Evening Star Newspaper, July 20, 1930, Page 70

BY HENRY M. NEELY. (“The Old Stager.”) EAREST,” he murmured, loudly kissing the back of his own broad hand, “I love you.” The girl at his elbow was si- lent & moment. Then came her Sow response. “And 1,” she breathed softly, *love you!” A dainty kiss on her own frail #ingertips, barely audible above the low, sweet strains of muted violins, sealed the tender con- fession. It was a charming love scene; so gentle, so restrained. Watching it in the studio, one wondered where the outraged moralists got their stuff about the wildness of the younger generation. But out over the national hook- up which was reaching, we hoped, millions of Joud speakers with their attentive listeners, the effect was different. It sounded warm! Our mail during the next few weeks told us so. That was what I wanted. As' producer, scenarist, continuity writer and director of that playlet, I hoped to keep the bulbs aglow on every radio set within our coast-to-coast range until the 30-minute act was over, and I used all the effects known in modern radio produc- tion to do it. Of course, the tenor might ac- tually have kissed our birdlike little soprano, but it would not have registered as effectively through the unromantic “mike” as did that passionate osculation of his own hand. And the soprano might really have returned the caress, thus arousing the envy of every girl who has heard our tenor's melting notes, but 1t would have missed precisely the right sound in thousands of loud-speakers half a continent or more away. Art, even in broadcasting, de- mands its sacrifices. T demands, however, far more than that. ~ 7The performer who would win popularity and success on the air must master a tech- nique quite different in many important aspects from the art of the theater or the auditorium, and still in its early stages of development. The producer-director must solve problems never before encountered in the long history of public entertainment. He is reaching for an audience which, so far as he and his art are concerned, is blind and dependent on hear- ing alone and which may number millions instead of the customary hundreds. He is in- wvading, with his music and his playlets, the actual homes of these people, where he must compete not only against familiar Jocal inter- ests and recreations but against the equally vigorous efforts of his fellow impresarios of the air. Psychology no less than radio stagecraft enters into the attempt to win and hold so huge, so varied, so independent an audience. Probably the clearest explanation of what 3s meant by radio technique can be offered by comparing it with stage technique. On the stage the actor not only speaks his lines but projects them out over the audience. On the air projection is accomplished electrically, through amplifying devices. This assistance, however, does not make the actor's part easier. On the contrary, it increases the difficulties. It robs him of the opportunity of achieving his effects by varying the volume of his voice. On the stage the actor is supported by a background of carefully designed scenery, effective lighting and other visual atmosphere. On the air he must, by the quality and ex- pression of his voice, aided perhaps by a mu- gical background, himself create that at- mosphere. On the stage the actor can strength- en his part by physical movements; on the air these are unseen. On the stage the actor (and particurarly the actress) can charm an audi- ence by such personal attributes as beauty or grace; on the air the whole reaction is de- pendent on voice alone, On the stage a mo- mentary loss of poise or slip of the memory ean be covered by one of many familiar tricks, such as taking a few steps, assuming an inter- esting posture and the like. On the air there is no opportunity to compose oneself. The program moves on & schedule computed in peconds, and the actor must strike his tempo st the beginning of the playlet and maintain #t unchanged until the final announcement. And finally, on the stage the actor feels the puoyant support of an audience responding visibly and audibly to his art. On the air Shere is only the unresponsive mike—cold, glit- ¢ering, soulless—and the sickening fear that perhaps in thousands of homes impatient fin- gers are throwing off the switch to consign him and’ his work to the limitiess ether. Undoubtedly the most difficult of technical problems confronting the novice radio actor s that of getting his effects without voice pro- jection. He cannot depend for expression on erescendo and diminuendo in either talking or singing. A voice raised in anger, as on the stage, will simply “blast” in the microphone. The gpality and sometimes the speed of the muys} , express . that emotion .instead. en then speed must be guarded against, It v L ¢ THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. €, JULY 20, 1930. v R @ ‘Whisper Your Love To "Mike.” How Radio Acting Calls for a Brand-New Technique, Quite Unlike That of the Stage. - Premium on the “Still, Small Voice” With Maximum Quality and Minimum Quantity. Long a stage star, Fritzi Scheff had to reconstruct her entire "-wdc;l operandi” when she essayed the “mike” can cause the voice to blur so easily. The im- pression of speed is best given by making the sounds clear-cut. Long and arduous practice is required to achieve these effects, and the practice is made harder by the fact that the majority -of radio stars have had stage train- ing and must unlearn so many things which they spent long years of study to acquire. Im.»neemmplzwhhh fllustrates the difference between stage and radic - technique. Porter Hall was playing in a radio sketch the part of a man undergoing an ampu- tetion without the aid of anesthetics, It be- came necessary for him to register the intense agony smiffered by the victim. In the first rehenrda 1 bk hperimentod with stale itegtmique, ) -1 ston requiréd by ¥ tiie Vini with disastrous effect. His groans became roars of rage rather than sounds of suffering. His shrieks blasted. He tried again and again, and finally achieved the desired result. But to accomplish it he had to use what was almost a gentle purr, produced deep in his throat. In the studio the sound was barely audible. Yet as reproduced by loud-speakers in thou- sands. of homes, it was harrowing. His fan Jetters told him so. Some, In, fact, asked for ' legh realism. It was too harassing to the home- Hearer's nerves. In another playlet the same actor imperson- ated a man driven insane by hardships when jost on an Arctic waste. The effort to repro- duce the maniac's moans, with the fervor de- manded by the part and yet with the repres- . 'wais 56 ‘great that one could see the blood vessels swellin on the actor’s temples, and the conclusion of the sketch found him utterly exhausted. Lates Hall learned that his tremendous effort “ad been to some degree unnecessary. When ne cast in a somewhat similar part, he acted i without the great repression of the first at-| tempt. Instead, he stepped back or turned| slightly from the microphone whenever the role demanded loud or high tones. The ef- fect was, In fact, better because it was more natural. There are, one might say, two schools of thought concerning the best method of reproe ducing intense emotions and loud tones over the air without blasting. One advocates keep ing the voice low in any scene, however force- ful, and creating the effect desired by varying the tempo. The other insists on what might be called stage tones tuned down for the micro= phone by the process of turning the head. In the opinion of most students of radio produc= tion, each has its peeculiar advantages. For the experienced radio actor probably the first method is the better. But it can be acquired only after long and rigorous practice, and even then only by those who have a natural aptitude for broadcasting. The second method has been most serviceable in coaching celebrated stage stars for an eve- ning's program on the air. Naturally, it would be both difficult and unwise to ask that such artists discard the splendid stage technique they have developed through years of expe- rience, yet if they projected their stage tones into the microphone the effect might be dis- appointing to their admirers and possibly haze ardous to their own popularity. The director of a radio playlet solves this problem by per= mitting them to use natural stage’' voices and indicating exactly the angle at which to speak into the microphone as different emotions are portrayed. I recall one occasion when Pritzi Scheff apperred in a radio presentation of her famous operetta, “Mlle. Modiste.” On the stage her voice is charming; on the air it threatened to blur into incoherence. = It became necessary for me to tell her just where she must stand, just how she must turn her head, just how loud she could sing. She stared at me in amazement, “Listen, my friend,” she said, “if you would try to tell me how to act in the theater I should probably have you thrown out. But this is a new art and I realize that you know pmore about it than I do. So proceed.” I did, and her act went over big. The experienced radio artist, however, neither needs nor desires such detailed direction. She is, in fact, rather proud of the fact that her voice is so attuned to the microphone’s possibilities and her knowledge of its requirements so thor- ough that the man at the control bcard meed seldom twist his dials, Always her voice is low, pure, soft and compressed. Vaughn de Leath, famous as “The Original Radio Girl,” singe into the microphone in so low and intimate a tone that the orchestra leader must bend forward with his ear close to her lips in order to follow her. Jessica Dragonetie, whose clear, sweet s0- prano charms millions of admirers throughout the United States, has also mastered to an extraordinary degree the art of using low, pure tones when singing into the microphone. Like Vaughn de Leath, her radio technique is per- fect. Radio programs, it must be remembered, are largely directed at those who are not trained for art, either histrionic or musical. Their audiences absorb principally through the emo- tions. To those listeners, many of our famous soloists of the stage or concert hall hold no great appeal. Such vocalists are leaders, trained for artistic imperialism; and radio, be- cause of the wide human touch, has little place keep the imperialistic suggestion out voice trained for and accustomed to grand opera. Public men, no less than actors and actresses, learn by frequent broadcasting to develop indi- vidual styles in radio techmique. Possibly there are no speakers who illustrate this more clearly than do former Gov. Alfred E. Smith and Meayor James J. Walker of New York. The former’s technique might be compared to that of the stage or opera star. He retains his plat- form style before the microphone, gesticulating vigorously and increasing the wvolume of his of emphasis. Often it is necessary for in charge of the broadcast to