Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

TH Radio a la Theater S3ME of these days — when the last continuity writer has given birth to the last anemic gag. and broadcasters are safely esconced in padded cells after a fruitless search for new program ideas, somebody is going to get an inspiration. They're going to get an inspiration that has been right under their noses for a long time. Doesn't it seem a shame that hours, days, and sometimes weeks, should be spent on the preparation of a program that goes on the air for a few brief minutes and is then lost forever? Quite often, listeners wouldn't mind listening for a second time to some particularly good program. Usually, there are many who missed out on it and who have no opportunity of ever hearing it. W hy not put exceptionally good programs on a "run" basis, as is the custom with legitimate plays and movies? Or perhaps hold the same program over for two or three davs? More time could be spent on the programs, more thorough rehearsals could be held, and the artists could really exert their best efforts in putting over a program that they knew was more than a here-today-gone-tomorrow performance. After all, the sponsor, under present conditions, can only be assured of those listeners who happen to tune in to his program. An attempt is made to publicize the program in advance, but even this is dL.xult to achieve to its fullest extent. It is safe to say that the number of listeners to a good program could be doubled, perhaps trebled, if the program were repeated and word-of-mouth recommendation allowed to function. The movie-goer who misses a picture in which his favorite actor appears, can see the same picture the next night just as well. Competition among stations at present is in a helter-skelter, catch-as-catch-can situation. No one listens to the same station all of the time. He picks the programs he likes best on each and listens to them. But what if there are two exceptionally good programs both of which he wants to hear, coming on over different stations simultaneously? It is a common enough occurrence. The main thing to consider, however, is the wanton waste of talent in the whirlwind, breakneck pace at which studio production staffs have to work. It must be disheartening for a writer to work his head off night after night preparing a play or a continuity, and then have it go up in a brief puff of smoke in a single performance. How can worthwhile talent really produce its best under these conditions? How can radio ever produce the stupendous, artistic performances destined for it by science? How can it ever fulfill its promise as an equal mate to the stage and screen? It would certainly be an interesting experiment. ♦ Odd Program Ideas Offered ODD and unusual ideas for radio broadcasts, some of them extremely visionary and others merely over the border-line of practicability, continue to come to the broadcasters by mail and personal visitation. Programs to feature a trained horse, the kings of Europe, ':baby talk" stories for children, a "Super-Salesman" to give inspiration to the business world, and another scheme to rout the business recession through the sale of "rooter" banners, were among the recent crop of suggestions received by the various programmaking divisions at the headquarters of Columbia. One of the most curious proposals recently made to the Columbia system, was from a man who asked if the network would be interested in broadcasting over a coast-to-coast hook-up a program by a horse. The horse was a trained animal, his owner declared, and very intelligent. It could count, and answer questions yes or no — all with a varying number of neighs. "But our elevators are not large enough to carry a horse, and our studios are on the 21st and 22nd floors in this building," protested the program director who talked to the man. "That's nothing," he replied, "this horse once walked up 32 flights of steps." The woman who wants to go on the air and talk "baby talk" to children is a recurring visitor to the broadcasters' program departments. "I've got an idea," she says, "I'll tell them stories in their own language, about 'the teenyweeny 'ittle wabbit who went hippity-hoppitv past the GWEAT BIGGY-WIGGY BEAR!". She is never impressed, according to the program directors, by their soft impeachment of the idea — that it does not correspond with the modern method for dealing with children. "That's just the point," she invariably says, "let's go back to the old-fashioned methods." Among other odd and amusing proposals for a program series was one brought in by a Swedish-born woman who came to the Columbia headquarters in New York all the way from her home in Boston. She thought it would be extremely interesting if a series of programs were arranged in which the feature talks would be given by all the kings in Europe. "Nobody but real kings would do," she said. "I could get them all, I know them all personally. We could start with the King of Sweden." A corollary of her proposition was that the kings should be persuaded, after their broadcasts, to come to the United States and make personal appearances at theatres in the manner of other radio stars. Supposed cures for the business depression recur among the current suggestions. One such enthusiast who made his way very recently to the desk of the Columbia executive charged with receiving all such visitors, had what he called "The Radio Super-Salesman Idea." The trouble with the country during the depression, he said, was that the nation's salesmen were all sick and tired of their own sales-managers. Consequently, their hearts were not in their work, they couldn't sell any of their products, and the depression was the natural result. Have the broadcasters enlist "Super-Salesmen," he proposed, to give twice-daily "pep talks" over a nation-wide hook-up of all the broadcasting stations in the country, order its salesmen to listen to these talks by nationally famous salesmen, and at the same time order its own sales-manager to keep silent. The result would be, the visitor declared, that all of the nation's million or more salesmen, freshly inspired instead of bored, would go out with energy and enthusiasm, sell enormously — and the depression would collapse. The visitor was himself a salesman. Impractical as most of the schemes are, the radio program makers go on with their letter-reading and interview-giving, in the hope that a certain percentage of gold will be recovered from the dross. I'agr Six RADIO DOINGS