Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

December, 1930 RADIO DOINGS Page Twenty-one On Your Right? Ladies and Qendemen By JOSE RODRIGUEZ Dear, and I hope gentle reader, RADIO DOINGS has asked me to write a story about artists as they appear to press agents. Press agents, you know, are supposed to be very diplomatic and discreet people. Their craft consists as much in staying out of print as in getting into print. And, like all people who are expected to be discreet, their burning desire is to be indiscreet with abandon and joy. You must, therefore, regard these lines as confidential between you and me. I am going to tell you about KFI-KECA artists just as they appear to me in the daily routine of work. Remember that if you breathe a word of this, I shall very probably lose my job and be compelled to leave town through a window. And we must not let this misfortune descend upon our community, must we? No, of course not. Let us, then, get down to this business of speaking out of turn, of being the Town Snitch. Let's take all these delightful people at KFI-KECA and jot them down in what are called "prose portraits" by people whose kindness exceeds their judgment. We begin with: Robert Hurd Tenor and Program Director Old Dr. Muck of the Boston symphony used to say, when in temper, "Are there no opera sopranos who are also musicians and ladies, all at the same time?" Virginia Flohri is the answer to that desperate prayer. There is a rumor that Virginia is inordinately fond of Carl Haverlin, sales manager of the Anthony stations. Young enough to be saucy, old enough to be sensible. Five feet eight, brown eyes, easy smile, dresses with careful indifference. He is most partial to recondite classic songs, is fine pianist and a marvelous arranger. He's a swell cook. He positively loathes Paul Roberts, but don't tell Paul. Virginia Flohri Soprano Eva Olivotti Comic Opera Soprano Stockily-built, horn-rimmed glasses, unruly hair, nervous gestures. In love with old editions, Japanese poetry, detective stories, Virginia Flohri, chess, obsolete adjectives, surgical gadgets, sales statistics, modern music and generous cookery. Jeanne Dunn Blues Singer Girls, when you were still at school, did you ever dream of a brown-eyed cavalier who would come up on a big white horse and snatch you up and ride far, far away to east of the sun and west of the moon, where there are no grocery bills and where the party never ends? Well . . . Crackling black eyes, aquiline as a Roman, saucy as a Neapolitan, fanciful as a Piedmontese. (We hope you know your Italy, we looked this up in a book.) Calls everybody "darling," and cooks divine spaghetti. Knows every comic opera since Rossini. Carl Haverlin Sports Announcer In the days of Petrarch, men wrote sonnets about eyes like hers. Nowadays men merely pinch themselves and mutter "steady, old boy." A veritable pitfall and snare, this gal, (heaven protect us.)