A mobile transmitter mounted on a light truck from which can be broadcast movement-by-movement events over short waves, was inaugurated by station WIL last week during the NRA parade here.
The device, which was introduced as one of the greatest surprises in radio for some time, attracted wide attention as an announcer told of the movements of the parade and gave glimpses from the sidelines to an audience who received the news by means of a rebroadcast through WIL’s regular transmitter atop the Melbourne Hotel.
The equipment, installed in a Ford V-8 panel truck, weighs only 150 pounds and is operated by storage batteries. A horizontal aerial strung across the top of the truck carries the ether impulse to the main transmitter.
The station, which was especially licensed, is the first short wave transmitter in St. Louis. The call letters KIFF have been assigned to the station.
“The short wave transmitter will enable us to do unusual things,” L.A. Benson, president of the Missouri Broadcasting Company, said. “We can cover practically any news or sports event movement by movement. We expect to place it in use whenever civic or emergency events occur.”
Each time the transmitter is placed in operation a permit must be obtained from the Federal Radio Commission, Mr. Benson said.
The station operates on 128 meters or 2342 kilocycles and requires a crew of three men when it is in operation – a chauffeur, an engineer and an announcer. Benson plans to use a corps of announcers in special events, each giving his own interpretation of what is going on.
There are only several of such short wave stations in operation and all are in the East, Benson stated.
(Originally published in Radio and Entertainment 8/27/1933)
Providing a balanced radio diet of chain and local programs with a dash of humor and seasoned thoroughly with sparkling personalities is the job of Miss Katheryne McIntire, program director at KMOX.
A constant quest for new and interesting entertainment to please a vast and fickle audience is the life that she pursues. She selects the cream of the chain offerings and intersperses it with equally brilliant local talent so that it makes a balanced program for each day of the radio week.
It is her aim (and listeners will agree that she succeeds) to have something of interest to each person throughout the eighteen hours of a day’s broadcasting. Pleasing the individual whims and fancies of every person is as difficult as it is fascinating, she says.
With a speculative finger upon the pulse of public sentiment, she not only is able to decide what the public wishes, but to create new ideas that will catch the fancy and divert, instruct and entertain. Besides this she finds time to have several programs of her own over the air each week. She spent the earliest years of her life in fitting herself as a concert violinist and a singer, so she says she doesn’t want those years to slip away from her while she mounts new heights of accomplishment.
Sometimes she goes into large apartment houses in the different sections of the city where she treads softly up and down the corridors in the evening when radios are turned on full blast. There she is likely to hear cross sections of radio preference. On occasion she will find that her programs predominate, and again, others, but she can tell what kind of entertainment people choose from such rich fields that these programs offer.
From opinions around the studio she is able to detect what is liked and considered clever (radio artists are just like other people, she assured us). She tries to mingle with others without their knowing that she is connected with radio work, and from them she gets some of the most helpful criticisms and suggestions as to what people in general like.
“Although I shouldn’t like to have this mentioned,” she said, “in my opinion, men are the most difficult to please over the radio. This is based upon two factors: that when men really know about some subject or are talented themselves, they are more exacting, and they always think that they know so much more than any artist or speaker that they want first to criticize before praising.”
The morning programs are stressed very hard, she says, for at that time women are alone and are receptive to advice and entertainment and instruction. Between 9:30 and 11:30 a.m., their spirits are often at a very low ebb and the radio offers inspiration and encouragement and by careful presentation of interesting features, a great good can be accomplished. Vivacious, witty and charming, Miss McIntire is interested in every phase of radio work, having been connected with KMOX in almost every capacity. She says that it is interesting to find out what appeals to persons and to be able to present it to them.
(Originally published in Radio and Entertainment 4/9/32).
When Chet Thomas came to St. Louis with his young wife, he wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision. Then their house was burglarized. They left within a year. It would be several years before he could be persuaded to return.
Chet Thomas
When he did, Thomas was given the task of turning KXOK into a profitable enterprise. The year was 1942, many men were going off to war, and business owners had to stretch their remaining employees. Chet Thomas was to be program director of KXOK Tuesday through Friday and then travel to Columbia, Mo., to spend Saturday through Monday overseeing the parent company’s station there, KFRU.
The pressure and stress proved too much. The medical diagnosis was rheumatic fever. A too short bed rest was agreed to and it was back to work. Chet Thomas had always known Elzey Roberts had high expectations. Roberts, the publisher of the St. Louis Star-Times, was his boss because the newspaper owned both of the radio stations.
Thomas was able to develop income and to hit budget, even during the war years. He was eventually made general manager of KXOK in 1942 and finally was relieved of his management responsibilities in Columbia in 1945.
In the late ‘40s, rumors began to swirl through the Star-Times Building. As Thomas wrote in his autobiography “Chet: Radio Pioneer,” “In early June of 1951, most of us knew that something momentous was about to happen…Late in the afternoon of June 14, 1951, Mr. Roberts’ secretary called and said Mr. Roberts wanted to see me…He had sold the Star-Times to the Post-Dispatch.”
But the radio stations were not part of the deal, and Thomas learned he was being made a vice president of the corporation, renamed the 800 North Twelfth Corporation, and appointed to serve on the board of directors.
And the changes continued. Elzey Roberts told of his plans to sell the station. The new owners were to be Roberts’ son, Elzey Jr., and Thomas. But there was a problem. Chet Thomas didn’t have enough money to buy his share. The senior Roberts reminded Thomas of some stock purchases he’d made as an employee over the years. Elzey Sr,. would buy the stock back so he could use the money for the purchase of the stations.
Thomas knew he still wouldn’t have enough money, so his boss made out a check for what was called “a substantial bonus,” and the deal was sealed. Next came an expansion of sorts and a move of the studios. Co-owner Elzey Jr., found a fixer-upper property in a residential neighborhood on North Kingshighway. An architect and contractor were hired, and Radio Park was born. When the work was finished, the station announced a Sunday open house for listeners. Twelve thousand people showed up.
Things went well for Roberts and Thomas. KXOK was financially successful, using many external promotions to create visibility in the community. But most of the advertising dollars were still going into newspapers, and television continued to expand in the St. Louis market. Elzey Roberts Jr., was getting antsy, and it was obvious his heart was not in the radio business. When he was approached by a potential buyer, he was anxious to talk.
The talks reportedly went well. By the time the sale of KXOK to Storz Radio was completed on December 14, 1960, the two men split the purchase price that ran into seven figures – not a bad payoff for a guy who, less than 10 years earlier, had not had enough money to purchase his share in KXOK.
(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 03/09).
I am a girl eighteen years old – a married man with two children – a taxpayer on Newstead – a widow with one child, and I would like to know when the sidewalk is going to be repaired in front of my house – if an Indian penny is worth a dollar – which is the richest Catholic church in St. Louis – if you know of anybody who would like an angora cat – if one can fish with a drop net in the Mississippi river – when are they going to pay the property owners for widening Fifteenth Street – can one get a marriage license in East St. Louis and be married in St. Louis. Please answer this during your program tonight as I will be listening. Thank you kindly, Most Anybody
WIL’s Mr. FixIt
Above is a composite letter of typical requests received any day by Ray C. Schroeder, known to the radio audience as “Mr. Fixit,” who broadcasts for fifteen minutes over WIL at 6:45 every evening except Sunday. Every mail delivery to this station brings stacks of letters to Mr. Fixit.
This program is correctly known as the Civic Service Program, was started by Mr. Schroeder in October 1930 as a period for the discussions of civic questions, instructions about the city government, and to provide a medium through which radio listeners could receive advice and information about public affairs. About such subjects the program continued until Christmas of that year.
Just before Christmas, Mr. Fixit during his usual discussion mentioned a family that needed clothing and food. No sooner was the broadcast finished than offers came by all methods of delivery, giving not only sufficient food and clothing for the family mentioned, but enough to insure many others a Merry Christmas. Telling of this instance in later programs opened the door for Mr. Fixit – that of public welfare, and since then this has constituted a major part of the program.
Builds A House Some of the services that have resulted from a request of Mr. Fixit have been little short of miracles. For instance, one letter he mentioned over the air was from a man in the country who, after starting to build a home, lost all his money. The foundation was built and the siding was on and as the weather was getting cold, to live in such a place was impossible. The day after this letter was read, five union plasterers offered their services to help the cause. So did plumbers, carpenters and even home furnishing stores, and soon not only was the cottage finished, but completely furnished.
Another request much more pathetic was [for] help to cover funeral expenses. Four leading undertakers offered their services and not only was the complete cost covered, but flowers were given, together with music for the service and automobiles to carry the family and their friends to the cemetery.
Many other examples of this Good Samaritan relief could be told. Each day brings many letters asking for employment and a countless number of jobs have been secured. Along with these pleas for relief come many offerings. A woman on the South Side wrote a letter telling that she was going to move and wondered if Mr. Fixit knew anyone who would want her piano. This letter was read during the program along with the address and phone number of where the piano could be found. According to reports, the telephone company had to add additional help to handle the calls that immediately came for this South Side number. Needless to say, the piano was not only spoken for but taken away soon after Mr. Fixit had concluded his broadcast, but the phone calls kept on until an announcement was made on this program the next evening telling that an owner had been found.
Finds Home For Dog An equally interesting instance resulted from reading a letter telling of a family in University City that had a police dog they would give away. The first person that called was told to come for the dog the next day. So many requests immediately followed that the owner changed his mind. The new owner had already started making arrangements for a dog house and had purchased a new collar with his name engraved on it. The next day when he came for the dog the family was not home and so the dog was taken. The story goes that not everything was satisfactory and requests were made for the dog’s return, however Mr. Fixit also fixed this up and the dog remained with its new owner.
According to Mr. Schroeder, his most difficult problem is sorting over the mail he receives and selecting the letters for this program because as is the case in such instances many of the please do not come from the truly deserving.
The mail received is not all confined to letters regarding relief. Subjects of civic interest also bring a large response. A mention on a recent program that women should be required to buy fishing licenses just as men [are] brought a storm of protests from both women and men from all over the city. Because only a small percentage of the mail can be mentioned in the short time allotted to the program, many letters are never answered on the air. All are opened and read by Mr. Schroeder and wherever possible forwarded to other organizations in the city that are equipped to handle them.
(Originally published in Radio and Entertainment 4/9/1932).
“Radio Park.” It’s a name that prompts a variety of visual images, which is why it was a perfect home for a radio station that relied on theater of the mind. Listeners usually had a much different mental image and many were somewhat disappointed when they saw it, but that didn’t change the way they felt about the station at Radio Park.
The real estate was purchased from Florence Eilers, widow of St. Louis patent attorney Roy Eilers, in July of 1955. Elzey Roberts, Jr., and Chet Thomas announced they planned to move their radio station, KXOK, to the two-and-one-half acre tract of land at 1600 North Kingshighway between Warwick on the south and Aldine Place on the north. Buildings on the land totaled 10,000 square feet. The move took place Sunday night, Aug. 28, 1955. By the time they opened for business that Monday morning, all 110 employees were in place at Radio Park.
The work atmosphere at KXOK had been strained over the previous couple years. Original owner the St. Louis Star-Times had ceased publication in June of 1951, but the station’s studios remained in the newspaper’s building at 12th and Delmar. In 1938. when the station signed on, the studios were the best money could buy, and the operation was designed to work in tandem with the newspaper’s staff. There were many locally originated programs and a large broadcast staff to put it all together.
By the late ‘40s, KXOK had become little more than a plug and play ABC Radio affiliate, running all the national shows and supplementing with local news. By then, the radio business was changing, and a station that relied solely on network programming was headed on a downhill track. Management hired some prominent disc jockeys and used the move to Radio Park to establish the image of the “new” KXOK.
And anyone who drove past 1600 North Kingshighway remembers that sign in the front. It was the first impression young Bud Connell had when he arrived to begin his job programming the station. “I was greeted by a massive all-weather sign announcing the famous call letters, KXOK. Each big, green letter, more than five feet tall and a foot thick, was mounted on a heavy, imposing 12-foot frame that appeared to have permanently grown from the block-long grounds known as Radio Park.”
Entrance to the studios at Radio Park.
Those who worked at Radio Park in later years have many pleasant memories, due in part to the fact that the radio station was not a sterile, business environment. The grounds were filled with huge oak, elm, mulberry and pine trees. Next to the building a walled patio provided a break area for employees. Author Robert Hereford wrote, “Three huge trees rise from the brick floor of the patio…Flowers, ferns and creeping ivy add to the Spanish motif.” Former newsman Robert R. Lynn remembers, “We often did our newscasts with the door to that patio open and the birds singing outside.”
KXOK occupied a newer two-story building, which was attached to an old former residential structure that the station used for storage. There was a small house behind the station where the caretaker lived with his family. There was even a hand-carved totem pole on the grounds.
Entry to KXOK was from the south on a circular drive. Most offices were on the second floor, studios on the first. Walking past the receptionist, who operated the old-fashioned patch cord switchboard, visitors went down a couple stairs, passing the door to a very messy newsroom (the opinion of Steven B. Stevens) into a viewing area to watch the disc jockeys at work. The main studio was about 1,000 square feet, and at one time, there were seats for a live audience.
In its earlier years, KXOK fed the ABC network signal to all affiliates west of the Mississippi from a master control room on this level. The echo that gave KXOK its full, rich on-air sound came from a wall in this room. There, housed in a plexiglass box, was an echo amp designed by corporate engineer Dale Moudy. It came from an old Hammond organ and consisted of three tubes and springs.
Another large studio on this level was used for commercial production. It housed the massive Ampex 300 reel-to-reel machines. Richard Ward Fatherley, who became the station’s production director, remembers “a lonesome, aged grand piano hugging the studio’s south wall, a testimony to radio’s good old days.”
The newsroom was eventually moved behind the main studio, and as Steven B. Stevens remembers, “the worst part of that was that those who needed to use the rest room (a facility described by Robert R. Lynn as ‘acoustically perfect’) behind the newsroom would go there and think up things to do. One trick was to come out with a large soda bottle filled with water and pour it slowly into a bucket of water during a newscast so it sounded you were broadcasting from the KXOK toilet.
“More than once I had my script lit on fire by a jock cruising by; I would simply ad lib my way on through the newscast.”
The magic of a place called Radio Park was summed up in the words of programmer Bud Connell: “Radio Park was an image, indelible in our minds and hearts, and in our loyal listeners – and it will never be repeated. It will be sadly missed by those of us who were fortunate enough to work there.”
(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 6/08)
The video link below is to an 8 mm film shot by Richard Ward Fatherley while he was an employee of KXOK in the early ‘60s. It shows the grounds of Radio Park and a KXOK All Stars ballgame at nearby Forest Park.
When Del King, announcer at KWK, sings the title role as a star of the Metropolitan Opera, then he will be truly happy.
He confided to us that that was his real ambition and the progress he has made in the twenty-four years of his life indicates that he might some day in the not-too-distant future attain that coveted goal.
Del King’s real name is Delmar King (and not an abbreviation of Delmar and Kingshighway nor is he a relative of Jean Paul King as his public often ask him.) He came here from Kansas City two years ago after he by chance, not quite clear to him, got into radio work. Since that time he has been a versatile member of the staff of KWK. When his low and poetic voice comes over the air on Friday afternoon at 4 o’clock, one can fairly close his eyes and imagine that he is dark with a true romantic feeling for the poetry that glides meditatively from his tongue. Poetry that makes one think and feel deeply is the secret of the tremendous hold that these programs have on the public. He ruefully admitted though that in this time of depression and low feeling that most of the ponderous selections with deep-seated meaning must be discontinued.
One night, after he completed an Old Judge broadcast, one of his admiring public waylaid him and exclaimed in disgust, “Oh, I thought you were a great big man about my size.” The man must have weighed 300 pounds at the least!
People are always dumbfounded when he is doing character parts to find that he is not old and enormous. He usually takes heavy roles such as Old Judge or Dad in the program “Dad and Jean” children’s program. He does a singing program and in the meantime manages to get in a full-time job announcing.
Life is far from dull at [the] radio station, he says, and although he is temporarily marking time in his real ambition, he feels that he is making progress toward it. A radio artist never gets any applause but he does get a great deal of helpful criticism. He bases some of his best work on the helpful hints that he has gotten from his listeners. False commendation never helped anybody and if people would only tell what they really think, radio would be a school of pleasure.
(Originally published in Radio and Entertainment 4/2/1932).
