Variety (January 1959)

January 7, 1959 FM-I959 By LAWRENCE L. WYNN iGe.ru Mgr-, Concert Network) FM has. refused to stay shoved under the carpet. Having survived every conceiv¬ able obstacle, including negative legislation, indifference^ and ag¬ gressive opposition in high places, it is now ready, to assume its right¬ ful: position as a new,, commercial medium^ Why now? Because the people at last are having, their say. The public is enthusiastically adopting' FM, and what, the public endorses, the ad¬ vertiser. accepts. An. ever-increasing percentage of the audience has become dissatis¬ fied with the surrender of a siz¬ able segment, of AM radia to. rock ’n’ roll and. the “top. 40. format It is also disappointed in the faiLure cf television to fulfill its pro¬ gramming potentialities. And it strongly resents the aver-commercialization. of both media. These people are adults, they have pur¬ chasing' power, and they are turn¬ ing to FM because only on FM are they able to receive the kind of programming they enjoy, un¬ cluttered by too many commer¬ cials. Who is the FM audience? Surveys taken in various sections of the country, Hew York, Los Aiigeles, Philadelphia, Chicago^ Washington,, etc.,, show that in practically all metropolitan centers; of population the characteristics of the individual* FM station audi¬ ences; are strikingly similar. They, are mature; averaging ap^ proximateiy 37 years of age: They are highly educated,, approximately. 75% college grads. They enjoy high, income, averaging approxi¬ mately 99,(100, (31% above $10,000 ancfc 71%. above $5;fl0Q). . Their listening, habits, are constant. They find, an FM station they like and there they stay. A 10,000 sample survey taken by the Concert Network reveals that their audience listens; ta> them* an average of six. days per week,, five hours per day. The same audience tunek in on. all other radio and television, combined* an average of three days per week, three hours per day^ Therefore* the Concert Network audience listens to this facility 3J.4 times more in. any one week than, ta all other radio and tv combined!.!! Practically the same pattern is true of the audiences of, other stations who? broadcast FM only.. The obvious conclusion is, the trueFM audience is not adequately penetrated by any other broad¬ casting facility, whether it he net¬ work television or the best AM-., radia station' in town. | Eind Out. Ahout FM | The national advertiser is1 be¬ coming aware of this fact. He is realizing' that an important, adhlt audience representing impressive purchasing, power is. not being’ reached By his television spec¬ taculars and burse operas, nor by his AM saturation campaigns; From* the top echelons of national' advertising agencies; the word has come down tothe media divisions, “Find out about FM.’* Agency time-huyers are doing that and. are learning, if they wish to reach the real FM audience, a sizable group apart from the’ ordinary broadcasting audience, they must buy on stations who broadcast FM only. A program originating on an AM station* and fed to its sister FM outlet, is in¬ flicting on the true FM audience the very thing they are trying toescape, AM programming and AM commericals. The discerning time-buyer has figured’ this out for himself. Now, when his account gives him a green light1 ttr reach the FM audi¬ ence, he makes certain he is. ful¬ filling his assignment by’ purchas¬ ing time on stations broadcasting FM -only. The interest of the national ad¬ vertiser has been, awakened* For this .interest tu be translated into active, purchase of tihae,. most clients demand1 some knowledge of the amount of FM audience they Fifty-third ’Anniversary RAfiNN>TELEVBI9N .91 Seasoned CBS Newcaster’s Closeup On the French Idea In Education By SCHOENK^JN i Paris. • : Where is Cipawgu? What great world: travelerfirst described, it and. in* what year? What is. peculiar, about his description? Dmw a cross-section of; the human heart and. the. circulatory . system. Du vide into thirds an angle of 52° 14' 13.". Describe: a. megalith: and tell where they are found. What were the great Revolutions of prehistoric man. and what caused them? These questions do not come from the files of .“The $64,000 Question.” They are not asked in the' examination for entrance into Harvard or the . State . Department Foreign. Service. These were the ques¬ tions put ta my daughter Lucy, aged 11, in the. mid¬ year examination of her 6th grade school iir Paris. Lucy answered all but one of these questions cor¬ rectly : she did not know that Marco Polo’s descrip¬ tion of the country, he called Cipangu, and that we call. Japan, , was perculiar in that he had never visited' Cipangu; which did not prevent him from describing it. Marco Polo has visited Cathay (China) and in his .travels he had .collected stories and legends about other Oriental lands, including Japan, which he described by hearsay in his Book of Wonders: This my daughter did not know. Nor did. her father. The difference between daughter and father, however, is that the father did not know any of the answers whereas the daughter knew them all but one. It is a humbling experience to he a father in Fiance. J _ Don’t Expose Adolfs’ Ignorance | L have heard the cry. of. alarm of educators in America about the inadequacies of the American school system. At this point I find myself yearning for an inadequate system for the protection, of par¬ ental prestige: I used: ta think I was a well-educated* man. After all; I was s teacher in N.Y. City high schools before I became a journalist. I was happy and confident, until my daughter, Lucy,, entered the sixth grade at a Paris school. Now, I amafraid to come home until my wife calls; the office to tell7 me that Lucy has finished: her homework. Lucy -has always loved and respected her father and I want to keep: it that way. I have therefore secretly: bought copies of her school hooks, which' I keep' in the CBS News office and study diligently, so that I need? not be* humiliated at. night ! The sixth grade is where they separate the men I from the boys* or rather the genius from the ordin¬ ary mortal in France. At age 11 the children, take a national examination, which judges their fitness, for higher education: If they fail’ their exam for entry* into ‘sixieme’ — that is sixth grade — they are shunted5 off to vocational schools or to schools with abbreviated courses; leading to a certificate of elementary education but no further. If they pass their test for “Sixieme;” as Lucy did last year, then the real, serious work of French education begins. The 11-year-olds go to school from 9< a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Then they have an hour and: a half of super¬ vised study,, in: which they are supposed to do their “devoirs,” or homework,, for the next. day. In fact they, can only finish: about half of the devoirs, so the balance must betaken homefor completion. It is then, that the parents are put on trial. Tlie homer work lasts a minimum of twa hours and it is at least 8:30 p.m.: before the children can sit downto dinner and the* parent surreptitiously pour himself a drink with a shaking hand: J _ Real Qtiiz Kkl Stuff | The other day. Lucy showed me a rough copy of ’a composition she had written for her “modern French” class. Thu teacher bad* given the children a dtall theme; deliberately, to test their imagination in: developing it. The subject was: Thought flowers ; today. And! the teacher said: describe the flowers accurately hut interestingly and then draw a moral liesson from the purchase ; Although. I am a profes.sional. writer and broadcaster; I was staggered by .the challenge of this difficult assignment. Lucy was not troubled at all, for she was born in Paris and has had five years of French, schooling. Her composition, I thought, was brilliant. She described the flowers, with the accuracy of a botanist and the vividness of an impressionist painter. As • for the “moral, lesson,” this is what she invented* she said; she watched a young man buying a* bouquet of violets, for his sweetheart and an old lady buying chrysanthemums, for a funeral. “Viola,” said’ Lucy, “the drama uf life and' death in a simple flowershop”' I was overcome with father’s pride and a fueling, of awe, conyinced that I had sired a genius, a new Madame de Sael. Aa week later I asked Lucy what mark, the teacher had given her. oh her composition. “Pretty good. Dad*” she said, “I was fourth in the class with a grade of 85%.” “Eightyfive percent!” I exclaimed,, “why that’s absurd, it was a splendid composition’ When I was. a teacher, I would have given my students at least 95% for that,” Lucy smiled at me sadly and tenderly, rather touched by my concern and a bit embarrassed by my obvious ignorance. “You must understand, Dad, that 85% is an excellent mark. It is almost the highest grade the teacher gives. Even if there are no mistakes at all the maximum mark is 90%.” E asked her why a perfect paper did not get 1011% and she said, with a Gallic shrug : “How can a child write a perfect paper! After all. Dad, I am not Guy de Maupassant. Please do be reasonable.” What can an American father do against odds like that? My wife and I go through elaborate plots to find a Way to get our daughter some free playtime. She fights us off as well as she can, defending her school, in. arguments with us, and saying that she simply has to study and does not have time to do . all the silly things we. keep proposing. She does have very little spare time for play. • Mondays, after the supervised-study, she goes to the ballet school which she loves, where she has been dancing since the age of. 5. Tuesdays she tries to catch up on the work she missed' by dancing on Monday. Wednesday she works extra hard, so that she can enjoy some free time on Thursday, which is a school holiday in France, instead of Saturdays as in America: This , enjoyable Thursday hegins with a visit to the dentist to check on her hraces. Then, a gynr class foe corrective body exercises. After lunch she is really free to do as she pleases. Lucy’s, favorite sport is ice-skating and we take her ta an outdoor rink, when there is ice, which is not often in. Paris. The. indoor rinks, or the arti¬ ficial-ice rinks, are always very crowded and there is na room for figure-skating or for young children who usually get. knocked down by the speed' demons. If the weather is had. there is always the circus or a movie -or the ballet. Once a month the children have a party, called a “gouter,” a kind of ice-creamand-cake orgy, featuring a game of Hide-and-seek, in the course of which one or two children seem to get permanently last, or lose interest and go home to work out some jolly geometry problem, just for laughs. . ! _ No Juvenile Delinquency _ [• Saturday, is a. schoolday, so there is no weekend, even, for parents who can get away for weekends, which is rarely the case for newsmen;. Sunday is the one truly free day of the week, when children have no duties and are free to play together andbe"" children. However, Sunday is family day and parents, want to have their children with them, so¬ il is not possible, for a group of youngsters to get together on their own. The result is a very tightlyknit family group but very little juvenile life inFrance. There is little juvenile delinquency in France. There is no time for it The trouble in France is rather one of senile delinquency. The problem here seems to be exactly the opposite of the youth problem or educational problem back home. Perhaps this is, why the French produce so many, magnificent but individual works of art, with , so little or community spirit They are so brilliantly, intensively educated for individual achievement that they have never, had time to learn to work together as a cooperating community of citizens. On the other hand, perhaps we Americans have tended to over-emphasize the community and under-educate the individual. Perhaps a middle-way is possible with the French and Americans learning from each other. Surely a civic sense is vilal to the efficient functioning of society. Just as surely individual achievement and* individual differences are a trade¬ mark of democracy. Only a slave-state is uniform. Freedom depends upon variety. i i ■■■■■! can; expect for their advertising dollar. It is the responsibility of. the FM industry to supply these fig¬ ures. As a> positive step in. that direction,, an audience proving: effort was recently concluded,, with great success, by WNCN in New York. City. For one week, (Nav. 18-Dec. 5) at periodic intervals throughout its schedule, the star tion.ran a 3Q*secon& spot in which it stressed, the: need for measuring, audience and! urged listeners; ta write in their comments on the station. There was no accompany¬ ing offer. , Mail! returns, for, the week — a. whopping 5,000 letters and cards!’ Replies, came from, hoth urban and’ rural, areas within n 75-mile radius and covered* every walk of life.. Here for. the first time, is con¬ clusive evidence of a large, listenmg* audience to a station, wha broadcasts FM only. SCHLIIZ SHIFTS K.C. ATHLETICS TO WDAF Kansas City. Play-by-play airing of the Kan¬ sas City Athletics will1 ue shifted to WDAF, National Theatres out¬ let here, it was announced last week by the Sehlitz Brewing Co. Broadcasts have beep on KMBC since the A’s advent" here hereto¬ fore. Behind the move is an effort by Sehlitz to revamp its broadcasting policies, going in for broad cover¬ age stations. WDAF will be the outlet here,, but will also originate to the area network. This also is :faeing revised,, and probably, will be ^carried by fewer but more power¬ ful’ stations for the 1959: season. .The' net lias had up to 50 stations in the past. Growth of major syndicators has made present N.Y. offices bulge and a number of the bigger telefilmer*ies are on the prowl for new quar¬ ters. Independent Television Corp. plans to leave its present Madison Ave. address for headquarters in the new Tishman building. CBS Films also is overcrowded (there isn’t a large exec office for new administrative v.p. Sam Digges on the floor) and comes April when its lease is up at its present MadiJson Ave. address, it may he mov¬ ing time. Also looking around., for new 'quarters is United Artists Asso;ciates, nee Associated Artists Pro¬ ductions. Its building on Madison ’Ave. has been bought by a charity group. i MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING — By ROBERT SAUDEK— ( Producer of 4 Omnibus' ) A bunch of the boys were begin¬ ning to wake up along about half;pastr eleven, like always, reaching, for a cigaret, reaching for the pa‘per, reaching for the phone. They 'all1 lived by pretty much the same rules: late to bed, late to rise, makes a man very, very nervous. Anyhow, somebody has to get on the talking machine first so Johann takes the plunge, stretching his pongee kimona-type sleeve towards the telephone beside his bed and dialing. “Hello, Will?” “Who’s calling?” “Johann. Is he up yet?” “Twa moments I’ll put him on.” "Johann? Y’hear from the Mor¬ ris office yet?” “That’s what I called about* I think it’s cooling off. It’s getting that creep ‘ look. Not that the Morris people think so. They want . to hold to their first figure and trade out the other points. Natch. 10% of the other points won’t bite into their dough. It’ll just bite into my score.” “Did you show them your no¬ tices?” “Notices Schmotices. The mar¬ keting manager told them look at my Nielsen. Says your average Western could get that many peo¬ ple without any dialog. Plus the fact I’m Number Nothing on the Hit Parade.” “Wha’d. they Co of yours, Johann?” “My Fugue in G Minor bit — Bump-bumprdaddy-yurap and so forth. The dealers thought it. was square,” “Did they have any suggestions?” “Yeh, they suggested as far as they was concerned T could — Hold on a sec, my kimona is caught in the espresso machine. So whatta you hear about your play?” “They don’t like it. Oh, they like it, but. they got scared the , first eight acts were too long.” “First eight ac Is??” “Yeh; the. first Hour. They gpt three sponsors so far ar.d five more are expected before air. Plus the fact they gotta take a station* break because the local outlets sell their identification telops to two different outfits; plus the fact there’s local commercial position¬ ing before and after the telops. So, eight acts. And the fifth, act has to break nine minutes after the hour so’s the audience doesn’t start dialing around*, at the hour, hut. it has to be separated by four minutes on both sides from the nearest commercials so they don’t drive everybody straight to Tuneoutville.” “Then wha’ja say they don’t, like it for?" “Well, Johann, I tell you. You got a marketing manager. I got a script supervisor says you can’t say certain things. There’s this speech I wrote. Not the greatest scene of all television, but at least it’s a, budget scene — one ac¬ tor. Anyway, this sick-sick Dane gets thinking to himself about suicide as the b^st way out for his particular prouem. He doesn’t ever try it, mind you, but to him it just seems like a good idea at the time. Now, your average sta¬ tion manager says that your aver* age viewer don’t think taking the back door out should be portrayed as a satisfactory solution* to your average dilemma.”. “Yeh, so what?” “So this particular budget-type speech I wrote has got to go. At least, the whole second half of it does. Plus the fact they thought it was getting pretty wordy.” “Wha’d it say?” “Well, this ain’t copy, you un¬ derstand. I guess 1 got carried away, but the part they’re squawk¬ ing about ran — (and don’t get me wrong, 1 know they’ve got prob ems too. ) Anyway, says, ‘For who would bear the whips and scorns of time./The oppressor’s* wrong, the proud man’s con¬ tumely — ’/and some other jazz like that, and then it goes into, ‘When, he himself might his quietus make/With a bare bodkin?’ ” “The story of my life. I like it. So what’s so bad?” “Means he could skip all hit prob’ems by taking a carving knife to himself. They said that’s out. Too nervous.” “Yeh? Well, be flexible. So what else is new, Will?”