Radio Broadcast (May-Oct 1925)

84 Radio Broadcast evolve a better method of presentation for its programs. It was this kind of reasoning that led to one of the distinct innovations in radio, a dramatic program presenting music and theme in a form of continuity which holds many possibilities. When radio was new somebody perceived the need of a cue to what the programs meant, and that brought in the announcer, of whom great things were required. He has met the task well, but the continuous program, built in dramatic sequence, will make his work considerably easier for himself and the listener. Instead of bobbing up every ten minutes, like those in a class, he can make one announcement in an hour and try to do it in a humanly interesting fashion. No tricks are required, just a plain statement of what should be a few pertinent facts. Then the continuing theme must keep alive the interest created, constantly reminding the listener of the general trend, but steadily developing the performance as it is done in the theater, on the screen — everywhere the drama has an influence. This, in fact, is the true radio drama and not a hybrid adaptation such as the reading of a play. Radio has developed every means of expression peculiar to itself and it is thoroughly reasonable to suppose that its own kind of drama will be the next step in evolution. That stage is now opening before us, if we may believe the evidence furnished by one successful broadcaster, responsible for the performance known to a national radio audience as the Eveready Hour. Promptly at nine o'clock each Tuesday night the entertainers in this group take over the air as controlled by we af in New York. For the next hour, some millions of Americans are entertained in a way distinctly new to radio. weaf transmits the program to ten other stations, wfi, wcae, wgr, weei, wear, wcco, wwj, woe, wsai, and wjar. And for sixty intensive minutes an invisible audience equal to the population of many nations may enjoy a real radio drama. SOMETHING GOOD~ DOING EVERY MINUTE HO\V is the thing done? The answer to that question goes' back a little way. The first attempt grew from an acute sense of the elements lacking in a typical program, which too often has reached the point where the old minstrel show wound up. No matter how clever Mr. Bones might be, it was not possible for him to continue longer than he did. And the announcer in a large measure corresponds to Mr. Bones. He is supposed to say something clever whenever the show lags. The Armistice Day program of last year for the Eveready Hour was a notable example of what can be done to brighten a radio performance. The announcer made known in an easy, conversational way that his listeners were to think of themselves as the men inside "a sleeping stretch of tents, thousands of men at their rest. The sun has just risen; the guard has raised the flag and our slumbers are broken by reveille, 'Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning/" Here was a bit of rapid fire psychology at its quickest. The listener instinctively handed over his imagination to the entertainers and let them do with it just about as they pleased. This quality of imagination accounts for a fair half of the success which attends any program. And this is the way the entertainers proceeded, a quick succession of voices: Sergeant: "Fall in! 'Ten-shun! Right Dress! Front — Count off." Then the other voices came into play in a way familiar to a large number of listeners: "1—2—3—4 1—2—3—4". . . . Sir, the company is formed." Any man ever in the army, or whoever had a friend in the ranks, or who even knew anything about the war, must be beguiled by that kind of introduction. Then the .Captain speaks: "Sergeant, after mess march the company to the Y hut. There will not be any drill this morning. The Eveready entertainers have come to camp and they will put on a show this morning. That's all, sergeant." This was getting over the difficult business of introduction in a way to please and charm and not once to jar the senses. Next came the assembled voices in the supposed Y hut, evoking memories of 1917, when the world seemed as if it might be going to pot. After a period of singing, the announcer speaks again, but he has become a monologist by this time and we feel friendly toward him instead of wishing that he would get through once and for all and keep quiet. This is what he says: "We've come to the day when tin hats have been issued and the boys are laying bets that they will sail soon. They win. We're on the transport. There isn't much noise permitted as the big hulk creeps out of Hoboken in the blackness of early morning, but many of the uniformed passengers feel like singing." And they do sing, just about what