What's on the air (Nov 1929-Feb 1931)

Page 4 WHAT'S ON THE AIR Maybe, though, wearing these get-ups puts them in the right mood for their programs. Artists are temperamental, you know. Still, that's just a guess. Anyway, the reason can't be because people can see them. Television hasn't turned the corner it's been just around all these years. Nobody except the control operators and a few visitors peeping through the studio windows could tell what kind of clothes they're wearing. So why do they do it? Yes, and speaking of orchestras, how can they march in and out of studios and keep on playing? You've heard them do it every now and then. But how? That's what I want to know. Of course it's no trick at all for the fellows with trumpets and clarinets and even violins. They can march and play at the same time easy enough. But how can anybody march while he's playing a 'cello or bass viol or piano? There's the real mystery of the thing. Another thing: Why do sports announcers always have to eat lunch just at the most exciting part of a game? I've got a pretty healthy appetite myself, and I can generally struggle along for two or three hours without emergency rations. But as sure as a hot spot turns up about the fifth or sixth inning in baseball, or the third quarter in football, some of these big-shot announcers are all tied up with a hot dog. And of course they can't tell you what's happened till they've cleaned up their mess-kits. Sometimes I just wonder if they aren't putting in a sly plug for the hot-dog manufacturers, though they don't mention the breed of the perspiring puppies. Or maybe they're advertising how hungry the climate makes people. You know — Chamber of Commerce stuff. Then there's the puzzle of why so many stations decide to broadcast the same piece the same night. I don't mean just dance stuff, either. You can figure that out part of the way. Every bunch of fire-eaters on the air is trying to get the latest hot tune first, of course, though when you're trying to escape it you wonder why all of them have to play it at once. But the heavier stuff is just as bad. For instance, there's that song about "pale hands I love," which must have been written before the sun-tan epidemic struck. Maybe you haven't heard it for two or three weeks. But if you happen to pick it up some evening, it's a hundred to one you'll hear it anyhow four or five more times before the night's over. I want to know whether that's thought-waves or if the stations have union rules about such things, or just what is the answer. So far, it's all plenty of a mystery. Next, I crave to know why some people like the programs they do. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying they shouldn't like whatever they want to. This is a free country — in some ways. I'm just curious, that's all. Oh, yes, they say there's no accounting for tastes. But that's no answer. There's too many cases where they haven't any taste. For instance, I even know people that like — well, maybe I'd better not say what. I might be stepping on your own corns. Call in the psychological detectives. They seem to be the only hope. And speaking of programs, who told the stations that broadcasting a tap dance is entertainment? Here's another high-power mystery for somebody to solve. As far as the great, invisible audience is concerned, there's enough static most nights and enough riveting-hammer serenades most days without putting on more noise through a loud-speaker. But a lot of the broadcasters seem to think feet thumping on a floor is something to write home about. The needle, Watson! Then there's the puzzle of why atmospheric conditions are always rotten whenever you want to show off your set. Did you ever know it to fail? You've had KFI or KNX every night for two weeks straight, loud enough to let the neighbors hear. You've mentioned the matter — modestly, of course — to a few friends, and they've hinted, as even the best of friends will, that hearing is believing. So you bring them in to show them just what the old set'll do. And you're lucky to get as far west as Chicago. But I still haven't mentioned the granddaddy of all these radio mysteries: who this man Request is that writes so much of the music they broadcast. Not a night goes by without our hearing anyway three or four pieces they say are by Request. I wish somebody'd print his picture and tell us all about him. A lot of his pieces are mighty good. MYSTERY OF THE MARCHING ORCHESTRA