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By
MARY W ATKINS REEVES
Singer Hildegrade, television veteran
WHO ARE THE
TIME was when Radio City's swank third floor lobby, crossroads of the microphone world, could be called a dignified and quietly ritzy place. But lately it's been resembling the backstage tent of a freak show much more than its usual conversative self. A horde of the strangestlooking people anybody has ever seen have set up their permanent camp in Studio 3-H, are running wild all over the place and causing a furor of excitement; and from every indication these strange-looking people are merely the first of many more to come.
They really are the weirdest individuals this side of the Ripley collection. They have skin the rusty color of cinnamon toast, brown lips, black eyes, black fingernails. They wear dark sun-glasses in the building and go around talking a peculiar language among themselves about "berthas" and "flats" and "long-shots." And despite the elegant air-conditioning which is Radio City's pride it's nothing any time to see a bunch of them fanning themselves as vigorously as if it were ninety in the shade in Death Valley.
But they're not freaks, nor have the studios been turned into a nut-house. It's simply that television is no longer something we're going to have one of these days. Television is here! And the strange-looking people to be seen around NBC are the first stars of television all made up to appear life-like in the lens of a thing called an "iconoscope camera." If you were lucky enough to have one of the hundred television receiving sets now stationed throughout the New York area you could tune in for an hour every night in the week and enjoy talkies in your own living room. This has been going on since last summer, although the broadcasts are conducted for test purposes and the sets are not yet for sale.
Every night, for an hour, a picked group of stars do their work in Studio 3-H, while sixteen blocks away, atop the Empire State, building, is the transmitter which changes the sounds and pictures of 3-H into electrical impulses and sends them out through the air.
A nightly parade of television pictures reaches out 45 miles from the top of the Empire State build'ng, world's tallest.
Wide World