Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

RADIO MIRROR HIS ACCENT ON YOUTH BROUGHT HIM FORTUNE By ANNE ELLISON I T'S a young man's world," decided Paul Sullivan. "We of the younger generation have to carry on where our elders left off — and we'd better start right now." So he went ahead and became radio's youngest important news commentator — star reporter of the most powerful station in the world, WLW in Cincinnati. And he's just twenty-eight years and five months old. There's a good deal to this philosophy of his. A good deal to deciding to forget the old idea that youth's place is in the background. At any rate, it worked well enough for Paul Sullivan to bring him in two years from an announcer's job to that of sponsored commentator. Paul was born September 1, 1908, in St. Louis, Missouri, and all the way through school and college his family seemed to have him earmarked to be a lawyer. He had other ideas — he wanted to be a radio operator on the high seas, and to that end he built and operated Amateur Station 9BWD in St. Louis during his college days. Though this taught him a good deal about the technical side of radio he discovered that achieving his ambition might be a longer task than he'd planned on. In the meantime, he passed an audition at KMOX, St. Louis, and became an announcer. He was nothing if not thorough, and he used to read newspapers and magazines aloud at home, much to the annoyance of his family who still hoped he'd give up that crazy radio business and take his bar examinations. Finally they refused to listen to him, so he went out into the garage when he wanted to read. Until 1935 Paul divided his time between KMOX and WTAX, Springfield, Illinois, announcing programs, and joined WLW in January, 1935. It wasn't long before WLW had installed a news room under H. Lee MacEwen, veteran newspaper man, and Paul was given a daily commentating spot. This is where the story of how commentators get that way really starts. Using his belief that just because you were young was no reason to take a back seat, Paul developed his own style of news broadcast and became almost an overnight sensation. An intriguing sign-off slogan helped. Paul borrowed a phrase which all newspapermen and few laymen understand— "It's thirty from the news room." "Thirty" is the time-honored telegrapher's signal for the end of a dispatch. Every night, when he concluded his broadcast, Paul would say, cryptically, "It's thirty from the news room." Listeners were intrigued, maybe a little irritated, but undeniably interested! And by the time they'd written in to find out what the dickens the guy meant, they'd become very much interested in the way Paul gave them their news. Paul hadn't decided that it was a young man's world because he wanted it to be a young man's world. He'd made a careful study of the news and he knew what interested people. He has a passionate fondness for facts. He viciously cuts out all superfluous adjectives, no matter how colorful, from his broadcasts. He makes a real attempt never to take sides in a controversial subject, but he does make every effort to give the fundamental facts involved. His copy isn't censored either by his station or by his sponsor, Liberty Magazine. He is one commentator who chose his own broadcast time, even when he went under Liberty's sponsorship. He picked 11:00 to 11:15 P. M., eastern standard time, Mondays through Fridays, for the sponsored broadcasts, and five minutes after midnight Saturdays and 1 1 :00 P. M. Sundays for his two weekly sustaining periods. Pretty late for a news broadcast, but Paul was hitting for the young people and he believed they'd wait up for him. They not only did, but got many of their elders to do the same. Paul's day begins about eight o'clock in the evening. From then on you'll find him buried in reams of copy in the WLW news room. He reads and sorts his material, cutting here, rewriting there, and when he's finished he has a complete newscast, ready for the air — which he's quite likely to toss aside entirely if something "hot" comes in at the last minute. He still reads newspapers aloud — these days, to his bride of a little more than a year, the former Margaret Flynn of St. Louis. On the few occasions when Margaret says please will he stop reading for a while, he reads to his dog, Nick. Paul's belief that this is a young man's world has made him famous as a commentator — but outside of his own field, he's content to take that back seat. Not long ago he attended a business men's banquet at which he had been told he wouldn't have to make a speech. They called on him anyway, after he got there — business men's banquets are like that. Said Paul: "Gentlemen, I don't mind admitting that I'm very much of a onesided person. I enjoy listening to others speak, but as for myself, there's just one thing I know and only one I care about. That is news. It's thirty from Paul Sullivan." INTRODUCING PAUL SULLIVAN, LIBERTY MAGAZINE'S COMMENTATOR 56