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■ One of radio's busiest and most successful announcers, Dan Seymour, is caught at home by the CBS cameraman in this charming family group: Baby Judy, Mrs. Seymour, Dan, and Nancy, four.
■ Glamour, excitement and thrills are hers — but do they make up for the spoiled dinners and husbandless holidays?
RADIO has changed my marriage from an easy, safe, comfortable existence into an unusual, always exciting — and sometimes difficult and dangerous — experience.
You probably know Dan Seymour. You may have heard him when he goes to work in the morning on the Aunt Jenny programs over CBS, or on Saturday nights on Milton Berle's show, Stop Me If You've Heard This One, over NBC, or on Friday nights, on Young Man With a Band, over CBS.
He's the man I married — a radio announcer.
Well, what's radio announcing? Just a way of earning a living? Very true, but this particular way of earning a living brings with it complications that make my life as a young married woman anything
APRIL, 1940
By MRS. DAN SEYMOUR
but normal. Complications, in fact, that have taught me one inescapable truth: no woman who is devoted to a radio husband can expect a normal life.
Dan's job affects not only me, but our whole family. Even Nancy, only four, knows that we aren't like other people; and Judy, too young now to care much when — or even whether — Daddy comes home to dinner, is going to learn in time. Neither Dan nor I will ever forget last Christmas, when he had to work all day long, and Nancy kept getting more and more exasperated because he wasn't home. As her impatience grew, she took to pacing up and down in front of her Christ
mas tree and muttering to herself, "Daddy all the time working . . . Daddy all the time working."
Nancy is an announcer's child, and I'm an announcer's wife, and that means that we have to accustom ourselves to a way of living which is vastly different from that of the average wife or average little girl. Whether we like it — and I might as well admit that sometimes we don't — or not.
Until Dan and I met each other our lives jogged along in a reasonable, orderly way. But that first meeting — when he was a sophomore at Amherst and I was a sophomore at Mt. Holyoke, eight miles away — began a train of events that were consistently unconventional, and have continued to be so right up to the (Continued on page 85 J
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