Radio doings (Dec 1930-Jun1932)

Hollywoo d's ALARM CLOCK Bill Sharpies, With His Early-Rising Breakfast Gang, Makes You Enjoy Getting Up in the Morning THERE'S a miracle man in Hollywood who routs thousands of sleepyheads from their beds at 6:45 in the cold, gray dawn every day in the week to listen to a radio program! That's Bill Sharpies, whose breakfast gang riotously invades the homes of rich and poor alike, via KNX, to scourge Morpheus into flight! Unlike anything else on earth, Bill's program is a weird mixture of prayer, poetry, philosophy, music, mirth, salesmanship, and clowning. And do the people like it? Just ask the postman. He's grown round-shouldered and has fallen arches from hauling Bill's "fan" mail to the studios of the Hollywood station ! These letters come from lonely cowhands on the drear prairie, snowbound cabin-dwellers in the High Sierras, grizzled prospectors far out on the desert . . . and city folks as well. With an utter disregard for style or precedent, Bill opens his program every morning with the Lord's Prayer. Once, an advertising sponsor asked him confidentially if he didn't think such a prayer was a bit out of place on a radio program. Bill wasn't quite sure, so the next morning, he put it up to his listeners and asked for a referendum. Literally thousands of letters poured into the radio station, urging, without exception, that the prayer be continued. It stayed in! Sharpies says he tries to conduct his program "like an average American family having an average American breakfast in the average American home." You'll find no crooners, nor steorotyped entertainment of any other sort on his show. But you will find two hours of good, clean, wholesome homespun fun. If Bill had difficulty locating his socks in the cold gray dawn, he is quite likely to mention it, or if he picks up any interesting gossip of the sort that does no one any harm, he may pass that along, too. He is "Uncle Bill" to most of his listeners, young and old, and he loves them, one and all! Away from the microphone, Bill is of by Mike Kelly a serious and unusually quiet disposition. He is of slight physique, and his hair is beginning to s h o w sings of the first light frost. But he has the heart of a schoolboy. His vocabulary is second only to that of Noah Webster, and he is never at a loss for exactly the word he needs. Bill was born at McKeesport, Pennsylvania, August 6, 1886, and had a twin brother who died in infancy. Early in life Bill started out to hoe his own row, and for many years he traveled all over the United States selling grocery products. After a couple of decades, this sort of thing began to pall. Bill got tired of getting up at four o'clock in the morning to catch a five o'clock train which probably would be two hours late anyhow! It was about this time that the first birth-cries of radio reached Bill's keen ears. If he could sell goods by the chin-to-chin method, he could see no reason why he couldn't do the same by radio. The more he thought of the idea, the better it looked. So one day he approached the officials of a small radio station. They liked his idea, too. That was the beginning. Bill's life has not been without its sorrows. There are scars which time can never efface. Soon after his twenty-first birthday, Bill married and became the father of a boy and girl. At a time when it seemed his early struggles were over, he received the greatest blow of his career. His wife died. For a time it seemed useless to try to carry on. but he bucked up and did the best he could. Suddenly, his daughter, Virginia, then 18 years of age, became ill and died. Two months later, his boy, 12, also passed away. Bill was completely crushed. His health, and almost his mind, gave way, and he refused to be comforted. Not until friends pointed out the folly of his brooding did he regain courage to push on alone. Many years later, when he was firmly established as a radio personality, he met a charming young woman, who has since become Mrs. Bill. They live on a small rancho on the outskirts of Hollywood, and their home is the scene of frequent barbecues at which Bill acts as head chef. His most highly-prized possessions are Roxanna, a blooded Arabian mare, the gift of W. W. Kellogg, breakfast food magnate, and a German police dog. of equally aristocratic birth, named Artur. Artur is the only dog. so far as Bill knows, that smokes cigarettes. Fear of a double chin is believed to have brought on the habit. From a friend, it was learned recently that Sharpies is the great nephew of Helen Hunt Jackson, author of "Ramona," and many who had known Bill for years never even suspected it! That's Bill Sharpies of KNX. Tomorrow you'll probably be hearing his cheery invitation : 'Get up. get up. get up and get out of bed right RADIO DOINGS Page Thirteen