Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

Learn for BIGGER PAY Amazing growth of Radio is opening many good BIG 0k PAY JOBS ITj eveiy year $100 a Week "My earnings in Radio are many times greater than I ever Get one of the many fine Radio jobs that are opening every year in broadcasting stations, commercial land stations, talking movies (soon in television, too), aircraft Ra etpected they would be when I enrolled. get manufactureI£ dealers and other branches of Radio. Why stick to a no-future job when good Radio jobs pay $50 to $100 a week? They seldom fall un der $100 a week." E. E. Winborne. 1267 W. 48th St.. Norfolk. Va. Many make $10 to $35 a week extra almost at once LJE^B Th-e day you start I'll show V^^F you how to do 28 Radio jobs common in most every neighborhood so you can begin making extra money. G. W. Page, 133 Pine St., McKenzie, Tenn., made $935 in spare time while taking his course. I will train you at Your _ course brought home in spare time Hold your job. Give me just a part of your spare time. I've trained hundreds of fellows at home to make good money in Radio. High school or college education not necessary. Many who make good didn't even finish the grades. 64 page book of information FREE "Rich Rewards in Radio" points out where the good jobs are, what they pay, how to till one. A copy of my money-back agreement comes with it. Lifetime Employment Service to graduates and other features also explained. (Jet .a copy. Mail the coupon. Do it NOW! $400 a Month maKing more now I have made mor< than $400 each month J. G. Dahlstead. Radio Station KYA San Francisco. Cal. Yon get practical Radio experience while learning. You can build over 100 circuits with Eight Big Outfits of Radio parts given without extra cost. J. E. SMITH, Pres. National Radio Institute Dept. 1KF2 Washington, D. C. !S free INFOR^ J. E. SMITH, President National Radio Institute Dept. 1KF2. Washington, D. C. Dear Mr. Smith: Without obll No agent will call. Jio." Entertainer off Kings [Continued from Page 18] profession lost a splendid artist. Five talented children were born to the Garrisons, three boys and two girls. During the World War, he became a recruiting sergeant, returning from an engagement in Australia to join the army. Garrison has always had a desire to enter into politics, gained after a speaking tour with Governor Alfred E. Smith in the Smith-Roosevelt campaign. He later struck out for the West, and stopped only when he reached the Pacific, where he settled down to stage and radio work. Not long ago, the Passerby was asked to tell of the greatest thrills during his eventful life. "The first," he said, "was the night I attended a meeting of ''The Troupers' at the Writers' Club of Hollywood. There I met and talked with my companions of years ago — artists who had paved the way; who had helped to make a fine profession what it is today. A firm grip of the hand, a "God bless you, old trouper"— that was a REAL thrill!" "The second thrill of my life came at the old Cecil de Mille studios, during Jube Garrison as "Mark Antony" in 1895 the filming of de Mille's masterpiece, 'King of Kings.' I was one of the motley throng as that fine actor, H. B. Warner, portraying Christ, carried the huge cross on his way to the Crucifixion. As the merciless procession approached, I seemed to live actually in the Biblical days. I heard the director cry 'troupers, what would you do at a time like this?' I was not ashamed as tears filled my eyes and I cried 'Master!' This was a thrill I will carry in my heart until the final curtain." He has letters from many prominent men and women in the West, and knows scores of important officials personally. During a recent campaign for the new Los Angeles county hospital, The Passerby was selected to handle the radio activities of the campaign, and his preaching of tolerance, love, humanity, and plain common sense, straight from the heart, had much to do with the success of the movement. He recently made a tour of San Quentin prison at the personal invitation of the Warden, where he gathered a fund of new material for his broadcasts. Besides his talent for acting and speaking, The Passerby has some excellent poems to his credit. He does all of his broadcasting from the rich fund of information in his mind, and never plans ahead what he is going to say. He bears a strong resemblance to George Arliss, noted English actor of stage and screen. It is difficult to realize that this delicate little man, who can't possibly weigh more than 120 pounds, was a husky, 200-pound young buck at thirty. If you are ever fortunate to meet him, don't be frightened if you get a glimpse of a gold badge under his coat. It was presented him by the sheriff's office, in token of respect and admiration. And with only the rich, wonderful voice remaining of the youth that has gone forever, this glorious old gentleman moves on with the world, etching indelibly his beautiful personality into the memories of a multitude of radio listeners who have gained solace and cheer from a real trouper who knows what it means to "carry on!" Halleluiah Hour [Continued from Page 9] hobby is horseback riding. She always shakes hands with the horse before each round and at the end of the round waves her handkerchief at the brute, saying philosophically, "You go your way; I'll go mine." The Chili Peppers — two of them — Dante Barsi and Frank Catalano, aged 18 and 19 years, very respectively. The two-man band of KHJ. They began getting in each other's way back in high school at San Francisco, and have been playing together ever since. They came to KHJ some four years ago, to specialize on everything musical that makes a noise. Well, you've met the gang. These are the Hallelujah regulars. From the old crowd, Ted Osborne and Bobby Gross, the funny men, have gone the way of all radio flesh. The Hallelujah Quartet, Elvia Allman. Martin Provenson, Bob Bradford, Claire Van Nostrand, and the other concert singers at KHJ are the valiant volunteers who reinforce the regulars a morning or so each week. They bear their early morning martyrdom like heroes, and eat their breakfast afterwards. They're hardlv ever late — to breakfast. Page Thirty-eighl RADIO DOINGS