Life — June 28, 1928 — page 19: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

L F 17 Yes, Isn’t It? Yestervay I received letters from ten large business concerns. Following is a list of the names of the men who signed these ten letters and to whom I addressed my replies: Ryzrmor Pymrtrs Uwnmtu Bxrao Sss—Muupr— Arxmps JKLRWA Zurzy Kyto— Bw: Oov— Txna Grepne Qutiws Rwsxyjx Jzr— It's really amazing how many foreign- ers we have in this country. Frederic Bauer. Bruce: Dick is certainly persevering in his pursuit of that flapper. Weatnersy: Yes, he won't be happy tll he pets it. THE RADIO Quadrupling in Brass Wuen you sit there in front of your radio listening to the music that comes in as if by magic, do you ever give a thought to the poor entertainers who suffer and risk their lives in order that you, you lazy hulk, may be amused? You do not. Much you care if the announcers get sore throats. Much you care if the work is so danger- ous that the dirty report has got around that the movie stars use doubles tor their radio chats. In your spoiled way you think that all there is to broadcasting is standing up in UB Y.- Srone waLrs Do Nor ° A PRISON MAKE j Wor \-RON BARS a velvet-covered room and making a fool of yourself in front of an open-work saucer, Little you care whether the Hap- piness Boys are really happy or not. Well, I have seen some of the suffer- ing that goes on in handsomely furnished sound-proof rooms. Let us consider the case of Cornelius Hupf, ostensibly a ‘cello player but in reality only a clog in a big machine. Mr. Hupt is a member of the staff orchestra of a network of sta- tions that grips the country like an octo- pus, only an octopus has more heart. Let Mr. Hupf tell his story in his own words. He tells it well; he has been reading Bernarr Macfadden. “You want to know something of life and work in a big studio? Well, my ad- vice to the boys and girls of this country is: don’t go to Hollywood—I mean, don’t go into radio broadcasting. To the public, life in a radio studio is all parties, all merry-making, all speeches by President Coolidge. But that impression is false. If the public persists in thinking that we get too much fun and money out of this business, we will hire ourselves a Will Hays. “A day in a studio sounds gay enough, I must admit, to the distant listener—An Hour of Fun and Fancy with the Magic Washing Powder Boys, Thirty Minutes of High Jinx with the Hungry Hun- garians—Hungry for Harvey's Soups. It's all very soft for those who have nothing to do but sit back and listen to the Jolly Exterminators or the Sunny Syncopators, makers of plate glass windows for schools, homes and offices. “But pause a minute and I will tell you something that will ruin your day. You think that all these orchestras are so many bands of carefree musicians who drop into the studio for an hour or so, dressed in their native costumes, and then hurry home with their work done for the week? If that’s what you think, then you are nothing but a gullible sap. Now brace yourself for the low-down. “All those orchestras are one and the same bunch of men. And I am one of them. I play the ‘cello. If I have to play ‘Selections from “Mlle. Modiste’’* once more I am going to drape this ‘cello around somebody's ears. “In the morning I begin my day as one of the Vitamine Flake Boys, sent to you by the courtesy of the Vitamine Flake Corporation, makers of breakfast foods that start the day with a vim. Then I am a Hicks Hustler and besides playing a ‘cello I have to make off-stage effects that are supposed to sound like a vacuum cleaner. Imitating a vacuum cleaner Broapcastinc NicHT at THE PENITENTIARY may be fun every now and then, comicbooks.com