Swing (Feb-Dec 1951)

Record Details:

Title:
Swing
Date:
Feb-Dec 1951
Publisher:
Kansas City : WHB Broadcasting Co.
Volume:
Swing (Feb-Dec 1951)
Leaf #:
000186
Language:
English
Subjects:
Radio broadcasting -- Missouri -- Kansas City -- Periodicals, Radio broadcasting -- Kansas -- Periodicals","WHB-AM (Radio station : Kansas City, Mo.) -- Periodicals","Kansas City (Kan.) -- History -- Periodicals","Kansas City (Mo.) -- History -- Periodicals","Cook Paint and Varnish Co. -- Periodicals","WHB Broadcasting Company (Kansas City, Mo.) -- Periodicals.","Cook Paint and Varnish Co -- Periodicals","WHB Broadcasting Company (Kansas City, Mo.) -- Periodicals","Radio broadcasting",Kansas,"Kansas -- Kansas City","Missouri -- Kansas City
Collection:
Broadcasting & Recorded Sound
Format:
Periodicals
Contributor:
University of Maryland, College Park
Sponsor:
LYRASIS Members and Sloan Foundation
Coordinator:
Media History Digital Library
Description:
The official magazine of Kansas City's WHB radio station, SWING printed far more than the station's schedule (which, as the title SWING suggested, relied heavily on music). From 1945 to 1953, SWING offered readers something eclectic every month -- profiles of entertainers on one page, discussions of citizenship in the postwar world on the next, with write-ups of nightlife offerings in KC, Chicago, and New York mixed in. WHB spent decades lobbying the FCC for clear channel status; the magazine's ambitious scope may have been part of the station's attempt to legitimate itself. But it was SWING'S first editor, Jetta Carleton, who later wrote a celebrated novel, that gave the magazine its distinctive style. -- Eric Hoyt, 2015
Date Added:
March 28, 2024
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^76 Su other moment his broad back was out of sight around the corner of the house. Rosa and Lalo heard him walk down the street. They listened until the sound of his big shoes on the pavement merged with the noise of traffic in the distance. Lalo's eyes found their way to Rosa's. THE baby groped hungrily at her neck. She kissed the top of its head. Lalo watched through halfclosed lids. He picked the cigarette from his lips and threw it away. Rosa's gaze followed its arc and came back to Lalo's toes where they bent and spread on the earth. The sun was down. A glow behind the pepper tree lit up the elegance of trunk and foliage. "Are you happy, Rosa?" Lalo looked at the green tracery as he spoke. "Si, Lalo." Her cheek smoothed the baby s hair. "Si, si!" "NO, — you cannot be!" He was at her side. His face bent close to hers. "Why did you marry Emilio?" he whispered. "Why?" Rosa closed her eyes. "I love my husband. He is a steady man v/ho owns a good house." "You promised to wait for me," he said. "You did not wait very long, did you, Rosa?" "Long days . . long weeks . . I could not wait ..." She stopped. It was hard to breathe. "I was lonely." The frown on Lalo's face made deep lines above his nose. "I, too, was lonely." "Emilio . . Emilio took care of April, 1931 father so I could work. Two weeks after you left . . father died. Emilio was good to me. I did not know how to find you. He helped me and I . . I love him." She threw back her head to defy the longing which clutched her throat. "You did not hurry back fast, Lalo. You stayed too long!" CCTN the army you cannot hurry J. back. You have to go, and you have to stay a long time, even be killed almost, and go to a hospital." His husky voice caressed and seared. She ached for his arms, her legs grew weak. "I saved my pay and my pension, but when I came back my Rosa was married to Emilio, her father's friend. I came to see. Three times I came. Rosa is thin. Her eyes are not gay. Her laugh does not go up and down like music. I wanted to speak to her alone." "I knew," she whispered, "I also wanted to see you." "I was lucky, — Mr. Otro sent me ... " "I told him to." "How can you tell him what to do?" Lalo gripped her arm. His fingers were strong. They burned her skin and she shivered. "This baby . . . Mr. Otro is afraid I will tell his wife ..." Lalo shook her. Hurt and scorn twisted his lips. "So . . . Why did you not wait for me?" "You did not write . . how could I find you?" "We were betrothed! We were be trothed . . before the Holy Mary." "Please! — I love Emilio." "You lie," he whispered back.