Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

Second-Hand Crosby ^1 OME enterprising independent station has ^ conceived the idea of having a Ming Croshy program all of its own — that doesn't cost anywhere near three thousand smackers per fortnight. \ la phonograph records. Maybe it's a good idea — maybe it isn't. From the Columbia standpoint — not so hot ; from the station's view, it is a knockout. As for the public — well, there seems to be a considerable number of persons who refuse to tune Mr. Crosby out. And then there's the story about the little boy who consumed too many pieces of pie at a single sitting — Canned Music 4 4 r 1 1 HIS is a phonograph record." Wouldn't it be nice if these announcers would omit this little postlude, and let us listen to some marvelous band, blissfully ignorant of the fact that it was only a rubber disc, and the artists themselves were probably out playing cribbage 3,000 miles away, unaware that anyone was listening to them? But after all, it is a required procedure — as a courtesy to the musicians' union. It is agreed that it is only fair that the public should know when real live musicians are broadcasting, and when it is only a 75-cent record. The same goes for electrical transcriptions. Mikes in the Courtroom WHAT about this broadcasting of court trials? This month we've had several letters for and agin' the idea. The dramatization of the famous Clark murder trial in Los Angeles was undoubtedly a bright idea. Sensational — but interesting. Newspapers must have seen a hidden menace in it, for they did their best to prevent it. The actual presence of a microphone in a courtroom presents a different aspect. As many mothers pointed out, there is no chance to control the "continuity" of the program. What's said is said, and not all of it is meant for young ears. And young ears have a habit of being around radio sets frequently. For grown-ups, the idea is fine. If radio is ever ;:oing to be on an equality basis with the press in disseminating news, it does seem illogical that it should be excluded from the courtroom. And yet — a newspaper reporter cannot print all of the sordid, muddy occurrences and conversations that come up in a trial. Who's going to see that the air is kept clean and dignified? Will the man in the control room shut off the broadcast when he thinks it is getting on dangerous ground? Maybe there's a way out. Perhaps the heads that conceived the idea have already foreseen and overcome these obstacles. Maybe all of this ado is unwarranted. Maybe. Good Hunting, D-Xers! WITH the waning of the interference-infested summer months and the arrival of clear, still nights, the interest in distance-getting is beginning to heighten considerably. Many ardent DX fans are burning the midnight oil in an effort to get China, Tasmania, Peoria or what have you. Short wave sets are popular, and superheterodynes are universal. There's a funny side to it, too. Scores of fans have called in asking about some station they have heard, that sounded like Portugal, Chile or Cape of Good Hope — having the call letters XER. Said they couldn't find it listed anywhere. When they were told that it was a huge 75,000 watter just over the line in Mexico, their ardor was somewhat dampened. Information about this powerful station is a little hazy, it seems — but as near as we can find out, it is an American-owned station near the Mexican border, and has fairly good programs, despite the fact that it interferes with many of our own stations. There is a rumor that the Federal Radio Commission and the Mexican government are going to get together soon and settle this little international difficulty. Like OH Times W/" E went visiting the other evening, and the ^ * host's small son proudly dragged us into his room to listen to "some real radio," as he called it. The lad had rigged up a little cigar-box crystal set, with earphones. Only one station could be received, and that so faint we had to strain our ears to make out the strains of music and the announcer's voice. And yet it was unquestionably thrilling. It brought back the old days when we were first invited to a friend's house to listen in on his homemade outfit. There's something about a crude, home-manufactured radio that gets under one's skin. Made us feel like going down to a radio shop, scaring up some spare parts, and start building one of our own, as we used to do. No Joke! JOKES about the football radio announcer have taken their places along with those concerning mothers-on-law, flivvers and restaurant soup. But not any more. We find sports editors, AilAmerican full-backs and ex-coaches taking their places at microphones to describe the details of gridiron battles — fellows who know whereof they speak. In no uncertain words, they depict the play-by-play report, translating, explaining and commenting. Then too, science has entered the announcer's box at the stadium and presented him with a little piece of electrical machinery that enables him to keep an accurate check on all players. The announcer's assistant has a miniature switchboard, with 22 push-buttons — each button designating a player. A corresponding number of illuminated apertures in a cabinet before the announcer completes the set-up. The assistant watches the game through binoculars, pushes "Brown's" number when Brown makes an end-run — the window with "Brown" written on its celluloid face lights up, and there you are — no guesswork about it. 'w Eight RADIO DOINGS