Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1950)

family guest room. The kids took Godfrey for a speedboat ride and he retaliated by stunting in a borrowed small plane. When the public appearances were over, Arthur and Cedric boarded the Adams X, a forty-six-foot cabin cruiser. Out in the middle of Lake Minnetonka, they settled down to talk shop. Later, Godfrey invited Adams to his place in Virginia for more of the same. The result of their encounter became public when Adams auditioned for a network show. Godfrey reminded CBS brass, "Now here is a great guy." He repeated it to his own audience when Cedric's program, A Little Talk and Little Tune, went coast to coast. He underscored it by arranging to have Adams emcee Prize Performance, Summer replacement for his televised Talent Scouts. Everyone calls him Cedric, and listeners feel they have a cousin's interest in the Adams family. When the Adamses moved into their new house so many people drove by to look at it that they caused a full scale traffic jam which broke the surface of a road not designed to carry a heavy flow of automobiles. The house, built into the side of a hill in the Frank Lloyd Wright manner, combines both living and working quarters, although Cedric also has downtown offices both at WCCO and at the Minneapolis Star Tribune. On the street level floor, there's an entrance hall, Cedric's microphoneequipped workroom, the living room and the bedrooms. Below it, opening onto a terrace, are the recreation room, dining room, kitchen and storage rooms. The establishment runs smoothly thanks to a wife and mother who, in her way, is as remarkable as Cedric is in his. Niecy uses her intelligence, quick wit and dry humor to knit together the complicated Adams schedule which must be wrapped around at least three radio broadcasts and a newspaper column each day, plus the demands of personal appearances and the preparation of weekly columns for three national magazines. The family's day begins at seven. Niecy rustles up breakfast while Cedric writes his Star Journal column on a teletype in the corner of a storage locker conveniently close to the kitchen and that first cup of coffee. Cedric estimates he saves forty-five minutes a day by teletyping his copy to the office. He uses this time for his daily ritual of dressing with the boys. All three youngsters are husky kids. David, now preparing for Yale, is a high school senior. Tall as his father, but sharing his mother's fair coloring, he's a well-mannered lad who has asked Cedric to keep his name out of broadcasts— it makes it difficult to get along with the kids at school. Cedric Jr., called Rick, reverses the complexion combination by being dark as his dad and slender and wiry as his mother. His greatest enthusiasm is his horse, a dappled pony presented to him by a rodeo owner. Rick shares his dad's interest in people and public communication and wants to know R everything about what makes newspapers, radio and television tick. Stephen, the youngest, also views television with more than a fan's attitude, for he's a camera bug with his Cedric Likes People! (Continued from page 29) own Speed Graphic and darkroom. When the father-son conclave concludes, breakfast is ready. Afterwards, the boys depart on their own pursuits, Niecy tackles her-, housekeeping, and Cedric retires to his work room for an hour before going either to his offices or his boat. Like the house, the boat is equipped with microphone, typewriter and telephone, with the teletype located in Minnetonka Boat Works. Boats have been a major love since childhood. "We didn't even have a swimming hole in my inland town," he explains. "With the first money I made in Minneapolis I bought a -brokendown launch and finally achieved what I wanted in this cruiser. It sleeps eight and we live on it during the Summer." Born in Adrian, Minnesota, Cedric hit his stride writing for a humor magazine at the University of Minnesota. Soon he discovered he could sell a gossip column to Stiffy, impresario of a restaurant, for fifteen dollars a week. The pithy Adams prose, when used as an ad in the student newspaper, made Stiffy's the campus Stork Club, turned Cedric into a hero superior to a football player, and eventually earned him a job on the Minneapolis Star. Cedric's first Star column was shortlived. While he considered it a fulltime job, his managing editor regarded it as a bit of spare-time fluff and assigned him to the rewrite desk. Cedric obliged until the managing editor imposed the further task of typing stock market reports, ordinarily the copy boy's job. The two disagreeable tasks produced an explosion and he resigned in a fiery letter which precipitated a longtime feud with the managing editor. Next stop was Captain Billy's Whiz Bang and The Calgary Eye Opener, earthy humor magazines published in nearby Robbinsdale. Because he knew all the jokes, he was often invited to be toastmaster at banquets. A mutual acquaintance introduced him to Bernice Lenont of Virginia, Minnesota, and they were married July 13, 1931. Cedric's publisher moved East and left him stranded. Their finacial problem became acute when David, their first son, was born. Cedric's feud with the newspaper editor barred him from Twin Cities dailies, and the best he could do was to sell a column to the Shopping News, a weekly all-advertising publication delivered free to homes. Toastmaster bookings helped out for a while, and these paved the way for a radio chatter program which, as Cedric is the first to admit, was far from sensational. Niecy, took it in stride, for that was early in the depression. They learned to keep their fun low-cost, playing bridge with friends. Cedric now acknowledges the importance of those evenings. He found if he stumbled on an idea which made his own circle break into heated discussion, he could use the same topic in a column. Today he says an ideal program is "Something which will provoke card-table conversation." Finally, in 1934, WCCO signed him to do a 10 P.M. newscast. Niecy, recalling it, says, "Wonderful as it was to have some real cash, it messed up our social life. I never accept a dinner invitation without warning our hostess Cedric would have to leave early." That was her introduction to living with a man with an unlimited capacity for work. The pace intensified when newspapers changed ownership and Cedric signed on to write a daily column for the Minneapolis Star. First evidence of his popularity came when he heard of a couple whose tax money had been stolen. Remembering how it felt to be broke, he appealed, "Don't strain your own pocketbooks. Just send a penny. Help these folks get enough to pay their taxes." More than 57,000 pennies came in, a testimonial to Cedric. The annual Parade of Pennies now reaches major proportions and the most recent one bought a home and furnishings for a destitute blind woman and her children. Radio advertisers responded in a different fashion by offering Cedric programs. This left little time for home life, but Niecy took it in her stride. Today her ability to make swift adjustments has contributed to two Adams features which the public is now hearing. It was early last Spring when Cedric burst through the door one evening, on fire with a new idea. "Niecy," he shouted, "what do you think of interviewing the wives of well-known men?" "Sure," she said, "women are always curious how other women live." "Good," said Cedric. "How soon can you leave to set up interviews?" IText day, she was on the train to 11 Washington, armed with exactly one telephone number. But despite difficulties, she got what she went after, both there and in New York and Hollywood. She also made the involved technical arrangements needed for tape recordings which permitted Cedric to ask the questions by telephone from Minneapolis. Thanks to her success in this venture, she is also participating in a local program, new this season, Dinner at the Adamses, which originates at their home. Managing the details of Cedric's work requires quite a staff and the services of an accounting firm. Ted Dahl is business assistant. Margery Gustafson and Irene Edstrom take care of the research, correspondence and scripts. Doreen Myhre is in charge of network operations and Meredith Woods is secretary at the newspaper Cedric has two part-time handicapped persons and a driver. Cedric's endurance has increased, he says, since he went on the wagon by betting with a friend he wouldn't touch the stuff until October 2, 1950. Each drink prior to that time will cost him $500. A measure of his home town's opinion of Cedric Adams occurred last Spring, when, on his return from his vacation, the Civic and Commerce Association presented him with a new Cadillac. Taken by surprise, Adams said the usual, "You shouldn't have done it," then specified he would accept only if he were permitted to give a sum equal to its cost to be divided between a Protestant, Roman Catholic and Jewish charity. Donors of the car were to name two groups, and as his nomination he gave Little Sisters of the Poor, an organization he admires. His favorite among his shows is his local talent hunt, for it enables him to know his listeners. "Gotta get out where people live," he says. "They can't come to me, so it's up to me to go to them."