Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

IS radio's biggest craze on its way to oblivion, carrying with it the same man it carried to the peak of public acclaim? Mah-jongg lasted a little more than a year. Jigsaw puzzles had the whole country straining its collective eyes for about the same length of time. Cross-word puzzles were a menace to everyone's sanity for a little longer than that, before they settled down to being the hobby of a few loyal souls. "The Music Goes Round and Round" was with us for only a few months. Radio amateur hours have lasted longer than any of these. But are they going the way of all fads now? There is ample evidence to prove that they are. And if you grant that, a more important question arises: what will this shift in public fancy mean to the man who once was the most famous and popular star in radio, Major Edward Bowes? Will he attempt to ignore the change? Will he accept it and change, himself, with the times? Or will he bow his head to it in defeat? Those are questions Major Bowes has not answered yet. For any other man the answers wouldn't be so important. Financially, the problem means little to the Major, for he was a rich man before the amateur craze started and he is a richer man now. But in a more personal way, it means a great deal to him. Since the death of Mrs. Bowes two years ago, the Major has lived for his work. He has made it fill in his days to the exclusion of everything else, desperately striving to close, with it, the gap left when he lost the one he loved more than anything else in the world. That is why he must choose correctly now. There must be no let-up in his life of activity and excitement. Without his daily task of auditioning amateurs and building a program, or something equally interesting and successful, Major Bowes would be lost. I believe 1 know how he should choose. There are so many signs — unimportant when they're taken individually; but add them up and they point unmistakably to a swing away from amateur to professional entertainment. They're straws, and they show which way the wind is blowing. This winter, the oldest amateur hour on the networks, the Mutual Broadcasting System's National Amateur Night, abandoned amateurs in all but name. This half-hour Sunday afternoon program, which used to draw its talent almost exclusively from the amateurs, now brings you only three on each show. Comedian Benny Rubin, its master of ceremonies, is given more time to make you laugh; Arnold Johnson leads his orchestra in an increased number of selections; and a famous guest star from the professional stage is presented every week. Fred Allen's Town Hall Tonight was not slow in following suit, with an announcement that the last half of its program, instead of being devoted entirely to amateurs, would be thrown open to professional talent as well. Amateurs aren't barred from Town Hall under the new arrangement, but neither are people who have appeared for money on local stations, lesser known night club and vaudeville acts, and new discoveries of talent agencies. In other words, Major Bowes' program is now the only hundred-percent amateur hour on the air. The National Amateur Night is really a variety show now, and the three amateurs who do appear are carefully selected from audition after audition, their performances judged by professional standards. Town Hall's last half-hour retains Fred Allen's wise-cracking ad lib comments, and you'll hear people on it you've never heard before — but it's safe to say that almost none of them will be amateurs. Both Fred Allen and Arnold Johnson, director of the National Amateur Night, admitted to me that they believe the amateur fad is waning. Both had increasing difficulty in obtaining as good amateurs as they wanted. Whereas a year ago both these programs had long waiting, lists, this fall the lists were neither as long nor as promising. Quantity and quality had both fallen off. There are signs even in Major {Continued on page 97) -3C >to **