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MILTON J. CROSS knows of a mule that was named after him
BILL MUNDAY was the youngest lawyer in Georgia
MILTON J. CROSS is big and easy-going and slowtalking. In a place where everybody is in a hurry and the peak of activity is never far from madness, he is the one calm spot. Nothing gets him excited. Nothing hastens his pace or his speech, yet he gets things done in time and is never late.
He is usually smiling and he knows everyone. He is one of the few successful New Yorkers born in New York. That was thirty-three years ago. After attending DeWitt Clinton high school he entered the Damrosch In¬ stitute of Musical Art. Years later he was to be heard on programs with Walter Damrosch. When he left the insti¬ tute his diploma told the world that he was duly accredited to supervise music in the public schools. But radio caught him before he had a chance to use it.
He heard about a radio station called WJZ located on the roof of the Westinghouse factory in Newark. Those were the days of crystal and one tube sets. Milton went over for a look — and was invited to sing into a mike that hung from the ceiling on two wires. He sang and made a lot of friends. As the station grew, a second announcer became a necessity and he was offered the job.
His was a musical romance. Before her marriage Mrs. Cross was Lillian Fowler. She was playing and Cross was singing at a Fifth Avenue church when they met.
He has received thousands of gifts from fans. One is a clock carved from a block of anthracite coal to represent a microphone. It came from the same Pennsylvania mine in which there is a mule, named by an ardent admirer, that answers to the name of Milton J. Cross.
BILL MUNDAY is the lad who went from Atlanta, Georgia, to Pasadena, California, to report a football game for the radio audience and described a huddle as a “crap-shooting formation.” The phrase clicked with thou¬ sands who liked his southern breeziness so well that they demanded more games for him — and last year he handled some of the outstanding football conflicts of the season.
He was born on Labor Day, 1903, in Atlanta. At fifteen, he started newspaper work for the Atlanta Journal and one year later entered college. He was twenty when he graduated and was admitted to the Georgia bar — the youngest attorney in the history of the state.
His introduction to broadcasting came when Phillips Carlin, who described the Yale-Georgia game for an NBC broadcast one year, asked Munday to give a resume of the game between halves. Munday did so well that Car¬ lin recommended him to Graham McNamee. When McNamee covered the Georgia Tech-Notre Dame game, Munday worked with him. And so Graham took him west to Pasadena to help handle the Georgia TechSouthern California battle. And Munday’s work was most enthusiastically received.
Since then, he has been on national hook-ups all over the United States. People remember his Southern dialect and his boyish enthusiasm and say he is headed for great things as an announcer, but Bill Munday has other ideas. He announced a few months ago that he was through as a sports announcer. Perhaps he means to give more time to law or newspaper work.
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