Radio Broadcast (Nov 1926-Apr 1927)

484 RADIO BROADCAST MARCH, 1927 back of wrny, have a bearing on that question: I noted with interest on page 181 of Radio Broadcast that you suggest taking the listener behind the scenes. From the enclosed program which we ran some time last month you will see we actually did this, with excellent results. It is a feature which I originated, and I am sorry you didn't listen in to it. We had everything that you could think of, behind the scenes. We even actually tried out artists and showed the public how the microphone was placed, how the artist was walked back and forth. Then the whole next week's program was discussed and the listeners shown how a program is put together. Further, all the technical details, such as gain on the control board, distortion, modulation, and all 'other techncial points, were graphically shown. The program lasted about one hour. The program in question was distributed to the customers of wrny's "Novelty Night," on October 15th, and it was entitled "Behind the Scenes in a Broadcast Studio." The evidence is conclusive. All 1 can add is that, as these inventions burst on me about two months before they can be printed, Mr. Gernsback and I must have had the idea at about the same time. If there were any money in it, no doubt we should be suing each other, in accordance with timehonored radio traditions. But, alas, there is only glory, and Mr. Gernsback indubitably walks off with that. A slightly dissimilar intimate broadcast was put on extemporaneously at wsai on November 15th, according to a report from that station. It appears that Mr. Paul A. Greene, Director at wsai, was making an advance announcement to the Cincinnati populace, some minutes before the start of the National Broadcasting Company's gala opening program from New York, scheduled to start through wsai at 8 p. m. Suddenly there issued from a monitoring loud speaker in the booth the voice of the control operator, designated in the report as "Larry": "Watch 'em, they're (meaning New York) going to be early." Nobody knew that this little studio admonition had been radiated until the listeners began to call in to ask who was early, what had happened, can't you do it again for little Robert, etc. I have always maintained that the listeners like accidents on this order. They provide a kick in several ways. First, there is the glimpse behind the scenes. Second, it is something unusual and therefore exciting. Third, it is pleasing to see another fellow slip on a banana peel and go on his ear, especially if he is wearing a top-hat. To be in on one of those few occasions when a dignified broadcasting station lets loose on an unexpectant world one of the yelps or barks constantly circulating behind the curtain — that is a rare treat. The listeners, I know, love it. But when it happens in a station with which I have anything to do I admit I fall into the state of Mark Twain's cat throwing a fit in a platter of tomatoes. So much, therefore, for behind-the-scenes broadcasts, intentional and unintentional. A little of them goes a long way. Fashions in Broadcasting IN THE radio world the changing flux of styles rules, just as in the choice of clothing, smart night clubs, and summer resorts. And just as irrationally, it may be added, for, while the advent of a new style is frequently based on something sensible enough, the imitations of the original innovation generally result in a foolish pursuit of novelty in all its forms, good and bad. An example: cone loud speakers. The cone speaker was originally introduced to the broadcast listeners in the form of a well-designed tympanum with a high-grade, balanced armature type of unit. It was superior to the commercial horn speakers that preceded it, and quickly attained deserved popularity. Other good cone speakers were put on the market to satisfy the demand. So far, so good. Now, to the eye, the main difference between the old loud speaker and the new was in the substitution of a flaring cone of parchment or paper for a horn. Inevitably many people jumped to the conclusion that any cone speaker was superior to any horn. This superstition was speedily utilized by some small manufacturers who turned out, in the aggregate, quantities of almost worthless speakers equipped with the magic cones. The units were not of the balanced armature type; they were simple telephone receivers no better than those used with cheap horn loud speakers. They had small, thin diaphragms, with the inherent double frequency component and generation of overtones due to unsymmetrical displacement of the diaphragm. They lacked true lows and they lost the highs; in between they were prolific in harmonics, resonance peaks, and rattles. Any novice in electroacoustics could predict the performance after one look at the construction, but the things sell because they are cheap and because they are in the fashion. Many people with fair horn speakers spend money for cones the characteristics of which are no better than, if they are as good as, those of the horns they supplant. If they kept the horns and equipped the set with a power output tube, they would be spending their money far more wisely. If, after that, they bought a good cone speaker, they would be making real progress with the art. But instead, they follow the fashion blindly and nobody profits but the fly-by-night manufacturer. The broadcasters in a given locality frequently display a similar weakness at the transmitting end of the circuit. The broadcasting stations, like newspapers, watch each other pretty carefully. One of them develops a popular feature — a singer of sea-chanteys, let us say. It is rumored around town, among the broadcast directors and their attendant concert managers, hungry artists, and spies, that W got five thousand letters in two days as a result of the sea-chantey program. Immediately all the assistant program directors rush down to the docks, seeking warblers of seachanteys. Finding none, they resort to vaudeville agencies, organizations of retired minstrel singers, drummers who are said to be talented in imitating the late Lew Dockstander, and other such luminaries of the entertainment world. The air is then filled with renditions of "Give Me Some Time To Blow the Man Down," and the public is supposed to be satisfied. But, nine chances out of ten, none of the imitations proves popular. The style has been followed, not in the essential elements which made the first program successful, but only in the external, immaterial factors. The fault is the same in both cases — that of the actual situation regarding the cone speakers, and that of the hypothetical sea-chantey program. Each contains true elements of progress. The reward is public approval. Then come the imitations, some good, but mostly bad, since the object is a quick, easy profit, and external features are more readily imitated than inherent characteristics. When there is room for them in the market, the good imitations succeed, which is salutary. Sometimes the bad imitations are also swept along to temporary commercial success on the tide of public interest. That is not salutary. It is a case of clever men exploiting the tendency of human beings to run in droves. The only remedy lies in honesty and scientific progressiveness on the part of the organizations at the selling end of the radio business, and a discriminating intelligence on the part of the purchasers and listeners. That takes time to cultivate. But, as one shrewd observer said, all that glistens is not gold, and, as a later immortal pointed out, you cannot fool all of the people all the time. One Who Cannot Be Surpassed THE prize this month, or any other month, goes to the remote control operator who was caught one Sunday morning eating his breakfast while broadcasting a church service. He had set up, cut in all the microphones, been put on the air; then he had calmly strolled