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In 1946, GIs who served on both war fronts were being assimilated back into society, and they were spending money freely, priming the nation’s economic pumps. Radio was in the final years of its golden age, and here in St. Louis, many well established broadcasters were enjoying an economic boom of sorts.

KWK, owned by the heirs of long-time owner Thomas Patrick Convey, had its studios on the ninth floor of the Chase Hotel on North Kingshighway. In 1937 the station became part of the Mutual Radio Network, which was formed when Chicago’s WGN decided to loosely affiliate with several other stations to provide an attractive national sales package to advertisers.

While Mutual never gained the status of the other radio networks, they nonetheless provided some programming to affiliates, and one of those shows originated from St. Louis. The rest of the broadcast day for those stations was filled by local programs.

A study of production reports written by Thad Shore of KWK provides some insight into the problems encountered in those days as stations produced daily, live shows. On March 26, 1946, Shore expressed his dissatisfaction with the 7:00 a.m. “Rich Hayes” show: “Am recommending to continuity department that [a] more interesting ‘build-up’ be incorporated in opening over theme.” That day in the local “Shady Valley” show: “Joe Randall was a bit under the weather and did not come up to his usual standards.”

Thad Shore was obviously a senior staffer in that he was given production responsibility for many of the station’s programs, sometimes spanning a 12 hour period in one day. On March 26 he was generous with his comments: “The commercial delivery on this show is improving as Billy Knight avoids straining his voice and cracking in shouting the commercials.”

Nowadays, disc jockeys take their amenities for granted, but in the year following the war, things were different. On April 3, Shore began work at 7:30 in the morning and finished at 10 that night. His notes from two of the shows indicate it might not have been a pleasant day: “The general spirit and life we usually have was lacking. This I attribute to the closeness and heat of the studio… the entire company is to be commended for their efforts and cooperation in spite of the adverse temperature and humidity of the studio.”

And talent often had to be handled: “A passable show but Jackie [Hill] was not in as good form as usual. He arrived precisely at rehearsal time, ten minutes before the show, and apparently had not settled himself after hurrying to make it.”

As for the assumption that things in a large market like St. Louis were somehow better than in smaller stations: “The engineer informs me that the microphone which went bad [during the show] had apparently been bumped or knocked over the night before. Preliminary tests had indicated that the microphone was working but it did not prove to be of broadcast quality when we went on the air. We were able to shift to a working microphone in time to preserve the commercial quality of the show.”

And there were days when a staffer wasn’t happy with his assignment. In some cases the staff member was correct: “Announcer Bruce Hayward desired to substitute third person pronouns in copy that he thought appeared to lend personal endorsement in the first person.”

Again on April 22, the weather caused problems: “With outside temperature in the 80s the cast found it a bit hard to keep on their toes in the heat of Studio A.”

In the following days, it appears nerves were a bit on edge. Shore wrote that the “Coon Creek” hillbilly music show suffered from “a pointless script that was not funny… Too much copy was spent on setting the locale of the situation and not enough on comedy development. This, I believe, stems from the tendency to burlesque situation and character rather than use the situation as the basis for pointed comedy, satire, wit, or frustration comedy.”

By May of 1946, Mr. Shore knew there was a problem with the Shady Valley show that was fed live on the Mutual Network each morning at 8:15. “We find ourselves using more and more of the material as written. However, while we retain the comedy material we often continue to revise or substitute for the musical introductions. Often we do not use the written material simply because an ad lib sequence has developed of which we take the best advantage. Of course, in this case it’s a matter of time that eliminates the material. We also eliminate gags that reflect adversely on the character of the performers. On the whole we find it an advantage to have the script to follow but take many liberties with it to keep the show alive.”

Things did not get better. On May 14: “Script, which can make this [‘Rich Hayes Plays’] more than just a pop organ recital is lagging again after a short trend toward improvement.” His next show that day, ‘Shady Valley,’ was a bit rough. “Jackie Hill was absent because of illness. His mother called. Texie Hollie missed this broadcast. He called in at 8:05 (The show began at 8:15 a.m.) and reported that his car had broken down on the way from Alton.”

And as the day wore on, Shore’s frustration grew. “[Script] Revisions [from continuity] were not satisfactory so I rewrote the opening and following introductions. These were not gems of creation but improved on the continuity provided. In both this show and in ‘Rich Hayes Plays,’ the writer, Dave Chopin, seems to fail to see the creative possibilities inherent therein.”

July was also a rough month at KWK. On Saturday, July 20: “Regarding the reported noise in the speech portions of ‘Easy Listening’ noted in Mr. Traxler’s report, microphone changes have been made to correct this condition somewhat. The noise is, of course, from the street since this program originates in the announcers’ booth because of tight studio scheduling.” On July 25: “For the second morning, during the program, moving of furniture or floor trucks above the studio was audible.”

Within a couple years, KWK began going a different direction in its programming. A young man named Gil Newsome became one of the market’s most popular radio personalities, and he did it by sitting in a studio and playing records for St. Louis’ younger generation.

Listen to Shady Valley Gang on KWK, in 1945

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 02/01)

Although KWK with Thomas Patrick Convey at its helm was started with the proverbial shoestring, the credit does not belong solely to him.

Correlative to his ceaseless efforts to bring the little station out of troubled waters into being one of the finest of the city are those of Mrs. Convey who has been at the station ever since the first six months of its existence.

With its beginning back in 1927, KWK occupied but one small room on the top of the Hotel Chase with Thomas Patrick as the chief and sole announcer. Because he was working too hard and because the two had always been accustomed to sharing the same interests, Mrs. Convey volunteered to lend her musical training and capabilities to the cause. Like most men, he demurred at her working but she won out and came down there as program director, assistant announcer and performer all in one.

Mrs. Convey, whose home is in Chicago, is a graduate of the Chicago Conservatory of Music, and it is with this musical background as well as with the years of experience that she is able to choose and direct the program of the station. She is known to the audience as Peggy Austin.

When the station was first started, Mr. Convey came to work at 6 o’clock in the morning – announcing and directing programs. Mrs. Convey was the accompanist – part time announcer and kept things running smoothly. During the baseball season, Thomas Patrick would announce until time to go to the game, then Mrs. Convey played records announcing them as they went on until he got to the ballpark. Until he returned from the park she would keep the ball rolling in the same manner.

“Mr. Convey and I have always worked together on things and exchanged our ideas,” she said. “There are many things about the programs and the artists for which he has to depend on me and of course I know very little about the mechanics of the station. So we are dependent upon each other.

“Radio grows more and more interesting and so I could not leave off my work as program director if I wanted to, for to me it is the most absorbing interest that I have ever known. It is constantly changing and ever new.”

Radio and Entertainment Magazine May 28, 1932 (unsigned)

Since the earliest days of the radio business there have been conflicts between management and talent. In St. Louis, one of those conflicts led to an appearance in police court.

The year was 1929 and the police court appearance took place October 2, just a couple weeks before the stock market crashed. The economy wasn’t on anyone’s mind, but one employee of radio station KWK was not happy with the amount of money he was being paid.

Olin Gibson was making $50 per week to serve as an announcer and pianist at the station. And like virtually everyone who’s ever been a radio announcer, Gibson took a side job to supplement his income. As the police later reported, Gibson was playing piano for patrons of Coffee Dan’s Barn, a nightclub at the corner of DeBaliviere and Pershing at 2:00 a.m. when a patron ordered him to stop playing. The patron was his boss – the owner of KWK – Thomas Patrick Convey.

This posed a bit of a problem for Olin Gibson, because he was making almost twice as much money at the nightclub as he was making at KWK. When Convey told him to choose between the radio job and the nightclub, Gibson quickly decided he’d rather continue playing the piano at The Barn and turned his attention once again to the keyboard.

Witnesses told police that Convey then began razzing a patron of the establishment, Joe Reichmann, who was a musician and announcer on rival station KMOX. Even in the late hour, others in the club were reportedly offended by Convey’s behavior and “objectionable language.” Many people complained to the club manager and at 4:15 Convey was presented with his hat and coat and escorted to the exit by three members of the establishment’s management, while the piano music played by his former employee provided an ironic soundtrack.

When Police Court No. 1 convened the following day, Judge Harry P. Rosecan seemed ready for what was about to transpire. Lester Newman, business manager of The Barn, and Convey had charged each other with disturbing the peace.

Gibson, the piano player, was called to the stand. “Thomas Patrick made me so mad interrupting my piece I wanted to kick hell out of him,” he testified.

When Convey was sworn in, he gave his full name, Thomas Patrick Convey, to which the judge added, “Now broadcasting.”

Convey told the court he’d gone to The Barn with the sole purpose of forcing the piano player to make a choice, because Gibson couldn’t work at two jobs and do both well. He also admitted to tossing a few verbal jabs at Reichmann, which he described as “kidding back and forth,” but he claimed the language used was not offensive.

While still under oath, the radio station owner was asked if he’d been drinking prior to his visit to The Barn.

“Well, I wouldn’t consider it drinking,” he testified. “I had a bad cold and was taking spiritus frumenti prescribed by my doctor. I think it was in a pint bottle, but I don’t know because I’m not used to carrying bottles.”

Judge Rosecan dismissed all charges against both men and told the courtroom, “This will be broadcast as a draw.”

(Reprinted with permission of the St. Louis Journalism Review. Originally published 09/08)