Hollywood and Broadcasting FROM RADIO TO CABLE Michele Hilmes University of Illinois Press Urbana and Chicago 60 Hollywood and Broadcasting telí Will Hays later advised the studios not to give in to the complaints of die exhibitors, arguing that as soon as the studios formally agreed that radio apearances in fact reduced the box-office value of screen stars, exhibitors could use this äs~i~ bargaining tool in film negotiations, driving down rental prices.24 In fact, throughout the period exhibitor reaction was not undivided. Although many theater owners, particularly the larger independent groups, did regard radio as a threat, others saw in radio an opportunity to promote films on the local level. This difference in reaction reflects a pattern of film industry collision of interests that goes back as far as the days of the Motion Picture Patents Trust. Janet Staiger points out that it is difficult to generalize motives for actions across large interest groups; each group may contain elements within it that, often because of local legal or business circumstances, may act in ways dissimilar with, or even contradictory to, goals of affiliated or parent organizations. Given, too, that ownership ties between the integrated studios theater companies were often only through a fractional share of stock; interests and goals of parents and subsidiaries might differ considerably!"^ \ fa This diversity of reaction to radio amid exhibitors is reflected in tradej li>*\■'■•'; publication reports.25 In between reports on the deleterious effects of radio-listening on box-office receipts, the Motion Picture Herald ran several articles on jadio as a medium of film publicity. On January 21, 1933, a theater owner Radio Goes Hollywood 61 sCe contributed an article entitled "How to Nail Profitable Radio Tie-Ups to the Box Office." In it he recommended such pjpmotional^jdevices jis short spots of Hollywood gossip centered on a given film or stars; •fr» locally acted and produced "trailers," dramatizing scenes from the film idSjj. .currently in playj_organ concerts broadcast from the theater jtself (a popular radio stapled; broadcasting the precedingstage show; and using ón-air quiz games or filnwelated contests. A February 11 article discussed another use of radio: to broadcast radio shows to an audience inside the theater over the ERPI sound system now that most theaters were wired, although ERPI objected to this usage. The February 25, 1933, issue contains an article by Jack Cohn of Columbia Pictures, who urged theater owners to use radio to "get people back into the theater-going habit." One basic technique used to accomplish this benefited all aspects of the industry in a very simple manner, still employed today: "Hollywood made sure to use the names of its films as part of the titles of its theme songs, so radio— like it or not—would automatically plug its pix when announcing the \, S^ song titles and recordings played."26 J > Jvi i/r>\> >\# ive* Radio Programming Takes Shape The history of the development of the forms and structures of the radio rgT?Q^ 'í °Ver the airWaVeS t0 an -suspecting pubict the early 1930s is truly remarkable; unfortunately, the medium's genuine achievements and .„novations in programming, although bringing an amount and variety of entertainment to a wider audience thfn ever before reached by a mass medium, remain overshadowed in many accounts of that penod by thej-apid^nsejn number, and lowering Z ^of the radio advertising commercial. Yel^ThlhisloriaíľŔfe K Summers and Harrison B. Summers write, "beginning in 1929 and 19^0 rad^entereda^era of program «Eajmcnľatío^, invention, and btaeľcPaľtľn^'th°Ut ^ ™ "» «"* P^^e his^ of _____% .^°St °f *ÍS material ^presented borrowing and modification of kJUi ~^^^LS:^h the «**«» «f »he talk showand the quiz W^. o^^HcFpa7ticiPat.on show, two possibilities novel to broadcasts radjoadapted the forrm and_ formulas of vaudeville, theater, concert ai™Ll°>.its burgeoning needsrjjoUywood -plróclHaleTur the development of all these forrna?S:a—-----------------Ľ-------Ľ_i2u"jne 192A9 TmT^0{ ^ broadcasJing^chedules of the networks from 1929-30, 1934-35, and 1939-40 shows three main trends. First, although between 1930 and 1934 the total number of hours in a typical week spent broadcasting music of all types rose from 59 to 74 5 it then ) S^r^dechned from 1935-39 to 56, representing a gradual decrease in music's •SffiortajacetotJäaxadio^chcaule. TheearüeTü^^n^teläc^d at least m part to the drarMtic^seJn_overaUJic^ on the air; in ,!ľ'i ,VnyP1 netTk station broadcast between thrEoTIrToTnoon and 11:00 em., or only sporadically during a longer day. By 1934 the average day began at 6:00 a.m. and proceeded with a fully packed latlSr HT„°ff 1 1:0° A M- °r later- M0St °f the early-moving late-night, and fill-in hours were occupied by music. The second noticeable trend ,s that the amount of on-air drama during prime-time STÍ!? a"?£und»r ^ernoon) schedules increased from ľí perTent n 1933 and 20 percent in 1939 to 26.7 percent in 1944. The third end'. t"e_rise_ofafternoon serial, drama, or "soap," from a negligible quantity in 1929-30 to seventy-five houSl^SE^»0, later develops ° af0t^ľ areA^iüt?rPlay b«ween radio and the Holly^oT ens film'."»— ..—-2—™ wom- trenc plywood influence played an important part in all three of these -*— i„ ľ ?■ ln y S ParticiPation in «d» programrnlr^ciSlrred T^^two d^stmct^tages: thej^jxpj^andjndudmgjgse, marked -7 «»iKtíjfc l^^ycL^,. HoUywood and Broadcasting ĽUeUví l/^fU, UĎ *w#& *» li > by sporadic involvement and the innovation of one or two variety shows, C>W»-'- and the post-1936 period during which Hollywood-based programming SviMted proliferated and soon began to dominate over programs produced bľ^T^C .' elsewhere. Onceagain, as witHlHeentry of CBS into radio networking, ______ ' 3t^ie decisive factor in this change involved the telephone company. fa AT&T and Coast-lo-Coast Broadcasting Up until 1936, although coast-to-coast long lines were in place, and had been since 1915, the telephone company maintained a policy of charging additional fees over and above normal line charges, which were themselves substantial for broadcast hook-ups emanating elsewhere than New York City. These charges were based on a policy of figuring fees on a cost-per-circuit-niile basis, rather than actual, or air, distance. Because the major transmitting facilities of both networks were based in New York, AT&T charged the Jbroadcast_ers_on a per-mile"Basfs for the Los Angeles torNew York circukjn addition to / chargeFTrom New York back out to stations across the country. In ^H '• other words, to reach an NBC affiliate in Denver with a show originating ---- in Hollywood, the network would have to pay first for the land lines ^p^v connecting Los Angeles to the central transmitter in New York City, ijjjjj then for the wires connecting New York to Denver, even although direct Los Angeles to Denver wires were in place and capable of transmitting ■ radio signals—all these charges figured per circuit mile, usually much less direct than actual distance. This practice considerably increased v/^y'! the relative cost of West Coast-originaťéd shows, leading to various j.gj^ problems in pfé^l936 Hollywood-radio cooperation.3" ~~......" . First, because the networksjgreferred to avoid the additional fees, * film stars were encouraged to come to New York City lor radio spots, a practice film producers claimed disrupted ongoing movie work. V *s Kr*rc Radio Goes Hollywood 63 hk^ Vo^, >**/ Congress to undertake a massive investigation of AT&T and other Wm*. telephone company practices, both as a fact-finding study and in order CfT?/»^ to determine "the effect of monopolistic control upon the reasonableness ---------- of telephone rates and charges; and the reasons for the failure generally 7A<+ ht**£ to reduce telephone rates and charges during the years of declining prices." One of the particular areas of enquiry was that ofjnterstate toll rate structure. The FCC reported that during the period of the'investigation from June 1, 1935 to January 15, 1937, "as a result of negotiations between the American Telephone and Telegraph Company, long distance telephone rates were reduced on a basis equivalent to an estimated savings to the public of $12,235,000 per annum," and, more specifically, the investigation produced "revision of wire service charges to radio \JtP stat'ons ■ • • »t is estimated that these revisions will result in annual ^yy"0°Js.savings to broadcasters of $530,000."32 tglsjgtf The removal of double rates to the coast produced a veritable deluge i j w . "í* TU« 11--------------1— — _i. . i - . _- - 'f- N to *4& Second, the_reyerse borrowing of radio stars for film work (a growing trend in the early 1930s) was made difficult and prohibitively expensive. For example, when the creators of the popular "Amos 'n Andy" radio serial were invited to make Check and Double Check for RKO in 1931, the studio contracted to pay the comedy team's $l,000-per-day line , . charges so that their daily show could continue to air throughout filming. ' Third, the policy discouraged the building of permanent Stmüßs^and V nV transmitting stations on the West Coast; Chicago in the early 1930s k* (_«- remainecTir more thriving center of radio than Hollywood with its , millions of dollars of captive talent.31 I ^ The situation rapidly reversed itself after 1935, but it took a federal investigation to prompt the telephone company to'rethink its rate fofa* structures. On March 15, 1935, Franklin D. Roosevelt authorized 4* La -k SJjLjL °f Hollywood-produced programming over the next five years, with -------- D°th major networks building new studios in Los Angeles. ThiTTrek ko^j-^toTíoIIyWooď" as the Literary Digest óthcally dubbed it, reHěčtečTboth ----—-- the publicjs insatiable interest in the starsTšcripts, ahčTKrmulas de- ^ ^ veloped by~TFe^movies and the" culmination of a"'fruitful period of Jz2EE°yiS&jE^5ross:^ the earlier period for both industries.33 _ Hollywood's Role in Radio Programming ^tn Hollywood contributions played a major role during the 1930s in the" development of four distinct types of programmine: the variety special, the dramatic series featuring big-name guest stars, the publicity-gossip show^and the radio adaptation of movie hits. Each of these nwle its Initial appearance before 1935, but reached full stature in the later l 1930s. .....- •-........... ..........~ Variety The-variety speciahbased on standard vaudeville practice, combined big names, lesser stars,~and regular performers in a mix of music. comedy,'dialogue, and short dramatic vignettes. As descnbeďTrľčEäpTrr 2, Samuel Rothafel, "Roxy" to millions, pioneered this early variety forms on radio; the addition in 1928 of big-name Hollywood stars helped boost its popularity further. Among the foremost variety shows on network radio, from its inception in 1932 throughout its lengthy life, was Maxwell House coffee's 64 Hollywood and Broadcasting "Show Boat." Set on a fictional paddle-wheeler that made weekly Thursday night stops at various ports, the show contained music, variety acts, and comic sketches, usually featuring one or more well-known names from Hollywood or Broadway. Making high ratings each year of its existence, "ShowTŠoät" attracted MGM as its co-producer (with Maxwell House) in 1937, and changed its name to "Hollywood Good News" along with its format. Other popular variety shows featuring Hollywood talent included the "Rudy Valleejvhow/' which premiered on NBC in October 1929; the "Kraft Music Hall," debuting in 1933 on NBC; and Al Jolson's "Shell Chateau" sponsored by the Shell Oil Corporation from 1935 to the mid 1940s. Dramatic Series The dramatic series format, nften_featuring big-name stars, originated with the appearance in 1929 of the long-standing dramatic program "First Nighter," sponsored by Cambana Balm. Built around the kind of imaginary flexibility of space and time unique to radio, "First Nighter" opened with a character known as "the genial first nighter" taking a fictional stroll up Broadway to the "Little Theater Off Times Square," where he purchased a ticket and was shown to his seat by an usher just as the curtain went up. Halfway through the show "intermission" would be called to allow for a commercial break, then back to the show as the buzzer sounded and the usher cried "Curtain going up!"34 The plays presented ranged from adaptations of genuine Broadway shows to original creations for radio, many of them written by the well-known radio dramatist Arch Oboler, later of "Lights Out," a "Twilight Zone" predecessor. Although the show evoked Broadway and was in fact produced in Chicago, it sQQn_became a vehicle for_Hollywood talent, usually appearing on guest status among a crew of radio regulars. This basic formula would increase in popularity and presence on the radio throughout the 1930s; "First Nighter'* itself lasted "through 1945 in a variety of time slots and network changes. Campana Balm remained loyal; although its ratings declined from the mid-20s to a 10.8 in its last season, "First Nighter" provided a model for a score of followers, including a second shot at success launched by Campana Balm in 1933. "Grand Hotel," using a dramatic framework based on the Academy Award-winning film of the previous year,_involved aperies of famous "guests"—in two senses, now—in light-weight fictions by a different writer each week. It stayed on the air until 1938, then gave up in the face of a proliferation of imitators.35 < Radio Goes Hollywood 65 ft ŕ Mt* ÍtC!/i if w« -f4r. In theJ934_seaspn_alone, four other drama programs appearedthat focussed on Hollywood: "Gigantic Pictures," sponsored by Tastyeast on the NBC Blue Network; "Irene Rich Dramas" from Welch's Juice, also on NBC Blue; a sustaining NBC Blue show called "Motion Picture Dramasl'; and a short-lived _serial calledj^ajlxgfthe Talkies" sponsored by Luxor Products on the Red Network. The year 1935 brought to the air a show that became known as "one of the most intelligent" on the air: "The Calvacade of America," á Äutt.^Cra(p series based on historical dramatizations and featuring top^Bröadway and Hollywood names on a guest basis. Beginning on CBS, then moving to NBC in 1939, it stayed on the air for eighteen years and built a reputation for thorough and accurate research as well as dramatic appeal. Sponsored by DuPont ("Better things for better living through Chemistry"), "Calvacade" drew on the expertise of a board of academic advisers headed by Frank Monaghan of Yale, and also featured special r2roductions_written by talents such as Carl Sandburg, Stephen Vincent Benet, Maxwell Anderson, and Robert Sherwood. The show's aura of seriousness and prestige attracted stage and screen actors who had formerly^remained aloof; Claxk Gable made his first radio appearance on "Calvacade," and serious actors such as Raymond Massey (playing Abraham Lincoln), Charles Laughton, Lionel Barrymore, Dick Powell, Tyrone Power, and Edgar G. Robinson portrayed various historical figures. Orson Welles and some of his later Mercury Theatre troupe began on "Calvacade." Although "docudrama" is a form supposedly invented by television in the 1970s, its roots, like so much of television's programming, lie in radio. Another aruhojogy_jjrogram using film talent, "Hollywood Playhouse," came on the air in 1937 on fKéTNBČ Blue Network, sponsored by Woodbury Soap and hosted by a succession of film names including Charles Boyer, Jim Ameche, Tyrone Power, and Herbert Marshall. Its run was brief, however; by 1939, having failed to gain more than an 11.8 rating, it went off the air. Another similar program, the '^Silver, Theater" on CBS (predictably sponsored by the International Sterling Company) met with improved success, attracting stars such as Rosalind Russell, Joan Crawford, Douglas Fairbanks, Helen Hayes, and Henry Fonda. " After 1938, the appearance of Hollywood and Broadway talent on radio, and vice versa, became so commonplace an event that it became I^T^gS nui^ "PH H ^j**/** jwfa/',,/, the rule rather than the exception. However, two other program types \9.J appeared before 1938, the Hollywood gossip "column" and the movie ll^^^PtatÍOn-[if H-» 65 Hollywood and Broadcasting ^O^pJiOUi/W. Publicity and Gossip The catalyst behind exhibitors' fears of radio was a type of program (rX, that, almost from its first days, drew on Hollywood for material: the broadcast gossip column. Louella Parsons, Hedda_Hopper, Walter Winchell, and scores of lesser known gossip purveyarsjbund...an.avid i, audience for their tales of Hollywood life. Injanuary 1932, the Jiays Ú' Office launched an"Investigation of "alleged slurs on film stars and i&/{£>' studlôTBy rádlčT columnists," but went on to announce that despite the i disreputable reporting by one or two radio columnists, the broadcasting industry and Hollywood retained a good relationship: "There is a w£ ~ylK, complete understanding between radio and pictures."36 j- .7 The movie producers' annoyance at the exploitation of their stars' names and reputations over the air remained mitigated, however, by the usefulness ofjthe Jree publicity. The studios' disfavor soon shifted ^to a desire to avoid mismanaged star publicity; radio gossip aricTtalk to *l*-' frWiy: shows could be as effective a tool for movie promotion as printed ads Uj. pn and posters, providing "that the stars themselves were protected from _T . their own impulses. ^^ One of the first network gossip columns appeared in the 1930-31 foidWjseason on NBC Red, "Rinso Talkie Time." This program lasted only »»(/iV one season, but in 1932 NBC ran two new "talk" spots on its Blue Network: a show called "D.W. Griffith's Hollywood," hosted at least nominally by the director himself, and the beginning of the long-running "Walter Winchell Show," originating at first from New York and focussed primarily on Broadway. Winchell continued to broadcast Avi".'' fr°m New York for most of his career, but much of his material derived , from Hollywood-renowned personalities and events. He remained on the air continuously from 1932 to the years of long-form radio's bitter end, bringing listeners "lotions of love" from Jergen's lotion until 1948. In 194-5 he and Louella Parsons began a cooperative venture for Jergens, featuring Winchell from New York on Sundays at 9:00 P.M., followed by Parsons from Hollywood at 9:15. A fierce rivalry between the two for Hollywood scoops kept the show's ratings high until 1951, when the advent of regular television broadcasting caused radio ratings to fall precipitously throughout the industry. Several other lesser-known gossip purveyors appeared during radio's early years. For example, in 1933 "Madame Sylvia" went on the air, first for the Ralston Company, then for Ry-Krisp. Her twice-weekly program on NBC Red ran for only two seasons, but 1934 saw the appearance of another sucessful specialist, Jimmy Fidler "Your Hollywood Reporter," on the NBC Blue for Tangee Corporation, and later Radio Goes Hollywood 67 from Drene shampoo on CBS until 1941 and Carter on ABC until 1950. Another famous name joined the group in 1939: Hedda Hopper Ahhoughjieyer cornering the largest ratings, these shows retained a loyal audience until supplanted by^television in the late 1940s. They do not necessarily represent a form of participation"in radio much encouraged by the studios; however, such_shows could and did quite effectively promote and publicize Hollywood filmTTňH^stan» They were ako £o serve as a recurrent bone of contention between sfudio. and exhibitors throughout the 1930s and 1940« Louella Parsons herself maintained"a radio presence, off and on, from 1928 through the early 1950s in a show sponsored by Sun-Kist oranges, but "Hollywood Hotel" was her most successful effort.37 The Movie Adaptation Frequently credited with having "brought radio to Hollywood." "Hoi- , lywood Hotel" first appeared in 1934 on the CBS chain. Combining " ** the variety formatwith guest-star drama, the show originated with and ~7ľ was hosted by Louella Parsons, who used her considerable influence -J. to persuade big-name stars to appear for free. This money-saving idea helped to offset the AT&T surcharge still in effect for West Coast L transmitting. Who could risk a refusal at the cost of falling from Miss ^ Parsons's good graces? r^„ "J^h^0?^0^" promoted the gossip and talk format to a kind J, of respectability and reinforced the popularity of the star-studded variety ^^ act, but it also pioneered a new form of film-h?yH programming that 4o|?(c ^gHJJ-PIgygjhgAejxtremely popular and mutually beneficial 'foFboth the film and radio industries. "Hollywood Hotel" featured the_weekly if U enactment of a scene from or a condensed version of a film soon to £.---- be released by one of the studios. Often using the actual stars of the ^J film, these twenty-minute vignettes served not only to popularize the ^U radio show but also as excellent pubHdty^FpieTInišTlňTpS, the£^7 ^ ,fc, E^dio-showitsdfjerved^ the basis for a movie, Hollywood Hotel, starring f------ Li p\ -Su-ďa Parsonsjn her real-life role. W jL r* The movie-adaption program best remembered by radio listeners, K~7~ which represents the culmination of its type, was the "Lux Radio Theatre." "Lux" started out as a vehicle for radio versions of Broadway ^ K<"> shows and was based in New York City; not until the AT&T line ^arge^ dropped in 1936 d'd "Lux" move to Hollywood, where it / signed on as master of ^rémonIěTtHě~wélT-kňown director of screen *» ^ exjosagaazas^ecil JB.^ DeMille. From its debut on June 1,7936— /----' an adaptation of "The Legionnaire and the Lady" with Clark Gable ^f, and Marlene Dietrich—to its controversial loss of DeMille in 1945, • , -. clip», 68 Hollywood and Broadcasting "Oj? o\ Mftsí .u» "Lux Radio Theatre" remained one of the most popular shows on the air. Gaining a 25.1 rating in its first season, the 9-10:00 p.m. Monday show hit a peak of 30.8 in the 1941-42 season. It remained one_of radio's top ten shows through the 1940s and spawned a host of imitations. Its introductory words, "And now.. .Lux Presents Hollywood!" and its sign-off phrase, "This is Cecil B. DeMiHe, saying Goodnight Jo you from Hollywood," became catchphrases across the country.38 The show was sponsored by Lever Brothers, which seemed to be willing to spend enormous amounts of money by radio standards to make its Lux soap flakes a household word. DeMille received $1,500 __ per week at first, later more than $2,000, just to introduce the show /\^i>jj each night, provide a few comments between the acts, ancTsign off--------- dramatically—as well as for his enthusiastic endorsement of the product ^P\ ;\ during the show. Actual direction was done by FrcrnTTWoodrufF, listed w^ ^. as assistant director, but DeMille's name and production style proved , ,f to be well worth the cost. As one account had it, "Danker [Daniel J. !ylv Danker, Jr., head of the Hollywood office of J. Walter Thompson,i*W* Lever Brothers' advertising agency] had wanted an extravaganza, and í o £ L he got it. . ..In the DeMille years more than 50 people were required I for each show. Sometimes the stage couldn't hold them all."39 ^ r"J "Lux Radio Theatre" attracted nearly all the top names in Hollywood Ivj-/! • during its fifteen-year career, and many more supporting stars. DeMille I claimed that more than five hundred top stars had been heard, with the sole exceptions of Chaplin and Garbo. Amnnir the films adapted W»" to the requirements of the hour-long aural presentation were "Dark "Ti Victory," with Bette~Dävís~ancľSpencer Tracy; "To Have and Have »------ Not," with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacali; "The Thin Man," (P* the fact remains that the "Lux" idea originated i^íľ 22U5 Ho"ywood but in a New York advertising agency, anďlhat , * ' ™J °{the program rested in the hands of the agencyTnd itsďient. H řW Warner Brothers Studio took steps in 1938 to correct the situation ft ? y y Drawmg on the emerging talent in its famous "Warner's Academy of —T" Acting," the "Warner Brothers' Academy Theatre" dramatized and Susan Hayward, Carole Landis, and Ronald Reagan could be heard regularly; part of the show's attraction was an informal "chat" with the actors and actresses at the end of the show. "Lux" before being released to the screen. Most, however, were broad- (Mf Kŕt/sí/ cast 'mmediately after the film's first run and served to boost theater fyo ''attendance, according to studio executives: The show was broadcast from the Music Box Theater in Hollywood before a live audience of a thousand people, in order, according to DeMille, "to give the players ef~' and director the lift that only a living audience can provide." Such~a production did not come cheap; stars received a~Hat fee of $5,000 per performance, bringing the typical weekly production cost to more than ^ $20,000."° ~ { Although the prestige and popularity of "Lux Radio Theatre" made radio performances by top stars an acceptable and even a desireable a a Unlike "Lux>" the Academy Theater remained under the production control of Warner Brothers, who^sojď^advertising slots within it to the Gru~en~Wätch Company. Also unlike "Lux," the show was not^ired^viFTlnajor network. Instead, Warner syndicated the serieT through" tHe~Trans-Amenca Broadcasting System for sale to independents and smaller chains on an individual basis. This syndication strategy was one "that Hollywood would pursue with great success later as it diversified into television production.*1 Another tactic, producing another highly popular film adaptation W fci show, "The Screen Guild Theater." was to compete with the high ^l salaries of " Lux" by persjiadingjop talentto. appear free-in the name (U ?^ "LS1!- Gulf Oil sponsored the show and donatecTiomparaHe r , n amounts per star to the Motion Picture Relief Fund, which used the ' S<*WV money—estimated at more than $800,000 by 1942—to build a retire- $'f51o^someTon"Tlřmítiplicity of levels, each contributing to the other in i kiv-an increasingly symbiotic relationship. A score of radio programs r' evolving from the prototypes discussed previously emerged from 1938 through the war years, as well as a new type, the radio series based on the characters or.situation of a successful film. Of this latter type, '. "Stella Dallas," a long-running soap-opera prototype, appeared in 1937, the same year that King Vidor's classic remake of the film (released X_ in a silent version by Henry King in 1925) was released. The series r^ť" ran fór 18 1/2 years. "The Adventures of the Thin Man" came on the A air in 1941, based on the 1934 film (itself based on the novel by Dashiell ' Hammett) that starred William Powell and Myrna Loy.41 %£ Radio at the Box Office — - The film industry also drew upon radio. Beginning in 1932, radio Lj. supplied the movies with a steadily increasing supply of ready-made —- talent and material whose established radio appeal could be used to ^4*2 make p^p^larTuín^sľTJrrjänuary T2, 1932^~Variety announcedTKaTTox Pictures had just purchased the rights to a radio script for the first time: "The Trial of Vivienne Ware" by Kenneth Ellis, which had run as a serial on radio. This borrowing of story_ideas and, characters r worked both ways; besides radio shows inspired by films, the studios "^ soon developed the idea of basing films on radio shows or formats. Srj-f One of the earliest examples is The Big Broadcast of 1932. Paramount yr produced this light-weight but successful film to capitalize on the growing popularity of such radio personalities as Bing Crosby. TCate Smith, George Burns, Grácie Allen, and Cab Calloway. Based on a thin plot about a failing radio station that is saved from bankruptcy f I by a star-studded revue, the idea_proyed so^rjrofitabMjjiat it was — folioví by Bi f Broadcast's oi 1936, 1937, and 1938. 3?/5f ByearTy 1933, several movies in production starred radio personalities such as Kate Smith, Rudi Vallee. Ringr Crosby. Tack Pearl, George | Burns and Grácie Allen, Ed Wynn, and Eddie Cantor. A few of these i entertainers, well known on the vaudeville circuit, Had already made films in Hollywood. For example, Eddie Cantor starred in six previous Radio Goes Hollywood 71 films: Kid Boots (1926); Special Delivery (1927); Glorifying the American Girl (1929), a Paramount musical also guest-starring Rudy Vallee, Florenz Ziegfield, Jimmy Walker, and Adolph Zukor; Whoopee (1930); Palmy Days (1931); and The Kid from Spain (1932). He went on to make nine more that were entertaining and fairly profitable, if not particularly distinguished. ^AjdiVallee had also made one film previously, The Vagabond Lover rni529Tbut he is remembered primarily for his work in radio, which carried him on through his extended film career.43 Gj^jejSurns and Grracje^Allen, on the other hand, as popular vaudevSkaiiaTadio comedians, got their film start in the Big Broadcast of 1932 and went on to achieve their greatest popularity in television. Bing^Crosbv, although starting out with a primary reputation as a radio "crooner," achieved considerable success in films. His first film, King of Jazz for Universal in 1930, followed by The Big Broadcast, established his box-office appeal; in the years between his film debut and his later success on television, Crosby starred in more than fifty films, most for Paramount, not all memorable, but at least moderately successful. Among the most popular were Crosby's "road movies" made with Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour for Paramount in 1940, 1941 1942, 1945, 1947, 1952, and 1962. Many other radio stars appeared in and inspired films through the 1930s and 1940s. Other borrowing also occurred, the most famous of/-which is Orson Welles's switch from the acclaimed Mercury Theatre(l9. U, to RKOTo make Citizen Kane in 1940. The reasons for This sudden^ j-j increase and ease in borrowings_between the_two industries lay with o. t the actions of a seemingly unrelated third party, the telephone company, ™\ whose belated lowering of West- to East-Coast rates sparked what came _ \n to be known in theTrade as the "Swing to Hollywood" of 1936-387 —ll With decreased transmission charges in effect, the major networks, ^f**^ which had originated all schedules in New York, decided to build their Df "own studios on iHe WelľTľpasl—in Hollywood. NBC erected a modern ~T~~J-structure next door to the RKO studios in 1937, "on the sire~ňTthe fcfiAi old famous ťlayers-Lasky movie lot";44 CBS purchased an existing J, broadcastinJ1ľatí6n~äB?sét~up network transmission facilities and a^ ^ new studioThere. "To Hollywood! becomes a broadcaster's cry as New u York agents of sponsored programs tire of chasing movie stars just off ^ the boat from Europe, or catching flying Big Names on the wing eastward. 'A radio center as well as the movie capital', becomes the _slogan for Hollywood."45 ' The Reappearance of Television A second factor in the heightened mutual interest of film and radio centers on yet another technology: the reemergence of television as an («CM^r Hollywood and Broadcasting «HC imminent possibility. If 1931 marked the "brightest moment in television's false dawn,"46 1936 became the beginning of its true although still gradual arrival, gome commentators felt that RCA's purchase of RKÖ had"lis~_i hodden agenda the idea of "protectJHigJ itself when television became a fact."4' Most writers and industry personnel assumed that when television did come into its own, the film industry would play a major part in it. "Visionaries believe that the years will see radio and the screen in even closer alliance, especially with television aheacTTFilms are expected to be the backbone of the television art."48 Whether_these would be regular full-length Hollywood films or films made by the Hollywood studios especially for television remained a debated point, but there was no doubt about the linkage of the two industries in one way or another. Some still scoffed, however, at the film industry's preparedness to meet the coming technological revolution. As early as 1936, the New York Times's radio column leveled some familiar-sounding charges at the "film barons," stating that "here, except for a recent investigation conducted in behalf of two or three producers who wanted to check on the progress of the medium, little interest has been shown" and that, i "the town [Hollywood] is unconcerned over the threat of television competition." The article was headlined, "Dodging That Big Bad Television." Its points were mitigated somewhat by the concluding statement, however: "Hollywood. . .feels that there are too many problems to be solved before thejmedium becomes a threat and... producers are confident they will be able to jump in at the proper moment and take advantage of anything the process offers." This outlook comes closer to the facts of the situation, as history shows; although much important technical and regulatory ground was laid for television in the 1930s, its presence would not be felt until after World War II.49 In the meantime, interest in television in Hollywood took another form: in 1936 the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences assigned its Research Council to provide a report on industry preparation for television. It concluded that "Hollywood's 'psychological preparedness' lor television was TrTcontrast tq_the costly 'scepticism' with which many greeted the change from silent to sound_p_ictures.,,SÍÍ Overall, the com-mittěěTéTt that the film industry stood well prepared, both technically and economically, for the advent of television, but thatT "no change is t-faj, imrninent."ž^Paramount's purchase in 1938 of a half interest in DuMont í"'- Laboratories—-wie of the innovators in television research—would appear to confirm that view. Between 1938 and 1948, other investments in television broadcasting technology on „the part of the film industry would follow (chapter 5).52 dvUkio Radio Goes Hollywood 73 Renewed Conflict: "Hollywood Good News" However, one group within the industry viewed the increasing comfort and mutuality of the Hollywood-radio relationship with growing alarm. That group consisted of the never completely quiescent exhibitors, who saw injhe prospect of television the fulfillment of their worst nightmares Added to this fear was the enormous popularity of the £^r»Ca f -,-„ about radio. 4V.&U-V,'- new "Lux Radio Theatre" movie-adaptation format, and plans an-'Wi » Kólíŕ nounced in 1936 for a further film foray into broadcasting: the MGM- J Maxwell House hour that began in late 1937 as a continuation of "Show Boat." Called variously "Hollywood Good News" or "Good . News of 1938," the show used thelame lořmaf^ioněěrecTby "Lux"— /0><£ v>Qo{ movie adaptations with the originaTstars, interspersed with~Tíb"éhTnd-the-scenes" interviews andj3reviews^ of coming movie attractions—but this time Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer wouIčTäcTas producer, retaining ail artistic and hnanciaT control, with Maxwell House as sole'sponsor^ For i^utfaf this MGM would receive $25,000 a weeiTFrom the coffee company as well as all the increased box-office appeal it could generate. In return, it threw open Its entire stable of talent ("except Garbo") to the greater gjory^öfliollywööd, radio, and Maxwell House coffee.53 However, the show proved less successful that its rival. Newsweek L ( wrote that radio audiences "couldn't decide whether Metro Goldwyn V- okSpow; 4&. •) H&M /íJiwCŕ Mayer was trying to sell Maxwell House, or if the coffeemakers were (/&cd*vj putting out Metro Goldwyn Mayer in airtight containers." Although ratings were fairly high—a 13.2 in the first year and a 20.2 the second— MGM slowly and quietly withdrew as Fanny Brice, introduced in the show's first year, gained in popularity. By_1940, the show was known ai the..."Fanny Brice-Baby—Snooks Hour." Most sources attribute MGM's withdrawal from the show to theater owners' protests combined with the show's excessive costs.54 exhibitors' complaints to Will Hays's office had again fM K(i ■ vr. FaUí In 1936, ta a ~-' ■ ■■■ ____ * _____ > — -------------- ~-W~ provoked the announced intention on the prpducer.si.part of. setting up aspeciáTčommittee within the Motion Picture Producers and Directors bffl in* ÄTsocTation (MPPDA) to "regulate stars' radio appearances."55 Through /> ( -rev tne ^te i??0s_studios increasingly demanded supervision of their con- rf"^tract players' radio dates, including one-half of any feešjor^sälänes !> ľlfftjj earned, This response effectively answered one exhibitor complaint, "■~lŕ«čtM»v ^?7'»pany stářš have killed their value [at the box office] by~_ungla- ----------morous appearances on the air,"56 without detracting much from the growing crossover of film and radio talent. Another exhibitor complaint, that Hollywood-based radio shows aired during~pnme theater-going hours (defined as broadly as 12 noon to 9:00 p.m. by~some exhibitors) 74 Hollywood and Broadcasting led to the scheduling of shows at off hours, like the Paramount production on Sundays at 12:30 PM„ and "Lux"'s move to the 9-10:00 p.m. time slot." Again in 1938, after a series of small lawsuits against the distribution practices of the major studios, exhibitor complaints focussed Justice ,; Department attention on the movie industry. In July of that year the Justice Department filed a petition in the Southern New York District, asking finally for the divorcement of exhibition from production and 'rM distribution and citing not only the five major studios (Paramount, Fox, Loew's-MGM, Warners, and RKO) but also Columbia, Universal, and United Artists. In 1940 the companies signed a consent decree, which stopped short of divestiture but did involve a modification of current practices, including any further investment in theaters. How- ^•4ever, the timing of the suit against Paramount's purchase of its stock : in DuMont laboratories may indicate the direction at least one studio hä *5 was preparing to take in the event of divestiture. In 1944 the Justice '-y- Department reopened the case, leading to the decrees of 1948 that split >tV exhibition from production-distribution and permanently changed the face of Hollywood.58 ;nw; The movie industry was not alone in attracting the attention of federal \J regulators, however. Douglas Gomery suggests that the "second depression" of 1937 prompted the government to focus its criticism on large trusts and monopolies as an explanation for the economic downturn, and that the film and radio industries provided particularly large and colorful targets. The FCC initiated its investigation of chain broadcasting in November 1938, resulting ultimately in the divestiture fj of the NBC Blue Network, which became the~~Amencan Broadcasting _w Company (ABC) in 1944. The creation of this third network, combined with the movie industry divestiture, would have an unforeseen effect >Vl some ten years later, when the merger of ABC with the divested United Paramount Theater Corporation finally made the last-place network / into a viable operation. It also had the side effect of driving the DuMont '\ ^network, partially owned by Paramount Pictures, out of business. Furthermore, while creating new and difficult business conditions for the film companies during and after divestiture, the lingering shadow of the antitrust litigation of the past two decades made theTilm industry's entry into the business of television much more difficult (chapters 5 -and 6).59 . NOTES 1. William S. Paley, "Radio and Entertainment," in Radio and Its Future, ed. Martin Codell (New York: Harper Books, 1930), pp. 61-67. Radio Goes Hollywood 75 2. Paley, "Radio and Entertainment," p. 64. 3. Erik Barnouw, A Tower in Babel (New York: Oxford University Press, 1966), p. 203; Llewellyn White, The American Radio (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949), pp. 45-57. 4. Erik Barnouw, The Golden Web (New York: Oxford University Press 1968), p. 58. 5. White, American Radio, pp. 36-38; David A. Cook, "The Birth of the Networks: How Westinghouse, General Electric, AT&T, and RCA Invented the Concept of Advertiser-Supported Broadcasting," Quarterly Review of Film Studies 8 (Summer 1983): 3-8; Wall Street Journal, June 10, 1988, p. 25. 6. Robert B. Horwitz, "The Regulation/Deregulation of American Broadcasting," Quarterly Review of Film Studies 8 (Summer 1983): 25-33. 7. White, American Radio, p. 66. 8. New York Times, March 28, 1928; Variety, March 30, 1928; Paley, "Radio and Entertainment," p. 63. 9. Variety, March 6, 1929; April 10, 1929. 10. Ibid., April 17, 1929. 11. Ibid., February 6, 1929. 12. Business Week, February 10, 1932, p. 18; August 10, 1932, pp. 14-15. 13. Ibid., August 14, 1932, p. 14. 14. Barnouw, Golden Web, p. 103; Garth Jowett, Film: The Democratic Art (Boston: Little, Brown, 1976) p. 280; Christopher Sterling and John Kitross, Stay Tuned: A Concise History of American Broadcasting (Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth Publishing, 1978), p. 133. 15. Variety, February 9, 1932. 16. Ibid., June 14, 1932; October 25, 1932, p. 2. 17. Ibid., February 16, 1932, p. 1. 18. Ibid., p. 67; March 8, 1932, p. 1. 19. Ibid., February 16, 1932. 20. Ibid., p. 67; May 17, 1932, p. 2. 21. Ibid., July 12, 1932; July 19, 1932; June 14, 1932; October 25, 1932, p. 2; September 6, 1932. 22. Ibid., February 9, 1932, p. 51; October 25, 1932, p. 3. 23. Variety, December 27, 1932. 24. Richard B. Jewell, "Hollywood and Radio: Competition and Partnership in the 1930s," Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television 4, no. 2 (1984): 136; Variety, January 17, 1933; January 24, 1933; April 4, 1933; August 29 1933. 25. Janet Staiger, "Combination and Litigation: Structures of U.S. Film Distribution, 1896-1917," Cinema Journal 23 (Winter 1983): 41-72. 26. Motion Picture Herald, January 21, 1933; February 11, 1933; February 25, 1933; February 11, 1933; February 25, 1933; Abel Green and Joe Laurie Jr., Show Biz: From Vaude to Video (New York: Holt, 1951), p. 358. 27. Robert E. Summers and Harrison B. Summers, Broadcasting and the Publk Interest (Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth, 1966), p. 54. 76 Hollywood and Broadcasting 28. Russell Nye, The Unembarrassed Muse (New York: Dial Press, 1970). 29. White, American Radio, p. 66; Summers and Summers, Broadcasting and the Public Interest, p. 59. 30. Federal Communications Commission, Report of the Federal Commnicaiions Commission on the Investigation of the Telephone Industry in the United States, 76th Cong., 1st sess., House Document no. 340, 1939. 31. Arthur Frank Wertheim, Radio Comedy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979). 32. Federal Communications Commission, 1939, p. xvii. 33. Literary Digest, October 31, 1936, p. 17; Orrin E. Dunlap, Jr., "The Swing to California," New York Times, October 17, 1937; Business Week, November 6, 1937, p. 27; New York Times, April 12, 1936, sec. 9, p. 4; November 29, 1936, p. 24. 34. John Dunning, Tune in Yesterday (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1976), pp. 208-10; Frank Buxton and Bill Owen, The Big Broadcast (New York: Viking Press, 1972), pp. 85-86. 35. Harrison B. Summers, ed., A Thirty Year History of Programs Carried on National Radio Networks in the United States, 1926-1956 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1958, repr. New York: Arno Press, 1971). 36. Variety, January 5, 1932, p. 59. 37. Summers, A Thirty Year History. 38. Cecil B. DeMille, The Autobiography of Cecil B. DeMille, ed. Donald Hayne (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1959), pp. 346-48. 39. Buxton and Owen, The Big Broadcast, pp. 146-47; Dunning, Tune in Yesterday, pp. 378-81; DeMille, Autobiography, p. 346. 40. Bernard Lucich, "The Lux Radio Theatre," in American Broadcasting: A Sourcebook on the History of Radio and Television, ed. Laurence W. Lichty and Malachi C. Topping (New York: Hastings House, 1975), pp. 391-94; DeMille, Autobiography, p. 346; Gene Ringgold and DeWitt Bodeen, The Films of Cecil B. DeMille (New York: Citadel Press, 1969), pp. 370-77. 41. Dunning, Tune in Yesterday, p. 639. 42. Ibid., pp. 10-11, 568-69; Buxton and Owen, The Big Broadcast, p. 225. 43. Variety, January 10, 1933; New York Times, July 16, 1933, sec. 9, p. 7. 44. Business Week, November 6, 1937, p. 27. 45. Literary Digest, October 31, 1936, p. 17; Dunlap, "The Swing to Hollywood"; New York Times, November 29, 1936, p. 24. 46. Robert H. Stern, "Regulatory Influences upon Television's Development: Early Years under the Federal Radio Commission," American Journal of Economics and Sociology 22, no. 3 (1963): 347-62. 47. New York Times, October 17, 1937, sec. 10, p. 12. 48. Ibid., July 7, 1937, sec. 9, p. 11. 49. Ibid., April 12, 1936, sec. 9, p. 4. 50. Ibid., May 18, 1936, p. 14. 51. Ibid., June 14, 1936, sec. 9, p. 8. 52. Hal W. Bochin, "The Rise and Fall of the DuMont Network," in American Broadcasting, ed. Lichty and Topping, p. 190. Radio Goes Hollywood 77 53. Dunning, Tune in Yesterday, pp. 240-41; "Metro's Maxwell House Air Show, Vantty, November 10, 1937; "Radio Relying on Hollywood," New York Morning Telegraph, September 20, 1940. 54. Newsweek, November 15, 1937, p. 25; Dunning, Tune in Yesterday, p 241-Summers, A Thirty Year History; New York World Telegram, February 13 1939-Billboard, October 1, 1938, n.p.; New York Times, February 22 1939 n 19 ' 55. Ibid., November 29, 1926, p. 24. ' ' 56. Ibid., August 30, 1939. 57. Ibid., October 17, 1937. 58 Simon N. Whitney, "Antitrust Policies and the Motion Picture Industry" in The American Movie Industry, ed. Gorham Kindern (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1982), p. 181. 59. Douglas Gomery, "Failed Opportunities: The Integration of the U S Motion Picture and Television Industries," Quarterly Review of Film Studies (Summer 1984): 219-27; Gary N. Hess, "An ffistorical Study of the DuMont Television Network" (Ph.D. diss., Northwestern University, 1960 repr New York: Arno Press, 1979). ' ' / í The "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" The previous three chapters have traced several key developments that led to the increased influence of Hollywood on radio programming. The reduction_of_Ar&Llanddine_rates. to and from the West Coast in 1936 provided, as with its bottleneck on leasing network lines in the u^^ late 1920s, a hidden but crucial factor in the ability ofJřioUywood --------interests to_Earticipaie in nHin production. The growing strength_of A commercial sponsors in program production through the intermediary ifft,. of the major advertising agencies contributed to the decline of network sustaining programs; the creation of important but as yet unrecognized , . ioopholes in the government disposition of the "radio problem" per- ^•/mined both the dominance of the two major interconnected networks tZor^ and tneir heavy dependence on the output of the agencies. „, , These forces, alongjwith the regulatory and indusmaljtrictures_set ^ in place in theJ920s~(chapters 1 and ^constitute what might be ^•Cf called the macroeconomics of the film-broadcasting industry interface. They are thTlnajor factors behind the subsequent development of ^*-Z broadcast programming, setting the basic structures and conditions of J, possibility for what would come later. A traditional political economy ' approach to the media might stop here, having delineated the neces- j sary—but, as Stuart Hall reminds us, not necessarily the sufficient— o conditions for broadcast texts to develop as they did.1 H^s critique oTthe ^shortcomings of the political economy model grows out of his own theoretical approach, which conceives of the communicative act as a process consisting of three "determinate moments": the process of encoding, the message form itself, and the decoding process. Although Hall's ovJřT work, and the work of the "cultural studies school in k "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 79 general, has tended to focus on the decoding process—by which a message form is perceived and interpreted by a viewer—the moment of encoding occupies an equivalent and equally important position in <°l4C< the communication model. The institutional structures of broadcasting, with their practices and networks of production, their organized relations and technical infrastructures, are required to produce a programme___Of course, the production process is not without its 'discursive' aspect: it, too, is framed throughout by^rcejmmgrand ideas: knowieage-in-use concerning the routines of production historically defined technical skills, professional ideologies, JnstitütiörläT'EnöwTedge, definitions and assumptions'!TsTumptions about the audience and soor^frame the constitution of the programme through this production structure.2 — Thus the encoding process includes not only production techniques. w but also the forces behind the development of those very techniques: **°* tncThistitutional structures of broadcasting, organized relations, and "" '"i^f acceptéčTpractices, all of which~contribute to the message form. And o{m although the message itself takes on a symbolic structure, expressed - olfU-through language forms or codes, which does not become complete I until it is received and decoded by an audience, the moment of *-» ^ production plays a "predominant" role, because it is the "point of C,4J^ departure for the realization" of the message form itself.3 -—r-— Furthermore, as Hall develops in later works, encoding forces must J^fL^i be examined concretely, within the context of a specific historical period i^y and specinTTirčumstances,ijnjprder to arrive at an understanding of >~ the symbolic constructions set in place by these institutions, and thus the range of decodings available to the receivers. Finally, this encoding process is a conflicted one, not expressing unity and^consensiuTof -1/i/vJ^i intention on the part_ofthe encoding Tnstitiitinn^řiiit instead reflecting the internal conflicts aňorštruggTFfoFdominance within and throughout " ' the encodmg__p_rocess, as a "struggle and contestation for the space in &W I which to construct an ideological hegemony."4 Applying Hall's model, étj 0 A the question then becomes, Out of the welter of competing interests, , economic pressures, regulatory restrictionšTand social conditions that >*vf<* *> make up the institutional structures of broadcasting, how did the unique ^'v^ and" distinctive forms of the_ broadcast, text arise? Out of all of the \ possibilities for expression and use, why did American radio evolve - , ** into its characteristic segmented, serial, disrupted discourse of primarily "^ ^ entertainment programs? No sweeping general rule will suffice to explain U kp£ l these developments; instead a close look at the specific historical jjr-cumstances surrounjding,jha.origninatÍQri,_onndividual programs, pro- ^^ ^ °Uk/ír80 Hollywood and Broadcasting gram types and categories, and the formation of the broadcast schedule, is needed within the institutional structures that support and, to a certain extent, determine them. u*dUi ŕ t-» This institutional approach to the encoding process has been most i . y fully developed in the study of the early days of the film industry. A ^f V tudy early days_ jndustry. ^d&*.>* number of works have been published that examine the emergence of W t< i , the characteristic narrative and signifying_asrjects of the Hollywood j '•film. Among these are Janet Staiger's study of the effect of early ^ |l (vt/. production and marketing strategies on_the evolution of signifying (fU^( f í^. practices, Douglas Gomerey's analysis of the development of sound film and its effects, andCTrTarles Musser's study of Edwin S. Porter _____ and the shift in creative control from the_£xhibitor to the cameraman- •"**>"'« director.5 The early days of the broadcast medium are just beginning 'vS^Ô ^ ^ to benefit from similar institutional analysis. For example, in his (,e/L / •L examination of economic and institutional pressures on the rise of the--------; -^-- soap opera, Robert C. Allen concludes that "There is little doubt. . . ~J^J_ "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" I ^ jr-»-the creative process, particularly of those shows aired during the ,,«,. VK j7 popular times, until the development of spot advertising strategTl 81 most in in the fact ^ ťŕ. broadcasters, not advertisers. A closer look at the Robert C. Allen concludes that "There is little doubt. . . £^0vthat the primary generative mechanisms responsible for the origination {X. oUyf ^ of the soap opera form and for its perpetuation over nearly fifty years l/e^k;' „p_ Kifcf tlCS and analysts of the television text that the television (or radio) \^ program cannot be considered outside of its commercial context, that Z± the commercials, rather than providing brief and irrelevant ' ' "~ aJO < tfiK Mi can be located in the institutional requirements of American commercial ^v broadcasting."6 This is equally true for other types of broadcast texts. Yet Allen's L* rožU1 work remains the exception rather than the rule. Even with the recent \SfZ~ increase in attention to the broadcast discourse from a number of critical directions, it is troubling that, first, television's very direct roots -.""' -''-. í£-Jíii5Ěi/.their clients —.----- ,,•,,. --------- — creative process ^Vp/; behind radio programming may also reinforce the arguments of some ■7)c ínterrup-supertext," { flNW; 5ign--" to the text> are in fact a vital component of' tne^lüpertext ' ' P^Ku.mCluding b0th crea^e ani-structural_ forces asL well as IhT reading ' \ ?**U* ;•'■ prOCeSS- Indeed n seems clear from an analysis ofIhTongTSi-oTTädio ^Program forms that Raymond Williams's view of television as com- f>»JM», "Hrdals interrupted by programs" is not merely a theoretical construct K Kut K^o £**»* >^.n<— :____i___i i • ■ ... in radio broadcasting are so often overlooked, and second, that even J"""'- < in 1933 to 49.4 percent in 1944 on NBC, and on CBS from 22.9 to I . 47.8 percent in the same period. By 1944, evening hours consisted , "almost entirely of sponsored programs. In terms ot concentration off-Z^J^k f* ué advertising and programming power within the agencies themselves, by 1944 three of the nation's largest advertising agencies__(J. Walter-Thompson; ^ance^¥jtž^HM[^d^un£lLnď Řubicam) between them controlled about one-fourth of total commerciaTTime'on the three major networks. In 1945, almost half of CBS's total billings of ytň $65,724,362 came from onlylSTadvertising agencies representing seven sponsors. I Although Stephen Fox quotes the radio writer Carroll Carroll as saying, "You can't imagine. . .with what crushing surprise radio made its guerrilla attack on all advertising agencies. It caught few ready for it but all prepared to fake it," the speed and enthusiasm with which the agencies adjusted to the age of radio is attested to by James Playstead Wood: "FnrthVfTf^FT^^^Hvertisingj^ajnedium whirh itronfrnlled." Unlike magazines, Heretofore "the dominant advertising medium, a ftet separation between the editorial content and the advertising adjacent ^Q^ to it was no longer necessary;_with radio,, the_ adverriser^created the| — "content" as well as the commercial message.10 - f-OZ. Although individual advertisers moved to include radio in their _~^> advertising strategies quite early—WEAF's list of clients in 1923 in-' eluded Macy's, Colgate, and Metropolitan Life—some resistance to the rW medium existed in the more established agencies during~th"ě~~I920s. \ Uj-Lf X ^G^u^c^^4 ^ q»~k r .[, .1. "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" Í One reason for this had to do with opposition from within the existing media market. Worried by potential competition for the advertising dollar, the newspaper and magazine industries opposed radio irľ its early years, influencing some agencies to take a cautious stance toward radio advertising in order to protect their good relations with established media outlets". Also, thejjractice of "indirect advertising." although attracting many companies through shows such as the "Luck~y~Stnke Dance Orchestra,' the "A&P Gypsies," the "Cliquot Club Eskimos," and "The Palmolive Show," limited the amount and type of advertising that could be done over the air. Before the establishment of the large networks, programs had to be~pTaced on a station-to-station basis. Because no ratings system yet existed, many advertisers preferred not yoJta v to trust the audience estimates of local jtatjojas^ansLtg. stick instead I with the measurable circulation figures of the print media. But with ^Jp^ " the formation of NBC in 1926, a far larger audience became possible, "*Vl<£ £ ; and both NBC andjCTBSjppk active steps to promote the concept of c i*^-radio líčTvertising. In 1930, the Cooperative Analysis of Broadcasting , . (Crossley) rating system was established as a joint venture of the y]^**^ American Association of Advertising Agencies and the Association of '"¥>**& ■r , National Ädvffíi|eršT^čččíaľng to Ralph M. Hower in his history of "t" . i n the N. W. Ayer advertising agency: ^Cžt&u &C,l^c' Sample Hummert—an ongoing radio production department. Because /., Procter and Gamble was one of the first companies to see the immense •, . potential in radio for advertisement of their household products, Blackett v ^*t l 84 Hollywood and Broadcasting fob «jlvf «fed/ 79íŕ ■ Sample Hummert must be regarded as one of the most important sites for radio serial development, employing a stable of writers, most of whom were women, under the direction of Anne Hummert. These writers turned out an amazing number and variety of radio programs, including such long-running shows as "Ma Perkins," "Just Plain Bill," "Betty and Bob," "Jack Armstrong," "The Romance of Helen Trent," "Pepper Young's Family," and many more. Odiex^mallei sponsors might put together_a one-time show, which if successful could, be continued. The process of bringing client, network, talent, and concept together fell to the_a;ger^^adjO_director.,2 A useful glimpse into the process of radio origination is provided by an article published by the Saturday Evening Post in 1938, "One Minute to Go: Backstage with an AdvertisintrAgency's Radio Director" by Kenneth L. Watt, a radio director in real life. Watt traced the process by which a radio show gotjrom initial impetus to the_air. After consultations- with the company president, its treasurer, sales and! advertising directors, and other higher executives, the basic concept/ for the show waTagreed upon, in this case ^star-studded Hollywoodv varíě~ty"šhow-complete with dramatic segment, orchestra, comedian, singers, and announcer. The next step was negotiating with agents over the Hollywood contribution, and finallytwo current, but affordable, stars were selected. Next came the hiring of writers who would provide the script for the dramatic segment~to~be enacted~by the stars, followed j by the"selection of theemcee, in this case a comedian "like Cantor orf Jack Bennys who would not only provide his;wn comic jnaterialbu| would also tie the show together through introductions and transitions: Another announcer was chosen to deliver the commercial ^messages. At this stage, or as e1ü-ty~äsj>össible, negotiations with the network) began, to secure an option on a favorable, and available, time slot After choosing the emcee and negotiating with his agent, the orchestra and singer were hired; throughout each of these steps the radio director, although nominally in charge, deferred constantly to the wishes of the compiHyp resident, advertising manager, and other company employees who all wished to have a hand in the process.13 "" NexTcame the writiftgjrfjhe "STrTpt;;~wRlch was supervised by the agency man as well asjhe client's advertising director. The script went through several revisions; before it was finalized, the commercial announcements had to be written and approved, and the decision made about whether to integrate the message with the show or to handle \ them as discrete "breaks." The commercial announcements were created/ by the advertising agency copy department but approved by a committee \ thelTIent formed for that purpose. With this approval, the rehearsals / 'Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 85 / began. Not until the final rehearsal before broadcast did the show move to the network studios, where sound levels were taken and the whole ; sequence run through_before going otu live over the network hook-ups. During the stage before the run-through, the radio director's talents .were fully engaged. As Watt put it: V Preparing the schedule, or formula, for a radio program is much like having eggs, flour, sugar and shortening for a cake. Too much of this or too little of that can make an unholy mess and result in a waste of good material simply because the ingredients are not assembled properly. My L/ ingredients consist of: One movie star, male; one__moyif_st_arJ female; one master of ceremonies; one stooge—maybe more; one singer, male or ' r*-*/*, female; one orchestra with leader; one announcer; sundry actors, actresses, script writers, sound effects men, production men.'* ^'Ujokí'ý; V lot- Next came another important step—submitting the completed script to the network censor for approval, so any material in controversial or questionable taste could supposedly be eliminated. Once this was accomplished, the final rehearsal was scheduled, with actors and actresses for theL bit parts _in.tlje_ jscript hired^ at the last minute. At this point the agency radio director assumed the role of production director, coaching players, smoothing transitions, and determining the orderjpf the show. proo(^r^4v, Watt's account makes clear the large role_pJay£dby_the advertising ^ ptílřtíot. agency radio director in the radio program origination and production I process. The radio director resembled a film producer and director i p, t^j^ combined, supervising every step of a show's production and providing/ >i .Jh, important creative input, always in consultation with a sponsor whose —r / wishes were, after all, the motivating factor behmôTall this activity. Z^^Fortune magazine provided another glimpse of the production process, t this time through the eyes of the company president whose decision it / was to advertise on radio. Although the process remained the same, focus from Fortune's perspective tended to center on costs of such a production, and each successive decision—stars, singers, script writers, etc.—was discussed from the point of view of its price tag. Fortune listed some of the most popular shows on the air in terms of their production and time costs:15 Table 1. Fortune's Cost Analysis of Top Radio Shows of 1938 Program Production Time Total Chase & Sanborn Hour (McCarthy) Jack Benny (Jello) Kraft Music Hall (Bing Crosby) $20,000 $15,900 $35,900 15,000 11,500 26,500 13,500 17,100 30,600 / 86 Hollywood and Broadcasting Program Production Time Total Lux Radio Theatre (guest movie stars) 15,000 17,300 32,300 Eddie Cantor (Texaco) 15,000 11,900 26,900 Al Jolson (Lever Bros) 12,000 10,400 22,400 Major Bowes' Amateur Hour (Chrysler) 25,000 20,100 45,100 Burns and Allen (General Foods, for Grape Nuts) 10,000 10,600 20,600 Town Hall Tonight (Fred Allen, sponsored by Bristol-Myers Co.)_________________ 10,000 15,800 25,800 Source. Fortune, May 1938, p. 54. The programs are listed in order of their ratings according to the Cooperative Analysis of Broadcasting, or Crossley Report. In addition, as Fortune noted, "All but four of the ten 'big' shows listed...are ui£i produced in Hollywood, and" so,Tfor'"that"matter, are most of the other , important evening network programs." *- As programming strategies developed, so too did the art of the radio »»^commercial. One important feature of original radio.advertising, now' , virtually a .thinr^PPrVof."'ac ^ mt<*£™ted commercial message: ^ an advertising plug arising so smoothly out of the program action, or »->■. actually written into the narrative^_that it was indistinguishable from ľ~>ithe~ďramatic structure. Ma Perkins endorsed Oxydol detergent and r- '/frequently found cause to use it in the course of her domestic activities J^—'on radio. Fibber McGee and Molly likewise found frequent reasons M-; for using Johnson's wax on their show. Allen cites a proposal for a j^' soap opera from Irna Phillips for Kleenex in which the show opens ^T^ with the main character sitting at her dressing table removing her -^ makeup with—surprise—Kleenex. '6 Jack Benny and his troupe made Jello commercials famous by working references to the product into their comic routines—although this kind ^^óF'gag" announcement could backfire, making the radio director of the Saturday Evening Post article advise his hypothetical client to avoid ^""iuch a format. More_common was the straight commercial plug read f>'iii/oT enacted by members" of the program cast. As Roland Marchand í$,i wrote, "The Maxwell House programi a pioneer in the Jnterwoven , p commercial, j^rupulouslv maintained the continuity of mood. Program fíľ" characters delivered the commercials as they gathered around the table .V^wlth the program host, the Old Colonel, to share coffee and reminisce ;.about olden days at the Maxwell House Hotel (the program's setting), -—*when Teddy Roosevelt had characterized the coffee as 'Good to the ►Wa. last drop.""7 When the program cast member was a Hollywood star, "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 87 the integrated ad took on the properties of a celebrity testimonial, lending a ready-made aura of glamour to the product. The celebrity testimonial remains one of the major advertising strategies today, and the agency known for its innovations in this area is J. Walter Thompson, not surprisingly also the creators of the "Lux Radio Theatre." The Creative Site: J. Walter Thompson The J. Walter Thompson firm has a long history in the development of advertising. Its founder, James Walter Thompson, got his start in 1870 in New York and contributed to the rise of magazines as an advertising medium and as a part of American culture. One of the first to see the immense advertising potential in the weekly and monthly publications, Thompson's list of magazines under exclusive contract by the turn of the century included the Atlantic, Century (successor to Scribner's), Harper's, Lippincott's, Godey's, Peterson's, and the North American Review. The firm went on to become one of the prototypes of the complete advertising agency. It tended to specialize in products appealing to women as consumers, from soaps and cosmetics to food products. In 1916, Thompson sold out to a group of employees headed by Stanley Resor, who in 1917 married another top JWT employee, Helen Lansdowne. Lansdowne was one of the first women to rise to the top of the advertising profession; her influence helped to make JWT successful with the female market it pursued. Her successful campaign for Woodbury soap was influential in Procter and Gamble's 1911 decision to employ JWT to advertise its Crisco cooking oil, the first time the large consumer products company had employed an outside advertising firm. Together Helen Lansdowne and Sjanlev_Resor managed the J. Walter Thompson firm for the next thirty years and were influential in its_innovative move into ra3ioTre —~ /* Helen Lansdowne Resor must aíso be credited with a JWT trademark which led directly to the "Lux Radio Theatre" strategy: th"e~celebrity testimonial. Although the testimonial is one of the oldest advertising strategies, Resor's contribution lay in attaching the product testimonial to a famous name. Her first coup, in 1924, involved persuading Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, a New York socialite, to endorse Pond's cold cream in exchange for a hefty donation to a charity of her choice. Other '^great_lady" endorsements followed, including Queen Marie of Rumania, Mrs. Reginald Vanderbilt, and the Duchess de Richelieu. From the crowned heads of Europe, it was a short step to Hollywood." JWT's involvement in radio began in the 1920s. One of its earliest successes was the bringing together of Rudy Vallee with Fleischmann's 88 Hollywood and Broadcasting 'Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 89 T yeast in 1928, one of the most successful shows on the air at the time. That same year JWT sent a representative to Hollywood, one of the first of the major New York agencies to dp so. This representative, later head of the Hollywood branch office established in 1934, was Daniel J. Danker, Jr., a Harvard-educated promoter who became something of a celebrity in his own right during his influential career in Hollywood. By 1930± JWT had put together radio programs for eighteen of its clients, accounting for more than twenty-three hours pěr^wéěk of network time. One of JWT's more important accounts was the manufacturing giant Lever Brothers. The Cambridge, Massachusetts, company was a wholly owned subsidiary of "gigantic" Lever Brothers and Unilever Company, nominally under Dutch ownership but managed from London—in fact, according to Fortune, "among the three largest British investments in the U.S." Lever Brothers' U.S. product line included Rinso soap flakes, /G^//» Lifebuoy health soap, Lux flakes, Lux toilet soap, Spry vegetable/ ^ shortening, and a few lesser brands. In terms of sales volume in the iK«/#. soap and vegetable fat trade, Lever Brothers ranked second only to L^ Procter and Gamble in the U.S. market, with earnings of more than Ty~ $90 million in 1940. For products such as these, aimed at a consumer •Sf* market primarily consistingofhousewives and requiring a large volume ^ of sales to a widespread and relatively undifferentiated consumer pool, Tľľ'V jj radio represented the perfect advertising medium. Both companies ^ J maintained large radio presences from the early 1930s until the switch to television. Indeed, it is possible that in terms of radio program innovation, an examination of the rivalry Jjetween the soap giants, Lever Brothers and Procter and Gamble, may reward the serious scholar I 9 far more than a study of the rivalry between the two major networks.20 Large advertisers such as the two soap companies often split their accounts between several agencies. In the 1930s, JWT, Lever's first agency in the United States, handled the prestigious Lux flakes and Lux toilet soap accounts. Rinso and Spry were handled by the Ruthrauff and Ryan Agency, who also had Lifebuoy until it was given to the William Esty Agency in the mid-thirties. Another Lever product, Lipton tea, was managed by Young and Rubicam, which as of 1940 stood to gain a few more Lever accounts. Thus, although the actual creative work^vas accomplished within the agencies and dittered in approach according to agency style and specialization, the client company made - M if MV KW.« í evening_shpws, produced by different agencies for diffeasLEroducts Such data demonstrate two points: fiňtTtKiftEřidwr^^^^g oXihe netwQiiuadiafiraasaemUed.today's television prop^ictioiLCQrn-|«*iW^Pl^£arSe}y-bra^h^s_o£Holl^wood studios), which actually create Čí \r,U }, &* *n- pradHggJiejhows, whereas the manufacturers and advertisers^ radio resemble today's network programming departments, making the overall conceptual and scheduling decisionsfand second, thatltew^ companies and their agencies influenced far more than the "soaps " Lever Brothers in particular was known for its sponsorship and innovation in evening prime-time shows.21 The Evolution of "Lux" Conceptually, the beginnings of the "Lux Radio Theatre" radio show UíJŕ&A,can be traced to the celebrity advertising campaign developed by the "•\fltP J' Walter ThomPson ASency for Lu* toilet soap. As noted, JWT •JTIW. frequendy relied upon the celebrity testimonial, and in the case of Lux ' *t*D SOap had become known by 1928 for its use of Hollywood star en-Ut LWVdorsements- Magazine copy demonstrates a progression from the ge-LJO nencally duc society ladies of !925 to specific celebrities. For example WfyU. in a 1928 advertisement, E. Mason Hopper, a "director for Pathé If campaigns can be seen in the fact that in 1940_Lever Brothers maintained y< ■ >6\0 - a total of six radio shows on_ the air, two during the day .and four rs^e- «v 'fa* \tU ■ n . DeMille" states, "Beauty may be 'only skin deep' but nothing is more essential than the loveliness of a girl's skin. A star's adoring public and exacting director demand that beauty first of all." This opinion is accompanied by a picture of Phyllis Haver, who confirms the issue by stating, "No star can hope to look lovely unless she has really velvety smooth skin-studio skin. Lux Toilet Soap leaves my skin so gently smooth that I have no fear of the high powered lights of the close-up " A 1929 advertisement features the "Wampas Baby Stars," who "all use Lux Toilet Soap for smooth skin" and the famous line, "Nine out of ten screen stars use Lux Toilet Soap." Although a few of Lever's other products use the occasional star endorsements, the campaigns for Lux soap flakes and Lifebuoy, for example, remain distinctly different, the one emphasizing the "gentleness" of the flakes on hands and clothing, the other developing the famous "B.O." theme and emphasizing health aspects. Lux soap's focus on Hollywood celebrities led directly to the strategy behind its radio show. thTdecisions about which campaignT^ "selects in whichľ medium ^ Uul $t ISjJ. ^ne Pers°n ™° "^ be Slven credit for ^e success of Lux's appeal tcTpTace them. The link and corporate identity^ehiňTiavertising fPf u VoLŕ^k 'J Hollywood bureau head, who handled negotiations —^ y 7 5 ' J jfOWvOwuh screen stars and other personnel to Fortune, so successfully that, according 0 - ------~, most stars were not even paid for their endorsements SmU ak,ng the right friendS and d0ing favors for them with the Hair of 90 Hollywood and Broadcasting an Irish politician, Danker succeeded partly by sheer personality, and later on by pointing out to picture players th^j^x testimonials[meant free national advertising. Finallyj^becamé fashionable for actresses to ŽIgn'ěxclusrve"rěTeásěs forXuxľ' Whether or not this is strictly true, thTTacTdoes remain that Lux, via Danker, was singularly adept at k** obtaining these endorsements. However, some of this luck may also be linked to the hefty fees paid to stars on the "Lux Radio Theatre," who frequently doubled in the other advertisements. Danker remains a key figure behind the radio show; his good relations with the studios and their executives and personalities helped in obtaining studio cooperation along with a perception of the radio show as a boost for film publicity rather than competition. Although onceTíěhad gotten the show off the ground Danker's day-to-day participation seems not to have been critical, he functioned as chief negotiator for film properties and stars, a process in which his flamboyant personal lifestyle apparendy served him well.22 i Tjie^LuxRadio Theatre"_was created by JWT for Lever Brothers JÍ" in llšTas a vehicle for radio versions of Broadway playsj it was to be ft. similar to the popular "First"Nighter" program, also broadcast from New York City. Starting on the NBC network on Sunday afternoons, It» 3r it switched to CBS in 1935 and to the more favorable 9:00 p.m. Monday _^time slot, where it stayed for" the rest of its radio existence. When t>¥' ratings began to slump in the second year, attributed by one source &ÍX to ä~"ševeTe~štoTtageof adaptable Broadway material," j. Walter ; Thompson assigned the young account executive Danny Danker to the ^l task of pulling up the show's ratings. Mindful of the success of "Hol-L>f lywood Hotel" and ot theTncreasing practice of using Hollywood talent i pr „ iiTvanety "inöws,"Dänker made the recommendation that the show kLÍ'/rrí^^irriTs"7mTrety to Hollywood. With AT&T service to the West ÍÍ, Coast finallyjmprpyedand^ffordable, JWT approved the change and ^a™^^,™ ' and disruption, to provide opportunities for the audience not only to » enter the diegesis butjoeci'ť it as well (but only as faFäTthe surrounding f '"of," frame). Because this disruption, this permeability, is a dominant char- £_ ^t acteristic of the commercial broadcast discourse, both in radio and ; I television—and a necessary one to broadcast economics as they devel- ^ oped in this country—the transitions from one frame to another become j5 *> e particularly important. '^— TránsitioňTpräy a crucial role in the broadcast text because they 1 ^ provide the integrating force that unites the workand the various (and ti_l£ in_some wa^Tčômpeting^ aesthetic and economic ~ňeeds~6Fäňd for -pV^ which tKe program is constructed. _Miisic is the- Hwiri-~m~ň^A™™,Srry "j-used to effect and to mark transitions but it is frequently reinforced y?™* by narrative explanations. In the following discussion of the show, the i*te(." transitions will be given particular consideration, for it is here that the <■ / • "t" eh U Kai/J/oC 100 Hollywood and Broadcasting seams in the continuous and smoothly flowing broadcast narrative are revealed, along with the "sutures" required to lead thejistener into the text. In textual transitions some of broadcast's codes are revealed as they attempt to obscure some of the forces at work behind the scenes. Roland Barthes, discussing the codes at work in the novel, states "our society takes the greatest pains to conjure away the coding of the narrative situation... the reluctance to declare its codes characterizes bourgeois society and the mass culture issuing from it: both demand signs which do not look like signs." The radio program's framing structure, by which the listener is led "from the narrationaTšituation íňtothe artificial construct of the narrative, corresponds to the examples Barthes uses "of "narrational devices which seek to naturalize the subsequent narrative by feigning to make it the outcome of some natural circumstance and thus, as it were, 'disinaugurating' it"—such as epistolary novels, manuscripts supposedly discovered by the author, stories told to the author by some participant, films that begin before the credits, without the "marker" that states "this is a film," and so on. (One thinks of the elaborate narrational framing of semiotician Umberto Eco's popular novel, The Name of the Rose).3* And, although all forms of creative expression act to obscure some of their_generative forces and techniques, the broadcast medium is particularly adept. The reasons for this again can be traced back to the fundamental economic structures of broadcasting, by which entertainment is used as bait for commercial messages. Because time is held captive by both the broadcast and the film—both must take place in a set pattern, during a set time, unlike reading a printed text—the ability of the audience to skip over or screen out commercial material is greatly reduced. In order to hold the audience's attention, overtly_ commercial material—whichln itself may have limited entertainment value,T o7~which~tKe audience" may resist, or, more important in the blwráčastTnstitutíon, which may not necessarily be construed as serving the public interest, convenience, or necessity—must be surrounded and enclose!! by more appealing material in an attempt to obscure the'hook behind the worm, the purpose behind the text. Hence the elaborate framing mechanism of the broadcast discourse. Frame 1 The "Lux Radio Theatre'"s presentation of "Dark Victory" opened with the first, important transition from Frame 1, the broadcasting frame, to Frame 2, the program-as-program, the radio program aware of itself as such and not embarrassed to reveal its commercial purpose. As with most transitions in radio, music plays an important part in "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air' 101 "cuing" the listener, as does the applause of the "live studio audience," drawing on conventions already well established and understood by 1936. With the well-known declaration, "Lux Presents Hollywood!" made by the show's announcer, followed by a rising musical overture of the show's theme, the program effects an exit from what was, at this time, the rather "vacant" world of the network into the sponsored program; CBS, as the network most receptive to the programming needs of its commercial sponsors, tended during prime time to fade from the foreground almost completely. Thus the transition from Frame 1 to Frame 2 is rather suppressed, existing more in significant absence than in presence, especially on CBS, the advertisers' network. NBC during this period remained somewhat more obtrusive, in keeping with its organization and economics.35 Frame 2 The transition from Frame 1 to Frame. 2 would be followed by the announcer's introduction: "The Lux Radio Theatre brings you Bette Davis and Spencer Tracy in 'Dark Victory'. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille!" [music rises to climax, applause]. The announcer's role in the case of this program took on overtones of the theatrical variety show or vaudeville, providing the "Lux Radio Theatre" with a plausible means of exiting from the previously broadcast material and entering the world of the Hollywood spectacle presided over by DeMille. After the applause died down, DeMille would confirm the unique "Hollywood" element of the second frame with the equally well-known line "Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen." He would then launch into the introductory "frame" material so carefully prepared by J. Walter Thompson scriptwriters, combining Hollywood lore and glamour—in the case of this broadcast, the recent Oscar awards won by Davis and Tracy—with an initial plug for the sponsor's product, given an equal dramatic weight by DeMille's charged delivery. "Tonight even the unemotional lights in front of the Lux Radio Theatre have a special glow of pride in our players and our play, 'Dark Victory'. Our stage is set for a prize-winning achievement— and so is the stage in your home, when Lux Flakes is starred. Many domestic producers have discovered that casting Lux Flakes in a leading role is good business at the household box office."36 This rather forced analogy is a typical feature of the "Lux" interior frame. To use another example, after an adaptation of the W. C. Fields movie Poppy, Fields and co-star Anne Shirley spoke with DeMille as follows: after a short humorous monologue in which Fields recounted his experiences as a "valet de chambre" to a circus elephant and refers 102 Hollywood and Broadcasting to his face turning red as a result of a small boy mistaking his nose for that of an elephant, Anne Shirley giggled and stated, "But Mr. Fields, don't you know that anything washed in Lux never changes color? Might I recommend that you dip your trunk—I mean, nose, excuse me!—into a noggin of those beautiful Lux suds?" Fields then replied, "Madame, do you too wish to impugn my honor? I shall be heckled no more! Mr. DeMille, I bid you good night!"" For "Dark Victory," however, the Oscar nominees were not subject to such crass commercialization—so as not to tarnish this particularly highly burnished Hollywood gloss, no taint of hucksterism was allowed too close to Davis or Tracey. Instead, atypically, the two stars were never required to talk about anything other than the Hollywood component, including their recent and forthcoming films and small plugs for other studio-related material. During this particular "Lux" performance, the actual commercials were all read by the show's announcer (not DeMille, but a faceless voice later given credit by DeMille as Mel Ruick). For the first "intermission," the transition occurred immediately following the show's first major climax: after the operation on Davis's brain tumor, the doctor closed the first act with the line, "She'll die within a year" [rising tragic music, crash of gong, applause]. The announcer's voice then came on the air saying, "You have just heard Act 1 of 'Dark Victory' starring Spencer Tracy and Bette Davis. Mr. DeMille brings you Act 2 in just a minute. But first, I have some important news for you. Listen a moment, and you'll hear how it sounds on the wires [sound of telegraph key]. The telegraph key is saying just three words. Here's what they are: New Quick Lux. Yes, that's our big news for millions of housewives."38 A dialogue then ensued between the announcer and another commercial character, introduced as "Sally," who interjected, "You know, I thought Lux flakes just couldn't be improved. They're so swell!" After a minute-long promotion of Lux flakes, the announcer closed the commercial and effected the transition back to the second frame with the words, "Now our producer, Mr. DeMille." DeMille came back on the air—with a shift of microphones to produce a slightly more "distanced" effect than the close-up mike techniques used in the commercial announcement, creating an impression of theatrical space—to announce: "Act 2 of 'Dark Victory', starring Spencer Tracy as Dr. Frederick Steele and Bette Davis in the role of Judith Traherne, with Earline Tuttle as Ann" [theme music up, then falling under DeMille's voice]. DeMille then shifted into the other important aspect of his role as emcee, that of narrator. "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 103 A similar transition occurred during the second intermission. After rising music and the familiar gong crash, the announcer said, "In just a moment, Mr. DeMille brings you Act 3 of 'Dark Victory'" and then proceeded with annother conversation with "Sally" extolling the virtues of Lux flakes, during the course of which a testimonial letter from a Lux user was read. At the end of this commercial the hour's sole overt manifestation of Frame 1, the "network" frame, occurred, as a voice said, "This is the Columbia Broadcasting System." Frame 2 quickly reasserted itself with rising music and DeMille's introduction to the third act. The routine varied slightly with the final commercial break after the conclusion of the play. This transition exited not only to the commercial framework but also introduced the main part of the Hollywood component, usually occuring in the form of a dialogue between DeMille and the stars of the performance after its conclusion. This time the announcer would state, "In just a moment Mr. DeMille returns with our stars" and close with "Now Mr. DeMille is bring our stars to the microphone." Thus Frame 2 is dominated by the persona of DeMille, who served as an important bridge between the commercial purposes of the program and the Hollywood component, not only in his persona, but also in his function as he introduced the inner frame and provided the first and last commercial plugs. Rather than disrupt the flow of the fictional narrative with an abrupt transition to^neTömrnercial voice, JJeMille's function as the narrator and master of ceremonies allowed the "closed" and fictional world of the film adaptation to give way gradually to the alien voice oTthe Lux salesman, smoothing over what otherwise would___ be an abrupt "breair^etweenjJosed fictional narrative and the direct address of the commercial announcement andjmediaiing betwfien the conflicting needs of the show's commercial sponsors, on the one hand, andjhe demands of the „Hollywood fictional film ôňthe other. Although as the broadcast medium developed, and its forms became conventionalized and accepted, this buffering function became abbreviated, it can still be seen on broadcast television in the form of program "markers": logos or still frames, often with a voice-over, marking the transition from program to advertisement. As previously noted, the Hollywood elements involved in the production of the "Lux Radio Theatre" played an important role in its overall popularity and in the "mise-en-oreille" of the program as a whole. DeMille played the role of the Hollywood impresario, bringing stars and screenplays together for an appreciative audience, constantly involved in the creative process of bringing the glamour of Hollywood 104 Hollywood and Broadcasting to the air. The following excerpt from his opening introduction on the "Dark Victory" broadcast is a good example. If there's a little more grey in my hair this week, believe me it came from the task of finding the right dramatic material for such splendid artists as Bette Davis and Spencer Tracy. In fact we considered and rejected dozens of plays before selecting the one we think is perfect, "Dark Victory." As a producer, I've always disliked the type of play known as a "vehicle," one that's designed for the actor instead of the audience. And when there are two noted players in a cast, there's a double danger that the play will turn out to be a double vehicle. But "Dark Victory" has grip and power and human appeal. And when our curtain falls on the third act, I believe you'll agree with me that this play is really a great emotional experience. Each woman in our audience will unconsciously put herself in the place of Judith Traherne; each man will wonder what he would have done as Dr. Frederick Steele."39 At the end of the program, DeMille traditionally interviewed the stars of that night's performance and perhaps included a commercial message within the interview. For "Dark Victory," DeMille led Davis and Tracy into a conversation that focussed firmly on Hollywood, with the stars discussing their mutual regard for and past appearances with each other. However, at the end, Davis was allowed to inquire, "What are you planning for the 'Lux Radio Theatre' next week, Mr. DeMille?" and after DeMille's announcement that the next week's broadcast would be "Sing You Sinners" with Bing Crosby and a few further credits, she closed the show with "I know we're all going to enjoy that, Mr. DeMille"—a fairly standard exchange for the better-known performers. In general, the closing interviews provided an opportunity for the unseen radio audience toj^listen in" on an informal, out-of-character chat among the famous director and the stars of the performance just heard, and perhaps recently viewěcTTn the:'theater. The intimacy of the radio experience gave audiences the chance to participate in a casual moment with the stars, often involving a small joke or piece of monkey business, in their off-screen personas—an opportunity rarely accorded film viewers before the days of television. This listening in, intimate atmosphere also enhanced the efficacy of the_cojrmT:erci^mě^age—if Anne Shirley or Evelyn Keys happened to endorse Lux soap casually, how much more compelling than a regular commercial. The air of" intimacy cultivated by the stars and host of the show could also be used in their absence to sell the product: before beginning the narration of the 1946 performance of "To Have and Have Not," host William Keighly implicated the "Bogart family" (Lauren Bacali and Humphrey "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 105 Bogart, that night's stars) in a Lux endorsement, although they never spoke for themselves in the matter: To bring the Bogart family to rehearsals, we had to lure them from their brand new mountain home. . .if you should drop in on a friendly visit of inspection, as I did, you'd find Lux flakes doing their part in washing curtains, bedspreads, blankets, etc. etc. etc. When I commented on this fact, Bogie assured me that on his fifty-four-foot yawl in Newport Harbor, which is the Bogart's home away from home, Lux flakes are a standard part of the equipment, making this family loyal to Lux flakes on land and sea."40 These endorsements, whether actual or imputed, provided the necessary smooth transition, or suture, between the commercial function of the program and one of its entertainment functions, the glimpse into Hollywood and its processes. But the other function of the host ofThe show, whether DeMille or one of his successors, tied this secondary commercial-entertainment function to the inner frame, or primary dramatic material of the evéningTThe narration, together withlound effects and music, made it possible to condense and take away the visual aspects of a film, yet still present a recognizable narrative. The Inner Frame One of the first tasks facing the sciptwriters of the "Lux Radio Theatre" consisted of attempting to squeeze an hour and one-half to twojiours -CfiM ktito of visually dramatic material into a fifty-minute, audio-only narrative. Pc J, Áttňough some films made the translation better than othersi'the basic I Hollywood precept of narrative always received primary consideration— the narrative had to make sense as a story, possessing a beginning, rnlHSÍě, and end—no matter what kind of thematic and symbolic reduction had to täTtéplace to achieve this. This is certainlýlhlTcase with "Dark Victory," in which moit"eIements not directly related to the relationship of Judith with Dr. Steele were jettisoned immediately. In addition, economics of production mandated that as fewjactors and C«sAx4(/n actresses be used as possible: because of DeMille's salary, substantial fees paid to the studios for the use of their stars, plus the Hollywood-style production values of the program, the cost of producing the show was heavy. In order to afford the top stars who provided the show's main appeal, cuts had to be made in other places. Wherejt_proved impossible to eliminate peripheral or minor characters from the radio version, the show's regular staff of relatively unknown talent came into Play. "........ ~ " "........ — 106 Hollywood and Broadcasting The basic plot of "Dark Victory," in stage, screen, and broadcast version, involves the character of Judith Traherne (Bette Davis), a young, wealthy Long Island socialite, who is diagnosed by Dr. Steele (George Brent, Spencer Tracy) a brain specialist, as having a brain tumor. Although an operation performed by Dr. Steele temporarily relieves her symptoms, her "prognosis negative" means that she has only a few months to live. Despite the eiForts of her secretary-companion, Ann (Geraldine Fitzgerald, Earline Tuttle) and those of Dr. Steele, with whom a love interest develops, to keep her imminent demise a secret from Judith, the truth slips out and a period of wild living and denial of her feelings for Steele follows. During this period brief dalliances with a playboy figure (played by Ronald Reagan in the film version) and her stable manager (Humphrey Bogart) occur, but only lead her to realize that to die "decently, beautifully, finely" she must stop denying her fear and admit her love for Steele. They marry and move to Vermont, where Steele has set up a laboratory to conduct serious research. Soon thereafter, the fatal symptom of darkening vision occurs, and Judith dies after first having selflessly sent her husband away to receive an award for his work. In the radio version of the story the playboy character played in the film by Ronald Reagan is eliminated entirely; the stable manager's role played by an oddly miscast Humphrey Bogart is not only reduced, but also changed significantly. The relationships between Ann and Judith, and between Ann and Steele, through simplification become much more schematized and sparse in connotation. In addition, the lack of time and background information reduces the complexity of characterization overall. Characters become in many cases little more than stereotypes, thus limiting the realistic and affecting properties of the text. To substitute for lack of depth in the radio diegesis, the role of the narrator, performed once again by "our producer, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille," becomes crucial. DeMille must accomplish, two primary functions in the structure of the ""Lux'R'ädid Theatre," First, to compensate for the reduced^ amount of dramatic material necessitated by the time constraints of the broadcast version, he provides bridges that summarize and provide background material for the story; second, this narration must lead the listeners smoothly_into and out of the inner frame of fictional diegesis, back to the commercial frame. As an example of the former function, as DeMille returns the listener to the inner frame after the second commercial break, he states (over a musical transition): "With only a few months of life before her, Judith Traherne lives desperately, cramming her days' and nights with excitement, striving vainly to forget." 'Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 107 P Here the words "desperately," "cramming," and "excitement," although unable fully to translate the twenty minutes of screen time devoted to this plot development, still manage to convey important information regarding Judith's activities and frame of mind. DeMille follows this line with, "At a horse show in New York, her reckless jumping has won her first prize, and now she stands at the bar, receiving the [slight pause] congratulations of her friends." Thus the scene is set, and although it takes an attentive listener to pick up on DeMille's slightly ironic use of the word "congratulations" (following the term "reckless"), which indicates the damage done by Judith to her reputation and standing with her friends during the preceeding period, enough information is given to smooth the transition back into the narrative as it proceeds. , To accomplish the second task of the narrator, the "Lux Radio \ Theatre" quite deliberately and specifically leads the interpretation back to the "Hollywood" frame by playing up the stars of each evening's performance in monologue and interview, clearly establishing the actor or actress's presence in the production, often of a more intimate level than possible in the filmic production. Thus, although we_canngt_see Bette Davis as Judith Traherne in theradio version, we arejnadejyell aware of her real-life presence in the broadcast studio' andoif her star qualities by _DeMille's beginning monologue! Throughout the show, although the character created on radio may not be as convincing or as affecting as the one created in the film, we are aware of the presence of Davis as that character—perhaps more so, because the relative permeability of the radio text disrupts our process of identifying the actress as fully with the character she plays—and because the much shorter time period allotted to the drama forces a simplification and reduction of its dramatic material. The transformation of "Dark Victory" into a broadcast production, /then, involves a p1w:ešs"óršimpIincatióri"änčne^elitation~that encloses ťKěnárrative within a series of intentinnaĽfcam^c ™A projoiifisjrequent transitions from one to another. This strategy may also begin to account for one of the characteristics of the broadcast message, its seemingly shallow diegesis, constantly subject to interruptions and self-referential k$^ elements that contrast with the intense identmcänön^emanded hy the h^ film: DeMille's function in "Lux" is_in_fiffect..tp.iead the viewer ^ , repeatedly out of the fictional_frame, back to an awareness of those ' °"ÍT concerned in its production, who then in turn endorse a product. In K(^ other words, the audience is led, not deeper into the fictional world I created by the drama, into the thoughts of its characters and deeper WfJL consideration of its themes, but instead is constantly pulled back, í • ... .----------_— í*f*ť> 108 Hollywood and Broadcasting interrupted, made aware of the presence of stars and producer—of Bette Davis, not Judith Traherně7*oTSper»céř Tracy, not Dr. Steele, of DeMille the showman—and thence led to the product being advertised. Structures of the Commercial Broadcast Text The Hollywood film has traditionally been regarded as a "closed" representational system using a predominantly linear method of plot development and strict adherence to a realistic aesthetic demanding a tightly controlled diegesis.41 No extraneous information is contained within the frame, nothing occurs that cannot be accounted for by the demands of the narrative and the conventions of the traditional style. The conventions of the "classic Hollywood film" include such techniques as point-of-view construction and self-effacing narration, which intensify the spectator's identification with the characters on the screen and heighten his or her involvement with the "realistic" enclosed world created by the film. This is certainly the case with the film version of Dark Victory, which changes the progression and location of the narrative to correct any "artificiality" resulting from the work's original stage setting. For instance, instead of the first scene occurring in Dr. Steele's office, as in the play, the film begins with a scene in which Judith falls from a horse as a result of tumor-induced double vision, to avoid the awkwardness of a flashback or an overdependence on dramatic dialogue to establish previous events. The broadcast text, on the other hand, has frequently been characterized as "disjointed," with a relatively shallow diegesis that disallows the intense identification with the narrative so prevalent in film. John Ellis sees the television image as "engaging the look and the glance rather than the gaze [of the film spectator]." Television viewing's "random quality," with spectators "drifting in and out of the viewing experience over a period of time," has the effect of "greatly minimizing the possibilities for spectator engagement," producing low viewer involvement, according to Farrell Corcoran.42 Although these writers and others attribute the source of television's unique qualities to different aspects of the broadcast medium—its multiple and varied texts, constant shifting of modes of address, continuous presence in the home, the use habits of its viewers, and its heavy reliance on the sound component of its discourse—each of these "causes" can be seen as secondary characteristics, deriving from structures, both textual and economic, originated by the early radio programs. The broadcast tex^asdeyeloped in the United States on the commerciaTTiierwöFks is lundmentally a segmented, disrupted, permeable discourse because it was created by "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 109 and for advertisers, for the express purpose of capturing the audience's attention only "to redirect it to the product advertised. This structure can be seen particularly clearly in an examination of early radio programs, such as "Lux," because they are the site of innovation of both the economic structure of broadcasting and its characteristic mode of discourse. The tension between the interests of the various producers of the radio program, working tTiroughjíätructure. of frames and transitions, act specifically and primarily to lead the "reäčler away from the drämaTicTŤaírative itself to intertextukl considerations" having more to do, in "Lux'"s čase, with the natunTof Hollywood and the carefully associated commercial product than with the presented work. Although this concept may appear almost ayant-garde in its self-reflexivity, these frames are themselves products of encoding;-their reterents, in the case of "Lux," lie in the myth.or mystique of Hollywood and similar sets of meaning that the sponsor wishes to tie to-the product being advertised. ™~---------- From the tightly ordered, heavily symbolic universe of the film narrative, the radio version becomes little more than a "sketch""or outline for what was the film, a permeable discourse that permits _the Iistehéľto~éxiF easily fŕom'ThjTcTraŕňatic diegesis—but immediately "recaptures" that listener by directing his or her"attention to the other sets of codes, or frames, afwork._ATthou|£j:he audieneeof the broadcast věřšl5n~oT "Dark Victory** may not become as involved with the character of Judith Traherhe as does the film viewer, he or she will be led back time and again to imagine Bette Davis, the actress^jdaying that part, partially through specific foregrounding of the star function in the show's "Hollywood'' frame, which in turn contains its references to "Lux" soap, lending associations to the product as desirecTby the advertiser. DeMille, whose equally encoded persona as program host presides over this process, represents the synthesizing force that mediates the tension between the program's three different frames of intent: network, advertiser, and dramatic program. But what, then, of the structures of the contemporary dominant broadcast form, broadcast television, long after the program "host" or emcee—still present in many early TV productions—has vanished from the scene? With the emergence of the networks as the primary programming agency in the late 1950s (chapter 5), the role of the sponsor diminished to the simple purchase of thirty- or sixty-second spots adjacent to the programs selected and scheduled by the networks, and produced by the television production companies with whom the networks contract. Thus Frames 1 and 3 begin to elide, obscuring Frame 110 Hollywood and Broadcasting 2 as the network takes onto itself the commercial interests formerly held by an independent sponsor. To further reduce the seeming importance of the role of the sponsor in network television, the marked transitions between the various frames of TV have been played down, streamlined but not entirely eliminated. Today's transitions from the inner core of the program to the commercial break take the form of a simple fade to black, or a cut to a show's logo in still frame, perhaps with a tag of theme music. Some programs have eliminated the transition marker altogether, suspending the viewer in temporary uncertainty about the "product" status of what he or she is seeing. Perhaps this is a "psychological" marker. Today's narrator is not explicit but implied, usually invested visually in the opening sequence with which each program is introduced. The old transition, "And now, a word from our sponsor. . .," once so familiar, has been eliminated entirely, except on public television, the economic base of which is very different. Frame 1 becomes much more explicit, as we are bombarded by network previews and announcements ("Stay tuned for. . .," "Don't miss. . .") promoting high awareness of the network itself as a recognizable author of the television discourse—a necessary strategy in an era of proliferating channels and program services. In effect, then, as television has evolved, the function of Frame 2, the realm of the sponsor, has been not eliminated but increasingly denied, disconnected from the content of the programs themselves, relegated to a seemingly distant source separate from the actual content and function of television. Today's commercials seem to attempt to "sneak" into the flow of programming, often taking the protective coloring of the programs themselves—or increasingly, resembling another form of programming, the music video—in order to minimize the sense of transition from one mode of narration to another, in order to obscure the source of ultimate economic power in the structure of broadcast television. Each frame identified in the preceding discussion is made up of and utilizes a complex system of codes and signifying practices that need to be examined in detail, with close attention paid to specific historical and production conditions. This analysis of the framing structures of the broadcast discourse can only point out the largest categories, but perhaps it can provide a starting point, at least, for future exploration, as the structures worked out in the early days of broadcast radio provided the starting point for the emergence of television programs and forms. The Transition to Television As successful as the "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" was, we no longer experience its like today. The radio film adaptation has gone the way "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 111 of the nickoledeon and vaudeville—transformed by changing circumstances into a form barely recognizable by its former standards. "Lux" did make the initial transition to television in the early 1950s as the "Lux Video Theatre," but its existence was short-lived. Why was a successful show like "Lux" forced to make that highly unsuitable transition in the first place? The next chapter will discuss the abandonment of radio for television on the part of advertisers, made inevitable by the policies and practices of the major networks. But having been forced to be seen as well as heard, why did the video version of "Lux" fail to live up to its predecessor? The reasons for this relate to the economics and to the formal structures of both film and television. The television version of "Lux" began in very much the same way as did the radio program. From October 1950 until September 1952, Lux broadcast one half-hour of adaptations of stage material from New York, moving to Hollywood in September 1952 but continuing with nonfilm, theater-based material until August 1954, when the program moved to NBC for a full-hour broadcast slot, Thursday nights from 10:00-11:00. During that same season, 1954-55, the radio program went off the air after several years of declining ratings. Theatrical film adaptations became the main staple of the video program, with James Mason as host that season, followed by Otto Kruger, Gordon MacRae, and Ken Carpenter. As with the radio show, interviews with the stars and studio personnel connected with the evening's performance remained de rigeur, but several factors rendered such appearances less effective than their radio predecessors. First, during this same season, 1954-55, Hollywood began to make its presence felt on television using a different strategy than it had with radio. Rather than allow others to control the production of television programs, most major studios went into production for themselves (chapter 5). Second, 1955 is the year in which theatrical films began to show up on network and syndicated television. With the films < themselves available, the purpose of the Lux concept was called into question. Why allow movie properties to be exposed to audiences in a reduced, live, rewritten format when the films themselves could now find a new market on TV? Technical conditions as well as economic constraints mandated against a visual experience that could in any way approximate the production values of a theatrical film; if inferior productions were to be allowed to "use up" a film's appeal with a broadcast audience, wherein lay the benefit for the film industry? Also, with the Paramount decrees of 1947 conditions in Hollywood itself had changed; studios no longer held stars under the kind of long-term contracts as they had formerly, able to loan them out to radio or 112 Hollywood and Broadcasting other studios at will. The "Lux Video Theatre" was never able to attract the top stars and properties that the radio program drew so well, thus lessening the appeal of the commercial endorsements for Lux soap as well as the benefit to the film studios. For example, an adaptation of "Double Indemnity" (December 16, 1954), although drawing on the Billy Wilder-Raymond Chandler film scenario, lost a good part of its original appeal with such stars as Laraine Day and Frank Lovejoy in the leads. "Casablanca" (March 3, 1955), with Paul Douglas, Arlene Dahl, and Hoagy Carmichael could hardly purport to be the same property as the film. By spring 1957, more adaptations based on plays and short stories had begun to creep into the schedule, and in the fall 1958 season the show's name was changed to the "Lux Playhouse," going back to a one half-hour format and alternating on Friday nights on CBS with the "Schlitz Playhouse of the Stars." With * changing circumstances surrounding both the film and broadcasting industries, the tension among the interests of the networks, the commercial sponsors and their agencies, and the studios they depended on for audience appeal shifted into a different formation. Relations between Hollywood and the broadcasting business entered a new phase. NOTES 1. Stuart Hall, "Cultural Studies: Two Paradigms," in Media, Culture, and Society: A Critical Reader, ed. Richard Collins et al. (London: Sage, 1986), p. 47. 2. Stuart Hall, "Encoding/Decoding," in Culture, Media, Language, ed. Stuart Hall et al. (New York: Longman, 1983), p. 377. 3. Stuart Hall, "Encoding and Decoding in the Television Discourse," Occasional Papers, Centre for Cultural Studies, University of Birmingham, 1973, p. 2. David Barker applies Hall's theories to television production in "Television Production Techniques as Communication," in Television: The Critical View, 4th ed., ed. Horace Newcomb (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), pp. 179-96. 4. Stuart Hall, "The Toad in the Garden: Thatcherism Among the Theorists," in Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, ed. Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988), p. 48. 5. Janet Staiger, "Mass-Produced Photoplays: Economic and Signifying Practices in the First Years of Hollywood," in Movies and Methods, vol. 2, ed. Bill Nichols (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), pp. 144-61; Douglas Gomerey, "The Coming of Sound to American Cinema," Ph.D. diss., University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1975; Charles Musser, "The Early Cinema of Edwin Porter," Cinema Journal 19 (Fall 1979): 23. 6. Robert C. Allen, Speaking of Soap Operas (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1986), p. 128. "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 113 7. Raymond Williams, Television: Technology and Cultural Form (New York: Schocken Books, 1977), pp. 90-91; Mike Budd, Steve Craig, and Clay Stein-man, "Fantasy Island: Marketplace of Desire," Journal of Communication (Winter 1983): 67-77; Sandy Flitterman, "The Real Soap Operas: TV Commercials," in Regarding Television, ed. E. Ann Kaplan (New York: AFI Monographs 1984), pp. 84-96. 8. Erik Barnouw does credit the agencies, notably Young and Rubicam, with providing the impetus that brought Hollywood into radio, although his attribution of specific credit can be debated; elsewhere, he mentions some of the people who played a role in writing and acting in early radio programs, but in a sporadic and anecdotal manner. The study of advertising has brought little in the way of detailed historical accounts of the actual process of program innovation; a survey of the literature of advertising gives the impression that students ofthat field live in the moment: for every historical account, no matter how personal or eccentric, ten studies of current techniques and strategies line the shelves. One history, Stephen Fox's The Mirror Makers (Random House, 1983), provides interesting and valuable detail on the history of some of the major firms; however his focus—on the development and alternation of different advertising strategies and styles—and his overall thesis, implied in the title-that advertisers merely reflect trends and forces in society rather than create them—weaken Fox's discussion of the impact agencies may have engendered on other social institutions, including radio. 9. Nick Browne, "Political Economy of the Television (Super) Text," in Television: The Critical View, ed. Newcomb, pp. 585-99. 10. Llewellyn White, The American Radio (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1947), pp. 54-67; Fox, Mirror Makers, p. 150; James Playstead Wood, The Story of Advertising (New York: Ronald Press, 1958), p. 413. 11. Ralph M. Hower, The History of an Advertising Agency: N. W. Ayer & Son^ at Work 1869-1939 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1939), p. 199. 12. Hower, N. W. Ayer, p. 169; Allen, Speaking of Soap Operas, pp. 116-17; Fox, Mirror Makers, pp. 159-60. . 13. Kenneth L. Watt, "One Minute to Go," The Saturday Evening Post, April 2, 1938, pp. 8-9; April 9, 1938, pp. 22-23. 14. Watt, "One Minute to Go," April 9, p. 23. 15. Fortune, "Radio II: A $45,000,000 Talent Bill," May 1938, p. 54. 16. Allen, Speaking of Soap Operas, p. 119; Allen quotes from Phillips's proposal: "'Thus', Phillips suggested, 'the transition from commercial announcements to the story can be practically painless, and a great deal of actual selling can be done in the story itself." 17. Roland Marchand, Advertising the American Dream (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), p. 106. 18. Fox, Mirror Makers, pp. 30-31, 80-82; Fortune, November 1947, p. 94. 19. Fox, Mirror Makers, pp. 88-89. 20. "Mr. Countway Takes the Job," Fortune, November 1940. 21. Ibid., p. 116. 114 Hollywood and Broadcasting 22. Ibid., p. 97; "Daniel J. Danker, Jr.," National Cyclopedia of American Biography (Clifton, N.J.: J. T. White, 1926), 33:223. 23. John Dunning, Tune in Yesterday (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice- Hall, 1976), p. 378; Bernard Lucich, "The Lux Radio Theater," in American Broadcasting: A Sourcebook on the History of Radio and Television, ed. Lawrence W. Lichty and Malachi C. Topping (New York: Hastings House, 1975), p. 391. 24. Marchand, Advertising the American Dream, p. 161. 25. Ibid., pp. 94, 106. 26. Lux Radio Theatre, "The Legionnaire and the Lady," June 1, 1936; from audio recording in the collection of the Museum of Broadcasting, New York, N.Y. 27. Several "Lux" productions were used to establish normal program structures: "Dark Victory," aired January 8, 1940 (Minneapolis: Radio Reruns, 1977); "To Have and Have Not," aired October 14, 1946 (Sandy Hook, N.J.: Radiola, 1971); "Poppy," aired March 7, 1938 (Minneapolis: Radio Reruns, 1977); "The Legionnaire and the Lady," aired June 1, 1936 (New York: Museum of Broadcasting Collection); "The Al Jolson Story," aired February 16, 1948 (Mobile, Ala.: Mobile Public Library Collection). 28. Frank Daugherty, "He Sells Soap!" The Christian Science Monitor Weekly, March 25, 1944, p. 8. 29. The Best Plays of 1934-35 (New York: Dodd Mead, 1935), p. 404. 30. From reviews cited in Leslie Halliwell, Halliwell's Film Guide, 3d ed. (New York: Avon Books, 1984), p. 303. 31. Gene Ringgold and DeWitt Bodeen, The Films of Cecil B. DeMille (New York: Citadel, 1969), pp. 370, 372. 32. Williams, Television: Technology and Cultural Form, pp. 86-94; Michele Hilmes, "The Television Apparatus: Direct Address," Journal of Film and Video 37 (Fall 1985): 27-36. 33. Hall, "Encoding/Decoding," pp. 128-38; Umberto Eco, "Towards a Semiotic Inquiry into the Television Message," Working Papers in Cultural Studies no. 3 (Autumn 1972): 103-21; Erving Goffman, Frame Analysis (New York: Harper, 1974). 34. Roland Barthes, Image Music Text (New York: Hill and Wang, 1977), pp. 114-17. 35. Frame 1 is also remarkably hard to study historically in its textual manifestations, because it is precisely these network announcements, connectors, and transitions that subsequent recordings of radio programs deemed unnecessary and uninteresting and edited out. It is difficult to find recordings taken from radio in their entirety from the 1920s, 1930s, and even early 1940s, thus my conclusions here are highly tentative. 36. Lux Radio Theatre, "Dark Victory." 37. Lux Radio Theatre, "Poppy." 38. Lux Radio Theatre, "Dark Victory." 39. Ibid. "Lux Radio Theatre of the Air" 115 40. Lux Radio Theatre, "To Have and Have Not." 41. See, for example, Bill Nichols, Ideology and the Image (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1981); Daniel Dayan, "The Tutor Code of Classical Cinema," in Movies and Methods, ed. Nichols; Kristin Thompsom and David Bordwell, "Space and Narrative in the Films of Ozu," Screen 17 (Summer 1976): 42-43. 42. John Ellis, Visible Fictions (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982), p. 128; John Fiske and John Hartley, Reading Television (New York: Methuen, 1978); Farrell Corcoran, "Television as Ideological Apparatus: The Power and the Pleasure," Critical Studies in Mass Communication (June 1984): 141.