TV Radio Mirror (Jul - Dec 1961)

and Bruno Zirato. one of the most experienced and successful radio producers, as director and producer. 'Our only competition,'* says Richard, "are the independent deejay shows, and we have quite an edge on them. They have time checks to get in, and a lot of spot commercials, and they are limited to the same records every other deejay has. We. on the other hand, have a lively entertainment show with original, new material from one day to another. What we are doing is bringing back 'big-time radio.' " In the meantime, Richard Hayes has been taking a fresh look at himself. "'What am I now — singer, deejay, or even actor? We didn't talk about the Broadway musical I was in, because that was a turkey. Closed in a month. But the question reminds me that, when my second child was born, I was down in the lobby of the hospital, fretting with other fathers, and I asked myself— suddenly overwhelmed with responsibility— Richard, what do you want to be when you grow up? I think the answer is there. In this business, we are always young in heart and always in the process of growing. "I'm still singing and I'll have a new album out on Columbia Records shortly. Sure, I'd like a hit single. It would be wonderful for me, but only because it would mean increased exposure. Outside of that, a big record will do nothing much for me. I think I'm now more of a personality. That appears to be the way I'm developing. There's talk now about my finally being old enough to head a new quiz show on television!" Richard Hayes, however, keeps coming back to the new radio show. "Right now, I'm putting everything into it. The radio show comes first. I even gave up the rock 'n' roll TV show. I know Carol Burnett is already a star because of her exposure on The Garry Moore Show. What I want to see is whether this one can make a star of me, as radio has so often done for others."' {Continued from page 22) funny when other people do all the work for you." The way Betty tells it, seated in the charming gold and blue living room of her garden apartment on New York's West 57th Street, she makes it seem a simple formula for writing comedy and working up an act. She admits, however, that the habit of watching for the wry incidents in life reaches deep into her past. Challenged with the question, "What turned your career in this direction? A girl doesn't suddenly become a comedienne at the age of ten!" — Betty replies, "Oddly enough, I did. I heard a joke at a funeral, then told it at a school Halloween party." She was born Edith Seeman, in Elizabeth, New Jersey, the youngest of eight. Her father died. "My oldest boys, four girls, and expected another boy, but I upset the count." On another score, she fulfilled a hope. "My father and mother came from Riga, Latvia. There they had been expelled from their strict school because they took walk-on parts in an opera. But they loved the theater and, during each pregnancy, my mother would pray that this child would go on stage. I am the only one who did." Betty's world changed when she was eight. Her father died. "My oldest brother, Dave, had just received his appointment to West Point, but he gave it up to try to support us." In those Depression days, a teen-age boy's earnings were slim, but their mother kept family morale high. Betty says, "She raised us on a full coffee pot and much laughter. Even when we were on relief, Mother could make everything a treat. Sundays, we window-shopped on Broad Street. We'd stare and debate. Then, suddenly, we'd find the one small thing we could buy that week. Mother T would say, 'Chaup A Rrine!' which U translates, 'Grab it!' No millionaire felt rich' As Betty remembers, she was in the 62 Telephone Talk Artist fifth grade when duty required that she attend an Orthodox Jewish funeral. She says, "Mourning went on for two days, and the children didn't know what to do with themselves. The little girls huddled in a corner and one told a joke. I made her tell it over and over until I learned it." Betty, in turn, told it on a school Halloween program. It brought her her first taste of laughter, applause and attention. With mature perspective, she reviews the occasion. "There's always a sad reason why a child that age feels she must bring something extra into a group relationship. I didn't have pretty clothes, I didn't have a big house, so I brought a joke." Soon she was also able to bring music. "With the last, the only, fifty dollars my mother had in the world, she bought me a violin." On finishing high school, Betty sold hats by day and played jazz by night. "It wasn't very good jazz, but what could they expect for three dollars a night — Beethoven ? " She served a hard show-business apprenticeship. She sang with orchestras, tried out for parts on the legitimate stage, did an act at night clubs. "I've played every honky tonk you can name. For sixteen years, I made the rounds endlessly, never being hired for important things. But, eventually, the law of averages paid off. I believe if you do your best, each place you are, something is bound to happen." The key happening for Betty was finding a role on New York Station WOR, in a serial titled Secret World. "In those days, you had to 'double' and I had worked up twenty-seven characters." Dreaming up the character of "Ceil" gave Betty definition and brought recognition. "I wanted to work up a real act, but I had no partner and I couldn't afford to buy material. So how could I do more than a 'single,' alone? The answer was a telephone — and writing the act myself." In addition to her ABC Radio appearances, Betty cuts records for Coral. With her telephone troupe, she also is in demand for hotel and convention appearances. The acting roles which she sought have now come her way. An important one was that of Sarah in "Exodus" — and Betty completely resigns her own personality for that of the character she portrays. "One day on the set of 'Exodus,' I forgot myself and made a funny. The director, Otto Preminger, seemed shocked. He said, 'Why, Miss Walker, I didn't know you had a sense of humor.' I thought it one of the best compliments I've ever had as an actress." At the height of a season, Betty often puts in an eighteen-hour day, but she saves time to work for the Alfred Adler Mental Hygiene Clinic. Located at 93rd Street and Central Park West, it is headed by Drs. Kurt and Alexandra Adler, the son and daughter-in-law of the pioneering psychiatrist, Dr. Alfred Adler. The clinic was founded by Betty's friend, Mrs. Donica Deutsch, once a student of Alfred Adler. Says Betty, "I call Mrs. Deutsch the Mother Superior. She is a great person and it is wonderful to do so much good in the world — to help people understand themselves better, to straighten out troubled lives." Betty is proud that the Women's Division of which she is founder and president raised close to ten thousand dollars for the clinic during the first year of their organization and twentyfive thousand dollars for the coming year. "Our next big project is a 'Bazaarathon' held at the Woodstock Hotel on November 13 and 14. Show-business stars have agreed to come, both to entertain and to auction the merchandise which is being donated." Evidence of Betty's own pleasant adjustment to life is her statement, "I don't need to be a star. It is enough that I do the work which I love and that I bring others some enjoyment." i»