Radio Articles

It’s seldom that an amateur who turns to the professional ranks succeeds on the first attempt—unless the amateur is as gifted as Mary Lee Taylor.

In 1933 a young St. Louis housewife named Mrs. Susan Cost, noted for her original recipes, started broadcasting her own tempting table treats. Other housewives who followed her recipes acclaimed her instant success and the Mary Lee Taylor show has been on the air ever since.

But Mary Lee Taylor’s work does not stop with her recipes for better meals. Equally important is her “recipe for happiness,” designed to aid young couples in understanding the problems of married life. Based on her own experiences of a happy marriage, which, nonetheless, had its problems, she tries to aid married young people to face the trials which arise in every marriage.

A dramatization each week of the lives of a young, typical American married couple, Jim and Sally Carter, helps to illustrate her philosophy and make her advice more real to the young people who need it.

Off the air, as Mrs. Susan Cost, she is a patron of the St. Louis Symphony and of the Little Theater in that city – a group which offers help to aspiring actors. Her main hobby, aside from her recipes, is collecting tea cups. She already has several hundred cups, many of them museum pieces.

(Originally published in Radio Television Mirror, June 1951).

Have you ever wondered as to the personality of WCK, when her voice, smooth and velvety as honey, comes “out of nowhere into the here” of your living room, club room or office, or wherever your radio set may be?

The radio station, WCK, Stix Baer & Fuller of St. Louis, is ever a popular one in Divernon (Illinois) and last Tuesday through the courtesy of Alva B. Jefferis, the editor had the privilege of visiting Station WCK while broadcasting was in progress at the noon hour, and meeting Miss Hatfield, the announcer, whose calm pleasant tones are identified by thousands of invisible listeners as “WCK.”

She’s just a slip of a girl, with an unconscious poise which makes her a perfect mistress of the broadcasting studio of Stix Baer & Fuller.

Opening the glass doors and pushing aside the heavy blue rep curtains with which the studio is enclosed, and rendered more sound proof, Miss Hatfield divested herself of coat and hat, greeted the performers who were to give the noon program, and conferred tactfully with would-be radio artists. Also some shoppers who had wandered into the studio, were gently escorted into the corridor and the glass doors closed upon them. Then the brief “If you are ready?” to Mr. Jefferis who was to open the program with a group of saxophone melodies, Miss Hatfield touched a button which connected that blue draped studio with the universe, struck a gong, approached the microphone, and with a pleasant “Hello folks” to the world in general  the broadcasting of the noon program was on.

Except for the little microphone on its pedestal, there was nothing to betray the onlooker that Mr. Jefferis was playing to the world at large. The studio, aside from its drapings from ceiling to floor with blue rep, contained a grand piano, a few comfortable chairs, and a small table for Miss Hatfield’s convenience. The microphone which looked for all the world like a seven-inch motometer standing on a pedestal, was about six feet from the musicians, and Miss Hatfield approached it not too intimately when speaking in a normal tone of voice. While giving the stock markets and the news of the day, Miss Hatfield was seated. For the announcement of the musical numbers, she sauntered over and simply leaned toward the instrument for the few sentences she wished to say.
From the broadcasting studio on the fourth floor, the program is telephoned to the transmitting set on the twelfth floor, from which point it goes out to the world in general. Our party was guided to the twelfth floor, and there crowded into a corner by various tanks, levers  and machinery pertaining to the elevator system, was the wonderful instrument which connects you and me with all the desirable things which Stix Baer and Fuller see fit to broadcast every day. I wish I could describe it to you, but I can’t. One doesn’t try to explain a miracle. But I can tell the feminine readers just what Miss Hatfield wore! She had on a long-sleeved dress of black velvet with a “fence-row” band of dull black on the slightly full skirt, a string of pearls around her neck and a bar pin at the throat. She wore beige hose with suede shoes of a darker shade, with buttoned straps and military heels, and her hair was bobbed – rather long, and marcelled.

Broadcasting is an old story to Mr. Jefferis. He and his pianist mulled over a pile of music on the piano, choosing this, rejecting that, and finally pulled out something they had never seen, and opened the program with that.

Mr. Jefferis signed a contract that day to play from WCK from 3 to 9 o’clock on Monday evenings, from March 3 to May 1. The performance will be broadcasted as a Freed Elsemann program, yet Mr. Jefferis, with (garbled) members of his orchestra whom he may select, will direct the music.

(Originally published in the Divernon (Illinois) News  2/27/1925)

It’s hard to imagine now, but there was a time when KMOX was forced to relocate in temporary studios after the station’s landlord, the Federal government, forced them out of their large, well-appointed quarters.

In 1956, Mart Building owner the U.S. Government, told KMOX management that they had to vacate because the U.S. Army Support Center needed more space. CBS owned KMOX, and what happened next (which is reconstructed here from memoranda) was based in part on the plans CBS had to acquire a television station in St. Louis. KMOX found a vacant building at 9th and Sidney in Soulard, just south of downtown St. Louis that had originally been built in 1904 as the Anthony & Kuhn’s Brewery. A floor plan was sketched out by engineer Harry Harvey that had KMOX radio and television working side-by-side. The move was made in March of 1957.

Ollie Raymand was a popular KMOX radio personality from 1950 – 1960. As he remembers it, everyone on the staff knew the Soulard location was temporary, but that was never mentioned in press releases. The old brewery was owned by Bank Building Company, and Raymand says CBS became a tenant in Soulard until design and construction of brand new studios could be completed. Bank Building was a shared tenant at Soulard. That company’s woodworking shop, with its noisy power equipment, wasn’t exactly the kind of neighbor a radio station would want.

The network’s plans to acquire the Channel 11 frequency in St. Louis fell through and they ended up buying KWK-TV, which already had its own studio. This meant CBS wouldn’t need a building to house radio and television here, and they began planning and construction of a new building with about 15,000 square feet on Hampton Avenue. Until that was finished, KMOX remained in the old, cavernous brick building in Soulard. “The building was ‘Scrubby Dutch’ brick,” says Raymand. “The entrance opened into what would have been the basement level. Then you’d walk up a few steps to the studios and offices. We had a fairly large studio – one that would accommodate the 26-piece studio orchestra that would do feeds to the network.”

Engineer Clarence Nieder says that big studio “was kind of sunken,” and orchestra members were select members of the St. Louis Symphony. Chorus members came from the Municipal Opera, and the lavish musical productions were summer staples heard nationwide on CBS. There was also a large parking lot, which meant staffers no longer had to pay to park, as they had downtown. Nieder says employees entered the building from the rear. There was no staff lounge as there had been in the Mart Building, but Ollie Raymand says the bar just up the street sold shots of red-eye for a quarter. That, combined with the strong scent of hops from the Anheuser-Busch complex a couple blocks south helped make the two years in Soulard memorable for KMOX staffers.

There were still turntable operators at KMOX in the late ‘50s, but tape cartridges for pre-recorded commercials hadn’t surfaced yet, so all pre-recorded commercials were on discs, keeping those turntable guys very busy. Nieder says there were only two turntables in the master control room.

Station manager Robert Hyland had negotiated the play-by-play broadcast rights for the Cardinals, whose games usually pre-empted the afternoon soap operas. The soaps were transcribed on large discs by engineers and played back at night. Almost all of the office furnishings and technical equipment in the Soulard studios had been moved from the Mart Building and should have been replaced.

Even though the new Hampton Avenue facility was significantly smaller than their previous digs, the KMOX employees were said to be extremely happy to leave Soulard after two years and move to a place where everything, including the equipment and furnishings, was brand new.

(Reprinted with permission of the St.Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 02/04. )

It is eight o’clock p.m. on the evening of March 9th, 1922. In a room in the Post-Dispatch Building, a group of artists are patiently waiting. In another room close by, the engineer is making final adjustments to the 20-watt Composite Transmitter. With the adjustments completed, the ready signal is given!

A newspaper woman steps up to the microphone— (V.A.L. Jones – pictured)

“This is Station KSD, the Saint Louis Post-Dispatch. We are about to present our first musical program for your enjoyment.”

KSD IS ON THE AIR!

Out in the city a mere handful of listeners sat with their headphones clamped to their ears, nervously adjusting the cat whisker of their crystal sets for a more sensitive spot on the crystal – such was the atmosphere of the time when KSD was launched upon its career. The listener response to KSD programs was instantaneous and gratifying.

On March 21st, 1922, Station KSD inaugurated a regular schedule of Market and News broadcasts in addition to its entertainment service.

It soon became apparent to the Officials of the Post-Dispatch that Radio presented an opportunity for the newspaper, through its Radio Station, to give its readers an additional public service, such as was presented by no other local newspaper. To accomplish this, plans were made for the erection of a more powerful radio transmitter, incorporating all the refinements then known to effect good quality transmission of speech and music.

On the evening of June 26th, 1922, with appropriate musical setting, and addresses by the radio editor, Mayor Kiel and F.W.A Vesper, KSD’s Modern 500 Watt Western Electric Transmitter was dedicated. With this new transmitter, KSD soon became a national by-word.

KSD decided early in 1926 to enlarge its schedule of Network programs as it was felt that this type of service offered greater opportunities to secure programs of the highest type.

The popularity of KSD in this territory bears out the fact that the radio audience is not satisfied with any talent but the best.
With a record as a broadcasting pioneer that in many respects is outstanding in the Middle West, KSD recently commenced its twelfth year, having presented over 26,000 hours of programs since its inception.

The record of KSD during the past eleven years in broadcasting virtually every event that has interested the entire country, is truly an enviable one.

(Originally published in the Radio and Entertainment Annual Personality Book, 1933)

Among the various mission activities of the Lutheran Church, Radio Station KFUO has a prominent place. KFUO broadcasts the precious gospel of Jesus Christ, bringing the glad tidings of salvation to places inaccessible to our missionaries, to people not affiliated with any church, to persons not familiar with the doctrines and principles of our church, as well as to the members of our own congregations, especially to those who cannot attend church on account of external circumstances, such as sickness, lack of means of transportation, and bad roads.

A few remarks concerning the history of Station KFUO, its work and success, will be of interest to everyone. On February 19th, 1922, under the guidance of Dr. R. Kretzschmar, enthusiastically supported by Dr. W.A. Maier, the first definite move towards the purchase, installation and maintenance of a radio station got under way. Space will not permit to give a detailed account of the various meetings, of the labor of the committees, of the installation of the initial radio apparatus, and subsequent larger development of the station, of the zeal and love of those interested and associated with the problem of bringing KFUO into existence. Among those who took an active part in the founding and development of KFUO, we must mention the Walther League, the Lutheran Layman’s League and the St. Louis Publicity Organization. The latter two still support KFUO with an annual subsidy.

In the course of years, thousands of individuals and many Lutheran congregations, organizations, and societies have contributed toward the maintenance of KFUO, the great missionary of the air.

Formal dedication of Station KFUO occurred on Sunday, December 24th, 1924, at the old Concordia Seminary on South Jefferson Avenue. With the completion of the new Seminary, west of Forest Park, a new and larger plant was erected and dedicated to the service of the Triune God on May 29th, 1927. Since that time the equipment of Station KFUO has been kept up to date and all of the apparatus required by the Federal Radio Commission has been installed from time to time, thus assuring the listeners 100 percent efficiency in the transmission of our programs.

When KFUO began to broadcast, only two programs per week came over the air. Later, however, more programs were added. At the present time KFUO may be heard several times a day. Most of the broadcasting is done in the English language. Programs in German, Slovak, Polish, Norwegian and Spanish language are also given. This is done in compliance with the great commission which Christ gave to the Church, “To Preach the Gospel to Every Creature.”

KFUO is heard in homes, in barber shops, at filling stations and garages, also on the highways by persons who have radios installed in their automobiles. Its broadcasts come to the shut-ins, to the bedside of the sick, to the mansions of the rich, and to the humble living room of the poor. It is heard early in the morning and at midnight. Those who tune in on KFUO may begin their daily task with the morning devotion, and close it with the midnight meditation on certain evenings of the week. Truly its work is to bring the Word of God into the lives of the people. Through the broadcasts of KFUO, the world is daily informed about the way to salvation. Every day of the week our Station answers the question of perplexed and troubled sinners who ask, “What must I do to be saved?” What then is the work of KFUO? We reply, to proclaim the Word of God in truth and purity, to lead sinners to repentance, to direct their hearts and minds in true faith to the crucified and resurrected Lord Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of their sins.

Frequently listeners ask: How do you maintain your Station? Do you not broadcast any commercial programs? The answer is, no business man or commercial firm could buy one minute of our time for advertising purposes. Our Station is altogether dependent on the free-will gifts from Lutheran organizations and congregations, and from the vast host of listeners-in. God blesses our work through the willing hearts and hands of people.

For religious, educational, cultural and up-lifting programs – tune in on Station KFUO.

(Originally published in RAE Annual Radio Personality Book 1933.)

WIL Artists Enjoy Broadcasting in New, Well-Arranged Studio in Star Building But Miss Applause

To the thousands of listeners-in who, last night and Saturday, heard the two opening programs of station WIL, operated by the St. Louis Star and the Benson Company, the inside story of broadcasting should prove interesting.

While the radio fan is glancing at his clock, as the hands near 10 p.m., all is activity at the studio in The Star Building, a pretty gray room with softened walls and muting draperies. Within it voices sound echoless. There are stenciled decorations on the walls, a new grand piano in the center, overstuffed lounges, and on the wall over the microphone a gilded horseshoe.

Bud Fox, the studio pianist, throws down his cigarette and enters the room, glancing at the red light on the wall with its warning that absolute silence must be maintained.

Billy Knight, the Little Old Professor, flits from studio to reception room, where the evening’s entertainers leave their coats and clear their throats. One of the earlier arrivals asks that the horseshoe, sent by a fair admirer and which hangs on the wall for luck be turned prongs up according to tradition, and Billy fixes that, with many other things.

Operator’s Room
Two stories higher sits “Dink” Garrison, the operator, in a little room reminiscent of the radio operator’s quarters aboard ship. Around him are switchboards, receiving sets, batteries and telephones. A direct line connected him with the studio below, and with a telephone circuit operator stationed at the Arcadia Ballroom, where two orchestras are already playing.

It is ten, lacking a minute. The Professor has finished a telephone conversation with Dink. Bud Fox has smoothed out his long black hair, and Miss Toots Thurman, a good looking girl with auburn hair and a dress the color of burnt ochre, is standing before the microphone, the bronze ear of all those listeners out in the cold distant world.

“Now everybody quiet,” says the Professor. The piano starts, followed a few seconds later by the words of “Roses of Picardy.” Up in the operator’s room, the needles on the dials are swinging, measuring the voice modulations, and sending them on their far flung circuit.

Performers “Doll Up”
In the studio, the most striking thing is the interest of the performers in their appearance. No shirt sleeves here, but pearl necklaces, satin slippers, careful marcels. Each singer has his or her set habit. One digs the heel of her shoe into the thick carpet, another fingers his watch fob, while Bonita Frede, a child blues singer, is assured by her mother that it will be quite all right for her to bend her knee in time to the music and roll her eyes, too, if she wants to.

The microphone provides something to sing to, as it stands unemotionally on its glass stand, but there is nothing in particular to look at and the glance of the singers roves over the wall before them.

But even before the program began, the two telephones in the reception room started to ring, to continue during the whole evening. Some called to say “It’s coming in fine,” and turned away from the phone so that the voice of their loud speaker returned over the telephone wire to the place whence it started on the ether. There were telegrams, too, and requests for favorite numbers.

The majority called to comment on the remarkable clarity with which station WIL is heard on receiving sets. This clarity, according to WIL fans, is in marked contrast to the indistinct reception of some other stations on which they have been accustomed to tune in.

One thing is lacking, though, when midnight comes and signing off time. Half the fun in good singing or acting is the applause. All radio singers get is the silent approbation of the half a dozen persons in the studio, who smile and clap in pantomime at an extra good note.

(Originally published in the St. Louis Star Feb. 3, 1925.)