Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

CHEAT LIFE! by Kate Smith perhaps I might like it. I didn't really though. The part I really got the most "kick" out of, was giving quite a number of transfusions. There was so much of me to spare you know. If you don't know, just give a gaze at one of my pictures. See? Still, it's nothing to be particularly alarmed about. I have the "be-yourself" complex, anyhow, and think that dieting and masseuse-ing is foolish, especially when I come by it naturally. There I am. meandering away from my subject. The climax I was driving at (and it was a climax, really) was that, at the end of a year, I went home to my family and said, in just so many unhappy words, that I just didn't belong in a hospital, and that I'd much rather sing to — or at people — than give them two tablets and a glass of water every two hours. I added that I thought entertainment had its place in the world. And I do. Having your mind taken off trouble and worry has its effect on your physical self, you know. I didn't just say that in selfdefense. Anyhow, you've probably heard it many times before. They came around to my way of thinking, and they at least were grateful I wasn't going abroad to make a stab at being a prima donna. That would have been loo much of a blow. As a matter of fact, when I was a child Nicholas Longworth asked me why I didn't study the opera. As a matter of fact, I don't know why, except that my path didn't lead in that direction. I just naturally was absorbed by the beat of jazz rhythm, and by the ballad strains, and light opera. My opportunity knocked once in the person of Eddie Dowling who came to your friend Kate and said to your friend Kate (bad sentence structure, but you won't mind, will you) here's a dotted line. I signed it, and went to New York with the cast of '"Honeymoon Lane.'' I may as well give you a little '*sob story" at this point. I was very unhappy. New York is a difficult place, as far as making friends goes, and after the last applause had died in my ears, and the curtain was down and the make-up was off, I was just plain Kate Smith longing for Washington. Washington is a grand place you know, and the Potomac is wonderful for canoeing, and the Chesapeake is wonderful for swimming. Anyhow I was homesick. Sooner or later, I adjusted myself. I forget just how I did it, only I decided for myself that to be perfectly happy in the theatrical world, at least for a person of my kind, the best formula was a few god friends, no theatrical parties, and lots of hard work. After that, time flew by with "Flying High" and "Hit the Deck," and nothing more eventful happened outside the footlights, than having my tonsils out. During "Hit the Deck," I became aware that radio was the Coming Thing, and that your friend Kate might scurry around and see what could be done about an audition. I went to the Columbia Broadcasting System, sang to that black "mike," and they took me in. That sounds rather as if I were entering an orphan asylum, but you do need someone's protection and vigilance when you attempt to put your person ality into such a critical medium as air waves. The engineers and production men in their control rooms can do all sorts of things to your voice you never dreamed of, by a twist of the dial. That is to say, to get the true tone of your voice the engineer must be a canny soul. And you must simply be trusting. Well, the audition was labeled Success, and they put me on the air for fifteen minutes every night with "Swanee Music." I loved the work and enjoyed the people I was associated with at Columbia, my footlight feeling suddenly dissolved, and there I was candidly preferring the "mike." The response of fan mail to me is even more touching than the response of a theatrical audience which may be sheer politeness. The radio audience come from all over the country. Coast-tocoast, from modest homes and huge, elaborate homes, and all of them say what they think. Especially "shut-ins" in hospitals and prisons have responded with a sort of prayerful enthusiasm, and beg me to sing this thing and that thing for them in my memory song period. Oh, there have been lots of letters with pathetic stories behind them. There isn't much point of recounting any of these to you. With radio, this last summer was an involved but very satisfactory one. I have hardly known whether I was (Turn to Page 39) RADIO DOINGS Page Thirteen