Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

off the program at home talent shows and plays. In 1925, Van Buren, which is located in the heart of a great strawberry growing section, held the first of its famous "Strawberry Festivals." The quartette was on the list of entertainers. Because of the large crowds that poured into the town, platforms were erected at intervals along the main street. The entertainers were to move from one platform to another, repeating their performances at each. But something happened. When Johnson and his boys had finished singing at the first platform, and started to move up the street to the next, the whole crowd, wild with applause, followed them! This was their first real taste of public acclaim. It was while singing at the home of a wealthy society woman, Mrs. Allen Whiteside, that they got their first idea of going on the radio. "Why don't you boys go to Tulsa?" she suggested. "I know you could make good singing over the air." They caught fire to her suggestion, and thereafter radio was their goal. On to Tulsa! At the same time their troubles began. They had no money, and Tulsa was a long way off. Johnson wrote a letter to KVOO, and received no answer. £ They found a man who agreed to drive them there for sixy dollars, but they could only raise twenty. Then, when they had almost given up hope of ever hearing from the station, the long-awaited letter arrived. They were to sing on the Fourth of July. After much frantic pleading and begging, they finally induced the man to accept the $20, promising to pay him the rest when the station paid them. Ten miles out of Tulsa they had two flat tires, and limped into town on the rims, a bare three minutes before they were to go on the air. The manager of the station was absent when they sang, and those in charge could not pay them. All they received were compliments and an invitation to come back again and sing. The second time the manager appeared just after they finished singing. He paid no attention to them at first, but grudgingly consented to listen to them as he wrote letters in his office. Undaunted, the boys gathered around the busy man's desk and started singing. Before they had finished the song, the manager was so impressed that he dropped his pen and listened intently. When the song was ended the manager told them they were the best quartette he had ever heard, and he immediately began making arrangements for a sponsor for them. They sang two weeks at KVOO, working for the Cox Hosiery Company. £ Although they were well received wherever they went, they soon found that the big cold world was a much different proposition from their home town. Jobs were scarce. Most of the stations had all the talent they needed. They still weren't finished enough to get up in the "big money." Their first break came when Earl C. May, then known as the most popular announcer in the country, heard them sing at the Oklahoma State Fair, and offered them a job. He owned the May Seed and Nursery station at Shenandoah, Iowa. They accepted, borrowed enough money to pay off their debts, and went to Iowa, where they worked for a year and a half. Their next move was nearly disastrous. Thinking that conditions were better there, they picked up and went to St. Louis. At the end of three months of starvation and fruitless jobhunting, they were stranded and broke. Only nerve and occasional dinner invitations kept them going. Often they had to sleep all day to forget the gnawing pangs of hunger. Somehow, they managed to join "Doc Strain's Chocolate Scandals," when the show came to St. Louis. They jumped to Philadelphia, played stock for a time, quit the show, and went to New York. It was eight months before they got a break. One night Bill Robinson, the world's greatest colored tap dancer, happened across the boys. He had heard them in Chicago, and took a liking to them. Through him, they got a job singing at a benefit. They stopped the show. The audience applauded for four minutes before they could leave the stage. They were immediately engaged to join the show "Americana," of which Roger Wolfe Kahn was one of the producers. Things were at last coming their way. For the first time in many months they felt optimistic. But one Monday morning, after they had been with "Americana" a month, they reported at the theater to find a big sign on the billboard proclaiming that, due to a dispute among the producers, the show had been closed. Q Out of work again! Their clothes began to look tacky, and their spirits were at a low ebb. They tried vaudeville, but were told that they didn't dress correctly, and lacked personality. Everything went wrong, but still they plugged and rehearsed. At last they landed a job at the Cotton Club in New York. Practically all of the money they made went toward dressing the act. But they still kept trying to get a radio station, where they knew their best talent lay. While m New York, they studied under J. Rosamund Johnson, noted Negro spiritual specialist. This is the only training they ever had in their whole career. Their patience and perseverance were finally rewarded when they were booked on the NBC Darktown Wanderers' Hour. From there they went to Kansas City, for a twelve-weeks' engagement for the National Music Company. They were sent all through the states of Kansas, Iowa and Texas. When the company sold twenty-two concerts on the Pacific Coast, they were transferred to Los Angeles, where they have been for more than a year. The ups and downs experienced by these four boys in their wanderings over the country have been mirrored time and again in their willingness to sing at benefits and charity performances. They know what it is to be down and out. £ The heartstrings of these sentimental colored boys have often been touched by little incidents they encountered on their travels. Some of them they can never forget. One night after a performance at a theater in a little Southern town, a gentleman met them at the stage door as they were leaving. He asked them with tears in his eyes if they would come and sing at his mother's bedside. She was past 90 years old, and the end was expected at any moment. "She was always so fond of the old songs," he said. "We would suttinly appreciate it if you-all would sing them fo' her befo' she passes on." The boys consented readily, and accompanied him to the dying woman. They gathered solemnly around her bed and sang softly, "Give Me That Old Time Religion." Although she couldn't speak, her poor old head moved faintly from side to side to the song, in eloquent gratitude. The sight was too much for one of the quartette, who was compelled to walk out in the middle of the song. At another time, when they were ( Continued on Page 42) RADIO DOINGS Page Twenty-two