Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

So little Elton Britt, a true hill billy from the heart of the Ozarks, to whom "radio" was a meaningless word not so long ago, came to civilization and broadcasting. And as he stands before a microphone, singing and yodelling the songs his father taught him, what must be his thoughts? Does he see a little log cabin nestled in a clearing in the Ozarks, with a little family of mountaineers gathered around an oil lamp, perhaps singing the, 6ame song? Does he miss the "shuckin' bees," the tall corn, the beautiful Ozarks? He has been back home twice. Each time he is glad to return to the old home, his family and his friends — but when Glenn Rice calls for him, he's just as glad to come back to radio. He has lost much of his fear of civilization, but has absorbed just enough of its pleasure to find the old life a little boresome at times. Truly, a difficult predicament for a 16-year old boy. New Entertainer of Stars [Continued from Page 22] graciously friendly leader. In a conversation, he is never bored, and naturally and unassumingly but interestingly, too, contributes generously. Although he genially responds to wit, he himself is seldom facetious. He is boyishly eager about his forthcoming tour with his orchestra in the East; his aspirations. When music had its advent on the screen, Arnheim's aggregation was quickly drafted into service. Next was a limited vaudeville tour, then engagements abroad in the most exclusive resorts. Arnheim returned to Hollywood's iVIontmarte Cafe, then in the hevdey of its popularity. He was again brought to the Cocoanut Grove for the engagement which he has just ended and during which, of course, he has broadcast nightlv, over KFWB. During this time, Arnheim's orchestra has had several screen contracts and has made several Victor recordings. Arnheim has among his late musical compositions "Chances Are," "It Must Be True," "Was It Wrong?" and "Sweet and Lovely." \ Hill Billy in Town [Continued from Page 21] fathers, who in turn, heard them from theirs. Sad songs of a tribe of pioneers, driven into the mountains hundreds of years ago and forced by fate to remain there. Misery, ignorance and drouth — sickness, death and romance — all these they poured out in song. And then Glenn Rice came to the Ozarks. He inquired from a citizen in an interior mountain village where he could find a good yodeller. "W-a-a-1, I reckon the Britt boys," drawled the local townsman, "air about the best in these parts — yew ain't a revenuer, air yew?" Glenn assured him he was not, and was directed to the Britt place, which nestled in a clearing at the end of the mule trail several miles up the road. Glenn climbed into a battered old Ford rented during his stay in the mountains, and bounced over the rocky riverbed trail up to the clearing. Vaulting the wooden rail fance, he proceeded up to the cabin. "Maw" Britt and the three boys were sitting on the rough puncheon steps of the cabin, eating watermelon without the formality of plate or fork. They had seen him coming down the trail, and had apparently already weighed him in the balance and found him harmless before he had even arrived. Hill billies are skillful in building their cabins in such a position that an approaching stranger may be fully classified in time to arm the garrison in case he appears dangerous — as many of their visitors are. Glenn passed the test, and was given a cordial— for a hill billy — greeting. "Is this the Britt place?" he inquired. "Shuah it is," answered the oldest son. "And who mought yew be?" Glenn expained, as best he could, who he was, where he had come from (but neglected to mention the plane! and what the purpose of his visit was. "I'm looking for a good yodeller." he explained, "and they told me that I'd find one up here. I want to take him back to California to sing over the radio." "Oveh the what?" queried the Britts. And after his first shock was over. Glenn managed to give them a hurried conception of radio— which they had never heard of before! Telephones and automobiles, yes, but radio was almost beyond them. Glenn urged the Britt boys to sing and play for him, and they readily complied. And when the first high sweet notes of Elton's yodel drifted out, Glenn knew he had what he had traveled 2000 miles to get. In his brief visits to the hills, he had heard many singers and yodellers, but little Flton Britt. standing in his bare fept beside thai log cabin door, was the cream of them all. But the hardest part was to come. Mother Britt didn't want her youngest son to go so far away from home Daddy Britt, a tall, kindly, bearded mountaineer, was also firm. Glenn used all of his powers of persuasion, talked as he had never talked before, told eloquently of the glories of the outside world, the beauties of California, the advantages for Elton, and finally with Elton's enthusiastic aid. the Britts were won over, on condition that Elton was to be sent home in a few weeks. Glenn told Elton to be ready, and went back to the little town to make preparations for the return flight. The next day he went up to the Britt place to get Elton. When he saw him, standing beside his mother in the front room of that little cabin, he stared. Bib overalls, a blue denim shirt, heavy boots, and a loose, plaid cap with a visor at least six inches long, turned up in front like a jockey's. An old carpet bag in one hand that must have been through the Civil War, a few other belongings tied up in a roll under his arm. Elton was ready to go! Imagine the parting! For the first time in her life. Ma Britt was losing one of her boys. No one in her family had ever gone so far away from home, and especially on such a mysterious and wonderful journey. She cried. Elton cried; the brothers were in tears, and even Daddy Britt's shrewd, keen eyes were misty under the shaggybrows. Glenn wisely hurried the proceedings, after the goodbyes had been said, piled Elton and his carpetbag into the car, and away they went, bound for Little Rock, 150 miles away, which Elton had never seen! The little hill billy family stood in the clearing and waved until the car had bounced out of sight around the ast turn, with Elton standing up in the car and tearfully waving back. For little Elton Britt. the next 24 hours were a whirlwind of new experiences. A hotel, a shower (Glenn turned the faucet for him) . . . staring guests ... the landing field and the roaring plane ... a few moments of awful hesitancy and then the sudden dropping away from earth . . . higher . . . faster . . . But like a true hill billy, Elton stood his ground, and not for a minute betrayed his fright. Even Glenn, who sat behind him, watching anxiously for the reaction, was fooled. Not until some time later, after Elton was safely esconced in Hollywood, and the first excitement had passed, did he admit that he was "neveh so sca'ed in ma life!" NOREEN GAM MILL "Album of Familiar Faces" CONTINUITY Playing all feminine characters in Cleason and Armstrong electrical transcriptions. Now Appearing on "Treasure Chest" KNX 1242 N. King s Road CRestview 6890 HOLLYWOOD RADIO DOINGS Page Thirty-seven