Ted Mangner, 38-year-old assistant professor radio extension in the College of Agriculture at the University of Illinois, has been appointed director of farm programs of KMOX, replacing Charles Stookey.
Mangner had written and broadcast 2,275 consecutive farm programs on the University of Illinois station WILL. He also has syndicated a farm column which was used by 38 radio stations.
(From the St. Louis Advertising Club Weekly 9/11/1944).
A new radio broadcasting station with headquarters in the Hotel Chase took the air recently over a wave length of 239.9 meters. The station, organized under the laws of Missouri, is being operated by the Greater St. Louis Broadcasting Corporation, which has acquired the good will, assets, apparatus, call letters and wave length of station KFVE.
The new corporation is headed by Thomas P. Convey, president; David W. Hill, vice-president of the International Life Insurance Company, holds similar office in the new body, and George T. Thompson, vice-president of the Hotel Chase, is secretary.
One wing of the ninth floor has been reconstructed and converted into a transmitting studio, offices and reception room.
The station is not operated on the unit basis, Convey states, but toll rights are being allotted to individual concerns and organizations on a contract basis. Only professional talent is to be used, quality rather than quantity being the policy of the station. In order to insure good programs, all contracts provide that a stipulated budget must be set aside by the contracting companies for talent.
“In organizing this station, we proceeded on the theory that rather than ask for a new wave length and further congest the air, we would take an existing wave length and utilize it,” Convey said. “As our corporation name implies, we intend to use the station to further any plan looking to a better and greater St. Louis. In this connection we have invited the Chamber of Commerce, Convention and Publicity Bureau, Better Business Bureau, the Advertising Club, the American Retailers’ Association, Salesmanagers’ Bureau and other civic bodies to join.”
“It is our aim to give a short program each evening.”
The Chamber of Commerce has appointed a committee composed of W. Palmer Clarkson, Charles A Pearson and J. Will Finlay, to inquire into the feasibility of broadcasting programs over the new station.
Convey, who came to St. Louis in January, 1925, has been intimately identified with radio for a long time. He organized and developed the St. Louis Radio Trades Association, the Southwest National Radio Show and Station KMOX. He had a leading part in the Hoover radio conference in Washington in October, 1925, and served on a special publicity committee of three. During the latter part of last year he was identified with the Chamber of Commerce on special work.
The new station will be flexible and capable of operating on from 500 to 2,500 watts, but it is the intention to increase this by fall to 5,000 watts.
(Originally published in Greater St. Louis April, 1927).
Sterling Harkins, announcer and soloist at KWK, never sings alone!
His three-and-a-half-year-old daughter knows every program that he has on the air and plants her small self by the radio when it is time for them so she can sing with him, putting in variations all her own. Bettie Ann knows the words for all the currently popular melodies and shows promise of being a singer too.
Sterling Harkins came to KWK last July after successes as a singer at WODX in Mobile, Alabama. His family lives here and he listened to their pleas to hear him sing over the radio here. His guest performance received so much comment that before he left the studio, he was signed up as a staff artist.
A gift of being able to project his brown-eyed and sympathetic personality into his tenor voice is probably the greatest secret of the following he has amassed during his radio career both down south and here. His real career started when he was scarcely older than his daughter when he was a church soloist but he abandoned singing after graduating from the University of Missouri and went into business. The habit of being able to express himself in song was greater than the call of business triumphs and thus we have “Sterling Harkins announcing” and “Program by Sterling Harkins, tenor,” coming out of the air through a twist of the dial.
(Originally published in Radio and Entertainment 6/18/1932.)
She was on her way to a job interview in Kansas City, but she never got past St. Louis. Anne Keefe got an early morning phone call from Robert Hyland, who convinced her it would be worth her while to put down roots here and work at KMOX.
During her stopover here, some of Keefe’s acquaintances let Hyland know of her extensive broadcast background, and he phoned her at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday.
“I got to the phone and he said, ‘This is Robert Hyland.’ Now I had no idea who Bob Hyland was. I’d been working in television in upstate New York for 20 years!”
He said, ‘I hear you’re a top-notch news broadcaster and I’m interested in hiring you.’ And I told him I wasn’t so sure he could afford me because radio people were paid a lot less than those of us in television. And he said, ‘I can afford anything I want.’”
Hyland had already dispatched a car to pick her up and soon Anne Keefe was sitting in the corner office at 1 Memorial Drive. After a brief conversation he asked her if she’d go on the air that night. That was in 1976. Seventeen years later Keefe retired from broadcasting, having attained renown as the woman in the KMOX lineup.
In 1976, broadcast operations were not enlightened in terms of gender equality, and Anne Keefe had just settled into a den of testosterone. Why? “Well, I was 50 years old. I was not a kid. If I’d been 25 I couldn’t have survived. The male talent were absolutely cold. Thank God for the engineers. They got me through it.”
KMOX wasn’t her first foray into radio. She’d been in that end of the broadcast business in 1946. “I got a job at WHAM while I was in college in Rochester [N.Y.]. It was a 50,000 watt station and they had ‘old time radio.’ They had copy writers, continuity writers, a full, 17-piece orchestra. Nothing was said on the air that hadn’t been written in advance. There was no ad-libbing. I learned the news business from the former newspaper guys who were working in our newsroom.
“I worked on the station’s dramas. They paid me $7.00 a show. I was a great screamer. Audiences would come to watch the production.”
In 1950, Anne Keefe moved into television, hosting “Anne’s Attic,” “Romper Room,” even a cooking show. Later, at age 50 and looking for work, Keefe didn’t immediately accept the offer to join the KMOX staff. She consulted with a friend in the St. Louis broadcast industry who warned her that Hyland was known as a man who would hire someone, but, tiring of that person quickly, would then find a reason to fire him or her.
She had two kids in college and one in high school, and as a single mother, she couldn’t afford to make such a risky move. Before saying “yes” to Robert Hyland, she was able to secure the offer of a backup job at a local tv station if things didn’t work out at KMOX, an arrangement she kept secret from Hyland. But things did work out at KMOX.
“Hyland was a star maker, and he never interfered with the content of my shows or my approach.
“When I first came here, I think I was too abrasive. The style back East was to hold people to account. That didn’t work here. It was too aggressive. My mother advised me on how to soften the approach by coming in the back door rather than using direct confrontation.”
In retrospect, the job she thought long and hard about taking turned out to be the best professional move she’d ever made. “I could call anybody in the world for my show. I could call the Soviet Union. I interviewed the greatest writers. It was an ideal job and the young people who worked with me were so wonderful. I can’t imagine anyone having a job like that today, and I got paid for it!”
(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 9/06)
When she began her radio career in 1939, she was known as Jane Foster. That was on WTMV, the progressive little AM station in East St. Louis. By the time she left the broadcasting and free-lance business a couple decades later, Kay Morton was a local celebrity. Now, as Ruth May Markus, she’s enjoying retirement in the Metro East. When she reminisces about her broadcasting career, she has no trouble holding the attention of her audience.
She joined the WTMV staff immediately after graduating from Washington University. There was no pay, just 25 cents a day to cover her bridge fare from St. Louis to East St. Louis. The studios were in the Broadview Hotel, and the town was bustling. She was given her own program, a half-hour women’s show five days a week. Of course, she had to line up her own guests and write her own scripts. When she began selling commercials she was able to generate some income.
“I used to go out to the airport at 2:00 in the morning (Thank goodness I had tolerant parents.), meet people, chat with them, bring them back. We didn’t have limos in those days. You picked them up and fetched people, doing it all yourself.”
When she moved to WIL in the early 1940s, Markus was given the name Kay Morton by program manager Dave Pasternak. Again, her job was to produce a daily program for women. Again, it was up to her to find guests whose subject matter would be appealing to her audience.“In October of 1941, I got to interview someone from the cultured pearl industry, and it turned out to be a very interesting Japanese gentleman. He found out I was going to be married the next month and he gave me a very beautiful string of pearls which I thoroughly enjoyed – wore on my wedding day walking down the aisle. Less than a month after that the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. On Dec. 10, I was visited by the FBI. My pearl expert was one of many Japanese who had gone to radio stations around the country whose towers were on rooftops, and they turned that information over to their government. I still have the pearls.”
In 1943 Kay Morton moved from WIL’s Melbourne Hotel studios to the Star-Times Building in downtown St. Louis, the home of KXOK’s studios. “I worked with Harry Caray there for awhile. He and I did a thing about Hollywood and we’d get to giggling so much that they eventually had to reassign us. We had a 10-piece orchestra in the studios at KXOK; Ralph Sutton was a member, Bobby Swain who was a symphony violinist, Orville and William Klein.”
In those days there were engineers who did all the technical work in radio, and the announcers and talent worked out of a separate room. Engineers were also needed every time the station did a remote broadcast. “One of them, Ed Henry – I had to do an interview in a lion’s cage with Clyde Beatty. Of course, I was holding a little lion, and poor old Ed Henry just stayed outside and handed me the microphone through the bars. He refused to come inside.”
Ruth May Markus has lots of memories. During her work in radio she had the presence of mind to keep an autograph book for all of her guests to sign, and a glance through the yellowed pages yields some familiar names: Fannie Hurst, Sonja Henie, Duncan Hines, Karl Wallenda, Clyde Beatty, Claude Pepper, Cesar Romero and Edith Head.
“I was making $25 a week at WIL and KXOK, but I don’t know of anything I would rather have done in life. My being a woman made no difference one way or the other. I think the men I interviewed were a little nicer and maybe even a bit surprised that I knew what was going on.”
(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 3/1999)
Jesse “Spider” Burks was given his unique nickname by Nat “King” Cole because of his agility on the college basketball court. But when it came to his performance on the radio, his focus was straight ahead toward jazz, and that focus led to some serious confrontations with station owners and managers.
From 1947 to 1956, Spider held court on KXLW, but it wasn’t easy getting his foot in the door there. His widow, Leah Sue Burks, remembers the story of a Mr. Benton who owned a record shop on Easton Avenue. He had purchased time on KXLW and he wanted Spider to be the announcer during his half-hour show. Station owner Guy Runnion was always looking for ways to create advertising income, so he agreed. Mr. Benton’s shop saw an increase in business, and Runnion hired Burks as a disc jockey and expanded his time on the air. Burks would sell advertising to supplement his relatively meager wages.
A KXLW promotional article in a local newspaper in 1949 noted, “Spider Burks, the first* Negro discer (sic) in the St. Louis area, is a Be-bop enthusiast, even to wearing a Be-bop cap.” And a funny thing was happening to “race Radio” in St. Louis. White teenagers were tuning in.
Tony Cabanellas of St. Louis was “just a kid” back then, but he was a regular listener. He even has a clipping about Spider Burks from the St. Louis Globe-Democrat July 1, 1951, headlined “Disc Jockey is Proof A Negro Can Go Places in Radio Here.” It boasts the fact that Burks was pulling down $20,000 a year at KXLW, which would have come as no surprise to record companies. They knew that any record played on his programs would jump off the shelves of local record stores.Talk to some of these listeners today, and they’ll tell you of their fond memories of hearing Spider on the radio. His afternoon shows on KXLW were called “After School Swing Session,” “The House of Joy” and “Down in the Alley Behind My House.” You could tune to KXLW in 1955 and hear him kick off his broadcast with “Good afternoon, someone. This is your boy Spider Burks climbing into your loud speakers for another afternoon to dust the grooves and change the needle on another “House of Joy show.”
But Leah Sue Burks says it wasn’t easy. There was pressure from the station’s new owners to play some of the new music, called rhythm & blues. Things came to a head, and in 1956, Spider Burks took his jazz and bop show to KSTL. During his career, which also included on-air work at KATZ and KADI-FM, Spider did hundreds of live remotes from jazz clubs in the region.
A former business partner, Jorge Martinez, said Burks knew how to work a crowd, “He had a great radio voice and always handled himself well on the air.”
When Spider was doing a remote, you never knew what kind of audience would show up. There are literally hundreds of people around today who would sneak into the jazz clubs as underage fans to hear the likes of Getz, Bird, Chet Baker and others. And if they couldn’t get past the bouncer, they’d stay outside to listen.
Virgil Matheus, who grew up in St. Louis, said Burks “educated you. He was big on modern jazz and he explained it to the listeners. I was 14. I’d come home from school and turn on the radio and it just blew me away. It was Bop.”
From his wife’s perspective, Spider Burks’ career was a team effort. Although she wasn’t always directly involved in his work, Leah Sue Burks says “If I said I wanted to come to the station, he’d let me. I put shows together for him, typing up the song sheets. For the remote broadcasts I’d do the pre-interviews.”
Spider Burks owned interest in several clubs over his career and he was known to drive around in his big, pink Cadillac. He owned a horse farm and was dedicated to playing and promoting jazz. When that was no longer profitable to radio stations, Burks left the business and began working with inmates to ease their transition from jail into the community. Spider Burks died in September of 1974. The East St. Louis Monitor, in Burks’ obituary, called him one of the area’s sharpest dressers.
*Recent research indicates that Wiley Price, Jr. is St. Louis’ first Black DJ.