John Dunning > Quotes

“The revival of The Couple Next Door in 1957 had Peg Lynch and Alan Bunce playing the same characters they had created on Ethel and Albert. But the characters referred to each other only as “dear” and were never named.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“In 1937, the airship Hindenburg exploded at Lakehurst, N.J., just two hours before The March of Time went on the air. Only bulletins were available at air time, but it was enough: the segment focused on the history of dirigible travel and ended with a news flash on the Lakehurst tragedy. The orchestra and sound effects produced an unprecedented sense of reality, said Radio News: “of storm, explosion, frenzied cries, crackling flames, and crumpling girders.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“In both runs, Curtain Time attempted to play to the same sizable audience that had made The First Nighter Program a radio powerhouse. It had a theater setting, announcements that the curtain was “about to go up,” and the same fare, generally bubbly boy-girl romances. There was an usher in the later run, who called out “Tickets, please, thank you, sir,” and escorted “theatergoers” to their imaginary seats in “seventh row center, seats seven and eight.” The announcer, Myron Wallace, became famous decades later as the tough TV reporter on 60 Minutes.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“In 1952, he was to begin a TV series when he suffered his first heart attack. He returned on CBS TV as a panelist for the game show What’s My Line? He died on the night of March 17, 1956, collapsing just outside the West 75th Street home of a friend.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“It resumed after the war. Corwin opened it Feb. 2, 1946, with Homecoming, a bittersweet slice of life about a GI who comes home to the farm.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“PHIL HARRIS, a light novelty band of the early 1930s, featuring vocalist Leah Ray in bouncy duets with Harris. June 23, 1933–Dec. 14, 1934, Blue Network. 30m, Fridays at 9. Cutex. RALPH”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Sinatra’s final radio days were filled with minor quarter-hours and one full-length series in which he was relegated to the role of a disc jockey. By 1950 people were writing his professional obituary. His public image had taken a beating, his personal life a succession of wives, scrapes, and alleged friendships with gangsters. It would take a 1953 film, From Here to Eternity, and a subsequent acting career to save him.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“The Benny of the air was a fraud, a myth, a creation. It should have surprised no one to learn—after years of toupee jokes that played so well into the vanity theme—that Benny never wore one. He overtipped in restaurants, gave away his time in countless benefit performances, and was lavish in his praise of almost everyone else. “Where would I be today without my writers, without Rochester, Dennis Day, Mary Livingstone, Phil Harris, and Don Wilson?” he asked a Newsweek profiler in 1947.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“He had met John Kieran at a Dutch Treat Club luncheon and had been impressed with the depth and scope of Kieran’s knowledge. Kieran was a sports columnist for the New York Times whose writings had earned him the title “sports philosopher.” He was fluent in Latin and a scholar of Shakespeare, knew music, poetry, ornithology and the other branches of natural history, and had a strong base of general knowledge. This was wrapped up in a Tenth Avenue New York accent, a streak of what one writer termed “pugnacity concealed by modesty.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Throughout his life, he was the opposite of all show business clichés. His marriage endured: by all accounts, he dearly loved his wife. Words most often used by those who knew him were “decent,” “genial,” “gentle,” and “generous.” He was a constant target of panhandlers and always had a roll of money in his pockets for handouts. He was not, apparently, a chummy man. His few real intimates, old friends like Doc Rockwell and Uncle Jim Harkins, had been with him in vaudeville and appeared occasionally on his show. He and Portland avoided crowds, lived simply in a New York apartment, and never owned a car. “I don’t want to own anything,” he once told a reporter, “that won’t fit in my coffin.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“LUM AND ABNER, dialect comedy; country humor.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“When President Roosevelt suggested to Archibald MacLeish that radio be prodded to help celebrate the 150th anniversary of the Bill of Rights, Corwin was given the job. It was an enormous undertaking, a 60-minute broadcast to air on the four national networks simultaneously. But We Hold These Truths was to have a special meaning, for the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor the week before, and the show arrived on an unprecedented wave of patriotism. It was estimated by Crossley, the national barometer of radio listenership, that 60 million people tuned in that night, Dec. 15, 1941. Corwin had arranged a stellar cast. James Stewart played the lead, “a citizen” who was the sounding board for the cascade of opinions, historical perspectives, and colloquialisms that flooded the hour. Also in the cast were Edward Arnold, Lionel Barrymore, Walter Brennan, Bob Burns, Walter Huston, Marjorie Main, Edward G. Robinson, Rudy Vallee, and Orson Welles. Bernard Herrmann conducted in Hollywood,”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“The ever-reliable Bill Thompson filled the gap with a new character, Wallace Wimple. Wallace gave new meaning to the word “wimp,” for this was the nickname pinned on him by Fibber McGee. Wimple was terrified of his “big old wife,” the ferocious, often-discussed but never-present “Sweetie Face.” Also in 1941 came Gale Gordon as Mayor LaTrivia, who would arrive at the McGee house, start an argument, and become so tongue-tied that he’d blow his top. A year later, all these characters disappeared: Gordon went into the Coast Guard, and when Thompson joined the Navy, four characters went with him. With LaTrivia, Boomer, Depopoulous, Wimple, the Old Timer, and Gildersleeve all on the “recently departed” list, Fibber found a new devil’s advocate in the town doctor. Arthur Q. Bryan, who had played the voice of Elmer Fudd in the Warner Brothers cartoons, became Doc Gamble, continuing the verbal brickbats begun by Gildersleeve. Their squabbles could begin over a disputed doctor bill—McGee always disputed doctor bills—or erupt out of nowhere about anything at all.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Chandu the Magician was among the first and last shows of its kind, in two distinct runs separated by 12 years of silence. Partners Raymond R. Morgan and Harry A. Earnshaw were brainstorming in 1931, looking for a new radio idea, when Earnshaw mentioned the public’s high interest in magic. They created Frank Chandler, who would fight the world’s evil forces with occult powers and a far-reaching crystal ball. Evil was personified in Roxor, a villain who dominated both runs.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“An example of such was the story of three travelers who crash their car and are thrown back into prehistoric times. They encounter a Neanderthal man who doesn’t respond to reason and must be shot. “This is Oboler’s oblique approach to alerting the public that tyranny could only be dealt with by force of arms, not appeasement.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“The Martin and Lewis Show was developed by NBC in the wake of the stinging CBS talent raids that lured Jack Benny and others to the younger network. NBC announced a talent hunt: the network was searching for rising young performers for radio and television. Soon thereafter a network executive caught the nightclub act of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, who had been performing together for several years and had developed some name recognition within the industry while remaining largely unknown to the general public.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“The dates often lasted till early morning. Chaperones guided the winners home, leaving them only when they went their separate ways and the sponsor’s responsibility ended. But Cupid was not denied: at least half a dozen marriages and many “lively correspondences” came out of the show. And the idea worked on television as well. Blind Date ran on early ABC-TV, again with Francis as hostess, from 1949 through 1952.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Charlie Wild was a product of the Red Scare, NBC’s hurry-up attempt to salvage something when congressional finger-pointing resulted in the loss of sponsorship for radio’s most popular detective, Sam Spade. Both Howard Duff (who played Spade) and author Dashiell Hammett had been “listed” in Red Channels, making Spade sponsor Wildroot Cream Oil increasingly unhappy. After weeks of indecision, Wildroot dropped Spade and shifted to a new detective hero, hopefully cut from the same cloth. The final Wildroot Spade show was Sept. 17, 1950. The following Sunday Charlie Wild premiered from the opposite coast (New York). Howard Duff appeared in character on the first broadcast with a vocal telegram, wishing the new hero well. It would be Duff’s last radio appearance for six years,”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Newspapers ran the wrong mugshots, and it was the self-fulfilling prophecy: the studios, believing his name had been damaged, canceled his contracts. Only four years later did Hopalong Cassidy ride up and save him. Boyd made more than 50 Cassidy films with Sherman, and another dozen on his own between 1943 and 1946. His acquisition of the Cassidy film library was complete by 1948, when he joined the Whites in the radio venture.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Blanc went on to speaking parts, playing a wide variety of sardonic and hysterical characters. He played caustic delivery men and punchdrunk fight trainers. As Benny’s beleaguered French violin teacher, he suffered through Benny’s scrapings and then had to plead for his money. Inevitably, Benny had no small change—he was a dime off, and this called for a trip to his vault. At last, liberated, Professor LeBlanc would scream, “I’m free! I’m free!” and storm out joyously, singing the Marseillaise.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“His first play, Burial Services, concerned the burial of a paralyzed girl who was still alive. It caused such a furor (more than 50,000 letters were written to NBC) that Oboler would never again write a story with such a personal theme that could adversely affect a vast audience.” Oboler remembered it this way: “I had taken a believable situation and underwritten it so completely that each listener filled the silences with the terrors of his own soul. When the coffin lid closed inexorably on the conscious yet cataleptically paralyzed young girl in my play, the reality of the moment, to thousands of listeners who had buried someone close, was the horrifying thought that perhaps sister, or brother, or mother, had also been buried … alive.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“After Orson Welles terrified the nation with his Halloween 1938 War of the Worlds broadcast, his name became a household word. The immediate result was sponsorship for his theatrical air company, The Mercury Theater on the Air. Campbell Soups had been sponsoring the once-famed but fading variety hour Hollywood Hotel, which closed its doors in December 1938. The soup company immediately picked up Welles and his players, and the first Campbell Playhouse under that title was Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, introduced by newsman Edwin C. Hill. The”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Crosby’s name was mentioned, and Peyton got on the telephone. He tracked Crosby to the set of The Bells of St. Mary’s, where Crosby was working on the role, ironically, of a priest. On the spur of the moment, Crosby agreed to do the show. Francis Cardinal Spellman also appeared, and the Mother’s Day broadcast was such a success that Peyton pushed ahead with plans for a regular series. Mutual donated the time, under four conditions: that the show be of top quality; that it be strictly nonsectarian; that a major film star be involved each week; and that Peyton pay production costs himself. He met Loretta Young, who advised him how to approach the stars and became the “first lady” of Family Theater”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“claimed he was a victim of Stop the Music, a big-money giveaway show that ABC had inserted into the 8 o’clock Sunday timeslot. But other critics suggested that the old formulas that Allen had been using for 18 years had simply worn themselves out. He dropped from the top to 38th on the charts in one year. His sponsor offered to move him, but he refused to take a more advantageous schedule. He was a regular on The Big Show, but his life after weekly radio”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“The fight spilled out into the press. Allen blasted the censors. “They are a bit of executive fungus that forms on a desk that has been exposed to conference. Their conferences are meetings of men who can do nothing but collectively agree that nothing can be done.” The thin-skinned network reacted again, cutting Allen off in the middle of a barb. Now other comics joined the fray. That week Red Skelton said on his show that he’d have to be careful not to ad-lib something that might wound the dignity of some NBC vice president. “Did you hear they cut Fred Allen off on Sunday?” That’s as far as he got—the network cut him off. But Skelton went right on talking, for the studio audience. “You know what NBC means, don’t you? Nothing but cuts. Nothing but confusion. Nobody certain.” When the network put him back on the air, Skelton said, “Well, we have now joined the parade of stars.” Bob Hope, on his program, was cut off the air for this joke: “Vegas is the only town in the world where you can get tanned and faded at the same time. Of course, Fred Allen can be faded anytime.” Allen told the press that NBC had a vice president who was in charge of “program ends.” When a show ran overtime, this individual wrote down the time he had saved by cutting it off: eventually he amassed enough time for a two-week vacation. Dennis Day took the last shot. “I’m listening to the radio,” he said to his girlfriend Mildred on his Wednesday night NBC sitcom. “I don’t hear anything,” said Mildred. “I know,” said Dennis: “Fred Allen’s on.” On that note, the network gave up the fight, announcing that its comedians were free to say whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter, said Radio Life: “They all were anyway.” Allen took a major ratings dive in 1948. Some”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Benny’s most famous gag, when a robber demanded, “Your money or your life!” and the hilarity kept building while Benny thought it over.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“A far more serious loss that year was Oscar Levant, who left as Maurice Zolotow reported, “when a series of arguments with Golenpaul culminated in a fistfight.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“As early as 1953 there was talk of television. Perhaps Macdonnell saw the writing on the wall when he told the press that “our show is perfect for radio,” that Gunsmoke confined by a picture couldn’t possibly be as authentic or attentive to detail. Behind the scenes, he was intrigued. If the cast could be left intact (a major problem, for the once-slender Bill Conrad had ballooned in recent years, giving him an appearance far different from what a listener saw in the mind) and if the spirit and integrity of the radio show could be maintained … well, it might be interesting.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“Cassidy had been created by Clarence Mulford, writer of formula western novels and pulpy short stories. In the stories, Cassidy was a snorting, drinking, chewing relic of the Old West. Harry Sherman changed all that when he bought the character for the movies. Sherman hired Boyd, a veteran of the silent screen whose star had faded, to play a badman in the original film. But Boyd seemed more heroic, and Sherman switched the parts before the filming began. As Cassidy, Boyd became a knight of the range, a man of morals who helped ladies cross the street but never stooped to kiss the heroine. He was literally black and white, his silver hair a vivid contrast to his black getup. He did not smoke, believed absolutely in justice, honor, and fair play, and refused to touch liquor. Boyd’s personal life was not so noble. Born in Ohio in 1898, he had arrived in Hollywood for the first golden age, working with Cecil B. DeMille in a succession of early silents. By the mid-1920s he was a major star. Wine, women, and money were his: he drank and gambled, owned estates, married five times. But it all ended when another actor named William Boyd was arrested for possession of whiskey and gambling equipment.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio

“The stories reveal little or no religious dogma: they are virtually indistinguishable from other high-quality anthologies on the air. There were 482 dramas broadcast. Father Peyton himself released almost the entire run to collectors. In 1967 he published his autobiography, All for Her, which includes several chapters on his radio work.”
― John Dunning, On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio