Garnett Marks, WIL Announcer is Aviator and Writer

Garnett A. Marks, born March 21, 1899, at St. Louis, Missouri, educated in and graduated from St. Louis grammar and high schools, enlisted in the 138th U.S. Infantry shortly after graduating from Soldan High school in the class of January 1917. Served in this regiment until discharged because of prolonged illness at Camp Doniphan, Ft. Sill, Oklahoma. Returned home and after return to health joined the ambulance corps of the American Red Cross, serving as a driver of this unit in France until after the Armistice.

For several months after returning to the states was engaged in newspaper work as a reporter in Philadelphia, then became interested in aviation and served as an observer and photographer with the 13th Squadron, Surveillance, at Kelly Field, San Antonio, Texas.

Garnett Marks
Garnett Marks

First entered radio with KFI, Los Angeles, as a “song plugger” for a Los Angeles music publishing house. Later he became staff baritone and announcer.

In the autumn of 1926 he returned to St. Louis, and joined the KMOX staff.

He was offered the position of sports announcer for KMOX, and throughout the seasons of 1927 and 1928 Garnett broadcast every game played in St. Louis, and on rainy days and open dates he could be heard giving play by play accounts furnished by ticker of the most important out of town game on such days.

Thousands of letters attested to his popularity and outstanding success as a baseball announcer and the opinion was almost unanimous that he was without peer in this line of endeavor. As a reward for his untiring and exceptional efforts to faithfully serve the vast audience with accurate, up to the minute and interesting baseball dope for 1928, Garnett was given a trip to New York to witness and help describe via the Columbia network the opening games of the series between the Yankees and the Cards played in the Yankee Stadium there.

In 1929, he returned to the Pacific Coast, singing in numerous sound productions created on Hollywood lots.
When work before the movie microphone was slack, he free lanced among several of the Hollywood and Los Angeles radio stations as announcer and singer. Late in 1930 he received an excellent offer from WENR, Chicago, to come on there as an announcer, and immediately installed himself as a favorite with the listeners of that station, which was absorbed by the NBC on March 1st, 1931.

So it was not long after that his friends throughout the land heard him as a network announcer on programs emanating from the Merchandise Mart, Chicago.

Because of the uncertain health of his father, Garnett returned to St. Louis late in November of 1931. He became an announcer at KMOX.

Recently he joined the staff of WIL, where he has taken over the Breakfast Club Express and can be heard every week day from 7 to 9:15 a.m. He also acts in the capacity of WIL news reporter. His hobbies are writing and aviation, the latter not altogether meeting with the approval of his family. His favorite sports, many of which he still indulges in, and the order of their popularity with him, are swimming, football, baseball, and horse back riding. He is married and has a charming young daughter.

(Originally published in Radio & Entertainment 7/16/1932).

Always A Showman

Dizzy Dean

Dizzy Dean

It’s hard to imagine baseball fans pledging their loyalty to a radio play-by-play man named “Jerome,” but they loved him. To the listeners, and everyone else who was a baseball fan, he was better known as “Dizzy.”

Jerome Herman “Dizzy” Dean took to the airwaves as the announcer for the Cardinals and Browns during the 1941 season, with his broadcasts carried on KWK and KXOK. Truth be known, his given name was Jay Hanna Dean, but changed it to Jerome Herman Dean near the beginning of his career on the diamond. He had retired from playing the game May 14, 1941, and told the press of his plans to visit the Falstaff Brewery the next day. Falstaff sponsored the St. Louis teams’ broadcasts and, according to Curt Smith in his book “Stars of the Game,” Dean said, “Think I’m going to like this here play-by-play.”
Dizzy Dean began his first broadcast telling listeners, “I hope I’m as good a sports announcer as I was a pitcher…Now I know how a prisoner feels walking to his death.”

The listeners loved him, and Dean played his hillbilly persona for all it was worth. In Smith’s description of Dean’s grammar, “Runners ‘slud’…batters ‘swang,’…pitchers ‘throwed’ the ball with great ‘spart’ [spirit]…a hitter could look ‘mighty hitterish’ or stand ‘confidentially’ at the plate.”

The grammatical ruse worked. Within a year, the Globe-Democrat ran a lengthy article by Paul Tredway headlined, “That Eminent Linguist, That Noted Grammarian, That Grand and Dodier Orator – Dizzy Dean.”

Patrick Huber and David Anderson told the October 2001 Missouri Conference on History that Dizzy Dean’s Ozarkian slang even prompted Falstaff to issue a booklet titled “The Dizzy Dean Dictionary and What’s What in Baseball.” Included in the ghostwritten introduction was the explanation that the booklet was intended to “clear up a lot of misunderstandings that people has about my baseball lingo.”

In 1946, in a publicity manager’s dream, word got out that the English Teachers Association of Missouri had complained to the Federal Communications Commission that Dean’s way of talking had a “bad influence” on their pupils. The nation’s print journalists had a field day with the story. The Globe-Democrat took the teachers to task in an editorial. Both national wire services carried regular updates. Telegrams poured in to radio stations. Huber and Anderson noted Dean received 150 supportive telegrams one night during one of his broadcasts.

There were articles published all over the country. One woman chastised the “intolerant” teachers. Similar support came from The Baltimore Sun and The Sporting News. Dean’s legions of fans sprang to his defense. The “Saturday Review of Literature” wrote a two-page editorial supporting Dean, concluding with “Our private hunch is that the teachers won’t get to first base.”

That hunch was correct. In fact, it seems there never was a formal complaint filed with the F.C.C. The entire vociferation may have been based on a ruse perpetrated by a very smart publicist.

Whoever was responsible had not considered the reaction of Sam Breadon, the Cardinals’ owner. Shortly after the dust settled, Breadon announced his intention to create a six-station Cards’ radio network and said he wanted “dignified” and “conventional” announcers. The play-by-play team didn’t include Dizzy Dean, despite his huge popularity among the fans. Former Cardinals’ manager Gabby Street would be joined in the booth by an up-and-coming young announcer named Harry Caray.

For the next five baseball seasons, Dizzy Dean was heard broadcasting the games of the hapless St. Louis Browns, but he had the last laugh.

In 1953, Falstaff hired Dizzy Dean to broadcast their Saturday “Game of the Week” on ABC-TV. He later moved to CBS-TV for the same assignment. His Ozarkian way of broadcasting baseball had propelled him to the top spot among broadcasters.

Insiders knew about his schtick. Quoted in “Voices of the Game,” Mel Allen remembered, “Once he took off solo, doing what passed for play-by-play, it was show biz time.” Allen even told author Curt Smith about a Dean misstep: “Once he said ‘slid’ correctly, by mistake, and he corrected himself. He wanted to goof up – it was part of the vaudeville.”

Later, Dean even admitted being a showman. “Naturally, I play around with my stuff on the radio, but I ain’t dumb. I know most of the folks listening are from my part of the country – mostly from the Ozarks. They like it. A guy’s got to do that sort of thing in this business.”

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 12/05)

Small-Town Girl Hits the Big Time

When Viola Jeanne Chassels graduated from Salem High School in Illinois in 1931, she may have had the typical high school dreams of the time: get married, settle down, raise a family. Instead she became a well-known radio singer.

Jean Chassels (third from right) on the Dorothy Perkins Program

Jean Chassels (third from right) on
the Dorothy Perkins Program

Three girls from Salem decided to cast their lot in the big city to the West. Jean, as she was known, was the lead singer in the group, which had been known around Salem as The Chassels Trio. Her mother apparently managed the group, and documentation shows Julia Chassels set her sights high for the girls.

Woody Klose, one of the popular announcers on KMOX, sent her a letter inviting the trio to an audition at 8:30 on the morning of May 28, 1932:

“This audition will make you eligible to appear on the broadcast of the KMOX Public Audition Program, which goes on the air at 9:30 o’clock, a.m…You are only allowed two minutes at the most.”

The three girls, Jean, Vivian Griffin, and Marie Hamilton had a chance to appear on KMOX, provided they made the cut at the audition.

Julia’s effort paid off. The Harmonettes, as the group was now known, were regularly featured on several KMOX short-form variety shows, which usually lasted fifteen minutes. They’d sing three selections with a piano or organ accompaniment. Most of these shows were “sustaining” at first, meaning there was no sponsor.

Later, as the economy improved and The Depression began to fade, their shows acquired a sponsor. That was due, in part, to the backing of Ted Straeter, a KMOX programmer who had a successful side business as a producer of talent for KMOX shows.

In early December of 1932, another letter came to Salem from St. Louis.

Dear Mrs. Chassels: I should like to have you and the girls come to my studio on Thursday, December the eighth at eleven in the morning, at which time I should like to discuss plans for work with the girls trio. Kindly let me know immediately if this will be satisfactory.
Ted Straeter #2 Studio Building, Taylor and Olive

Straeter and his partner Myles Hasgall were so well-known for their work that they were credited at the beginning and end of the shows that featured talent they had discovered, as found on this KMOX script from 1933: “Myles Hasgall and Ted Straeter, maestros of music in St. Louis present their regular Wednesday evening program. Tonight Hasgall and Straeter present The Harmonettes.”

A newspaper clipping of the era noted, “Union Electric Light and Power Company signed them for its KMOX Thursday night show after their first audition.”

Back in Salem, the town was proud of its radio stars. An ad in the local paper read: “Dorothy Perkins radio program over KMOX St. Louis, each Tuesday night 7:45…Three Salem girls who have made good in big time radio broadcasting. Tune in next Tuesday night and enjoy the program.”

As their popularity increased, two of the original members of the Harmonettes married and moved on, but Jean was the one constant, and it’s safe to assume there were a lot of proud people in Salem when the CBS Radio Network began national broadcasts from the KMOX studios featuring the group.

There must have been something in the air in the 1930s at KMOX. Jean Chassels met a guy at the station who was also interested in music. He was single, and he spent a lot of time working as staff arranger and pianist for the Karl Hohengarten and Al Roth big bands, even finding time for his own musical show of piano selections seven times a week. He also did some arranging for the Harmonettes.

In 1938, Jean Chassels gave up her singing career on KMOX. She married that music man, who by that time had moved to a job at KSD, and became Mrs. Russ David.

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 10/05)

Neil Norman, Third Generation of Stage Family, Now WIL Announcer

Being brought into the world practically backstage and sleeping in a trunk there while his mother and father were on theatrical tours were Neil Norman’s first heritages to the stage and public life. He is now the chief commercial announcer at station WIL.

He has come to the radio from the stage and his so doing is the first break in a long line of theatrical family. He is the third generation to follow the stage. In fact he was so sold on the triumphant virtues of the stage over the radio that he almost missed going on the air altogether.

Back in 1923 when radio was a very small “pup”, he was leader of an orchestra and master of ceremonies in a theater in Sioux City, Iowa. He was offered a job as an announcer but he thought that radio was still very much of a toy and might never amount to very much so he continued his dramatic career. He thinks that is a rather good story on himself.

About four years later, he was again convinced of the possibilities of radio for entertainment and expressive purposes and went on the air again in Billings, Montana. He went thence to Salt Lake and to Waterloo, Iowa stations before coming here.

He and Franklyn MacCormack, program director at WIL, trouped together one time about three years ago and when MacCormack came here, he came to St. Louis to work with him.

Versatility seems rather a weak word to describe his attributes for he has been an orchestra leader, really broke into the air by singing baritone solos, has played in dramatic and humorous plays all over the country.

He is now designated as commercial announcer because he has that persuasive note in his voice which presents selling talks with the least possible emphasis on the selling points and the maximum of entertainment qualities. He has written continuities and provided sound effects during his radio career and has thus filled every known capacity about the station.

Claire Lunden, soprano, heard frequently over WIL is his wife.

(Originally published in Radio & Entertainment 5/28/1932)

Columbus Gregory – Gospel Pioneer

When Columbus Gregory first walked through the doors of KATZ in St. Louis, his only goal was to sing on the air. In the half-century that followed, he did a lot more.

Gregory had been raised in the South and had been assigned to Korea for his military service. While he was there he heard a friend talking about this Negro disc jockey in St. Louis who had become a major celebrity. When he rejoined civilian life, Gregory headed toward St. Louis to hear the man everyone called “Spider.”

Spider Burks was, indeed, a celebrity, spinning jazz records on the radio and making personal appearances at local clubs almost every night of the week. Columbus Gregory got a job with the railroad, and, in his spare time, began singing gospel with a local quartet called the Victory Airs. In conversations with other gospel singers, he became convinced that their groups would draw better crowds to their performances if listeners could hear them on the radio.

Columbus Gregory
Columbus Gregory

Gregory organized eight of the groups and arranged to buy a half-hour time block on KATZ every Sunday morning. Two groups would sing each week and every group would put $5.00 in the pot to cover the $40 weekly charge. The process worked, but, one-by-one, the groups dropped out, leaving Columbus Gregory with the contract to purchase the time.

The railroad job was not working out, but Gregory’s skills at packaging radio time and at entertaining were developing. In 1959 he got word that the station was looking for a man who can handle engineering work for disc jockey remotes and promotions for the station and he jumped at the chance. Soon he found himself in local grocery stores during the day, promoting products advertised on KATZ, followed by late night work at local clubs supporting the DJs. It was a seven-day-a-week job.

“I did that for three years, “says Gregory. “I was Dave Dixon’s engineer at night. George Logan did some Saturday afternoon things and I was called in to do all his remotes. When Dave Dixon passed, his brother Jerome took over and I was his engineer. I was Spider Burks’ engineer over at the Blue Note Club. In 1963 I decided to try to become an announcer.”

It was a logical goal because the life of an engineer wasn’t particularly glamorous. “Back then we were playing 45s and lps and I had a remote mixer. I’d always sit in the store room of the club and they had a microphone in the front for the disc jockey. I had to work off their cues. Dave Dixon’s vocal cue was ‘Night Beat Down Rhythm Street.’ When I heard the word ‘street’ I let the record go.”

Things were different in those days, according to Columbus Gregory. “The radio announcers today aren’t nearly as popular as they were back then. In the ‘50s and ‘60s in the Black community, if a person wore a military uniform, they were looked up to as really being somebody special. Radio announcers then were held in the same high regard.

“Today’s disc jockeys are searching for popularity. Back then, they weren’t searching for it. They were popular just being themselves.”
Gregory has worked with many disc jockeys over the years, but his most fond memories are of Dave Dixon. “Dave was a real guy. He wasn’t phony. If you weren’t doing your job, he’d tell you, and that’s the way to help a person. You don’t help a person by telling him ‘Oh yeah. You’re doing great. You’re great.’ “Dave would take time to tell me how to do things better, and that made me a better engineer. He was one of the nicest guys I worked with.”

In 1963, Columbus Gregory went to KXLW as a gospel announcer. GM Richard Miller doubled his salary to bring him over. Before he knew it, Gregory was holding down a six-hour shift Monday through Friday mornings. “I always included the audience in the program. I’d even take requests from callers and let the callers talk on the air. Richard Miller loved that.”

KXLW played secular music as well as gospel, and Columbus Gregory says Miller really had a knack for getting the best talent. Guys like George Logan, Jimmy Bishop and Steve Byrd were on KXLW, but one day, they were all gone. A forward thinking programmer by the name of Bernie Hayes had hired all of them away to go to work on KWK.

In response, KXLW went gospel full time, and Gregory was appointed program director. “I brought in Leonard Morris, Louis Bates and Hosea Gales. That was back in 1968. I was with Richard from 1963 to 1979, even though I began working on WGNU-FM full-time in 1976. I’d do an hour or so at sign-on for Richard before going to the WGNU studio in Granite City.

“WGNU-FM had a lot of gospel music that I had overlooked. It had string sections and bands and I said ‘Wow!’ I was on from 10 – 2 Monday through Friday, and I had people calling the station to buy advertising time.”
He later worked for over 25 years as a gospel music on disc jockey on KIRL.

Columbus Gregory’s quest to minister through gospel music on the radio kept him on the air well past the standard retirement age of 65, and he prided himself in the fact that people who listened could never tell how old he was.

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 6/05)

Tom Dailey Was A Huge Star at KWK

In the 1930s in St. Louis, every kid knew who Tom Dailey was. They knew him as that guy on the radio who was called “Kuzzin Tom.” Their parents knew him too. They’re the ones who took the kiddies to Crystal Room at the Chase Hotel, the site of KWK’s 10:30 Saturday morning broadcasts.

Globe-Democrat writer Edna Warren wrote a glowing feature about Dailey in January of 1938 (preferring the proper spelling of Kuzzin): “Twenty-six years old, handsome and smiling, Cousin Tom is as personable a young man as ever crooned into a microphone and set feminine hearts palpitating around the radio. Just why he should choose to devote his talents to the very young is one of those mysteries older sisters will never understand.” If she could have flashed ahead several years, she’d have found Cousin Tom appealing to a completely different audience – their mothers.

Tom Dailey began his radio career in Rockford, Illinois, right out of high school. At his next stop, Birmingham, he hosted his first radio kids’ show. By the time he got to St. Louis, he was a natural for the slot. The station soon boasted a Kiddie Klub membership of over 250 thousand from all over the Midwest, making his sponsor, Uncle Dick Slack of Slack’s Furniture, very happy.

For a man of 26, the show must have been the ultimate test of patience. Most of the entertainment, it seems, came from the kids’ performances. Many would sing, some played musical instruments, and others would recite, provided they weren’t overcome by stage fright. Warren’s article describes the performance of a youngster named Herbie, who “trotted up with all the sangfroid of three years to hold up his arms for Cousin Tom to lift him up to the mike and say hello to daddy.”

And KWK’s management never missed a chance to promote the popular host. They even sent out a press release on May 17, 1935, stating “Tom Dailey, member of the KWK staff and conductor of the very popular Kiddie Klub, is a firm believer in ‘realism.’ In his role as Kuzzin Tom of the Kiddie Klub he is in close contact with hundreds of children daily, and has developed a very popular children’s disease. Tom Dailey is confined to his home with the measles.”

Like the staff of the cult television hit “Remember WENN,” KWK employees were expected to wear many hats. Dailey was appointed to the position of chief announcer in 1936, did broadcasts that same year from Sportsman’s Park, was host of the nightly “Gentleman of the South” program and was involved in on-the-scene news accounts of southern Missouri floods in 1937.

It was truly an exciting time to be in radio. Each station had a stable of talent who quickly became celebrities. Some moved from city to city, lured by offers of better wages. A few moved from station to station within a market. A select few like Tom Dailey, moved away for better wages and then were brought back by their former employers. Nine years after leaving St. Louis, he was lured back by his old employer.

His second stint at KWK began in 1947 as host of an afternoon music show, also helping Johnny O’Hara with play-by-play duties for the St. Louis Browns. It wasn’t long before Dailey got the chance to become a big star with the adult audience.

Aimed directly at the area’s housewives, Tom Dailey’s “Recall It and Win” was a midday Monday through Saturday quiz show giving listeners at home a chance to win money. He became a huge star by simply helping his listeners enjoy themselves and play along with the show’s contestants.

The gist of Recall It and Win was simple: People were picked randomly from the phone book, called, and put on the air with Dailey, where they were asked to identify musical selections from Dailey’s collection of obscure recordings, some dating back as far as 20 years. Even if they guessed wrong, the magnanimous Dailey would mail them a dollar bill and a sample of Old Judge Coffee, one of his sponsors. Those who had the correct answers got more money and a chance to identify the mystery song, which was worth $100. It takes a quick-witted host to pull off a show like this, and Tom Dailey was the perfect choice. A studio audience was eventually added, and soon the show was booked solid several months in advance.

Columnist Ed Keath wrote in the March 25, 1951 Globe-Democrat: “Consistent good ratings on Tom’s show and others here show that radio can hold its own against TV.”

That said, the lure of TV, especially a co-owned station, soon put an end to the big radio show. Dailey took the show to KWK-TV in 1954 and later to KTVI. Tom Dailey’s son Terry was later heard in the market now as Frank O. Pinion’s sidekick. He was justifiably proud of his dad’s work as one of St. Louis’ premier radio announcers in the ‘30s, ‘40s and early ‘50s.

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 05/2005)

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