Didn't Anyone Give You the Signal?
(A mixup at the radio station WHAS)
Screen 1 of 2When I learned from our director, Captain Stutzenberger, early in the spring of 1929 that our K. M. I. orchestra had been invited to broadcast a program of music over radio station WHAS in Louisville, I became very excited, since I had never played over the radio before.
I decided immediately that I must tell all my friends and acquaintances about this great event soon to happen. In my enthusiasm about the prospect, I assumed that everyone who knew me would be waiting with bated breath to hear me play the trumpet over the air, if I could let them know about it in advance.
So I began spreading the information. First, I made local telephone calls to people I knew in the Louisville area. Then I wrote to others in various parts of Kentucky who I thought could pick up the WHAS signal--not only members of my family in Bowling Green but anyone I could think of in the state. The expense of all this was not too great. Local telephone calls at that time cost five cents each, and first-class postage in that year was either two or three cents for a letter.
I could hardly wait for the broadcast day to come. In the meantime, I practiced for many hours on the trumpet solo I was to playas a part of the program.
On the appointed day, we went to the radio station an hour or two early, in order to get acquainted with the broadcast studio, to set up our stands and music, to tune our instruments, and to do some practicing.
Everything went along well as planned, and as our broad- cast time drew near, we felt sure we were ready for this "opportunity of a lifetime," as one of my fellow cadets put it.
While I was sitting in the studio waiting for the red light signal to be turned on, there was a fluttering in my stomach, a distinct tingling in my toes, and a constant dripping of perspiration from my chin. I was picturing in my mind's eye all those people throughout Kentucky who were anxiously waiting to hear our orchestra--and me!
The program was scheduled for thirty minutes, but with time allowed for introductions, announcements, and brief commercials, the actual playing time was to be about twenty-five or twenty-six minutes. The orchestra was to play three numbers, two before my trumpet solo, and one to conclude the program.
But the announcer, an amateur volunteer I soon learned, didn't get things started on time, and then he wasted time trying to read musical terms he neither understood nor knewhow to pronounce. So we were soon running well behind schedule--so much so that Capt. Stutzenberger whispered we might have to cut the last orchestra number, but he assured me that my solo would be kept on the program--a decision of much relief to me but perhaps not welcomed by the other players.
The time for my performance soon came. After being introduced--by name:--I began playing the trumpet solo, with Capt. Stutzenberger accompanying me on the piano. I must have thought this was my "finest hour."
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