Radio stars (July 1933)

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RADIO STARS R A D I O'S GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER Why does Jimmy Wallington think his particular job is the grandest on earth? You'll like this story of the gallant, daring Jimmy and his adventures (Top, left) Setting off on a subma- rine broadcast. (Top, right) Master Wallington and his nurse—taken in 1908. (Large picture) with his wife Statia, at their place at Bayside, Long Island. That's their boat. NOT many days ago, James Wallington looked at his as- signments as an announcer for the National Broadcasting Company. This is what he saw: "Broadcast from the lion's cage of Barnum and Bailey's circus." Now you or I, receiving such an assignment, might scratch our heads and perhaps wonder if there weren't other and easier ways of making a living. Not Jimmy. He stuck the slip into his pocket with an air of satisfac- tion. It was his job, this lion's cage broadcast; the sort of job he wanted. He's that kind of guy. Perhaps you know James Wallington as the man who eggs Eddie Cantor on to higher and funnier flights of foolishness. Or the master of the mike during Rudy Vallee's Thursday broadcasts. Or Lowell Thomas' run- ning mate on the Sunoco periods. Then you know only a part of Wallington, the clean-collared. Tuxedo-clad part. Underneath, he's another man. It's that man that I shall tell you about. Today, Jimmy is twenty-five years old. Twenty-five, mind yon, with a name that's known in and about even- hut and hamlet that boasts a radio. Call it fame, if you will. Call it being a celebrity or a big shot or a front guy. It's a job. no matter what its name; and it is a partic- ularly difficult job for a lad with no more than the weight of twenty-five years to anchor him to earth. But he's handling it—this big fellow, six feet tall, with hair that shines like anthracite and a football player's hands and feet. You folk who listen to his clowning with Cantor on Sunday nights will be glad to know that. Because you're his friend, as I'm his friend, and you want to see him come through on top. I wondered about him, for a while. Others wondered, too. and worried. Jimmy had started fast, coming to radio from a pick-me-up job as a furniture salesman. He brought with him a limitless supply of ambition. That background . . . well, look at it and see if you get nervous. He was born in Rochester, New York, and went to school there. But so uncertainly. One semester, he concentrated on music, envisioning himself as a singer. Next, he was set on writing a great American novel Next, medicine. Then, theology (Continued on page $3 1 By DONALD COPPER 32