Radio Broadcast (Nov 1926-Apr 1927)

THE LISTENERS' POINT OF VIEW Why There Should Be More Vice in Radio ADIO is too infernally virtuous. Now, before you apprehensively snatch this copy of Radio Broadcast from your little children's hands and consign it to the fiery maw of your furnace, let us make haste to add that we have no particular objection to virtue. It is an entirely praiseworthy institution. But, it always shows itself to best advantage when, for purposes of dramatic contrast, it shines out resplendently from the midst of accompanying vices — even if they be only petty ones. So, our thesis is: resolved, that radio acquire a few vices. Radio, as we find it at present, is absolutely, utterly and completely devoid of vice. Its goodygoodyness is positively obnoxious. The goodygoody is always obnoxious. For the very virtue of which he boasts is a sterile thing, a negation. In the same manner, radio's flagrant virtue is a negative quality. And since its vice is a completely absent quality it follows that radio has no positive qualities at all, no tendency either towards good or towards evil. In other words it has attained that reprehensible and muchly-tobe-avoided state of complete innocuousness. Than innocuousness there is nothing we know of that is more supervacaneous, nugatory, barren and ineffectual (don't ask where we got those!). The worst feature of innocuousness is that it is the very antithesis of stimulating. Generally when anybody comes out with a categorical and emphatic statement (such as our contention that radio should acquire some vices), you may look close to home for the reason for the remark. And in the ruthless light of introspection perhaps we should own up to the motive underlying our plaint. The individual whose lot it is to make written comment on any current event rejoices when he encounters a scandal in his particular field of observation. The existence of something vicious gives him something provocative to write about. He may jump in right merrily and flay it, or defend it, according to his lights. The writer on politics has an occasional Teapot Dome scandal over which he may wax wroth and wordy. The drama critic now and again is confronted by an affronting play concern ing which he may spill many words, all of which will be gobbled up by his readers. The commentator on society has his occasional Countess Cathcart to provide material for sensational writing. The sports editor discovers that some team has been bought off in advance. All this, deplorable as it is, adds zest to the day's work. No possibility of the occurrence of the unexpected faces your poor radio reviewer. Year in, year out, radio pursues the even and spotless tenor of its ways. We say that radio's career has been spotless advisedly. For where indeed is there the slightest smirch of a scandal on its blanched books? To be sure, there was one — the exception that proves the rule. A year or so ago it was discovered that a bootleggers' ship hovering off the Pacific Coast was in some mysterious manner receiving informative assistance from the mainland. It developed that a radio announcer was so wording his announcements as to convey to the bootlegger crew advice concerning the movements of the prohibition forces. The story was printed far and wide and for a time it looked as though radio was going to feel its oats and supply something to talk about besides programs. But alas no, it settled back into its dull, unmischievous routine. And recently a New York announcer got into trouble for his pronouncements on religious tolerance. We hardly know what to suggest. Friends of ours have come graciously to our assistance with M INGA CRAWFORD AT WRVA, RICHMOND iss Crawford is the staff pianist at this Virginia station suggestions, but most of them are unprintable. Among them : why not, some day, from our eternally polite loud speaker, a burst of blasphemous language? That would be something to get indignant about. For instance a "remote control" microphone might be installed in some low pool hall. The resulting broadcast would be delightfully vulgar and obscene. As a result ministers would preach sermons from their pulpits; the press would break out in reproachful editorials, the station manager would be tried for disorderly conduct or murder or arson, and finally the station's broadcasting license would be revoked. Would the net result of this "outrageous procedure" on the part of a "perniciously dangerous" station be entirely harmful? It would not. On the contrary it would be vastly useful. A wave of revulsion at bad language would sweep the nation. Spurred on by sermons and editorials and Womans' Club committees, the country would gloriously and noisily become purged of all inclination towards bad language. Pool halls would be padlocked everywhere and the country would settle down to a new era of belligerent virtue. And radio would have a nice white feather in its cap. Or suppose some station should undertake to broadcast a series of Saturday night lectures by prominent murderers entitled: "A Few High Lights in My Career." F'rinstance as follows: This is station klm and now we present to you our regular Saturday night feature "Half Hours With Prominent Prisoners." To-night folks we are fortunate in being able to present to you Minnie Glabstatter, the Tiger Woman. Miss Glabstatter, you will recall as the lady who poured her first husband into the meat chopper and drowned her second one in the gold fish bowl. She will now tell you her plans fordoing away with the present Mr. G. Miss Minnie Glabstatter. . . . A monstrous suggestion! But why not? The newspapers do it. And think of the stations who refused to lower their standards and stoop to such broadcasts. How they would shine by contrast. The New York Times seems much more virtuous for being found side byside, on the stands, with the tabloids.