIRL — Did you get our Cedar Rapids office yet? FRANKLIN— Cedar Rapids? That's many miles from Columbus, Georgia. GIRL (reacting to Cedar Rapids voice) — Peaches, How come she's out buying peaches at this hour of the morning ? THE scene dissolves from the girl to the ME TOO store in Cedar Rapids where autos jam the streets and a long line of people stretches around the corner. At the head of the line is a truck of peaches with customers buying crates of fruit right off the truck. The camera dollies back to a shirt-sleeved meeting where Weaver Witwer, wholesale grocer, and the others are worried because some cars of peaches are two weeks overdue from Colorado. The meeting breaks up, the peaches are still missing, and after some informal scenes Ralph Whitlock, Mr. Witwer's assistant, looks flabbergasted as he says on the phone: Holy cow! Did the refrigeration conk out on all three cars? Be there (Continued on page 20) BROADCASTING • Telecasting