Radio and Poetry: Milton Allen Kaplan 9780231889094

Table of contents :
Preface
Contents
1. THE BEGINNINGS
2. CONTENT AND CONTROLLING FACTORS OF THE RADIO VERSE PLAY
3. DRAMATIC TECHNIQUE OF THE RADIO VERSE PLAY
4. POETIC TECHNIQUE OF THE RADIO VERSE PLAY
5. DOCUMENTARY TECHNIQUE OF THE RADIO VERSE PLAY
6. ADAPTATION OF POETRY
7. THE READING OF POETRY ON THE AIR
8. THE DISCUSSION OF POETRY ON THE RADIO
9. CONCLUSIONS
NOTES
ORIGINAL POETIC RADIO SCRIPTS
INDEX

Citation preview

Radio

AND Poetry

Radi IO

AND

Poetry MILTON SUBMITTED MENTS THE

FOR

IN

PARTIAL

THE

FACULTY

ALLEN

DEGREE

OF

COLUMBIA NEW

YORK

FULFILLMENT OF

DOCTOR

PHILOSOPHY,

KAPLAN OF OF

THE

REQUIRE-

PHILOSOPHY

IN

COLUMBIA

UNIVERSITY.

UNIVERSITY

PRESS 1949

COPYRIGHT

1949

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS, N E W YORK PUBLISHED IN GREAT BRITAIN, CANADA, AND INDIA BY G E O F F R E Y C U M B E R L E C E , OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON, TORONTO, AND BOMBAY M A N U F A C T U R E D IN T H E UNITED STATES O F A M E R I C A

FOR

Marion

Preface ALTHOUGH RADIO L I T E R A T U R E HAS T H E ADVANTAGE

of making immediate impact on the ear, it has the corollary disadvantage of vanishing into thin air immediately after that impact. A radio play can command an audience of millions, but once the clock strikes the half-hour, the program fades into silence. In my six-year search for poetry in radio, therefore, I finally had to leave the library, the usual sanctum of the student of literature, and plough through waves of uncatalogued scripts and transcriptions filed away in radio stations, warehouses, advertising agencies, government offices, and private homes. To steer my way through a sea of uncorrected material, I had to depend more and more on the kindness and co-operation of professional script writers, poets, critics, radio executives, educational directors, librarians, actors, public relations men, research directors, and others connected with radio broadcasting. In an industry often condemned for its commercialism, these good people gave me many hours of their valuable time with no other motive in mind than to extend the frontiers of knowledge. Limitations of space force me to list their names below in summary fashion, but can in no way minimize the great debt of gratitude I owe them: William Ackerman, Violet Atkins, W. H. Auden, Stephen Vincent Benêt, William Rose Benêt, Shirley Burke, Wyllis Cooper, Emil Corwin, Norman Corwin, Ted Cott, Elsie Dick, Sterling Fisher, Kimball Flaccus, Josephine French, Milton Geiger, Mitchell Grayson, Kenneth Hayden, Peter Monro Jack, Alfred Kreymborg, Kathleen N. Lardie, Agnes Law, Ruth Lechlitner, Leon Levine, James F. Macandrew, Archibald MacLeish, Ted Malone, H. B. McCarty, Eve Merriam, C. Wilbert Pettegrew, Milton Robertson, David Ross, Norman Rosten, Bernard C. Schoenfeld, Frances Sprague, A. M. Sullivan, Davidson Taylor, Lewis H. Titterton,

viii

PREFACE

Irve Tunick, George Ward, Lindsay Wellington, Mary N. S. Whiteley, Albert N. Williams, and Morton Wishengrad. I wish to thank, too, the anonymous office boys, filing clerks, secretaries, assistants, and warehouse employees who piloted me through the uncharted shoals of radio research. For permission to quote from copyrighted material, proper credit for which is given in the notes, I wish to acknowledge the courtesy of the following: Anderson House, Boni and Gaer, Dial Press, Duell, Sloan and Pearce, Expression Company, Greenberg Publisher, Harcourt, Brace and Company, Harper and Brothers, Harvard University Press, Henry Holt and Company, Houghton Mifflin Company, Institute for Education by Radio, Little, Brown and Company, Random House, Rinehart and Company, University of Chicago Press, Robbins Music Corporation (publishers of "Ballad for Americans," text by John LaTouche and music by Earl Robinson, copyright 1940, Robbins Music Corporation, used by special permission of the copyright proprietor), Poetry, New York Times, Mark Van Doren, Brandt and Brandt (literary agents for Stephen Vincent Benêt and Edna St. Vincent Millay), David Lloyd (literary agent for Pearl Buck), Ann Watkins (literary agent for Kimball Flaccus), Batten, Barton, Durstine and Osborn (producers of "Cavalcade of America"), CampbellEwald Company of New York ( producers of "American Scriptures"), Rayshow, Inc. (producers of "Readers Digest—Radio Edition"), American Broadcasting Company (formerly the Blue Network), British Broadcasting Corporation, Columbia Broadcasting System, Mutual Broadcasting System, National Broadcasting Company. Special mention should be made of the British Broadcasting Corporation, which in the midst of World War II imperturbably sent across the Atlantic copies of their poetic scripts. I wish to thank my wife, Marion W. Kaplan, for her valuable assistance in reading and proofreading my manuscript. For many helpful suggestions I thank members of several

IX

PREFACE

faculties of Columbia University: W. Cabell Greet, of Barnard College, Paul F. Lazarsfeld, of the Bureau of Applied Social Research, Henry W. Wells, of the Brander Matthews Dramatic Museum, and Erik Bamouw, of the School of General Studies. For his patience, discernment, and sympathetic guidance in supervising this entire study and reading and criticizing the many versions of my book, I wish to thank particularly Lennox Grey, of Teachers College, whose interest in language as communication and symbol has had a quickening influence reaching beyond the confines of Columbia University. MILTON A . KAPLAN

New York City February 7, 1949

Contents 1. 2.

T H E BEGINNINGS

3

C O N T E N T AND CONTROLLING FACTORS O F T H E RADIO VERSE PLAY

30

3.

DRAMATIC TECHNIQUE O F T H E RADIO VERSE PLAY

68

4.

P O E T I C TECHNIQUE O F T H E RADIO VERSE PLAY

111

5.

DOCUMENTARY TECHNIQUE OF T H E RADIO VERSE PLAY

158

Θ.

ADAPTATION OF POETRY

171

7.

T H E READING O F POETRY ON T H E AIR

193

8.

T H E DISCUSSION O F POETRY ON T H E RADIO

220

9.

CONCLUSIONS

231

NOTES

263

ORIGINAL P O E T I C RADIO SCRIPTS

283

INDEX

297

Radio

AND Poetry

1 THE

BEGINNINGS

R A D I O BROADCASTING HAS BECOME SUCH AN

IN-

escapable force in modem life that it is difficult to realize that only twenty-eight years ago, on August 20, 1920, WWJ, Detroit, was the first station to broadcast a news account. On November 2, 1920, KDKA, Pittsburgh, was the first station to issue presidential returns. On September 2, 1922, WEAF, New York, presented the first commercial radio talk, and in 1926, the first of our present national networks, the National Broadcasting Company, was established. 1 Even in 1926 the significance of the radio was not recognized fully. To most people it was still a plaything. "We all tuned in as many different places as we could," declared Robert Brown, program director for the Chicago studios of the Columbia Broadcasting System. "If we got a station as far away as St. Louis, we boasted about our set. Programs were all the same, something like this: 'Can you sing? Come on down. Can you recite a poem? Come on down and recite it.' " 2 While there is no certain record of the first presentation of poetry on the air, apparently it was as casual as that. EARLY

BROADCASTS

By 1930 many stations reported that their schedules included readings of excellent verse. WEVD, New York, broadcast readings of Robinson Jeffers' "Roan Stallion" and "The Tower beyond Tragedy." WNYC, the New York City municipal station, offered the work of Robinson Jeffers, T. S. Eliot, William Ellery Leonard, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Ezra Pound, Conrad Aiken, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Carl Sandburg, Vachel Lindsay, and many others. In 1930 WJZ,

4

THE

BEGINNINGS

New York, scheduled four programs for leading American poets, who read their poems, published between 1913 and 1929.3 Good as they were, these programs were sporadic, and aroused little popular interest. Certain readers, however, began to win followings. Ted Malone, Margaret Anglin, Tony Wons, David Ross, and A. M. Sullivan became well-known names in the field. The origin of two of these programs indicates how haphazardly poetry found a place in radio. In 1926 a scheduled tea-dance broadcast could not be introduced because the band was not ready. The announcer, David Ross, had a copy of Vachel Lindsay's poems in his pocket. He read "The Congo." The broadcast was so well received that he was allowed to fill in when scheduled programs had to be canceled.4 In 1928 Ted Malone, manager of a small station, KMBC, Kansas City, had to fill in when a troupe of "hillbillies" failed to appear. He read Bryant's "Thanatopsis." So many listeners wrote in demanding more poetry that he established a regular poetry-reading program.5 Apart from these instances, however, poetry readings on the air seem to have had a limited appeal. At the present writing very few of these programs survive, and these are unsponsored presentations. Poetry appears as a "public service." The most systematic work in the reading and discussion of poetry is being done by WOSO, the Ohio State University, and WHA, University of Wisconsin, where the reading is part of a comprehensive educational program." Why, then, study the relation of radio and poetry? Because there are other signs that radio is restoring the audience to the poet. His work is rarely labeled "poetry," which has suffered from long-standing bookishness. It occurs as song, as verse drama, as poetic prose, even as advertisement. The infrequency of poetry reading does not mean that poetry vanished from the air—quite the contrary. Radio stations favor dramatic material. They found that Shakespeare was an excel-

T H E BEGINNINGS

5

lent radio dramatist, who used dialogue to introduce the characters, set the stage, and advance the action. That was exactly what radio needed. The first dramatic presentation by the British Broadcasting Corporation was the quarrel scene from Julius Caesar, broadcast in 1923.7 In 1937 John Barrymore "streamlined" six of Shakespeare's plays and acted in the forty-five-minute condensations he made.8 The Columbia Broadcasting System adapted eight of Shakespeare's plays that same year,9 broadcasting Shakespeare on "the largest network ever assembled, it is said, for a sustaining program."10 By 1941 the National Broadcasting Company had presented eighty Shakespeare productions, in addition to occasional broadcasts of short scenes.11 The NBC Great Plays series adapted not only Shakespeare but also Marlowe, Euripides, Corneille, Gilbert and Sullivan, Rostand, Maxwell Anderson, and others.12 One might suppose the success of these productions would have inspired poets immediately to try their hands on new materials. But writers failed to recognize the exciting dramatic possibilities of radio, even as people generally failed to recognize propaganda possibilities until Nazi Germany exploited them. In 1934 Norman Corwin, then radio editor of the Springfield Republican, wrote: "There is about as much creative genius in radio today as there is in a convention of plasterers and plumbers."13 The poet, the dramatist, the critic, and the political commentator, "they whose job in the world is to communicate," according to Gilbert Seldes, "neglected this most magnificent instrument of communication." 14 Meanwhile, the radio audience was growing at an incredible rate. At the close of 1922 there were 400,000 radio receiving sets in the United States. In 1944 there were 60,000,000. Today, 32,500,000 families representing 89 percent of all the families in this country own radio sets and listen on the average of 4.4 hours per day, a total of 143,000,000 hours of family listening per day.15 A single program, Corwin's We

6

THE

BEGINNINGS

Hold These Truths, played to an estimated audience of more than sixty million.18 With this growth came the realization that the radio needed new material and a new technique. Mere imitations or reproductions of stage plays were not enough. "The Student Prince," for instance, proved completely unsatisfactory when it was broadcast unchanged in 1925.17 Radio needed dramatic material shaped for the ear alone. In England, Val Gielgud, who became dramatic director of the British Broadcasting Corporation in 1925, began to encourage writers such as Lord Dunsany, Tyrone Guthrie, and E. M. Delafield to turn to the radio. Asserting that the plays best suited for broadcasting were the Greek, the Elizabethan, and the Shakespearean because their appeal was strongly aural, Gielgud developed the principle that radio drama should be written and produced differently from stage or movie plays.18 February 28, 1936, is a milestone in the history of radio, because on that day D. G. Bridson's verse drama "The March of the '45' " was broadcast. It was the first established instance of poetry written specifically for the radio. Bridson's play was rebroadcast by the National Broadcasting Company on October 2, 1937, but it received little notice in this country, perhaps because the hour-long rebroadcast came several months after an American radio play, Archibald MacLeish's The Fall of the City, had excited the imagination of the radio public. Presented by the Columbia Workshop of CBS on April 11, 1937, MacLeish's half-hour verse play won instant acclaim. John Gassner wrote that for the future, the greatest significance of "The Fall of the City" lies in the fact that with it a real poet and an intelligent dramatist invaded the broadcasting studios. . . . Thanks largely to Archibald MacLeish the air waves are no longer completely monopolized by Pollyanna and her laxative-sponsored cousins.18 "The Fall of the City" [according to Douglas Coulter, at the time director of broadcasts of CBS] was the first poetic work of

THE

BEGINNINGS

7

permanent value to be written expressly for the air, the first to be submitted in shape to be broadcast without readaptation, the first to exploit the potentialities of radio for activating the imagination of the listener.20 This suggests that Bridson's play had gone unnoticed by American broadcasters. The Columbia Workshop, which produced The Fall of the City, had been established on July 18, 1936.21 Under the direction of Irving Reis, the Workshop had been broadcasting experimental radio drama. Reis, a studio engineer, became interested in the possibilities of a real and vital drama designed for the radio. Anxious to produce radio drama unhampered by the conventions of the stage and commercial commitments, he persuaded the Columbia Broadcasting System to establish the Columbia Workshop. 22 "Without the Workshop," observed Merrill Denison in Theatre Arts Monthly, "the MacLeish play, in all probability, would never have been broadcast because there was no place for it. Nor would the other plays . . . have been written, and most certainly they could never have been heard upon the air." 23 The National Broadcasting Company's Radio Guild, which had been founded in 1928, followed soon afterward with Alfred Kreymborg's verse drama The Planets, the first performance of which was given on June 6, 1938, at the Hayden Planetarium in New York City. Poets had discovered radio. THE GROWTH OF A N E W LITERATURE

The Fall of the City was broadcast only twelve years ago. In these twelve years more than two hundred scripts written in verse have been presented by radio. The new school of radio poets now includes (in addition to MacLeish and Kreymborg) Louis MacNeice, Norman Rosten, Eve Merriam, Norman Corwin, William Saroyan, Maxwell Anderson, W. H. Auden, Kimball Flaccus, A. M. Sullivan, Stephen Vincent

8

THE

BEGINNINGS

Benêt, John LaTouche, Edna St. Vincent Millay, David Ross, and others. T h e poets had to meet radio on its own terms. Radio was a new means of communication. As Isaac Goldberg pointed out, "Every new medium suggests an alteration in technique." 24 T h e new medium suggested an alteration in spirit as well. Radio belongs to the here and now. Successful radio poetry inevitably reflects this contemporaneity. It speaks of the needs of people troubled by certain immediate problems or responsive to current ideas and forces. T h e development of radio poetry exemplifies strikingly how literature becomes a social instrument of communication. The history of drama reveals that changes in social life were accompanied by changes in the care and technique of drama. In the Middle Ages drama was religious, because the Church was the center of medieval society. Changes in social structure and in ideological currents [Max Lerner points out in the essay "Literature and Society"] bring new experiences, and this experience refuses to be crowded into the old forms. They are no longer adequate to express it. And the new literary forms that emerge out of the survival and persistence of certain experimental changes and the lapsing of others may be said to be functionally related to the new experience.25 The poet, who once used the stage for his forum, could now tum to the radio and to the problems of a world so kaleidoscopic that the radio becomes symbol as well as medium. The contemporaneity of radio, the immediacy of its impact, the heterogeneity and size of its audience, and the complete dependence on the ear shaped the pattern of the radio poetry play, a pattern that is becoming more and more sharply defined. It is a pattern of the spoken word, of special sound effects, of timing, of music, of suggestion, repetition, and emphasis. It is a pattern of simple language, of quickly shifting scenes, of thumbnail characters, of allegory. "Today in radio," John LaTouche, author of "Ballad for Americans," de-

T H E BEGINNINGS

9

clared, "a new art process is being bom—and the midwife is (to the astonishment of none more than himself) the poet." 26 The complete radio poet was not long in coming—the first poet brought up with radio, so to speak, in contrast with already notable poets who turned to radio. This was Norman Corwin, who was only twenty-four when he wrote his protest in the Springfield Republican in 1934. Erik Bamouw, whose pioneer course in writing for radio at Columbia University was established in the fall of 1937, wrote: [Corwin] taught the new art how to enrich its repertoire of technique and devices. He showed it how to develop the radio's multi-voiced narration, its montage and its use of background effects into a sort of orchestration of human speech. The rhythms of this choral speech are now part of the technique of radio poetry.27 When Corwin came to New York City, in 1937, he began to adapt poetry for the microphone. His program on WQXR, "Poetic License," took verse that was familiar to but few, and using music, sound effects and choral effects, transformed it into dramatic material that enchanted millions.28 Occasionally he filled in with original work of his own. In 1938 he went to the Columbia Broadcasting System as a director. There he started the series called "Words without Music," using both adapted and original material. For this program, on February 10, 1939, he wrote and directed They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease, which was generally acclaimed. The Institute for Education by Radio called this script "the finest example [in the 1939 collection] illustrating the possibilities of the artistic, cultural, and socially important use of radio." 29 His "Pursuit of Happiness" series, which followed in 1940, gave John LaTouche's "Ballad for Americans" its first radio hearing. It was on this program that Corwin presented his verse play, "The Oracle of Philadelphi." In 1941 he was given the very unusual assignment of writing and directing twenty-

10

THE

BEGINNINGS

six radio plays, "Twenty-Six by Corwin." On December 15, 1941, Corwin wrote and directed We Hold These Truths, a program commemorating the Bill of Rights. Written at the request of the Office of Facts and Figures at the time of national emergency, We Hold These Truths was broadcast simultaneously over the four major networks. Crossley, Inc., New York City, estimated that the program drew "the largest listening audience ever recorded for a program using regular radio technique." 30 Corwin combined poetry, prose, and radio technique with such consummate skill that Norman S. Weiser, editor of The Writer's Radio Theatre, 1941, stated categorically: "There is no doubt that We Hold These Truths has taken its place as the Number One script in radio." 31 Corwin's collection, Thirteen by Corwin, was published in 1942. Carl Van Doren, in his introduction to the book, called it "the richest contribution yet made to the newest form of literature. . . . He is to American radio what Marlowe was to the Elizabethan stage."32 Albert N. Williams, who reviewed the book, was quick to point out that "the reference appears to be chronological rather than stylistic—both seem to stand on the doorway to their field, rather than in the center." 33 By this time Corwin's name overshadowed all others. Edith Isaacs, editor of Theatre Arts Monthly, hailed Corwin as "perhaps the first poet for whom the radio seems to be a natural medium, who seems to have the rhythm and the sweep of radio in his own blood. His verse pulses with it." 34 In 1942 Norman Corwin received a grant of $1,000 made jointly by the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the National Institution of Arts and Letters to nonmembers doing creative work in art, literature, and music. Three other grants were made in literature—to Muriel Rukeyser, Herman Brock, and Edgar Lee Masters—thus placing a radio poet on a level with other distinguished writers in America. The first regular four-network series, "This Is War!" began

THE

BEGINNINGS

11

February 14, 1942, and ran thirteen weeks. Corwin directed the program and wrote several of the scripts. It was estimated that "This Is War!" reached, on the average, twenty million persons each week of the broadcast. 35 Towards the close of the year Corwin flew to England to write and direct a series of seven broadcasts there, "An American in England." When he returned, in 1943, Corwin managed the American production of "Transatlantic Call: People to People," a prose series heard simultaneously by listeners in Great Britain and the United States. Production in England was in charge of D. G. Bridson, the English radio poet. Sixteen more of his radio plays were published in 1944 under the title More by Corwin. On March 7, 1944, he embarked on another series of twenty-two broadcasts, "Columbia Presents Corwin." On this series he presented original works, revivals, adaptations, and documentaries. On June 10, 1944, the New York Newspaper Guild presented Corwin with a Page One Award for creative literature of the air. On May 8, 1945, Corwin broadcast On a Note of Triumph as a special CBS presentation in celebration of V-E Day. Coming as it did at a climactic moment in our history, it won nationwide attention, and was rebroadcast, published, and transcribed. On July 3, 1945, he resumed the series "Columbia Presents Corwin," with eight broadcasts, one of which, "14 August," hailed the surrender of Japan. Another collection of his radio plays, Untitled and Other Radio Dramas, was published in 1947. Meteoric though his rise may have been, Corwin has never considered radio drama to be in anything but a formative stage: "Its techniques are still developing," he wrote in 1940, with that lively shift of metaphor characteristic of radio, "its forms slowly jelling, its literature is only lately hatched." 38 Thus, he anticipated Bernard De Votos blast in Harper's Magazine, which appeared five years later: " O n a Note of Triumph' fell far short of what was reasonably to be expected of the art of radio on May 8." 37

12

THE

BEGINNINGS

Corwin warns the writer that poetry must be written fo>r radio with the same care as the dramatist writes for the stage. I would like to see poets writing for radio but I must warn yo'U that you won't get far by being snooty, as many writers are, about the medium. . . . You must bear in mind that radio has very special requirements; definite techniques; many challenging problems. . . . You can help yourself by submitting to the discipline of the medium. The advantages will be mutual. Poets will produce the greatest radio and radio will produce the greatest poets.'1'8 DEVELOPMENT OF A PERMANENT

LITERATURE

A script writer often walks into the NBC press room and asks anxiously: "Did you catch my program?" Unless the radio author's program is "caught" by the listener and a transcription, it is generally lost forever. The typed or mimeographed script is buried in the files and forgotten. The story in a magazine is preserved in bound volumes in a considerable number of libraries, at least, and has some chance of coming to light again. If the writing for radio is to have a place as literature, it must achieve permanence of form. In 1940 Max Wylie, then director of script and continuity for CBS, observed that the best of radio scripts were being perpetuated "in the form of reprints in books and magazines, and in the form of recordings." He predicted that recordings would become "an important and regular concomitant to all broadcasting enterprise within the next three years" and that it would continue "as a regular accessory of radio for as long as radio endures." 3I> Evan Roberts, director of the Federal Theatre, Radio Division, found that 50,000 schools and 1,000 colleges had facilities to play records and that 350 colleges had organized radio guilds and courses, "virtually crying for recordings." 10 Thus, an opportunity for permanence is being given to this new literature. These past twelve years have shown response to the de-

THE BEGINNINGS

13

mand for permanent form. Poetry for the radio has been published independently as separate books, included in many anthologies, reprinted in magazines, and mimeographed for lending purposes by the Educational Radio Script Exchange of the Federal Security Agency, U.S. Office of Education. Scripts have been recorded for public sale and transcribed for use in the schools. In one instance a poetry script was purchased by the movies, in another, selected for use in a Broadway revue, and in a third, performed on the stage in the form of a dance drama. MacLeish's The Fall of the City was published in 1937, Air Raid in 1938, and America Was Promises in 1939. Alfred Kreymborg's The Planets appeared in printed form in 1938. His ten "Fables in Verse" were published as The Four Apes and Other Fables of Our Day in 1939. In 1942 Thirteen by Corwin presented the best of Corwin's radio scripts, including eight plays using verse: "Appointment," "Daybreak," "The Oracle of Philadelphi," "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," "Radio Primer," "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay," "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget," and They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease. The last-named play had appeared in a special edition in 1939. Corwin's We Hold These Truths was published in 1942, a few months after the original broadcast. More by Corwin, in 1944, presented sixteen additional scripts by Corwin, twelve of which use poetry or poetic prose: "Mary and the Fairy," "Cromer," We Hold These Truths, "The Long Name None Could Spell," "Good Heavens," "Psalm for a Dark Year," "A Man with a Platform," "Samson," "Anatomy of Sound," "Between Americans," "A Moment in the Nation's Time," and "Program to Be Opened in a Hundred Years." In 1945 On a Note of Triumph was published by Simon and Schuster, and was released for sale immediately after the broadcast. Two of Maxwell Anderson's radio verse plays, "The Feast of Ortolans" and "Second Overture" can be found in his

14

THE

BEGINNINGS

Eleven Verse Plays, 1929-1939. In 1940 The One Act Play Magazine issued a pamphlet edition of Philip Tyrrel's The City Awakes, an unproduced radio script for amateur performance. Nightmare at Noon, by Stephen Vincent Benêt, found triple publication, once in his collected poetry, issued in 1942, again in pamphlet form for the Council for Democracy, and finally in The Treasury Star Parade, also in 1942. In 1945 Farrar and Rinehart issued Stephen Vincent Benét's We Stand United, a collection of Benét's important radio scripts, including these plays using verse: "Dear Adolf," a series of six letters written to Hitler, "They Burned the Books," "Listen to the People," and "A Child Is Born." A. M. Sullivan's A Day in Manhattan, published in 1941, contains five radio plays in verse: "Midnight Caravan," "A Day in Manhattan," "Transcontinental," "Psalm against the Darkness," and "Song of the Soil." Sidney Alexander's "The Hawk and the Flesh" and "Where Jonathan Came," two verse plays broadcast by WNYC, New York, were included in his The Man on the Queue, a volume of poems issued in 1941. In 1942 the British Broadcasting Corporation was represented by the publication of Clemence Dane's The Saviours, a collection of seven verse plays produced by BBC: "Merlin," "Hope of Britain," "England's Darling," "The May King," "The Light of Britain," "Remember Nelson," and "The Unknown Soldier." On October 19, 1942, the National Broadcasting Company presented Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Murder of Lidice. The very next day Harper and Brothers issued a published version of the radio play. On June 6, 1944, with the opening of the Allied European invasion, Ronald Colman read Edna St. Vincent Millay's Poem and Prayer for an Invading Army, written especially for the National Broadcasting System, which soon after distributed free a pamphlet edition of the poem. In 1943 New Directions published Bertolt Brecht's The Trial of Lucullus, translated from the German by H. R. Hays. This verse play for radio had been broadcast in Switzer-

THE BEGINNINGS

15

land during the invasion of Poland. In 1945 Henry Holt published Carl Carmer's V-E broadcast, Taps Is Not Enough. In 1946 Carmer's verse scripts written for the 1943-44 Philharmonic Symphony broadcasts were printed in American Scriptures by Carl Van Doren and Carl Carmer. Many of the radio verse plays are found now in anthologies. Yale Radio Plays, 1940, a collection of radio dramas written by the students of the Department of Drama, Yale University, and produced by WICC, New Haven, includes four verse plays: Harry Kleiner's "Fever in the Night" and "Requiem in A," Richard Samuels' "More Than Dreams," and Bernard Dryer's "Winged Victory." William Kozlenko's One Hundred Non-Royalty Radio Plays, 1941, published ten plays using verse. Three of these were broadcast: William Saroyan's "A Special Announcement," Joseph Liss's "Story of Dogtown Common," and Bernard C. Schoenfeld's "What We Defend." In addition, Kozlenko included these unproduced scripts for nonroyalty performance: Harold C. Algyer's "These Honored Dead," Antoni Gronowicz's "The League of Animals," Lewis Jacob's "Prague Is Quiet," Bernard Reines' "His Name Shall Be: Remember," Norman Rosten's "Prometheus in Granada," Dwight Strickland's "Legend of Dust," and Justus Edwin Wyman's "Revolt in Othoepy." In 1942 The Treasury Star Parade, a collection of twenty-seven radio plays edited by William A. Bacher, appeared. Sponsored by the Treasury Department, these plays undertook the task of arousing and educating the public to accept its share of the responsibility in time of war. One of the prose scripts, "Wanted: a Ballad," by Neal Hopkins, calls for more poetry. Thirteen other scripts in the collection use verse in one way or another. Four of these are radio adaptations: John Gillespie Magee's "High Flight," Gene Fowler's "The Jarvis Bay," Thomas Wolfe's 'The Face of America," and the Treasury Department's "A Report on the State of the Nation," adapted by William A. Bacher and Malcolm Meacham. Stephen Vincent Benét's

16

THE BEGINNINGS

Nightmare at Noon and John LaTouche's "The Statue of Liberty" were included, although they had not been written for the program. Seven additional scripts using verse were written for "The Treasury Star Parade" series: Violet Atkins' "Education for Life," "I Saw the Lights Go Out in Europe," "I Speak for the Women of America," and "The Silent Women"; and Norman Rosten's "The Ballad of Bataan," "Paris Incident," and "Miss Liberty Goes to Town." This Is War! which was issued in 1942, published all the scripts in the series, including three by Norman Corwin in poetic prose style, "This Is War!," "The Enemy," and "To the Young," and Stephen Vincent Benêts 'Tour Army," a prose script which uses verse for choral effects. Free World Theatre, edited by Arch Oboler and Stephen Longstreet, presented in 1944 an original verse play, Fanya Foss Lawrence's "The Fountain of Dancing Children" and an adaptation of Whitman's verse, Talbot Jennings' "Man with a Beard." The better-known writers are represented again and again in anthologies. Mayorga's The Best One-Act Plays of 1938 reprinted Kreymborg's "Ballad of Youth" and Maxwell Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans." Kreymborg's "Ballad of Youth" is found again in One-Act Plays for Stage and Study, Ninth Series (1938). Kreymborg's "The House That Jack Didn't Build" and Sherwood Anderson's "Textiles" were printed for the first time in Kozlenko's Contemporary One-Act Plays, in 1938. Coulter's The Columbia Workshop Plays, 1939, published Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease and MacLeish's The Fall of the City. Max Wylie's Best Broadcasts of 1939-40 printed W. H. Auden's "The Dark Valley." Kreymborg's anthology Poetic Drama, 1941, included his own "Hole in the Wall," one of the "Fables in Verse." In 1941 the anthology The Free Company Presents . . . published another of MacLeish's verse plays, "The States Talking." Again in 1941 Norman S. Weiser's The Writers Radio Theatre, 1940-1941 chose two of Corwin's verse scripts for

THE BEGINNINGS

17

publication, "Words without Music" and "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay." Corwins We Hold These Truths appeared in Max Wylie's Best Broadcasts of 1940-41 and in Weiser's The Writer's Radio Theatre, 1941, both published in 1942. The Weiser volume included another verse play, "Native Land," by Robert L. Richards and Robert Tallman. Mayorga's The Best One-Act Plays of 1942 reprinted Corwins We Hold These Truths and Renét's "They Burned the Books." Mayorga's The Best One-Act Plays of 1944 published Norman Rosten's "Concerning the Red Army." Erik Bamouw's Radio Drama in Action, published in 1945, included five radio plays using verse: Rosten's "Concerning the Red Army," Pearl Buck's "Will This Earth Hold?" Morton Wishengrad's "The Battle of the Warsaw Ghetto," Stephen Vincent Benét's "A Child Is Born," and Millard LampbelTs "The Lonesome Tram. The Senior Scholastic, a magazine for high school students, has reprinted important radio scripts. Stephen Vincent Benét's "Listen to the People" appeared February 2, 1942; "They Burned the Books," September 14, 1942. A. M. Sullivan's "Transcontinental" was published there on May 18, 1942. Rosten's "Miss Liberty Goes to Town" was printed in the January 17, 1944, Senior Scholastic; Corwin's "Untitled," on September 18, 1944; Lampell's "The Lonesome Train," on February 5, 1945; and Carl Carmer's Taps Is Not Enough, on October 1, 1945. The One-Act Play Magazine has also reprinted radio scripts, including Albert N. Williams' "Festival," in the December, 1938, issue. Norman Corwin's "Untitled" was reprinted in its entirety by PM, the New York City newspaper, on May 31, 1944, the day after its broadcast. Corwin's On a Note of Triumph appeared in an abridged form in Coronet, August, 1945. Recordings of four verse plays have already been released for public sale: MacLeish's Air Raid, Millay's The Murder of

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Lidice, Lampell's "The Lonesome Train," and Corwins On a Note of Triumph. Lynn Fontanne's reading of Alice Duer Miller's The White Cliffs of Dover is available in recorded form. While not a verse play, it shows radio influence and achieved great popularity through its radio presentation.41 The Harry S. Goodman Agency, New York City, has recorded sixty "Streamlined Fairy Tales" using verse technique, as part of an advertising scheme. These are sold to advertisers for radio performance. The Federal Radio Education Commission of the Federal Security Agency, Washington, D.C., has made recordings available to the schools. At present three poetry plays may be had free on loan, shipping charges prepaid, with an enclosed franked label for return postage: John LaTouche's "Statue of Liberty," Stephen Vincent Benét's Nightmare at Noon, and Norman Corwins We Hold These Truths. These are sixteeninch transcriptions, playing at a speed of 33M RPM, and can be used directly only by schools equipped with such turntables. "The Treasury Star Parade," a program broadcast several times a day on different stations, used transcriptions to solve its problems. The programs were first recorded at the studio in New York City; then the records were sent to some three hundred radio stations throughout the country.42 A single script, thus, was broadcast very frequently. In addition to the verse plays published in the anthology The Treasury Star Parade, the following poetic works were written for transcription: Carl Sandburg's "The Man with the Broken Fingers," Stephen Vincent Benét's "Prayer," "Prayer for Americans," and "A Letter to Hitler," and John LaTouche's "The Fog." 4 3 Occasionally poetry plays are revived by radio stations for rebroadcast. In 1939 the CBS Workshop Jubilee repeated The Fall of the City and They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease.44 The director of dramatic programs for WNYC, New York City's station, makes it a standard policy

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19

to rebroadcast important scripts.45 Beginning May 13, 1942, WNYC presented a "Corwin Cycle" on nine consecutive Wednesdays. Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Murder of Lidice was rebroadcast on January 8, 1943, by WEAF, New York, the station using the recording of the original broadcast made in October. On December 20, 1943, "The Cavalcade of America" repeated its 1942 Christmas program, Benét's "A Child Is Born." In 1944 "Columbia Presents Corwin" rebroadcast Corwins "Cromer," which had been originally presented in 1942 on his "American in England" series, "The Long Name None Could Spell," first produced in 1943 as a special tribute to Czechoslovakia, and "Untitled" as a Memorial Day program, after it had won great favor at its first presentation two months before on April 18, 1944. On December 10, 1944, Corwin's "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas" was rebroadcast on the 'This Is My Best" program. "The Lonesome Train" was repeated by WQXR, New York, on February 12, 1945, as a Lincoln Day presentation. Bernard C. Schoenfeld's "What We Defend" was rebroadcast by WNYC on May 10, 1945. Corwins On a Note of Triumph was rebroadcast over the CBS network on May 13, 1945, a few days after the original broadcast. In his 1945 series of "Columbia Presents Corwin," Corwin repeated two of his verse plays: "Daybreak," on July 7, and "New York—A Tapestry for Radio," on July 24. Similarly, England's first radio verse play, Bridson's "The March of the '45,'" was repeated twice in its original oneand-a-half hour form, and then rebroadcast here by NBC in a one-hour version.40 Robert Kemp's "Cutty Sark" was presented twice by BBC, on March 3, 1939, and April 15, 1941.47 A program recorded in the United States for use in England, "Story of a Valley, Saga of the Tennessee Valley Authority" was so well received in England that it was repeated several times.48 Radio workshops in schools and other amateur groups very often can borrow scripts and thus produce their own versions

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of important plays on small stations throughout the country. The Educational Radio Script Exchange of the Federal Security Agency, U.S. Office of Education, lends scripts to teachers and directors of radio workshops. Three of the titles available use verse: Dyer's "Reveille," Harkins' "Romance of Rivers," and Tunick and Rankin's "Dust Storms." The Council for Democracy, New York City, distributes all the scripts it sponsors free of charge. Three of these use verse: Norman Rosten's "The People vs. the Unholy Three" and his adaptation of Stephen Vincent Benét's Western Star and Stephen Vincent Benét's memorial broadcast written by Deems Taylor. The Writers Board (formerly the Writers' War Board), New York City, will send free of charge nonroyalty radio scripts on patriotic and social themes to any organization or group that may wish to make noncommercial use of them. Five poetic scripts are listed in their catalogue: Carmer's Taps Is Not Enough, Corwin's "Untitled," Benét's "They Burned the Books," Wishengrad's "Battle of the Warsaw Ghetto," and Rosten's "They Shall Be Heard." In three cases there have been attempts to adapt the radio scripts for other media. Smith College presented MacLeish's The Fall of the City as a dance drama.49 Hollywood bought Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease, but no moving picture has yet been made of the script.50 Corwin's "A Movie Primer" was edited by George S. Kaufman for use in Billy Rose's Broadway Revue "The Seven Lively Arts." 51 These instances are probably not symptomatic of a trend. A fairly large percentage of the two hundred poetry scripts that have come to light thus achieve a more lasting recognition than is generally accorded radio drama. The number is not large, but compared with the comparative silence before, it is notable. The radio verse play does not have the stature of John Browns Body, perhaps, yet it may have far greater popular reach even than that poem.

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21

POETRY'S NEW AUDIENCE

The great epics, dramas, and ballads of the past testify eloquently that for a long time the poet was very close to the people. He entertained; he persuaded; he inspired; he educated. Even in the United States, a comparatively new country, poetry was an integral part of the lives of the common people. The Bible was read in the home; the parlor table held a book of poetry; the family circle read poetry aloud and sang hymns. Commencements were never complete without recitations of poems. Browning societies met regularly. The times seem too crowded today. Yet cowboy ballads, mountain chants, and Negro spirituals are now being collected and recorded as examples of folk poetry. "You can follow the whole history of America," John LaTouche maintains, "in the ballads of the Southern· and Western mountain regions." 52 Poets have lamented the wide gulf between poetry and the lives of most of the people today. Eve Merriam complains that poets are writing for each other.53 Herbert Read, the English poet, was insisting as recently as 1939 that "the art of poetry is in danger of extinction." 54 Norman Corwin examined the status of poetry in the modern world and found it "the poor relative among the arts, having been sustained largely by the esthetic charity of publishers. One of the reasons for this is that poetry has descended from its once high position as a national art—a poetry of the people—and become the almost exclusive property and interest of poets themselves." 55 John Masefield thinks the printing press is to blame. Then there came the printing-press, which, at first, was thought to be of great benefit to poets. . . . It has had this result—that it has put away the poet from his public. . . . Since the printing press came into being poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community; it has become the amusement and delight of a limited few. 56

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Whether that is entirely fair or not, the fact remains that the development of the radio has restored the power of the spoken word. Archibald MacLeish in his introduction to The Fall of the City explains why that is poetry's salvation. There is only the spoken word—an implement which poets have always claimed to use with a special authority. There is only the word-excited imagination—a theatre in which poets have always claimed peculiar rights to play. Nothing exists save as the word creates it. The word dresses the stage. The word brings on the actors. The word supplies their look, their clothes, their gestures. . . . On the stage, verse is often an obstacle because the artifice of the verse and the physical reality of the scene do not harmonize. . . . But over the radio verse has no physical presence to compete with. Only the ear is engaged and the ear is already half-poet. It believes at once: creates and believes. It is the eye which is the realist. It is the eye which must fit everything together, must see everything before and behind. It is the eye and not the ear which refuses to believe in the lovely girlhood of the middle-aged soprano who sings Isolde, or the delicate watertroubling slenderness of the three fat Rhine maidens ridiculously paddling at the end of three steel ropes. With the eye closed or staring at nothing verse has every power over the ear. The ear accepts, accepts and believes, accepts and creates. The ear is the poet's perfect audience, his only true audience. And it is radio and only radio which can give him public access to this perfect friend.57 It is radio, too, that gives the poet an audience of millions. Writing for this vast untrained, uninitiated audience, as we have suggested,

is far different from writing for

"slim"

volumes. Many of the old poetic forms are outmoded; some still older forms spring to life anew. Davidson Taylor, who bought many verse plays for the Columbia Workshop, summarized the situation for a symposium printed in

Poetry:

Just as the symphony has reached over the air a new and larger public who have learned to understand and love it, so poetry and the poetic drama may be able to win a responsive new audience

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23

through radio. But it must be borne in mind that, whereas music is perfectly suited to the conditions of radio, poetry will win its hearing only by skillful and realistic adaptation to the new medium. 58

The poets, however, do not come to radio empty-handed. Radio needs the compression and the allusive power of poetry. "Radio, whose greatest single commodity is time," Norman Corwin declared, "can least afford to waste any."58 And poetry does not waste time. "Poetry corrects and prevents cheap talk," insisted John Wheelright. "It is the purifier of the imbecile. Radio needs its ministry."60 Another poet, John LaTouche, asserted that in radio the poet is necessary, since he has an innate understanding of the natural laws controlling the theatrics of the ear. . . . To stir the people's deepest understandings, the poetic medium must be invoked. . . . Poetry is essential in these broadcasts because of its ability to concentrate mood and expression, to present facts in a vivid frame, and to make legitimate impact on the ear that visual writing could never achieve. 61

The poets of the spoken word—Homer, the Old English bards, Shakespeare—knew how to catch the ear of their audience. They told their stories dramatically in swift, vigorous language and in symbols that aroused deep, emotional responses. Thus, when the Treasury Department organized "The Treasury Star Parade" for the presentation of stirring programs to inspire the American public, it turned frequently —and naturally—to the poets who could wield the spoken word. And when the poets wish to speak directly to the people, as MacLeish did in The Fall of the City, they tum to the radio and to the greatest audience poetry has ever known. EDUCATIONAL

SIGNIFICANCE

The radio set has become a commonplace piece of furniture in the home. It is accepted as casually as the telephone—more casually, because many a home has a radio set and no tele-

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phone. As a result, the radio has become a very important part of the life of the people today. Young people who have grown up with the radio listen while they are eating, resting, reading, and working. In a study made of the listening habits of children in grades 5-8, it was found that most children chose "to listen to the radio rather than to listen to a phonograph, to read an adventure story, to solve a puzzle, to play an instrument, and to play ball." 62 A survey of radio research revealed that almost all children and adolescents between the ages of six and eighteen listen to the radio, the weekly listening time ranging from five hours, fifteen minutes, to eighteen hours, thirty minutes.63 It would seem almost axiomatic that every school would devote part of the curriculum to the discussion and study of radio programs. That is not yet so. Many teachers still look upon the radio as a distracting influence stealing the pupils' interest from more profitable study.64 In an investigation of the character of public education in New York State, Dora V. Smith reported, in Evaluating Instruction in Secondary School English: "Less has been done with radio than with the motion picture. Fully 60 percent of the schools visited do nothing with either." 65 The slack between principle and practice is being taken up. Alice P. Stemer's Course of Study in Radio Appreciation was published in 1940. Monograph No. 14 of the National Council of Teachers of English is Radio and English Teaching, Max J. Herzberg, editor, 1941. Schools are beginning to establish courses in the study of radio literature. The curriculum is being expanded to include courses in writing and speaking for radio.69 Extensive courses in radio writing, production, speech, engineering, broadcasting, station operation, and sound recording for New York City high school teachers and students were started in the fall of 1944 by the Board of Education in co-operation with the National Broadcasting Company.

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25

According to Norman S. Weiser, editor of The Writer's Radio Theatre, 1941, the industry is welcoming "the interest displayed in radio writing and production by the 400 schools and colleges throughout the country which now feature regular courses on these subjects."67 Teachers are being urged to study the field: "The fact that in 1941 only a small percentage of American teachers make use of the radio or of recordings in their teaching is evidence of the need in teacher education for a planned program to develop competence in the use of these teaching aids."68 Poetry particularly stands to benefit as the use of radio grows. Poetry in the classroom is not popular now. Students shy away from it. An investigation of the reading habits of high school pupils found that less than one percent read poetry.69 Said one teacher: "The teaching of poetry in the schools has fallen on evil days."T0 David Ross, the poetannouncer, blames the teachers for creating this aversion: The indifference to and the active dislike of poetry is traceable to the dry and unprofitable manner in which it is taught in schools. Many of us still bear in our memories the wounds we suffered in our pathetic struggle against the onslaught of iambic pentameters. Many of us falling by the wayside thought we were through with poetry. 71

But the radio, according to Sterling Fisher, educational director of NBC, "is certainly one of the most effective ways of bringing a story, a novel, a one-act play, or a poem into a classroom, and making it come to life." 72 A. M. Sullivan, who used to conduct the "New Poetry Hour" on WOR, New York, received thousands of appreciative letters from highschool and college students, many of them writing for copies of the poems read.73 Peter Monro Jack had his class at Briarcliff Junior College listen to the WQXR poetry program conducted by Eve Merriam.74 When Corwin adapted modern poetry for the radio, he reported getting letters from people asking: "Where can I find that book by Sandburg that you

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adapted? I'd like to know more about Walt Whitman. Is he alive and has he written any other books?" " Teachers find that poetry on the air stimulates their students to write. During a CBS broadcast of a series on poetry, one high school group made its own anthology of poems written by students in school and compared them with the poems heard on the air." For a number of years the' student poet laureate of Detroit and a number of the runners-up have read their original poems on the air," Ted Malone reported that very many students sent in their own poems to his program, "Between the Bookends." He also broadcast the prize-winning poems of the Scholastic literary contest and conducted the "Ted Malone National Scholarship," awarding a college scholarship for the best poem, short story, essay, or drama submitted by high school students.78 There is possibly a more important aspect of the educational function of radio. Plays, after all, are written to be acted. Radio brings the stage into every home. Students can find many opportunities to enjoy verse plays. One teacher organized a theater party to listen to Shakespeare on the air. "Never in my career of teaching," she reported, "have I witnessed so much enthusiasm demonstrated by a total general group."79 The NBC "Series of Great Plays" distributed to the high schools a list of plays to be broadcast, suggested that the students study the list and use the reference material supplied for each play, and after each broadcast invited student compositions on drama appreciation so that a complete record of the audience reaction could be evaluated.80 A "Great Plays' Drama Guide was recommended at the end of each broadcast. The "Great Plays" included many famous verse plays of Greece, Italy, England, France, Germany, and the United States. This dramatic literature is broadcast as adaptations of plays written for the stage. Now radio presents its own dramatic literature, with techniques that differentiate it sharply from

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all other forms. Radio literature, therefore, becomes the concern of students, teachers, and critics. MacLeish's The Fall of the City is now being studied as an example of contemporary literature and also radio literature. When Scholastic reprinted The Fall of the City, it published a study guide to help students and teachers realize that this was a new kind of literature for a new medium of communication.81 In another instance a teacher in a New York City junior high school undertook the study of Stephen Vincent Benét's "They Burned the Books" and "Listen to the People," Norman Corwin's We Hold These Truths, and Archibald MacLeish's The Fall of the City. The radio plays were broadcast in the classroom "with an improvised microphone, some sound effects, and other simple radio techniques. They Burned the Books' was done chorally and was so effective that parents were invited to come to hear it during Open School Week." 82 Librarians will readily testify [one teacher found] that after an effective dramatization on the air, either of a new play like

Archibald MacLeish's Air Raid and The Fall of the City or Max-

well Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans," or of standard classics, the demand for these plays is considerably increased. It is evident, therefore, that students will read them when the material they hear interests them sufficiently.83

It is small wonder that Max J. Herzberg, former president of the National Council of Teachers of English, insists that "courses in the appreciation and criticism of radio must become as common as those we now have in the appreciation of books." 84 As these courses multiply, the teacher of literature, well versed in the poetry of the stage, will also have to know the poetry of the radio. TRAITS O F POETRY

We cannot go very far in the discussion of the poetry of the radio before we are faced with the necessity of fixing the

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boundaries of the subject. The broad stream of poetry sometimes branches off into strange tributaries. As we go through thousands of radio scripts, what shall we consider as radio poetry, and how shall we analyze it? Aristotle, observing the poetry of his day, marked three main characteristics: rhythm, language, and harmony ( melody ). Critics today will undoubtedly agree that in poetry we can find a number of similar characteristics. There is, first, a worthy subject around which the poem is woven. This is always based on emotion, and usually on an idea, thought, or experience. There is, next, the rhythmic pattern into which the words are placed. The words themselves constitute another factor, charged as they are with the complex function of denoting logical ideas, connoting psychological feelings and symbols, and, finally, sounding musical overtones. The verbal music of poetry is enhanced often by such devices as alliteration, assonance, and rhyme. The denotive and connotative powers of poetry are reinforced by figures of speech, which enable the poet to communicate thought and emotion with great precision and force. Yet a poem is more than the sum of its parts. Once written, it assumes an identity of its own; it is, as Irwin Edman points out, in Arts and the Man, "a total creation, an organism in itself, whose gestation is somewhere deep in the subconscious of the poet and whose being is that of a dream immortalized upon a page." 85 A great poem, probably, is superlative in every phase of its composition. If we were to check radio poetry for excellence in each of the qualities we have mentioned, we would have few examples to display. Perhaps several verse plays by poets like Archibald MacLeish and W. H. Auden would be all that would survive. The bulk of published poetry, it must be admitted, would also suffer from any such rigid examination. We have in radio poetry, as we do in printed verse, examples of work which cannot be considered great art, but

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which, nevertheless, exhibit in varying degrees the general characteristics of poetry. Inasmuch as we are chiefly concerned with the development of a popular poetic literature through the medium of the radio, we cannot afford to disregard this admittedly inferior work merely because it lacks literary distinction. Perhaps because of its very shortcomings we can discern more easily the factors in poetry we wish to identify and analyze. Few critics would find in advertising jingles evidences of good poetry, but the popularity of these jingles, despite their obvious faults, emphasizes the appeal of rhythmic language and offers at least one convincing explanation for the success of poetry on the air. Those who are inclined to disparage the influence of the advertising jingle may be surprised to learn that during the war many jingles in French attacking the Nazi invaders were shortwaved to occupied France by the OWI. 88 For our purpose, therefore, in our discussion of radio poetry we shall stress the verse drama but also include ballads, light verse, poetic prose, and even advertising messages and jingles as part of the poetic literature of the air. In another section we shall discuss the use radio has made of poetry which, while not written specifically for broadcasting, has been adapted, read, or discussed on the air. All these verse patterns are necessarily affected by the medium in which they are presented. The aural nature of the broadcast, the huge audience, the complexity of that audience, the demands of the sponsor, the regulations of the station, the inflexibility of the time schedule, the immediacy of radio broadcasting—these and other factors unquestionably influence the poetry of the air. Any analysis of radio poetry will have to answer these questions: How has the radio influenced the subject material of the poetry it presents? Because radio verse is largely cast in the form of drama, what effect has radio had on the dramatic technique of the radio verse play? Finally, how has radio influenced poetic technique?

2 C O N T E N T AND C O N T R O L L I N G FACTORS OF THE RADIO VERSE

PLAY

T H E POET WRITING FOR A RADIO AUDIENCE FACES A

problem that has never confronted the stage dramatist. He does not write for the closely-knit group that awaits the raising of the curtain in a theater on Broadway. He realizes that words accepted with perfect equanimity in New York will raise eyebrows in Kansas.1 He knows that what is simple for the lawyer may be gibberish for the farmhand. Because of the tremendous distances covered by the radio waves, he is not even sure at what time of day or night his audience will hear his words. Norman Corwin recognizes this fact when he addresses his audience: . . . good evening or good afternoon, good morning or good night, Whichever best becomes the sector of the sky Arched over your antenna.2 M A S S A P P E A L O F RADIO

POETRY

Because of this popular appeal, certain poets even of the past are more suited for the radio than are others. Langland, for instance, is considered better than Chaucer for radio broadcasting, because, according to V. F. Calverton, Langland was a poet of the masses while Chaucer was a poet of the classes—Langland, therefore, wanted his poetry spoken by word of mouth; Chaucer wanted his poetry read.3 For the same reason, Walt Whitman and Carl Sandburg can be considered radio poets. Theirs is the poetry of public speech. It is no mere accident that in the past few years Walt Whitman has appeared on the air on seven different occasions: on May 30, 1943, in Talbot Jennings' "Man with a Beard"; on

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October 31, 1943, February 13, 1944, and February 27, 1944, in Carl Van Dörens "American Scriptures"; on May 16, 1944, in Norman Corwins "New York—A Tapestry for Radio"; on June 20, 1944, in Corwin's "Walt Whitman"; and on July 16, 1944, in Morton Wishengrad's "Walt Whitman." On three occasions Carl Sandburg carried on the tradition of the poet as public speaker by appearing as narrator, chanting his verses twice on "The Cavalcade of America" program and once on Van Dörens "American Scriptures." 4 Just what this mass appeal means for dramatic presentations is summarized by James Whipple in How to Write for Radio, 1938. The radio audience wants entertainment, he says, not education, and it wants it made obvious. It prefers a comedy with a happy ending, and it does not like subtle humor. The situation must be within the experience of the audience. The story should be peopled with American characters. The audience may enjoy elite society, but the hero and the heroine come from the middle class. It likes sentimental stories, especially those with comedy relief, but the stories must be clean, and injustice and villainy must be punished. While adults are not critical of details, children are. Neither children nor adults, however, demand good direction and artistic acting. 5 Radio poetry that ministers to these demands risks the danger of sentimentality, triteness, and cheapness. Edward Sapir, in his article on communication in the Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, speaks of "the insidious cheapening of literary and artistic values due to the foreseen and economically advantageous 'widening of the appeal.' " 8 For years Corwin "has been fighting in defense of the principle that radio can tell a stronger story than the one of 'Aunt Minnie's broken back, burning house, blind daughter, and thieving husband, and soap.' " 7 The popular appeal of radio risks an even greater danger. The spoken word has become a devastating weapon of combat. Nazi Germany proved to the world that the spoken word

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can conquer people long before a single shot is fired. While the German propagandists under Hitler made full use of all the media of communications, they emphasized particularly the process of mass suggestion through the medium of the radio, "an instrument made to order for the wholesale dissemination of ideas to the masses by means of the spoken word." 8 Edrita Fried, who investigated the techniques of persuasion used by the Germans, found their radio methods particularly effective. Further, the very fact of radio propaganda's

impermanence

increases the chance of its acceptance by listeners. As a rule, the listener is not in a position to examine critically what he has heard, nor can he go over an item a second time to obtain more insight and see whether it agrees with the requirements of consistency. Yet the item, once perceived, may leave an emotional impression on him. Because of the closeness of the radio to primary sensory cues its chances of impressing and persuading people often are greater than those of the printed page. 8

The Nazis learned their lesson well. In preparation for the Saar plebiscite the German radio stormed the community, advising, exhorting, and threatening until the votes swept the National Socialists into full control. In an unprecedented onslaught of terror and propaganda combined, the radio, international in its range and reach, was proved to be a ready instrument in the hands of a regime which was already overstepping boundaries even before it could actually invade its neighbors by the use of military force. 10

Even when Hitler agreed formally to abstain from hostile broadcasting, he used such surreptitious devices as the Hoerspiele, or historical play, to maintain the loyalty of fascist groups in Austria until "der Tag" should release them.11 The democracies learned to strike back. They learned that the people had to be reminded forcefully of the ideals for which they were fighting. On December 15, 1941, Corwins

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We Hold These Truths was broadcast simultaneously by the four major networks. In 1942 Corwin's series "This Is War!" not only was presented by the four national networks on 700 of the 924 stations in America but was shortwaved to the rest of the world in seven foreign languages.12 Other programs followed soon after, sponsored by commercial agencies, by the government, by the network or the individual station, or by a collaboration between the station and a group. "Dear Adolph," for instance, was the result of a collaboration between NBC and the Council for Democracy. The Treasury Department decided, even before Pearl Harbor, that we could succeed with our financing only if the people themselves were aroused to the realities of the war and to the deadliness of the peril in which they stood. Accordingly, we enlisted the giant resources of the radio, first with the "Treasury Hour," and later with the recorded "Star Parade" programs, in which sketches, and others like them, reached the ear of listening millions.13 The Treasury Department was joined by the Office of Production Management, the Office of Emergency Management, the War Department, and the Navy Department in presenting dramatic programs for defense and offense.14 The effectiveness of the short-wave propaganda was certified when the Nazis began to confiscate radio sets in conquered territories.15 Yet the radio war waged by the United States differed from the totalitarian pattern in three different ways. According to Charles J. Rolo, in Radio Goes to War, "it is not a state monopoly; it appeals to man as a reasonable individual and not as a member of the herd; its persuasive force is based not on lies, threats, and abuse, but on the virtues of the democratic way of life." 10 In this vein Norman Corwin defined the duties and responsibilities of the American radio. . . . to explain to the people the nature of Fascism and why we are fighting it; to explain what we stand to lose by defeat and gain by victory; to face squarely the issues of the war instead of ducking them; to hammer away at, to reiterate, to follow through

34

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with the truth; to inform the people instead of selling, coaxing, scaring, upbraiding, or exhorting them.17 In fashioning the radio as an instrument for democracy, the poets have played an important part. RADIO FOLLOWS EVENT: THE WAR AGAINST FASCISM

The interruption of scheduled programs by special news bulletins demonstrates how closely radio follows event. Most of the radio verse plays have stemmed out of catastrophic events of the past few years. The very first American verse play for the radio, MacLeish's The Fall of the City, warned the people as early as 1937 against totalitarianism; warned them not to listen to their false orators who urged them to meet fascism with nonresistance; warned them that they would have to fight if they wished to retain their freedom. In the same year Maxwell Anderson used the eve of the French Revolution as an object lesson. In "The Feast of Ortolans" a group of artists, writers, intellectuals, and nobles sit down at a feast, totally oblivious to the danger of revolution, ridiculing the idea that they can be affected. At the end all the complacent ones are swept away. In 1938 the warnings became stronger. MacLeish's Air Raid shocked his audience into the realization that dictators make war on the innocent, the unarmed: "this enemy kills women!"18 Norman Rosten wrote the parable "Death of a King" to reveal the fallacy of appeasement. A king chooses to deal with the false nobles rather than permit the people to come to his assistance. Too late he realizes his mistake. He is killed, and the people are betrayed. Maxwell Anderson pointed out in "The Bastion-Saint Gervais" that men would have to die for freedom. In this allegorical play four Americans holding a bastion in Spain against overwhelming odds go to their death knowingly, fighting for freedom. Again in 1938 Maxwell Anderson, in "Second Overture," criticized the dictatorial methods in Soviet Russia.

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But to free a world Of the old oppressions, to set up a heaven on earth, You use the methods we learned long ago To hate under all the Czars! Other poets echoed the people's sincere desire for peace. In 1938 Alfred Kreymborg dedicated The Planets to peace, developing the thesis that the old men make the wars in which the young die. "Winged Victory," by Bernard Dryer railed against the utter waste and ruthlessness of war. One year after the broadcast of The Planets, in 1939, Alfred Kreymborg, who had argued for peace, changed his stand in "Rain Down Death." Men have to fight if they want peace! In the very same year Kreymborg's "The Human Ape" mocked the appeaser. Put on a pageant, throw them a bone. You've saved their honor at a very small price. Writing on the same theme, Norman Rosten took the Bible story of Samson and used it as a parable in "Samson Agonistes." Samson and his people are caught sleeping. Dreaming of peace, they lose their land and their freedom. They've sold us out, the old men with talk of peace! Again in 1939 MacLeish raised his voice in America Was Promises to beg America to act before it was too late. Albert N. Williams reiterated the message in "The Towers of Hatred," showing how easily fascism could grow in any country. In They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease Norman Corwin demonstrated how the totalitarian bombers took advantage of peace: And you, three men and half a dozen bombs Against the regiments of tenements, arrayed between the banners of their wet wash. . . . In 1940, when England and France were at war with Germany, Maxwell Anderson wrote an historical ballad, "Magna

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Charta," showing what democracy as it is known today owes to that document. Stephen Vincent Benêt wrote Nightmare at Noon to enlist America's aid in the war against fascism. In the play he warns that the bombers can come here, too, unless we are prepared. Richard Samuels' "More Than Dreams" and Norman Corwin's ' T h e Oracle of Philadelphi" praised America as a symbol of freedom. Corwin wrote: Liberty's a special thing Deep in the blood of men, Deep in the very marrow of America. The radio plays continued to attack complacency in 1941. "Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man" by Erwin and Eve Spitzer outlined the life of a very cautious and complacent man who believed in Safety First. He is finally killed in an air raid. The thrust at the America First Committee was unmistakable. Norman Rosten's "Prometheus in Granada" attacked the fascist invasion of Spain. Lorca, the great Spanish poet, is chained to a rock on a hill. When the people, who knew his poems, come to rescue him, bombs kill them all. In "Appointment" Norman Corwin argued against the individual's fighting tyranny as an individual. He advised all those who suffered at the hands of the dictators to unite and become part of the greater army against the common enemy. His "Between Americans" tried to define in poetic prose the meaning and the spirit of America. In "Samson" Corwin created Delilah, who "would have made an excellent Fascist, since one of the techniques of Fascism is to invent an elaborate rationale, however absurd, for every treachery." 18 MacLeish's ' T h e States Talking" expressed utter contempt for the totalitarian way of life. As the states of the Union listen to Hitler's ranting in German, they begin to laugh because they realize whom he represents: the people they left behind when they emigrated to America, the weaklings, the cowards, the timid ones. The laughter becomes a roar.

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So that's all! says Missouri.

Again and again in 1941, especially as the Allies went down to one defeat after another, the certainty that democracy would win was emphasized. Stephen Vincent Benét in "Listen to the People" declared: We've ridden out storms before and well ride out this one.

In "The Statue of Liberty" John LaTouche consoled the French immigrant. The fall of France, he insisted, was not the fall of the people. Liberty would rise again. Corwin's "Psalm for a Dark Year" asserted that mankind and truth would outlive the momentary darkness. "What We Defend," by Bernard C. Schoenfeld, asked the question in the title, and all the men and women, great and small, answer. The answer is Democracy, and it drowns out the voice of the Demagogue, who has been shouting threats and imprecations. "The Cavalcade of America," a commercial program, went back to three American poets to give fresh meaning to civilization today. Norman Rosten sketched the life and the significance of Emily Dickinson in "Wait for the Morning." Robert Tallman, in the fantasy "I Sing a New World," brought Walt Whitman back to modern times, a Whitman who enjoys hugely America's spirit, energy, and achievement. And Robert L. Richards and Robert Tallman's "Native Son" told the life of Carl Sandburg. The authors blended Sandburg's verse with their own. A prominent member of the radio cast was Carl Sandburg himself. The same spirit was expressed by the English radio poets. Clemence Dane wrote, in 1941, for BBC a series of seven verse plays called The Saviours. In allegorical fashion she interpreted the spirit of England through its heroes. Even the first of these plays, "Merlin," lashed out against the Germans. The second, "Hope of Britain," told the story of King Arthur. "England's Darling" dealt with King Alfred; "The May King," with Robin Hood; "The Light of Britain," with

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Queen Elizabeth; "Remember Nelson," with Nelson. "The Unknown Soldier," the last of the series, was used for the summing up. King Arthur becomes the spokesman for modern England when he declares in this verse play: If ever I forgot the wrongs of simple earth upon my head the unremitted blame, for they knew what they did, and they know what they do.

In Louis MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky," a BBC production broadcast after Russia entered the war on the side of the democracies, the Russian defeat of the Teutonic invaders in the days of feudalism was dramatized. Although the action takes place centuries ago, the modern implications are quite clear. But with the Germans War is something they live for, Because they have nothing else to live for, Because their minds are like empty graves And they want to fill them with all the men they can kill.

On December 7, 1941, the United States entered the war. A week later, as we have noted before, Norman Corwin's We Hold These Truths affirmed the high purpose of American democracy by dramatizing the history and meaning of the Bill of Rights. In 1942 the radio industry mobilized for war. Stations cooperated with government agencies in a concerted effort to win the complete and enthusiastic support of the people. Norman Corwin, for instance, was engaged by the Office of Facts and Figures to write, direct, and produce the series "This Is War!" Using a prose that very often reads like poetry, Corwin, in such plays as "This Is War!," "The Enemy," and "To the Young," dramatized the problems that faced the country, with full emphasis on the ideals of freedom and democracy for which we were fighting. So successful was he

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that he was persuaded to perform a similar service for England. His "An American in England" was broadcast to the United States by short wave. John K. Hutchens, then radio editor of the New York Times, wrote: "An American in England" finds Mr. Corwin once more writing with a poet's vision, a good reporter's clarity and a technician's precise knowledge of his craft—three attributes that have made him pre-eminent in radio literature. . . . The engaging narrator, Joseph Julian, tells the story in prose, but frequently the effect is poetry; for even when he is in more or less realistic vein, Mr. Corwin writes in phrases "that lift your heart," as his young adventurer says upon first seeing the giant Lancasters that have flown over Nazi-land and come back with bullet holes in the fuselage.10

The first program of the NBC Inter-American University of the Air's series "Lands of the Free," organized in 1942 under the direction of Sterling Fisher, was "The Search for Freedom," by Stuart Ayers, a play that explained America's problem as a world problem; insularity was dead. Ayers wrote in prose too, but Sterling Fisher characterized it as poetic prose: 21 Bombed cities rise from their ashes, born anew in the determination to five and to fight back. From the ashes of misguided nationalism and isolation rises in this struggle the need for men of all nations and races to cooperate—and the wish to understand each other.

Possibly the most significant contributions made by the poets in 1942 were the programs written for "The Treasury Star Parade" to spur the sale of war bonds and stamps. William A. Bacher, the writer and director since 1929 of many of radios outstanding shows, was called upon to direct the series. Some of these programs were revivals. Others were adaptations. Many of the contributions, however, were original fifteen-minute verse plays written specifically for the radio. Norman Rosten's "The Ballad of Bataan" praised the

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heroic defenders of the Philippines. In "Paris Incident" Rosten told the story of a modern Joan of Arc who joined the underground movement in France and went to her death without revealing the names of her accomplices. Her last words were: No one of us leaves this world feeling lonely. We are thousands, millions, soldiers all Who daily strike their small blow, and One day even the mountains must fall! Rosten's third play for "The Treasury Star Parade" was "Miss Liberty Goes to Town." The Statue of Liberty gets off her pedestal and with General Grant tours New York City. They find the people strong and proud, remembering their tradition of liberty. Violet Atkins, one of the staff writers of "The Treasury Star Parade," wrote four radio plays using verse. "Education for Life" presented the democratic educational system in contrast to the Nazi system discussed in Education for Death by Gregor Ziemar. "I Saw the Lights Go Out in Europe" described the changes in Europe as the result of the German onslaught of terror and treachery. In "I Speak for the Women of America" Miss Atkins paid tribute to the women who helped build America. All these women insist that America must win the war. "The Silent Women" spoke for the suffering women all over the world. They, too, remain strong, although they see their loved ones die. The war must be won. In a short but stirring poem, "The Man with the Broken Fingers," Carl Sandburg celebrated the memory of those men who refused to yield to the fascist oppressors even after torture. Although the man's fingers are broken one by one, he refuses to divulge the secrets the Nazis wanted. The ending proclaims: Better to die one by one than to say yes yes yes When the answer is no no no and death is welcome and death comes soon And death is a quiet step into a sweet clean midnight.

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John LaTouche praised the English in his radio poem "The Fog." Even the fog joins the English in their battle for survival. Stephen Vincent Benêt contributed three scripts to "The Treasury Star Parade": "Prayer," "Prayer for Americans," and "A Letter to Hitler." Each of these, condemning tyranny, begs for a just and permanent peace. "A Letter to Hitler" ends: Our voices shall be heard at the peace table, The voices of the free women of the world, Loud in your ears, persistent as the sea, "No peace unless it is a peace of justice! No peace that does not set the children free!" All these "Treasury Star" scripts were transcribed and in this fashion broadcast by independent stations throughout the country. Stephen Vincent Benêt continued to wage war on dictatorship in what is probably his best-known verse play for the radio, "They Burned the Books." Using as the theme the burning of the great books of the world, Benêt pointed out that all tyrants have tried to kill man's spirit, and all have failed. Hitler would fail too. Benêt then wrote six letters to Hitler, which were presented as a series, "Dear Adolf," beginning on June 21 and ending August 2, 1942. Using a combination of verse, poetic prose, and prose Benêt has a farmer, a business man, a working man, a housewife, an American soldier, and a foreign-bom American hurl defiance at Hitler and proudly affirm that a united and democratic America has learned to fight and would triumph in the struggle for freedom. Eve Merriam spoke for the Russian defenders in "The Song of the Scorched Earth," predicting that the scorched earth would wave with grain once more in time of peace. Edna St. Vincent Millay joined the radio poets at the request of the Writers' War Board. On June 10, 1942, the Nazis announced the extermination of the village of Lidice in Czechoslovakia. On October 19, 1942, her radio play The Murder of Lidice

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was broadcast. She told the story of how innocent people were slaughtered by a bestial foe. Vengeance is prophesied. But a moaning whine of vengeance comes— Sacred vengeance awful and dear, From the throat of a world that has been too near And seen too much, at last too much. . . 22 In an effort to counteract German and Italian propaganda and win the adherence of the other American republics, Norman Rosten wrote three verse plays for Orson Welles' program "Hello Americans." The first, "The Andes," broadcast November 22, 1942, told of Simon Bolivar and the South American struggle for freedom. "The Islands," broadcast November 29, dramatized Toussaint L'Ouverture's battle against tyranny. The third, "Mexico," broadcast January 10, 1943, traced in the story of Montezuma and Juarez Mexico's resistance to invasion. On November 28, 1942, Rosten's "Dunkirk" was presented by the Treasury Department in co-operation with the Blue Network and the OWI as part of the one-hour program "Over Here" to encourage the sale of war bonds. "Dunkirk" tells the story of the English boats that brought back the gallant men from the besieged beach. Norman Rosten's "Road to Victory" indicated that the day of vengeance was drawing nearer. Broadcast on "The Cavalcade of America" program on December 7, 1942, one year after Pearl Harbor, the play combined Rosten's and Sandburg's verse to review America's initial complacency, its awakening, and then the full production program on all fronts toward victory. The narrator, appropriately enough, was Carl Sandburg. "The Story of Nikolai Gastello," by Norman Rosten and Millard Lampell, praised our ally Russia, by telling the true story of a Russian aviator who crashed with his plane to achieve his full objective. In 1943, David Ross, in "Proclaim the Morning," assured the suffering people of the world that though the darkness of war was still around them, the morning of peace and free-

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dom would come. A few weeks later Norman Corwin, at the invitation of the President's Ball Committee, presented "A Moment of the Nation's Time," a five-minute broadcast in cadenced prose on the meaning of the four freedoms. This was produced over the four major networks. In 1943 Corwin wrote "The Long Name None Could Spell," this time at the invitation of the Czechoslovakian minister to the United States for a program arranged by the American Friends of Czechoslovakia. This tribute to a brave people denounced the Nazis and pledged that Czechoslovakia would rise again. A similar pledge, this time to Russia, was made in Fanya Foss Lawrence's "The Fountain of Dancing Children," which is the story of the children who used to dance around the fountain and their help in defeating the Germans in Russia. These children promise at the end: We will make the peace And with our hands which Embrace the airways and the globe We will build a bright new world!

Norman Rosten's "The People vs. the Unholy Three" takes Goebbels, Goering, and Himmler on a tour through the lands they devastated and then leaves them for final judgment in the martyred town of Lidice. Talbot Jennings' "Man with a Beard" brings Walt Whitman into an army camp to give a modern soldier courage and ideals for which to fight. "Lands of the Free," in 1943, turned to a new writer, Morton Wishengrad, who continued the work of the NBC InterAmerican University of the Air to cement unity in the Westem hemisphere by telling the stories of the fight for freedom in the North and South American countries. While his scripts are written in prose, for special effects Wishengrad uses a free verse which he types as prose. In particular, he singled out "Valley Forge," "Virgin of Guadalupe," "The Norsemen," "The Gateway of Oceans," and "Discovery of the Amazon" as most representative of the technique.23 For the American

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Jewish Committee Wishengrad wrote 'The Battle of the Warsaw Ghetto," the story of the Jews who arose against the Nazis and fought against overwhelming odds until they were killed. They were Jews with guns! Understand that—and hear with reverence as he chants the prayer. For on the page of their agony they wrote a sentence that shall be an atonement, and it is this: Give me grace and give me dignity and teach me to die; and let my prison be a fortress and my wailing wall a stockade, for I have been to Egypt and I am not departed.

The outstanding dramatic series in 1944 probably was "Columbia Presents Corwin," a group of twenty-two programs. Besides reviving "Cromer" and "The Long Name None Could Spell," considerably revised and brought up-to-date, Corwin waged war against fascism with "Dorie Got a Medal," "Untitled," and "There Will Be Time Later." "Dorie Got a Medal," a biographical ballad with music by Mary Lou Williams and Jeff Anderson, was based upon the life of Dorie Miller, a colored sailor who was killed in naval combat. In "Untitled" the death of a soldier becomes the symbol of the fear that the aims for wliich we are fighting may be subverted. "There Will Be Time Later" also expresses the fear that we have become too complacent and are sacrificing our ideals for more material considerations. Norman Rosten's "Concerning the Red Army" was broadcast on February 22, 1944, as a special program commemorating the 26th birthday of the Red Army. The play, directed by Norman Corwin, celebrated the epic stand of the Soviet forces at Stalingrad. Paying tribute to another ally, China, Pearl Buck's "Will This Earth Hold?" broadcast on WEVD, New York, showed how the Chinese leveled their homes and pounded their earth into an airfield for the American bombers destined for Japan. The play for the most part is written in prose, but when Mrs. Buck expresses the group-view of the Chinese, she uses verse.

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It has become sacred land. Land where our fathers died. Land of our children's pride. Dust under the wheels and the wings of the bombers.

Another outstanding radio writer, Milton Geiger, told the story of the rescue of a wounded American soldier in "Moonlight," a brief poetic sketch which was presented on the "Radio Hall of Fame," a commercial program. On June 6, 1944, Ronald Colman read Edna St. Vincent Millay's Poem and Prayer for an Invading Army. On April 16, 1945, Norman Rosten's 'They Shall Be Heard" was broadcast under the auspices of the American Association for the United Nations and the Woodrow Wilson Foundation, and on the eve of the San Francisco Conference it was shortwaved in both Spanish and Portuguese to twenty-one LatinAmerican countries. Rosten saw the end of the war approaching and predicted a united, democratic, and peaceful world. Oh brother, brother, the time is here! We have passed the darkness and night is falling away from all sides. I see the border guns being dismantled, the children with the bird-like eyes coming into the sunlight. It has come to pass: The people have spoken. They shall be heard.

On May 8, 1945, V-E Day brought the European phase of the war to a close, and on that day two poets, Carl Carmer and Norman Corwin, rejoiced with the people, but warned them that their triumph was not complete. Carmer's Taps Is Not Enough told the radio audience that if they went back to the old ways of dissension, they could look forward to nothing but future wars. Corwins On a Note of Triumph prayed for a world free from hatred and prejudice, where "man unto his fellow man shall be a friend forever." Although Corwin denies that On a Note of Triumph is a poem, for our purposes we can consider it a verse play because of the

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figurative and rhythmic language, the style, the rhetoric, and the compression of the thought. This excerpt indicates the poetic nature of the script. Look below you now: sunlight fretting the surface of the sea: horizons tentative in haze: Islands alee, and the smell of vegetation mixing with ocean air: In a flicker, banks of cumulus ahead now fall behind: 24 In the summer of 1945 "Columbia Presents Corwin" introduced three new verse plays by Corwin. "Unity Fair," featuring the "Common Man," urged people to live together in peace. " T h e Undecided Molecule," in light verse, told the story of a molecule who finally decided to incorporate himself in Man, despite the trials and tribulations in store for him. Finally, "14 August," celebrating the surrender of Japan, reiterated the need for unity. Are we agreed that all is one? That the world's a single continent? That mountains made of faith are not to be moved? No account of poetry's part in the struggle against fascism would be complete without some reference to the messages written by anonymous copywriters and broadcast as a special service by various sponsors. These announcements, urging the people to buy war bonds, to get a defense job, to donate blood, and in general to support the war effort, were often poetic in style and tone. This message, for example, which was broadcast on November 7, 1945, and sponsored by the Celanese Corporation of America on the C B S network, has G.I. Joe who was killed on Okinawa caution the people about their victory. Wait a minute . . . it isn't paid for yet. . . . Not by a bombsight. . . . The boys that died and the boys that got hurt and captured and tortured. . . . They were just the down payment. The rest is up to you . . . you've got to pay the freight.

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In 1941 the authors of National Morale and Radio threw out this challenge: Our people are hungry for a faith that will really engage their abilities and their energies in making American Democracy continuously and intelligently effective. That faith lies hidden, and for the most part unsung, in the record of American achievement. . . . The art of radio with its power to inspire one to inform, as it entertains, is ideally suited to make this American faith in humane achievement glow in the hearts of countless millions of listeners.25

Radio poets met that challenge. HISTORICAL PLAYS

Hitler, we have seen, used the Hoerspiele, or historical play, for radio propaganda purposes. Many of the plays presented by the democracies were frankly used for a similar purpose. Some of these are MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky," Clemence Dane's The Saviours, Maxwell Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans" and "Magna Charta," Norman Rosten's "Wait for the Morning," Robert Tallman's "I Sing a New World," and Morton Wishengrad's series, "Lands of the Free," all mentioned before. The emphasis in these plays was on the war, although the subject matter dealt with other times. History is so full of incidents and personalities that make exciting dramatic material that it is somewhat surprising to find how few poets have taken advantage of this opportunity. Stories about Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson would seem ideal for radio broadcasting. Perhaps a trend in that direction was temporarily arrested by the stringent demands of the war. A few plays, however, suggest the rich material the poet can find in the histoiy of his country. In America, for instance, Sidney Alexander used the ugly story of the Salem witchcraft trials in his verse play, "Where Jonathan Came." The story is told by Giles Cory, who was condemned as a witch and

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pressed to death between boards. John LaTouche, in "The Traitor," told the story of Benedict Arnold. Ambition without virtue Glory tarnished with shame Patriotism without honor Turn-coat, blackguard, spy, cheat. The exploits of a frontier hero were dramatized in Peter Lyon's "Wild Bill Hickok, the Last of Two-Gun Justice," a program presented by "The Cavalcade of America." This series has performed a noteworthy service in bringing to popular attention many of America's interesting personalities. Another aspect of American history was presented by Bernard C. Schoenfeld in "Little Johnny Appleseed" on the "Pursuit of Happiness" program directed by Norman Corwin. The story of the naturalist closes with this message: You, out there! You little men like Johnny Appleseedl You, too, can be a Giant If you know what seeds to plant!

The folk cantata "The Lonesome Train," by Earl Robinson and Millard Lampell, dedicated to Carl Sandburg and presented by Norman Corwin, described the sorrow of the people when Abraham Lincoln's funeral train passed by. Carl Van Doren discussed several phases of American history in "American Scriptures," a program set into the somewhat brief intermission period of the Philharmonic broadcasts on CBS. Carl Carmer, who wrote many of these programs for Van Doren, used blank verse in four of the scripts: "The Bon Homme Richard," "Stonewall Jackson," "The Alamo," and "The StarSpangled Banner." English history and traditions were explored in several BBC plays. D. G. Bridson's "The March of the '45'," the first verse play for radio, was based on Prince Charles's attempt to regain the throne of England. It described victory, dissension, and final defeat without making any reference to the present

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scene. Another was Christopher Hassall's "Devil's Dyke," a legend of old, old England. Robert Kemp's "Cutty Sark" was a radio program written in praise of the last of the English clipper ships. Clemence Dane's seven plays, The Saviours, as noted, presented a radio panorama of English history to stir the people to greater efforts against England's enemies. Many radio programs, British and American, have been written for specific occasions. Armistice Day was celebrated by Wyllis Cooper in "Dux Muri," a short poem, by Clemence Dane in 'The Unknown Soldier," and by A. M. Dyer in "Reveille." "Ode for Memorial Day," another short poem, was written by Arthur Guiterman. The poems by Cooper and Guiterman are not really representative of radio poetry. They were written for the occasion and could just as easily have been published in a magazine. Norman Corwin's "Psalm for a Dark Year," a Thanksgiving program, and his Christmas play, "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," however, were designed for radio. "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," broadcast on Christmas day, 1938, was a humorous account of an attempt by the inhabitants of Hades to assassinate Santa Claus. Another Christmas play, serious in tone, "A Child Is Born," by Stephen Vincent Benêt, told the story of the birth of Christ as seen through the eyes of the innkeeper and his wife. This was a "Cavalcade of America" presentation. On September 7, 1945, WNYC, New York, broadcast Kenneth Greenberg's "The Song and the Chest" as a special program observing Rosh-ha-Shonah, the Hebrew New Year. The play told the story of Jacob Barsimson, the first Jew to settle in what is now New York. In the final analysis, of course, all the radio verse plays dealing with the war on fascism can be classified as historical plays. During the war, radio poets, addressing a mass-audience, geared their talents to defeating the enemy. It is reasonable to expect that many of these poets will find the history of their country both inspiration and text.

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THE MODERN SCENE

Radio poets, interpreting the world about them, continue the great oral tradition developed by Langland, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and succeeding poets. The modern world is a world of machines, floods, droughts, dust bowls, housing problems, skyscrapers, and express trains. Many of these aspects of our civilization would hardly seem to be subjects for verse. Yet verse is possibly the best medium for radio dramatizations of these topics. Irve Tunick, free-lance script writer, likes to use verse for documentary programs because of the essential economy of poetry. 26 Alfred Kreymborg used the verse technique, in "The House That Jack Didn't Build," to present the statistical facts of the housing problem. William Robson, who directed the program, praised Kreymborg's treatment of the subject. The broadcast would have been valueless if it had been presented so that only housing experts could understand it. It had to be made clear and acceptable to every tenant and houseowner who was tuned in. Alfred Kreymborg, the author, attacked the problem with his characteristic humor and with a rhythmic treatment of dialogue.27 In similar fashion Albert N. Williams, in "The Man That Wed the Wind and Water," discussed the problem of machine civilization. No man can build a thing greater than himself and master it, unless . . . unless he build himself and all men in that same pattern of greatness. His "Festival" explained why dust storms occur. In the "American Song" Williams developed the subject of soil erosion further, to give the reasons for the Mississippi flood. In 1940 Williams was chosen by the Twentieth Century Fund, a nonprofit, nonpartisan research organization endowed by Edward

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A. Filene, to write "The Next Step Forward," a series of thirteen radio scripts explaining such economic subjects as the cost of distribution, installment buying, the tax problem, big and little business. He wrote another series of five plays for the Public Affairs Committee on the problems of health, migratory workers, refugees, machines, and freedom. All his documentary programs used an effective combination of poetry and prose.28 The entire history of the TVA and the power problem was outlined in a half-hour program recorded in America for BBC, "Story of a Valley, Saga of the Tennessee Valley Authority" by George Asness and Ralph Schoolman. Norman Röstens "Alean Story" dramatized the story of the building of the great highway that linked the United States and Alaska. The United States Office of Education commissioned "Dust Storms," by Irve Tunick and Farney Rankin, to explain the measures that could be taken to prevent the dust storms from sweeping the prairie states. Sherwood Anderson's "Textiles" called for intelligent planning so that the machines could be used to help mankind. We are not afraid of the factories, of the machines. Help us thinkers. Planners, plan for us.29 While many of these plays grappled with the problems inherent in our civilization, others found exciting dramatic material in the development of industries. In two plays, "Aircraft Engines" and "Builders of American Aircraft," Irve Tunick, writing for the Smithsonian Institution series "The World Is Yours," told the story of men responsible for the growth of the aviation industry. For the same series Tunick outlined the history of the silk industry, in "Fifty Centuries of Silk." The radio industry was analyzed, somewhat satirically, in three of Corwins plays, "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay," "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget," and "Radio Primer." The first of these, and the most serious, praised the modem miracle

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which made possible incredible dreams, wonderful music, and poetry with the very prosaic help of cabinet makers, attorneys, salesmen, telephone operators, agents, actors, typists, and hundreds of others. "Radio Primer" gave the A to Ζ of radio, with Ζ being "Ze end of ze program." In "Soliloquy to Balance the Budget" Corwin poked good-natured fun at some of the excesses in radio broadcasting. As a satirical tribute to the contest announcer, Corwin urged the audience: "Tear off the top of his tombstone, lads, and send it in." In "Movie Primer" Corwin laid bare some of the foibles of the movie industry. Let nothing interfere with your enjoyment. We'll waltz our way through war and unemployment. We're specialists in joy And Girl meets Boy We manufacture syrup To cheer up Your blues. So popular did Corwin's primers become that Milton Robertson, then staff writer of W N E W , New York, parodied his style with a primer of his own, "Priming the Prime Primer or It's Corwin's Turn to B u m . " I've got those writer and director and producer blues Those never ending heart rending blues. T h e modem scene changes with such

cinematographic

rapidity that many radio poets prefer to describe rather than to analyze. As a result, radio has presented word-pictures of markets, trains, newspapers, trucks, skyscrapers, and mountains. Sidney Sion used rhythmic language in "Confessions of a Soda Jerk" to catch the nervous excitement of the soda counter. Betty Shannon Slon's radio poem "Read All about I t " was an impressionistic picture of the daily newspaper. 30 Kimball Flaccus' "Fulton Fish Market" recorded the poet's reactions to the market, leading to an explanation of the back-

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ground of the fishing industry. In "Music of the Mountains" Flaccus described the North American mountains. T h e concluding measured, but not inspired, lines indicate the poet's didactic purpose. Our far faring through time and space is completed, We have looked at the mountains of North America, We have heard their music, and now our journey is over. It is interesting to note that various aspects of New York City appear in four separate verse scripts written for the radio. "Interview with Signs of the Times" was Norman Corwin's impressions of the electric advertising signs on Broadway. 31 His "New York—a Tapestry for Radio"

described

streets, sections, languages, and nationalities of New York City to prove that internationalism really works. This is what it is: Here is the tall city with the British name, The people of all nations checkering the numbered streets, Having come from Warsaw, having come from Plymouth, Kleinvardine and Chungking, Having come from Africa and Oslo and Caracas, Having worked and played and voted, loved and listened to the radio, Fought in the wars and paid for them as well, Having kept their customs and their languages, played their own sweet music on the fiddle and accordion, Did nevertheless find time to rear and populate the greatest city in the world, And make it a symbol celebrated up and down the longitudes. A. M. Sullivan, in "A Day in Manhattan," tried to paint wordpictures of New York as it changed from morning till night. In three other scripts he tried to interpret other American scenes. "Midnight Caravan" described the trucks thundering through the night, "Transcontinental" caught the rhythm of the trains spanning the country, and "Song of the Soil" traced

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the cycle of the seasons in the lives of the people. Milton Robertson has written a poetic script, "New York's a Poetry Town," in which he, too, tries to picture the crowds and the ever-changing scenes in this great city. If this proves successful—the play has not yet been accepted for broadcastingRobertson intends to write a series of verse plays on the great cities of America.32 T H E FANTASTIC AND T H E PSYCHOLOGICAL

Poets have found that the lack of the visual element in radio can very often be an opportunity rather than a hindrance. On the radio dead men can talk, statues come to life, men fly faster than airplanes, and characters utter their secret thoughts without the action's being interrupted or the eye offended. Shakespeare used the aside and the soliloquy to probe a character's thoughts, but the audience has to accept the convention as a concession to the inflexibility of the stage. Free from the critical eye, the ear need make no such concession. On the radio the fantastic, the supernatural, and the psychological are readily accepted, because their impact on the listener's consciousness is so immediate and direct that there is no opportunity or desire for critical examination. As Cantril and Allport put it, in The Psychology of Radio, "What is spoken is fluid, alive, contemporary; it belongs in a personal context."33 In many of the plays discussed in other categories, the radio poets used the flexibility of their instrument to shake loose the shackles of a scientifically regulated universe. The Statue of Liberty talks in John LaTouche's play by that name and walks in Norman Rosten's "Miss Liberty Goes to Town." A dead man speaks in Sidney Alexander's story of the Salem witchcraft trials, "Where Jonathan Came." The narrator in Corwins They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease rides with the fascist bombers, then flies ahead of them to describe the doomed town. In Corwins "The Undecided

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Molecule" a molecule is put on trial for being insurgent and speaks—through an interpreter—in his own defense. An interesting development is the recording of fairly tales in rhythmic language, using a verse choir group. These recordings for children, made in 1940, have been sold to sponsors throughout the country for broadcasting purposes. Sixty fairy tales have been so recorded in a series called "Streamlined Fairy Tales," written by Herb Rickles and presented by the verse choir group, the Koralites, who have done much work in radio poetry. 34 "The Lion and the Mouse," "The Sleeping Beauty," "Puss-in-Boots," and "Rumplestilzskin" find the radio a sympathetic medium for their fantasy. An original fairy story, "Mary and the Fairy," gives Norman Corwin the opportunity to indulge in light satire at the expense of a girl who wins a contest, gets five wishes from the fairy as her reward, and then has nothing to show for them at the end of the play. W. H. Auden and James Stern wrote a strange tale, "The Rocking-Horse Winner," based on a D. H. Lawrence story. A little boy named Paul wants to be lucky because lucky people have money and his family needs it. Swearing to love luck forever, he rides his rocking horse until he falls into a trance in which he receives tips on horse races. He wins a great deal of money, but in payment he has to forfeit his life. The story has a vague, mystical quality. Exploring the subconscious, the Dream Reporter in Harry Kleiner's "Fever in the Night" exposes the fevered wanderings of a mind under economic and personal strain. The dream of Everyman reveals his fears, disappointments, and frustrated hopes. Eight to six five days a week, Wish to hell I'd get a raise, Eight to six five days a week . . ,35 Kleiner's "Requiem in A" is a study of abnormality. The play graphs Robert Schumann's growing madness by ingeniously

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distorting and jumbling the composers music. This method forces the listener to hear the music through the madman's ear. Using the radio, poets can easily dramatize the psychological aspects of current events too. Sidney Alexander, in "The Hawk and the Flesh," tells an incident in Spain's struggle against fascism, but his emphasis is on the psychological effects of the clash in loyalties. A loyalist soldier betrays his fascist brother. The struggle between the larger loyalty and the narrow family one ends in fighting and death. Alfred Kreymborg, in "A Ballad of Youth," suggests the tenuous psychological relationship between the old generation and the young. Milton Robertson takes as his theme the problem of the women left at home while their loved ones are away fighting. His "Dearly Beloved," yet unproduced, has overtones of the war, but its emphasis is on the hopes, the fears, and the difficulties of the lonely woman. In modern art—in painting and sculpture particularly—mere representation is renounced as being imitative and superficial. The artist often chooses to exaggerate and even to distort in order to portray what he believes is the inherent truth. Thus, Picasso will paint a mouth stretched in agony out of all proportion to the rest of the body in order to focus attention on the scream. Brancusi, in sculpture, carved out a graceful column of marble to represent a bird in flight. In this manner the artist uses analogy, fantasy, exaggeration, and distortion in order to tell the truth better. Hamlet, talking aloud in a soliloquy, completely unrealistic though that device may be, is psychologically more realistic to the audience than silence would ever permit him to be. Now the radio, a medium that transfers thoughts fluently and naturally, is capable of achieving that psychological realism by translating innermost feelings and desires into symbols that even the most prosaic of listeners can accept. Fantasy, exaggeration, and distortion no longer need be artificial devices on the periphery of credibility; on

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the radio they can be avenues of intimate communication between the listener and the play, the very basis of real drama. THE

PHILOSOPHICAL

The radio poet has been story-teller, word-painter, economist, teacher, and analyst. A few poets have dared to go further to challenge in philosophic terms the very core of civilization today. What is the purpose of this incredible complexity? they ask. What good are machines, the moving picture, the radio? "What does it mean?" the narrator keeps repeating in William Saroyan's "A Special Announcement." Will anybody have time to live And write his name on a passport, Or at the bottom of a poem? 36 Saroyan gives no positive answer. He leaves the question to trouble his audience. Alfred Kreymborg does not give his hearers the comfort of an answer either. His "Fables in Verse" begins with "The Four Winds Talk It Over," in which he presents the picture of man, an unhappy "Faustian spirit in the modern world." He ends with "Nature Rides Again," but there is no conclusive ending. "When nature is left to herself," Kreymborg explains in his notes, "she is fully as puzzled as ourselves and fully as weary." 3 7 W. H. Auden's "The Dark Valley" is well named, because in lines that exhibit something akin to the Old English alliterative stress he reveals an outlook on the world that is dark indeed. They are only tame geese on a wild goose chase. Listen to the lifeless longing for their home. But nothing they run after shall they ever find . . . and the black storm broods above preparing to loose its rain on a ruined race. D. G. Bridson wrote "Aaron's Field" to describe man's perplexity in the midst of a complex civilization of builders, bankers, individualists, air wardens, tourists, lawyers, and

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members of the council. Aaron, a simple Englishman who retires to the country to rest, finds peace only in death. America's emphasis on individual enterprise is criticized in Ruth Lechlitner's "We Are the Rising Wing." That spirit, according to the play, has given America great wealth, but left the people dissatisfied, hungry and loveless. At the end the "I" of individual enterprise crashes to death, but, phoenixlike, out of the pyre the "We" of brotherly love rises. While these plays question many of our basic assumptions, they do not probe very deeply into them. Because of its very nature, a philosophic theme requires careful development in its presentation and a long period of contemplation in its review, neither of which requirement the radio play can afford to satisfy. CONSERVATISM OF RADIO PROGRAMS

The philosophical plays, critical and biting, can hardly be called popular. They represent the exception in radio poetry. Although the Columbia Workshop, the NBC Radio Guild, and other radio organizations have produced experimental drama and poetry, stations hesitate to broadcast anything that tends to puzzle or offend the radio audience. In 1941 Lewis H. Titterton, then manager of NBC's script department, summarized the company's attitude toward subject matter for radio verse plays: Anything that is in accordance with generally understood standards of good taste and that is in the public interest may be treated by the poetic dramatist. Radio does not wish to offend the sensibilities of its listeners; obviously, therefore, such words as " w o p " and "nigger" are forbidden. Also, under the Federal Communication Commission Act, broadcasters are forbidden to put on the air anything which may be described as obscenity, profanity, or blasphemy. This has been interpreted to mean that even the phrase " M y G o d " is profane. 3 8

For that reason King John roared, "So!" in "Magna Charta,"

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by Maxwell Anderson. Originally he shouted, "God's wounds!" to rhyme with "hounds," but someone crossed out "God's wounds" and substituted "So." As a result, the rhyme suffers, but the audience is spared. Norman Corwin, astute radio man, has his lobsterman say "danged," but in his notes he apologizes: "One of the limitations of radio is its language. No Maine lobsterman would say 'danged.' He would say 'Goddamned.' " 3 9 In "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget" Corwin wrote a whole section using the midwife as a figure of speech. It was cut out of the radio production because it might have been considered bad taste.40 The adapters of Eugene O'Neill's Beyond the Horizon removed all the realistic profanity, knowing what radio restrictions were, but they left a few "mild expletives" to suggest the original flavor of the dialogue. Even then there was a storm of protest from the audience.41 Many controversial subjects, too, have little chance to be discussed. In the symposium conducted by Amy Bonner, eastern business representative of Poetry, Norman Corwin wrote: "Subject matter [for radio verse plays] is unlimited save for the restrictions imposed on radio dramas, i.e., controversial political subjects, subjects affecting race, etc." 42 The American Civil Liberties Union, in 1937, found very little official censorship exercised on broadcasting in a period of ten years, but found a whole list of unofficial taboos, including such controversial topics (at that time) as President Roosevelt, the Supreme Court, strikes, Spain, the Duke and the Duchess of Windsor.43 The result has been that radio programs are inclined to be conservative, lagging behind, instead of forging ahead of, public opinion. Paul F. Lazarsfeld, director of the Columbia University Bureau of Applied Social Research, listed three factors which account for this situation. First, broadcasting depends chiefly on advertising for its revenue. Second, the self-selecting audience chooses programs with which it agrees, and finally, the struggle between the FCC and the radio industry

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results in the complete neutrality of radio material.44 Therefore, radio poetry on a controversial topic generally will not be presented until the subject ceases to be controversial. "Alexander Nevsky," by Louis MacNeice, a play in praise of the Russians, was broadcast by BBC after Russia became England's ally. Maxwell Anderson's "Second Overture," which criticized Russian justice, was broadcast before the Soviet Union joined the Allies against the Axis powers. A policy so conservative that it permits the censorship of anything that may hurt someone's sensibilities can be very dangerous. Norman Corwin accused the radio officials of unconsciously helping the Axis powers: "We shall not discuss Fascism. We shall not put on a program which offends any group. Well, I can imagine the crude laughter of the board of strategy of Axis propaganda at such a policy." 45 Arch Oboler discovered that even government radio officials had the impulse "to run for cover whenever the thesis of a particular play of mine was such as to arouse in anger the undercover Fascist, or the professional moralist, or the self-seeking sensationalist."4β These taboos almost always prevent the radio writer from criticizing accepted cultural patterns, although such criticism is very often found in printed and dramatic literature. Theodore Dreiser, John Dos Passos, James T. Farrell, Eugene O'Neill, and Clifford Odets have a wide reading public, but they would never be accepted by broadcasters unless they radically revised their work. From the aesthetic point of view, also, the conservative policy can be dangerous. It can dilute the dramatic integrity of radio productions. Broadcasting nothing that would hurt anyone's feelings, Val Gielgud, drama director of BBC, declared, would conflict "seriously with the classic definition of the value of drama—the purgation of the emotions of its audience, by arousing in them pity and terror." 47 Fortunately, there are signs that radio poetry has gained

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more freedom in discussing controversial themes. The overwhelming majority of radio verse plays are broadcast on sustaining programs, where Erik Bamouw finds that "controversial matter is not shuddered at as it is on the commercial market."48 Again, poetry may be able to treat difficult subjects with more delicacy. Robert Simon, director of continuities at WOR, New York, maintains: "It is difficult to set down suggestions about the limitations of subject matter, as treatment may, in some cases, be more important than subject." " Evidently the radio poet knows how to treat these subjects, for he has certainly violated some of the sacred taboos of broadcasting. Archibald MacLeish's The Fall of the City castigated pacifists and priests who beg the people to turn to their gods rather than fight the oppressor. In 1937, when the play was broadcast, pacifism was a controversial subject. At all times it is dangerous to criticize religious authorities. MacLeish met the problem by couching his criticism in parable form. His portrayal of the priests, who really misled the people, has never aroused any marked opposition from religious or social agencies; yet it is, without question, an attack on religious leaders who urge people to tum from temporal matters. Norman Corwin, too, used the parable form in They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease to denounce the fascist bombings of innocent civilians. He mentioned no names or places, and so the Italian government, which at the time was on friendly terms with the United States, could find no grounds for protest, although it was quite clear what Corwin meant. In the published version of the play Corwin leaves no room for doubt by quoting the words of Mussolini's son Vittorio: "One group of horsemen gave me the impression of a budding rose unfolding, as the bombs fell in their midst and blew them up. It was exceptionally good fun." s0 To imply that radio poets hide behind the skirts of the

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parable would b e to tell only one part of the story, and to suggest weakness. Shakespeare consciously met the restrictions on political discussion in his day in similar fashion. Poets use the form because it can express much in a comparatively short time and with desirable objectivity. As a matter of fact, in two of Corwin's verse plays, "Untitled" and "There Will B e Time Later," he is most vitriolic and precise in denouncing the publishers who incite disunity and dissension at home. Many of the statements made in radio poetry clearly transgress other radio conventions. Kreymborg, for instance, takes issue with the story of Adam and Eve in the Bible. In "Nature Rides Again" he has man exclaiming exultantly: That wasn't evil—they drove us out Because our bodies heard the shout Of generations being fed. This play was broadcast by N B C over a nationwide network; yet the contradiction of the Bible remained in the script. T h e Twenty-third Psalm is twisted in Harry Kleiner's "Fever in the Night": The Lord is my shepherd; I cannot rest. He maketh me to wander through the dark city: He forsaketh me in its barren pastures.51 Subjects dealing with sex must be handled with great delicacy and restraint on the air. Yet Sidney Alexander's "Where Jonathan C a m e " was permitted: No husband lies with his wife but Mather lies between. The verse play was broadcast by WNYC, a noncommercial station. The director of dramatic programs there, Mitchell Grayson, did say that the play had been rejected by the other stations because of the sex theme. 52 Motion pictures, popular magazines, and the radio present love in its most romantic light. In "The Dark Valley," how-

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ever, W. H. Auden declares that most people today really find love disgusting. In the same play he violates another taboo: he satirizes freedom in America, something extremely rare in radio. America, says Peter Munro Jack in a review of radio poetry, "is the land of freedom and democracy as well as a beautiful country. Is this a formula? It is a necessary radio formula." 5 8 Yet on that subject Auden writes: "He thinks of everybody. We're all free and equal, he says. We've all a right to do our share in the government by answering questions and filling up forms. All of us, even geese." 54 It is possible that the more difficult and obscure radio plays have greater latitude than others because they are difficult and obscure. Auden's "The Dark Valley," while simple in theme, is written in language that cloaks the real meaning of his utterances. Several script writers were asked about this possibility, but they preferred not to be quoted on the subject. A review of radio literature corroborates Lazarsfeld's statement: "By and large, radio has so far been a conservative force in American life and has produced but a few elements of social progress." 55 Radio poetry, generally, cannot escape the accusation. At the same time, radio poetry represents an attempt to develop a maturity of expression that sometimes clashes with the timid broadcasting policy. The war subordinated the problem. Poets had a single theme. Now, however, the struggle between the station that wishes to please everybody and the writer who wants to inform and lead public opinion instead of following it may possibly result in the demand for greater freedom from narrow censorship and rigid commercial control. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF RADIO POETRY THEMES

Radio literature tends to concentrate on the events of the moment, very often to the exclusion of all other subjects. The radio poet cannot displace the news announcer; nor does he

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wish to. He seeks to expound the significance of the news, the human principles activating the events of the day. Even subjects dealing with events of the past are shaped to fit into the present scene. John LaTouche brings "The Traitor," the story of Benedict Arnold, up to date by calling him "Our first fifth columnist." A verse play dealing with witchcraft in Salem, "Where Jonathan Came," by Sidney Alexander, makes reference to the "Nightmarish goosestep" walking in the sun. The fascist persecution of the Jews gives a modern turn to Corwins Biblical drama "Esther." The best way to bolster authority Is to bully a small minority.

Plays dealing with the immediate present very often pass out of date as events change. Stephen Vincent Benêt wrote Nightmare at Noon in 1940. When the Council for Democracy used it in 1941, Benêt had to add nine new lines to make the facts congruent with the developments in the war. In 1942 he added additional lines to the play when it was recorded for the "Treasury Star Parade" in order to introduce a new situation. Go tell your Congressmen there's plenty of time to ration sugar, gas and oil, Go tell the OPM to take it easy—they're pushing business too hard. 56

Such poetry is frankly didactic. Generalities give way to the specific problems at the moment of broadcast. The very tone is didactic; the mode is imperative. MacLeish's "America Was Promises," for instance, is directly hortatory. Believe unless we take them for ourselves Others will take them for the use of others! Believe unless we take them for ourselves All of us: one here: another there: Men not man: people not the People: Hands: mouths: arms: eyes: not syllables—

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Believe unless we take them for ourselves Others will take them: not for us: for othersl 57 The imperative tone is used again for the poet's message to the world in Rosten's "Prometheus in Granada": Call over the sea to all countries: tell them we have only our hands to fight with, only our bodies to stop bullets with: we won't be free unless lovers of freedom stand near us: or else they'll be conquered standing alonel 58 Poetry like this has serious work to do. Fascism is attacked; the Allies are praised; appeasement is denounced; democracy is proclaimed. There is little room for humor that is not ironic. "The Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man," by Erwin and Eve Spitzer, is written in light verse, but the implications are very serious: individuals cannot win safety by isolating themselves and ignoring the press of outside events. Bridson's light verse in "Aaron's Field" also has serious connotations: the complex world of today overwhelms men seeking peace. Very few radio verse plays produce examples of humor divorced from didactic intent. Norman Corwin, who has written many plays in many styles for the radio, has presented a few light plays, but even among these "Radio Primer" and "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget" satirize the radio industry. Milton Robertson, in turn, satirizes Corwin's humorous style in "Priming the Prime Primer." One truly light verse play of Corwin's is "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas." The verse is reminiscent of Gilbert and Sullivan. This is your old friend Sotto Voce Visiting down where it's eternal noche. (Noche is Spanish for night, you knowMerely a reference just to show That English isn't all I have to go By.) 69

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Justus Edwin Wyman wrote a comic opera without music, "Revolt in Orthoepy," a published, but unproduced, script which has the flavor of the classroom. That's nothing, what about me? The garrulous, guttural, glamorous G. When I'm with an H you drop the sound of me And I'm robbed of my individuality. 00

Kreymborg uses slap-stick humor in the Jupiter scene of The Planets. His conception of Jupiter as a tipsy god stumbling over his words is certainly unorthodox. A similar example of this good-natured humor is found in Kreymborg's "Cricket Wings," in which the music critics are afraid of modern music because they will have to make up their minds. And Paul Hayes, in "Intelligencanapolis," included in Corwin's "Words without Music," writes a bit of nonsense mocking the surrealistic school: "He knelt and prayed. The clock covered its face with its hands and began to weep." 11 These isolated examples are the exception in radio poetry. The spirit of serious radio poetry is generally affirmative and hopeful. Most of the plays end happily on an optimistic note. Even though MacLeish's The Fall of the City and Air Raid end negatively with the defeat of the people, they are not cynical or pessimistic. On the contrary, they were designed to arouse America to the dangers of fascism and apathy. They say, "It is too late for them, but not for us." In poetry of this kind the theme is usually clear and simple. The ear cannot follow an intricate exposition. Anything difficult, cryptic, or subtle is lost by most listeners, and the message suffers. There are exceptions, but the exceptions are critized for that very reason—the verse is involved; the message obfuscated. Norman Corwin, for instance, feels that Kreymborg's The Planets fails as radio poetry because it is too indirect and cryptic.62 Sherman H. Dryer, director of Radio Productions of the University of Chicago, reproved Norman Corwin, in

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turn, because he felt that some of his war dramas were so poetic that they confused the average listener.63 Lyrics find little place in this serious, didactic scheme. If they are used, they must fit into the dramatic pattern of the verse play. MacLeish, wishing to describe the peace of the morning in the town about to be bombed, wrote this lyrical section in "Air Raid." The town is very quiet and orderly, They are flushing the cobblestones with water, The sidewalks are slippery with sun. It smells of a summer morning anywhere: It smells of seven o'clock in the morning in Any town they water dust in.64 These lyrical touches are comparatively rare. The verse, generally in dialogue form, must sweep the action forward. Therefore, dramatic and narrative poetry are used almost exclusively. This tendency toward the simple and the lucid can, of course, be carried too far. Oliver Larkin, a critic, evaluated the radio play in Theatre Arts Monthly in 1938: Exquisite in bringing us the unearthly, the subjective, things imagined or felt, its range falls short of great characterization or great tragedy. And its danger for the listener, as for the poet, lies in its encouragement of over-simplification.65 Radio poets are not generally aiming at great tragedy or characterization, judging from what has already been produced. The war had brushed aside all objectives but the very important one of arousing and uniting the people. Radio now may have a chance to develop other rich potentialities. Edith Isaacs, editor of Theatre Arts Monthly, thinks so: "And when the war ends we shall need poets, especially radio poets, disciplined to lead the armies of our own thought, as poets have always led when the soldiers' work was done." 66

3 DRAMATIC T E C H N I Q U E OF THE RADIO V E R S E PLAY

I N RADIO " T H E EAR IS T H E T H E A T R E . "

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a peculiar concentration on what appeals dramatically to the ear—in pace, rhythm, tone. The ear must capture qualities of scene and action that ordinarily would come through the eye, and transmit them to the mind's eye and the motor centers. The poet seeks an effect of unifying dramatic action even when his main purpose is not essentially dramatic. Poets have done this in times past—Keats in "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer," for instance—but radio gives added reason for dramatization of emotion or pictorial interest. Even when the script is really not a play, but a series of impressions, as in Kimball Flaccus' "Fulton Fish Market" or A. M. Sullivan's "Transcontinental," the lines are assigned to many voices and cast as dialogue. "Transcontinental" was written for the radio, but it was first published in Esquire. When Sullivan heard it read, he decided that it needed more dialogue for radio purposes, and he wrote in the truck drivers' parts.2 Corwins "Psalm for a Dark Year" and Stephen Vincent Benét's Nightmare at Noon are not plays in the conventional sense, but the play form is used. In very short poems for the radio, such as Eve Merriam's "Song of the Scorched Earth," there is, naturally, no attempt to break up the verse into dialogue, but her half-hour program "Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man" is in dramatic form. RADIO V E R S U S S T A G E

Although radio poetry in form as well as in function is dramatic, it is not designed for the stage. Radio drama necessarily differs from stage drama and has its own conventions,

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restrictions, and techniques. In the first place, the pace of a radio verse play distinguishes it from all other forms. The radio, like the photoplay, has a freedom of movement that the stage has not; the radio poet shifts scenes with amazing rapidity. To compensate for the lack of visual details, he uses his dialogue to set the stage, introduce the characters, and describe the action. To prevent obscurity, he limits the number of characters and draws them so broadly that they are easily identified. Everything moves quickly: he catches the attention of the listener at once with a strong beginning and then develops his play by suggestion, foreshortening time, space, and action. At his command he has montage effects, sound effects, music, silence, and all the other technical resources of radio to help him. The result of such an accelerated pace and lack of continuous detail would very often be complete diffusion were it not for the announcer, who brings the ancient Greek chorus back to the "theatre of the ear." With the aid of an actual choral group sometimes, he unifies the scenes and brings them into focus. Then the play is whisked off to make room for the next program. The poet who writes for the radio must leam a technique that differs in many ways from that of the stage, though in fewer ways from that of the screen. Corwin, for one, doubts whether the established writers of today can add materially to broadcasting literature, because they are ignorant of radio's special requirements and possibilities.3 Val Gielgud, BBC director, warns the writer that if he begins with the assumption that his work can be given to the microphone either because although written for the stage it has failed to achieve stage production, or because he wants practise in writing for the stage, and thinks that writing for the microphone will keep his hand in, he is strangling his work at birth.4 In a special article for the guidance of English teachers, "How to Study 'The Fall of the City,' " Leon C. Hood insists that the play must be studied in terms of radio, that it is

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"concerned and written entirely in microphone terms, owing nothing to the theatre except the actors who perform in it." 5 On the other hand, William Kozlenko, playwright and editor of anthologies of plays, feels that microphone plays can also be stage plays. In his preface to Contemporary OneAct Plays he asserts that "in spite of the fact that these two plays [Sherwood Anderson's "Textiles" and Alfred Kreyenborgs "The House That Jack Didn't Build"] were written to be presented before the microphone they do not lose their dramatic power if presented on the stage."0 Alfred Kreymborg agrees with Kozlenko's judgment. In the introduction to The Planets he writes: "This fable concerning the human earth, with special reference to our wars and peace since 1914, is a full length play in one act for the stage or the air."7 This difference in opinion is understandable. Corwin and Gielgud are radio men, while Kozlenko and Kreymborg are devoted to the stage. There may be another reason too. The stage play is a tried and honored form; the radio play is new, and its literary merits are still questioned. Naturally, the playwright is influenced by the prestige of the accepted form and turns to it even when he is writing for the radio. As Max Lemer points out in the essay "Literature and Society," "every literary form becomes a vested interest. The prestige of the tried pattern tends to deflect the craftsmanship of each writer from the search for new forms to the extraction of all the implications that the existing ones held."8 A careful study of the verse plays for the radio seems to bear out the contention that radio dramatic technique differs sharply from stage practice in many ways. Similarities and differences may be conveniently examined under thirteen different heads: freedom of movement, function of dialogue, brevity of dialogue, the beginning of the play, the length of the play, development by suggestion, patterns of characterization, technical devices, music, silence, the chorus, the ending, and the dramatic conflict.

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T H E FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT IN RADIO

Stage conventions and limitations of stage mechanics prevent the rapid shift from scene to scene in the modern theater. Shakespeare's stage had a cinema-like succession of scenes on a fairly bare platform. The modem picture-frame theater has attempted to solve the problem by shifting the spotlight, as in Clifford Odets' "Waiting for Lefty." But most stage plays, even most of Shakespeare's, are planned for comparatively few scenes. The ancient Greek dramatists limited their plays by observing the unities of time, space, and action. The messenger was used to summarize any action that occurred elsewhere. In Sophocles' Oedipus Rex the second messenger tells the audience what happened to the queen. I will relate the unhappy lady's woe. When in her frenzy she had passed inside The vestibule, she hurried straight to win The bridal-chamber, clutching at her hair.9

In Macbeth Shakespeare has the sergeant—really a messenger —tell the story of the battle so that the unity of the scene can be maintained.10 A similar messenger races into the scene in MacLeish's The Fall of the City to inform the audience of action elsewhere. There has come the conqueror! I am to tell you. 11

On the radio, however, it is not necessary or even desirable to keep the single set. Gilbert Seldes criticized MacLeish for using a stage device: "It seems to me that here MacLeish did not come to terms with radio." MacLeish, Seldes felt, sacrificed "the variety of action which radio encourages."12 MacLeish's second radio play, Air Raid, is much more mobile, allowing the radio to shift scenes rapidly from the women to the lovers to the children to the announcer with scarcely a second's interruption. While it is not necessary to have more than one scene in a

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radio play, broadcasting technique does not require the unities of time, space, and action. The director of broadcasts at CBS, Douglas Coulter, found that the one-set drama was general!)' not adaptable to shifting scene or mood. It ran the great risk of endless dialogue that failed to hold the attention of the listener.13 Robert Simon, director of continuities at WOR, New York, gave this advice to all poets who wish to write for the radio: The author has the opportunity in radio to play with time and space about as he pleases, so long as the listeners know what time it is and what is filling up the space. There is an extra dimension in radio—the radio script writer has an unlimited stage if he wants to use it; he may have a scene in a skyscraper with someone calling down to the street, and his microphone may travel with his actors, as the movie camera follows film characters.14 Thus, Corwin travels, in "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," from Hades, to Switzerland, to Finland, to Vladivostok, and to the North Pole with no trouble at all. The announcer in his They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease starts with the men in the bomber, then leaves them to describe the peaceful life in the town, going behind closed doors to reveal petty family quarrels and crying babies; back he goes to the men in the bombers and travels with them as they strafe the refugees; he remains aloft as finally the bomber is machinegunned by a pursuing plane and spins agonizingly to earth. Stephen Vincent Benét's "Listen to the People" shifts from the present to the Revolutionary War, then back to the present, and on to the future. Clemence Dane's "The Unknown Soldier," a BBC production, covers the entire history of England in one hour, beginning with King Alfred and including scenes with Elizabeth, Essex, Lord Nelson, and events of 1914, down to the present. Kleiner's "Fever in the Night" shifts scenes with phantasmagoric rapidity to keep pace with the subconscious mind of a troubled man who is tossing in his sleep. MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky" sketches an entire mili-

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tary campaign with scenes in Novgorod, Pskov, the Arctic, and at the battleline, giving the viewpoint of the soldier, then shifting to the onlooker so that many impressions are fused into one. In such cases radio combines, in Aristotelian terms, the selective unity and action of drama and the flexibility and range of epic narrative. While a distinguishing characteristic of radio plays is this freedom of movement, there are writers for the radio who still think in terms of the stage and plan the action for a single scene. Maxwell Anderson wrote "The Feast of Ortolans," "Second Overture," and "The Bastion-Saint Gervais" for the radio, but in his collection Eleven Verse Plays the first two of these scripts are printed as stage plays and end with the fall of the curtain. In all three of the plays the single set is maintained throughout. In "Second Overture" even the commissar comes to the prison cell to judge the prisoners, although under ordinary circumstances, the prisoners would have been brought to the commissar. On the stage the former procedure is necessary in order to avoid another scene. Lillian Hellman, author of such successful stage plays as The Children's Hour and The Little Foxes, admits that the stage writer sometimes has to manipulate the situations in order to keep the single set. In Watch on the Rhine Kurt Müller, about to say good-bye, asks his wife to bring down the children, who are upstairs in their room. Now it is most probable, [Miss Hellman writes] that in real life a man would go upstairs, find the children in their room, say goodbye there. But it seemed to me, when this problem came up, that kind of un-well-madeness was not worth the candle. It seemed messy to ring in another set, to bring down the curtain, to interfere with a mood and a temper. The playwright . . . must . . . trick up the scene. 1 5

For the radio that kind of "tricking up the scene" is unnecessary. There is a fade-out, a few bars of music, the scene is changed, and the mood and tempo of the production are

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maintained. Maxwell Anderson, therefore, really wrote stage plays for the radio, as the critic Isaac Goldberg was quick to point out in the One Act Play Magazine. He criticized "The Feast of Ortolans" for ignoring the resources and the techniques of radio: "It is simply a drama that is heard rather than seen-and-heard."16 "Second Overture" [he maintained] also should do well indeed on that visible stage. . . . Anderson, however, wrote these two playlets for the radio, and it is as radio-plays, as plays addressed primarily to the ear, that I regard them. So regarding them, I still remain disappointed not by their lack of dramatic power but by their lack of special attention to the conditions for which they were written. . . . These playlets are written exactly as if they had been intended for a seeing rather than a listening audience.17 Similarly, Alfred Kreymborg's "Ballad of Youth" takes place in the living room of the girl's home, and that single set is kept intact. In the radio script of the play Kreymborg writes these stage directions: "When the lights rise, very low, they resemble moonlight across the floor." A little later these directions appear: "Grandpa has entered, heard her and turned away. Sally flutters to the mirror, fixing her hair. Switching on the light, he goes toward the sideboard. She looks relieved, but doesn't stir." The radio audience is completely unaware of the light and the gestures. Kreymborg was thinking of the stage, and the work was so printed in Mayorga's The Best One-Act Plays of 1938, for the drama ends with the words "as the curtain descends." In the early days of the motion pictures the camera recorded a scene with fixed attention on the characters moving about a limited orbit. Soon, however, the directors learned that motion-picture technique could differ from that of the stage, that the camera had a mobility that admitted an entirely different method of presentation. Critics concerned with the special advantages of the picture medium praised such experiments as "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." While there is no

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verifiable aesthetic law that requires a "pure" form, there has been a tendency among artists and critics in all media to hail those works that take fullest advantage of the given medium. So Aristotle, dealing with drama, put stress on plot even above characterization. Musicians seek musical rather than "literary" values. Radio poets are learning that the radio world has a freedom and an elasticity which can be woven into the very structure of the script. THE FUNCTION OF RADIO DIALOGUE

The radio dramatist's medium differs most from the scenario writer's in that the radio dramatist must make his words substitute for the sense of sight. The motion-picture writer can call upon many devices to assist him in the presentation of the play. James Whipple, in How to Write for Radio, lists seventeen aids at the command of the scenarist: ( 1 ) dialogue, (2) sound effects, (3) music, (4) facial expressions, (5) gestures, (6) costumes, (7) scenery, (8) lighting effects, (9) stage properties, (10) physical eccentricities of the actors for characterization, (11) a large cast without confusing the audience, (12) stage business, (13) natural scenery and locale, (14) unlimited change in sets, locale, and scenery, (15) trick photography, (16) color photography, and (17) the close-up. The stage dramatist can use the first twelve of these, but the radio writer has only the first three—dialogue, sound effects, and music.18 Inasmuch as sound effects and music are but supplementary devices, the dialogue bears the burden of setting the stage, placing the time, introducing the characters, and advancing the action. The task is not so unusual as it seems. Before the days of descriptive costumes, elaborate scenery, lighting, and movable sets, the stage dramatists had the same problem. Sophocles and Euripides used the dialogue for that purpose. Shakespeare dressed and lighted the stage with words, as Max Wylie has pointed out in his discussion of radio dialogue.

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More than most playwrights, he depended on dialogue for his exposition: there are no stage directions to speak of in his plays, and there is no character description apart from the dialogue. Unlike any other playwright, Shakespeare begins his play straight off, almost abruptly. At once he sets something going to amaze, startle, interest, arouse the listener—exactly as the radio writer must do— and the whole substance of the play and what is to follow, particularly the atmosphere of the story and the kind of characters who are to inhabit it, are to be discovered in the opening few lines. He indicates in his opening scenes who the characters are and their relation to one another, he lets the audience know what time it is and where the scene is laid, he explains what the situation is as the curtain goes up—all in dialogue. Like Shakespeare, the radio writer has no printed program to explain these things to his audience, and he is playing, so to speak, upon a bare stage without scenery, exactly as Shakespeare did in the old Globe Theatre. Hence his dramatization problems are the same and they must be solved in much the same way. 19 The opening lines of Hamlet tion.

serve as an admirable illustra-

Who's there? Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. Long live the king! Bernardo? He. You come most carefully upon your hour. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold; And I am sick at heart. Bernardo: Have you had quiet guard? Francisco: Not a mouse stirring. Bernardo: Well, good-night.

Bernardo: Francisco: Bernardo: Francisco: Bernardo: Francisco: Bernardo: Francisco:

Through the dialogue the audience learns at once the names of the characters, the action, the time, the weather, the silence, and the mood. The radio dramatist must do the same. As Corwin wrote: "It [the word] is story-teller, image-maker,

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character-delineator, set-builder. If the word fails, the play fails."20 Here are the opening lines of a radio verse play, "Alexander Nevsky" by Louis MacNeice. Domash: Bad news . . . bad news . . . bad news. . . . Marya: What are you saying there, father,—talking away to yourself? Domash: Bad news . . . from east and west. . . . Only this evening another messenger sneaked through the marshes, suffering from frostbite, Bringing a warning to Russia— To all that is left of Russia.

In seven lines the radio audience knows the relationship of the two characters, the general situation, the weather, the place, and the time of day. Of course, the announcer could do that before the play actually begins, but this practice is generally frowned upon as artificial and extraneous.21 It is true that MacLeish's announcer sets the scene in The Fall of the City, but he is actually in the story; he is a part of the play. Using the announcer to supply program notes is, in Arch Oboler's opinion, "lazy writing." The scene, he insists, should be evoked through the development of the story.22 Thus the dialogue sets the scene in Williams' "The Towers of Hatred": Wife: Where are we now? The Man: On an island in the middle of the river.

A character is identified for the audience in Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans": Champfort: Dear, dear. I should like to know how I shall die. La Harpe: You, Monsieur du Champfort?

The relationship of characters is explained in Strickland's "Legend of Dust": The door is unlocked, mother.

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In Lyon's "Wild Bill Hickok" the next scene is introduced as a man sings a ballad: He was still just fifteen when he helped get away A poor Negro slave on the underground railway.

The chorus in Rosten's "Samson Agonistes" prepares the audience for the entrance of another character: Here comes a swaggerer.

It can be seen from these instances that the radio dramatist must supply visual details that the playwright of an earlier day found unnecessary or had been able to dispense with because the characters appeared before the audience. "Radio has been compelled to create scenes behind the eyes." 2 3 The radio poet uses the imagination of his audience, the imagination that Corwin calls "the finest set of designers in the world." 2 4 The listener acts as a collaborator, taking the spoken word and creating a three-dimensional visual and tactile scene in the theater of his mind. Louis MacNeice uses the spoken word to create a vivid battle scene: Flesh can't stand against steel but Still going on, they're still going on, they're Knocking the knights from their horses, they're Grappling the iron men with their naked hands . . .

Maxwell Anderson supplies specific visual details to give listener-collaborator a framework on which to build up entire character. In "The Bastion-Saint Gervais" one the characters, Bob, begins to compare his companions to three musketeers:

his the of the

Frank now—he's naturally the noble Athos—reserved and melancholy. . . . Myron, you'll do for Aramis, highly spiritual, a poet. . . .

D. G. Bridson in "Aaron's Field" describes the oncoming character for the listener:

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Who is this gentleman? A case That's obviously some trouble in it, A bowler hat, a lawyer's face . . . What can he want . . . ? In Kreymborg's The Planets a character introduces himself: I am Mars— the bringer of War . . . In "Psalm for a Dark Year" Corwin has the woman say: "In this my ninety-second year . . ." and the audience gets a mind-picture. Corwin does not give many details, preferring to give a hint and allowing the listeners to fill in the rest, as in "Appointment": Do I Jiear laughter in the crying air? Aha, I see—a man and maidl Didactic poetry must make certain that the listener has heard the message and understands it. "No single line," says Alice P. Sterner, "can bear the entire burden of the idea, for there is the chance that at the crucial moment the listener may be inattentive." 25 Therefore the poet seeks ways of repeating the important ideas in his play. In MacLeish's Air Raid the sergeant emphasizes the fact that the fascist enemy will not spare women: "The wars have changed with the world and not for the better!" A little later he says again: "It may have been thought: this enemy kills women." A few lines after that he makes the same statement: It may have been thought: this enemy kills women Meaning to kill them! And then the sergeant repeats his warning to the laughing women: I say it may be thought He makes his wars on women! Still the sergeant harps on the theme: It may be as I say. It may be thought he Makes his wars on women . . .

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In The Fall of the City a single statement, "Masterless men will take a master," is reiterated by different voices in the crowd until the theme is clearly understood by the listeners. Edna St. Vincent Millay recognized the need for repetition in her radio play The Murder of Lidice: First Voice: Ask him : Shall Wrong prevail? Second Voice, asking: Shall Wrong prevail? The Teller, slowly, thoughtfully: Wrong? Wrong?-Oh, no! No,—not for long.

Before Louis MacNeice shifted the scene in "Alexander Nevsky" he prepared his audience well. Alexander asks: What are the Germans doing in Pskov? What is happening this very moment, What is happening in Pskov?

Igor asks too: "What is happening in Pskov?" Then the scene shifts to the important scene in Pskov. The chorus in Kleiner's "Fever in the Night" emphasizes the tortured confusion of the sleeping man: From the dead! From the dead! Out of a job!

The narrator at the end of Kreymborg's "Haunted Water" says: "They can even answer Death," and as he fades off, the echoes take up the message: "They can even answer Death." In all this there is often a reviving of oldest stage devices, with the primitive effect of mystery and morality plays, as if the radio, like the movies, would have to recapitulate most of the history of the theater in order to find its own techniques. The Elizabethan theater was famous for its magnificent poetry in part because the dramatist had to create scenes by the sheer power of his words. Once again the poet has the opportunity to paint a picture by using the word-stirred imagination of his audience. Conceivably the audience may

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be educated to value the lyric possibilities of radio as well as the dramatic. BREVITY OF DIALOGUE

The radio poet has no time for extended development. His dialogue must translate stage business and yet tell a story in a very short time. "Long speeches," James Whipple declares, in How to Write for Radio, "are monotonous on the radio except in situations of great emotional value. Even then they must be shorter than would be the case where the characters can be seen." 26 Gilbert Seldes thought that MacLeish should have broken up the long speeches in The Fall of the City, particularly the Orator's, the Priest's, and the General's. The briefer dialogue, he felt, would have heightened the dramatic effect.27 It is significant that the dialogue in MacLeish's second verse play, Air Raid, is notably briefer, and in "The States Talking" MacLeish's longest passage is eight lines, and that length in only one instance. The dialogue must be brief for another reason. A character appears on the "stage of the ear" only when he talks. If another person speaks for a long time, all other individuals on the scene fade out of the listener's consciousness. The dramatist must constantly remind the audience of the presence of his characters by giving them words to say. MacLeish, in Air Raid, has the women discussing the sergeant's order for two minutes, while the sergeant is there all the time. The listener, unfortunately, does not know it, because the sergeant has nothing to say.28 When Corwin wrote a long passage, he was fully aware that he was violating "the conventions of spacing," but he had a specific reason for doing so. In his notes on "To Tim at Twenty," a prose play, he writes: "As radio drama scripts go, this one was fairly bold, inasmuch as it demanded several long stretches of unbroken speech by a single character."

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But he goes on to explain that he wrote the script specifically for Mr. and Mrs. Charles Laughton, and so felt free to break the radio rule.29 His "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget" contains a series of long speeches, but the title indicates that the work is not a play, although it is dramatic in form. It is a tour de force; in order to save money, Corwin wrote it for but one character.30 Kimball Flaccus uses passages twentythree, twenty-seven, and twenty-nine lines long in "Fulton Fish Market," but again, the poem is dramatic in form alone; it is a series of descriptions and impressions. Bridson's "The March of the '45'" includes long speeches, but the play is an hour-and-a-half long, and the poet has ample opportunity for more detailed development. Plays intended at once for stage and radio commonly include longer speeches. Maxwell Anderson's "Second Overture" uses greater detail than is ordinarily found in a radio script. There are several extended passages, particularly one thirtynine lines long assigned to Charash, the chief character. The speech comes at a moment of great emotional intensity, when more extended dialogue may be necessary. Kreymborg's The Planets has passages of forty-seven and seventy-seven lines, all without interruption.31 John Gassner, drama critic and lecturer, had trouble following the play on the radio: "The various voices were not always easily distinguishable, and some of the speeches taxed the hearer too greatly with their length." 32 These are the exceptions in radio poetry. The writer usually shapes his dialogue to suit a pattern of rapidly-shifting scenes. THE "SOCKO" BEGINNING

The radio play has no time or room for extended introductions. The play must get off at once. "The radio play starts 'socko,' " as Norman Corwin once put it. "The more arresting, the better." 83 The radio story gets into action with the very first word. If the radio poet begins in leisurely fashion without

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grasping the audience's attention at once, the dials may turn and there will be no audience. To illustrate what he means by a "socko" beginning, Corwin cites several examples: MacLeish's The Fall of the City: Ladies and gentlemen: This broadcast comes to you from the city. MacLeish's Air Raid: When you hear the gong sound The time will be Ten seconds past 2 A.M. precisely. Corwins "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas": Did you hear about the plot to overthrow Christmas? 34 A few more examples can be added: Bernard Dryer's "Winged Victory": Come closer: listen. Stephen Vincent Benét's "A Letter to Hitler": It hasn't come to us yet, the bomb by night, The machine-gun bullet by day, the shattered house . . . Louis MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky": Bad news . . . bad news . . . bad news . . . But an unvaried policy of shouting to catch the audience's attention would soon have the opposite effect. "During that scramble for audience," Corwin once admitted in an interview, "after the station break and your program goes on, I now realize it isn't always necessary to hit 'em with a hammer. You can get their attention with understatement, too." 35 In "Cromer" Corwin begins very quietly: Cromer is a town on the east coast of England, and this is a program about it.

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Stephen Vincent Benét in "Listen to the People" is equally casual: This is Independence Day, Fourth of July, the day we mean to keep . . . The narrator in Norman Rosten's "The People vs. the Unholy Three" begins coldly: The theme is not revenge. The problem is not merely three men, stripped of their power, standing before us. Whatever method is used, the radio poet catches the attention of the listener immediately, and then plunges into the story. LENGTH OF THE RADIO VERSE PLAY

The story must b e told quickly, because the radio verse play is usually of but thirty-minute duration. Thirty seconds of that time, in unsponsored programs, is generally surrendered to station announcements. In commercial presentations more time is taken to advertise the sponsor's product. Hence a "half-hour's radio script" is usually shorter than the name suggests. With but one or two exceptions, Corwin's plays have been written to fit into that period. So have MacLeish's. Amy Bonner, in the symposium published in Poetry, asked a number of radio writers and executives what they considered the best length for the verse play. Davidson Taylor, of CBS, recommended fourteen-and-a-half or twenty-nine-and-a-half minutes, including announcements. Robert Simon, of WOR, agreed with Taylor: "In general, quarter hours and half hours are more likely to be available for broadcasting of drama than full hours; three-quarter hours are rarely used." Corwin was most succinct. All he said was: "29 minutes, 30 seconds." 3 6 Kreymborg is the notable exception. The Planets took a full hour, and his "Fables in Verse," a series of ten radio verse

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plays, took only fifteen minutes each on the air. The manager of the script department of NBC, which produced "Fables in Verse," discovered that he had trouble finding time for them. "In general," he concluded, "it would seem advisable for your poetic dramatist to confine himself to single halfhour plays."37 This seems to coincide with the findings of Cantril and Allport as a result of experiments conducted at Harvard University and published in 1935 in The Psychology of Radio. In answer to the question "How do broadcasts of different lengths on the same subject compare in effectiveness?" they found that if the judgments of the subjects were pooled, the lengths best suited to the group were: news reports, 12 minutes; educational talks, 17 minutes; political talks, 21 minutes; religious talks, 24 minutes; stories, 24 minutes; drama, 28 minutes. 38 This makes the average radio script roughly equivalent to the one-act play, the short story, and the movie "short," and would indicate that the ear, unaided by the eye, is incapable of a very long attention span. In England the radio situation is somewhat different from that in the United States. Time schedules need not be so rigid, because the radio is controlled by a government corporation and time is not sold to advertisers. D. G. Bridson's "The March of the '45' " is one-and-a-half hours long; Louis MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky" and Clemence Dane's "The Unknown Soldier" took one hour each for broadcasting. Bridson's "Aaron's Field" is forty-five minutes long. Robert Kemp's "Cutty Sark" is of the conventional length, one half hour, but Christopher Hassall's "Devil's Dyke" was scheduled for but twenty-five minutes. Val Gielgud declared: "It is, on the whole, true to say that the ideal length for a broadcast play has tended to grow steadily shorter.39 When "The March of the '45'" was rebroadcast here, it was cut down by NBC to an hour's length by omitting minor scenes and shortening long passages.

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DEVELOPMENT B Y SUGGESTION

With so little time at his disposal, the radio poet can scarcely afford to develop his plot and characters by continuous detail. The very nature of radio technique militates against that. The scenes are fragmentary; action, time, and space are foreshortened, and the play advances by means of suggestion rather than carefully dovetailed details. The radio dramatist, as one director put it, uses the "process of insinuation," and "radio attains its greatest efficiency when it underplays; when it merely indicates." 40 Inasmuch as the visual element is completely lacking in radio, the writer finds the use of suggestion particularly effectual on the air. The visual element, we must remember, may be present by association, for radio sounds like the movies, and may instantly recall movie sequences, partly a matter of "seeing" and partly kinesthetic. The "after image" in the eye, to present an analogy, permits us to see completely disparate pictures on a moving film as a fluid sequence. May not the "after image" of association help us to "see" a radio play and fuse it into a continuous pattern of visual as well as auditory details? In John LaTouche's play about Benedict Arnold, "The Traitor," the Chorus chants: Thirty thousand p o u n d s Thirty pieces of silverTraitor traitor traitor traitor!

Detail is not needed. The suggested comparison is enough. A few lines in Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease suggests a family's harmless and goodnatured quarrel: Father: W h o pays the repair Mother: Get to the point. Father: W h o pays . . .

bills?

A few lines suffice for the scene between the lovers in MacLeish's Air Raid:

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Stay as you are: do not move: Do not even move: stay there: Stay with this sunlight on your shoulders. This is an entire scene in Norman Rosten's "Paris Incident": German Sentry: Who goes there? Haiti Frenchman (Off . . . defiantly): VIVE LA F R A N C E ! (Sound of rifle shot) (Weaker) Vive . . . la . . . France . . . (Low-waäing accent chord) No more is needed to tell the listener what was happening in subjugated France. A scene in another play, Asness and Schoolman's "Story of a Valley," suggests by the use of one sentence and one instance the hardships the early settlers in the Tennessee Valley had to face. This is the entire scene: Connell: Redskins? Timmons: Maybe it was Redskins . . . maybe it was loneliness after a bit. Ten men went with him four years ago . . . only one came back! Because of this dramatic device the radio poet can cover tremendous distances and span centuries—all in a short radio play. In a half-hour's time Albert N. Williams, in "The Towers of Hatred," has a teacher, a professor, a Jew, a young man, a writer, and a preacher explain why each is being hunted by the fascists, although no extended scene is given to any one of them. On page 17 of the script of "Story of a Valley" the Civil War begins; on page 18 the Voice of the Valley announces that the war is over. As has been noted, Clemence Dane's "The Unknown Soldier" covers centuries of English history in one hour; Corwins We Hold These Truths does the same for American history in a half hour. A few lines can represent an important event; a few more, another; and in this way the poet learns to use montage effects so popular in some motion pictures. "The Montage," Erik Bamouw explains in Handbook of Radio Writing, "is a very rapid device, which can cover a lot of background narrative in a graphic,

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concise manner. It is a chance for radio to splash quickly over a large canvas. . . . It lends itself particularly to historical and expository scripts." 41 Communication by suggestion is a basic radio technique. One of the chief virtues of poetry is its power of infinite suggestion. PATTERNS OF CHARACTERIZATION

IN RADIO VERSE PLAYS:

THE PARABLE

The ancient Greek actor had to wear a sounding mask, high stilted boots, and flowing robes to make himself visible and audible to an audience of thousands. The radio dramatist has the same problem—this time with an audience of millions— and he solves it in much the same way: he creates characters who are inclined to be stereotyped, stylized figures comprehensible and palpable to all the listeners in the huge audience. People tend to think in stereotypes, and, as LaPiere and Farnsworth point out in Social Psychology, "in literature and drama the practice of fitting characters to conventional stereotypes is a labor-saving device." 42 In radio, communication by suggestion is hardly conducive to intricate characterization. Moreover, the ear cannot distinguish many characters, especially if they are not clearly outlined. One student tried this experiment described by Erik Barnouw. He closed his eyes at the movies, trying to understand the story merely by listening. In a few minutes he was completely confused. H e did not know who was talking. He did not know who was supposed to be listening. He did not know who the characters were or what they were doing. There were too many people for his ears alone. 43 The radio writer, realizing this, limits his scripts to as few characters as possible, and even these are sharply stylized so that one can be easily distinguishable from another. Distinctive mannerisms and contrasts in voices are used to make identification easier. To assist the listener, the dramatist has

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characters mention the names of other characters at regular intervals to hold them clearly in mind. In Corwins "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," the Devil speaks: "Now, Nero, you are charged with a great task." Nero answers, and then the Devil speaks once more: "Now, Nero, you needn't sound so tragic." Similarly, in MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky" the name "Alexander" is repeated by different characters until the Chorus calls out: Bring us back Alexander I Let Alexander come back. The radio poet writes for an audience of blind men. A business reason also prompts, if it does not compel, the radio writer to present comparatively few characters. Lewis H. Titterton very frankly adds this financial note: "The author should remember the cost of a large cast and endeavor to keep his play simple and compact and really dramatic and in simply expressed dialogue." 44 Usually the producer or the director casts the radio play with an ear towards voice distinctions. Don Witty helped the director by particularizing the voices in his script. His "Strap Buckner and the Devil," a prose play, calls for four characters: Strap Buckner, "resonant baritone"; his Genius, "fairly high pitch"; the Devil, "thin nasal voice," and the Narrator, a "story-telling voice." A. M. Sullivan wrote "Midnight Caravan" for five voices; "Transcontinental" for six voices; "A day in Manhattan" for four male voices; "Psalm against the Darkness" for four male and four female voices, and "Song of the Soil" for four voices, baritone, tenor, contralto, and soprano. Nowhere does Sullivan identify the characters further. The voice differences are enough. When Norman Rosten took the crowded Biblical story of Samson as the basis for his radio verse play "Samson Agonistes," he limited the characters to Samson, his wife Delila, his father Monoa, and Harap, the Philistine. Other voices were

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added for background effects, but these four were the only ones named. Harap represents all the Philistines. Stephen Vincent Benêt presented a few stylized characters in much the same way in "Listen to the People." He has a Narrator, an Angry Voice, a Calm Voice, a Totalitarian Voice, a Mans Voice, and the People's Voices. These suffice for characters in the radio play. D. G. Bridson was careful to stipulate these directions in his production notes for "Aaron's Field": "As the programme takes the form of a morality play all characters are to be played broadly and strongly." Radio verse plays in this respect closely resemble morality plays. In many cases they are morality plays. Archibald MacLeish's The Fall of the City is a good example. Each character is drawn broadly and simply to present one viewpoint. Names are not even given to these characters. The Orator is the pacifist who bolsters his speech with false ideals. The two Messengers apprise the people of what is impending. The Priests represent those religious authorities who urge people to turn from temporal matters. The General is the realist who sees that it is necessary to fight for freedom. The People are swayed by each in turn; then fall prostrate before the Conqueror. Alfred Kreymborg throws light on the problems of the day in his ten "Fables in Verse" by using insects, birds, reptiles, fish, and animals to represent human beings. "Hole in the Wall" introduces mice, who "are evidently human in their economic plight."45 As the mouse steals food because he is hungry, the narrator asks: Is our rich food Much too rich for brotherhood?

"Cricket Wings" brings insects and reptiles together at a concert. This too has a human parallel. "When existence grows too tragic or dull," Kreymborg explains, "we seek an escape in entertainment." "Bud and Baby" are sparrows "who rush into

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marriage and are smitten with the housing problem." "Fish after Fish" discusses "the dilemma of the bourgeoisie." 48 "The Human Ape" condemns the appeasement of the Munich Conference. Other "Fables in Verse" manage to explain evolution, denounce religious persecution in Germany, and speculate on the future of man. These parables bear a striking resemblance to Walt Disney's movie fables, particularly the ones produced while the United States was at war. In the parable the specific illustrates the general principle. In "Listen to the People" Stephen Vincent Benêt speaks of "Jack Brown and Rose Shapiro and Dan Shay," meaning, of course, the various racial groups in America. "Festival," by Albert N. Williams, tells how a few farmers ruined their land by refusing to let it rest, but Williams means all farmers and all land. Kreyenborgs "Ballad of Youth" is the story of an old man who understands a young girl. Actually, the man symbolizes the older generation; the girl, the younger. Norman Corwins Hank Peters in "Untitled" speaks for all soldiers who hope their sacrifice has not been in vain. The symbolism becomes much more complex in some allegorical verse plays. Kreymborg found it necessary to explain the allegorical significance of The Planets: "The drama opens just before the World War ( under Mars ) and continues down to the present upheaval (under Uranus) and touches the future (under Neptune). Though the earth never speaks, she is obviously the heroine." 47 Ruth Lechlitner's entire play "We Are the Rising Wing" is based on the symbol of the phoenix. Gloria Golden, in the play, obviously represents the motion pictures. Once we were yours: In the romance Kissing your shadow: your public Adoring you, blind . . . but afterward, Home to the hard bed. Another way the poet achieves his didactic purpose is to base his play on some historical event, giving the old story a

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modern significance, as we have seen in scripts such as Rosten's "Samson Agonistes," Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans," and MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky." Some plays deliberately avoid using time or place references in order to give the parable the force of universality. MacLeish's The Fall of the City mentions no time at all, because its lesson is meant for all times. MacLeish gives the allegory increased allusive power by skillfully suggesting both Mayan (New World) and Roman (Old World) customs as a background for modern speech and implications. His Air Raid, referring to no particular city or country, warns of the danger to all cities and countries. The magazine Time pointed out a strangely ironic coincidence: Air Raid sounds like the Czechoslovakian situation in September of 1938; yet MacLeish wrote the play in the spring of that year, and revised it in August.48 The poet had anticipated the event. Corwins They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease mentions no city or country either. Corwin even gives the fliers typically American speech, although they are obviously European fascists. Rosten's "Death of a King," aimed at appeasement, mentions no definite king or country. "Universality," one critic observes, "can be more simply achieved in a medium where we are not visually pinned down to a period, a race, or a moment in history, and in which there is nothing to prevent our establishing an infinite number of analogies between east and west, past and present." 40 Yet, as has been demonstrated, the demands of universality often stylize the characters until they are puppets dangling on a didactic string. In radio there are very few exceptions in the rule of few, sharply outlined characters. Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans" is one. Because there was a cast of twenty in the play, the announcer had to warn the audience in advance: "But if the listener is unable to identify the speakers easily this is not important, for the company at the table is the protagonist and there is no one hero, or heroine in this

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play." Whereas Aristotle puts plot first and character second in dramatic importance, the radio poet, it seems, puts thought even above plot and character. TECHNICAL DEVICES

Dialogue is undeniably the warp of a radio play. Sound effects supply the woof. Used effectively, these devices suggest visual details of scene and action to the listener; they can heighten dramatic action, change the pace, shift a scene, and enhance the mood of a play. When Irving Reis organized the Columbia Workshop, he began to use sound the way a poet uses words or a musician, notes. He based his work on several important principles of sound effects: ( 1 ) An acoustically deadened room has a depressing effect on people. ( 2 ) A room with an abnormal amount of reflection stimulates the ear. ( 3 ) While the ear is not so sensitive as the eye, it can judge the distance of sound and give what Irving Reis calls a "space relation to what we hear." (4) Moreover, the ear can judge the direction of sound and (5) can discriminate between sounds, selecting those that are important and neglecting those that are not. Using these principles, Reis developed a sound-effect technique. The first two properties [the depressing effect of a "deadened" room and the stimulating effect of a "lively" room which reflects sound] prove to us that the ear is a new highroad to emotional responses, and emotions are the chords dramatists play upon. The third property tells us we can telegraph space to a listener, and space is the paint for the dramatist's picture. T h e fourth, the ability of the ear to determine the direction of sound, we must drop for the time being because radio is mon-aural [having one ear]. But we will not have to drop it for long. The fifth property, that is, the rejection or acceptance of certain sounds, enables the radio director to balance his backgrounds carefully to create an illusion and yet to keep unnecessary sounds from interfering.

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Now, if these dimensions of pure sound can be used by the radio dramatist for the first time, stimulating the imagination of the listener through a new channel, I think we have at least some valid arguments for those who are too blind to see that the objective of radio drama is not to imitate other art forms, but to prepare for a new one.50 The dramatic effect of MacLeish's The Fall of the City was enhanced enormously by the noise of the milling crowd of 10,000 people in the city square. This is how Irving Reis created that crowd with a comparatively small cast. At a given cue in the script, the crowd would be given a signal to cheer. When the persons around the microphone stopped cheering, the recordings of their own voices were brought in. These sounds took about three seconds to reach the microphone. With careful timing of both on-stage sounds and off-stage recordings, the resulting aural effect, as interpreted by the listeners, sounded exactly like the cheers of a great crowd echoing in the distance.51 Here sound is no mere accompaniment. It is part of the play, in similar fashion Erwin and Eve Spitzer used sound effects to sharpen the satire of their "Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man." Herman is a careful man, believing in Safety First. He has a double lock—the double click is heard; an alarm clock—the bell rings; a coin bank—the coins clink as they are dropped in. Sound effects underline his every action until an explosion announces the air raid that kills Herman. In Auden's "The Dark Valley" the monotonous reiteration of the honking of the goose about to be killed added ironic connotation to the words. Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease depends on throbbing airplane motors, gun shots, the dull explosion of bombs far off, the tinkling of a piano, and the wail of a baby to provide poignant contrast in his bitter commentary on fascist warfare. Sound effects have been used for humorous contrast. Bernard C. Schoenfeld's "Little Johnny Appleseed," for instance, begins with a description of American giants. As Paul Bunyan

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is mentioned, the listener hears "a pair of giant feet treading the earth heavily, synchronizing with the music." Johnny Appleseed's footsteps, however, sound like this: "An ordinary pair of feet walking on crisp leaves." The sound effects alone tell part of the story. But sound effects alone cannot make a successful radio play. They canot make up for bad writing. Corwin praised MacLeish's exciting lines against the background of the murmuring crowd: "Had the lines been weak, the whole effect of mass action would have been ruined and the scene made ridiculous." 52 Sound effects are used to strengthen the essential structure of the play. Sometimes the fewer the effects used, the better the production.53 Judiciously and artistically used, sound effects endow the radio presentation with material existence. Radio writers have learned to use other technical devices to add to the force of the dialogue. An important one of these is the overlap. Corwin defines the overlap as "The superimposition of simultaneous effects." 54 Robert Tallman uses it in "I Sing a New World" to place Walt Whitman in a modern setting. As the words of "I Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair" pour out of the loud-speaker, Whitman asks: "What is it between us? I am with you, men and women of a generation or ever so many generations hence." Albert N. Williams uses the overlap in "The Towers of Hatred" to impose the specific on the generalization. To the chanted accompaniment of names, a man tells of the threat of totalitarianism: They sleep restlessly Feld and Feldman, Foss at nights, Foerster, Fullop, Fuller And wake by fits and starts. . . . Frenan, Frere, Garsen, And when they wake they see. . . . Gelman,Goete, Goldschmitt. . . .

Stephen Vincent Benêt in "A Child Is Born" has the innkeeper's wife talk casually while the chorus intones the words that tell of Jesus' miraculous birth.

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Chorus:

Leah:

In excelsis deo,

I'll go and see

Gloria, gloria,

Wait—I'll rub the window pane

In excelsis deo

It's rimed with frost.

Another device is a special mechanism called a filter, which when connected with the microphone gives the voice a hollow, sepulchral quality. Telephone conversations on the air make use of this instrument. Corwin uses it in They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease to differentiate headquarters' conversation with the bombers from the ordinary dialogue. Because of the eerie quality it gives the voice, this filter is often used for the speaking of "dead men," as in Jacobs' "Prague Is Quiet." An interesting use of the device is found in Milton Robertson's "Dearly Beloved." Here the words the woman is actually thinking are transmitted by the regular microphone, while the hollowness of the words she is writing to her beloved is revealed by the "filter mike." The echo chamber, a device which causes the voice to reverberate, is particularly effective for emphasis or for enhancing the mood of the play, especially when it is dark and gloomy. In Sidney Alexander's "Where Jonathan Came," as the narrator calls out the names of the condemned "witches," the echo chamber proclaims, "Hung!" Kreymborg, who probably was the first poet to use the device, in 1938, in The Planets, has the echo repeat "Doom," "War," and "Blood," to give the words their proper ominous effect. MUSIC

In radio the listener has to accept music as the inevitable ally of drama with such complete absorption that he sometimes forgets the role that music plays in his enjoyment and interpretation. Just as the Elizabethan audience learned to recognize the heroic couplet as a signal that the scene was ending, so the radio listener has accepted a few bars of music as tantamount to the lowering of the curtain. But music

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does more than merely punctuate the play. It enhances the mood, sharpens the intensity of the action, and very often substitutes for words and sound effects. So important is music in radio that original scores have been commissioned for outstanding plays. The role that music plays in the radio verse play is not a new one in the history of drama. "It is from religious exercises, set off always with music and often with dancing," Brander Matthews declares, "that the drama has evolved itself in almost every literature—in Chinese, for example, and again in Sanskrit."55 Music played an important part in Chinese, Japanese, and other early theaters. In the Greek plays more dialogue was sung than was spoken.56 "The glory that was Greece," Horace M. Kallen asserts in Art and Freedom, "was the glory of temple and theatre, of men singing and dancing and enacting sacred roles, of images and monuments of Gods."57 The earliest English plays developed from the dramatization of the chants of the church. The dramatic nature of the chant, supplemented by appropriate gestures, costuming, and even stage properties, led to the development of the sacred play, which, in turn, was eventually succeeded by the secular drama.58 The Greek play, using song, chant, musical accompaniment, and speech, suggests in many ways the radio play of today. The music was utilitarian, subordinated to the poetry. Pure instrumental music as we know it today did not exist on the Greek stage. The actors sang lyric passages accompanied by one or more musical instruments. The flute and the harp were the most popular of these. Inasmuch as the Greeks did not know the laws of harmony, the actors in all but solo parts sang in unison. In addition, other parts were recited or chanted to musical accompaniment.50 Glenn Hughes maintains in The Story of the Theatre that the Greek plays were "a combination of grand opera, Shakespearean tragedy, and modem realistic drama."60

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In the hands of the Romans the music and the dance became so important in some plays that they supplanted the dialogue. The actor became a dancer ( pantomimus ), and the dialogue disappeared. Music accompanied this interpretative dance, which later degenerated into obscenity. 61 Even during the Middle Ages, when the drama was at its dreariest, music was used to accompany poetry. The minstrel wandered through Europe, singing his songs wherever he was received. During the Elizabethan period the song continued to play a definite part in the theater. "In Shakespeare's songs," John Erskine asserts, "we have the highest development of the lyric in the drama." 0 2 The Elizabethan lyric began as a simple poem to be sung. The words were really subservient to the music. When the Italian madrigal became popular in England, English words were written to the music. 63 These lyrics were bare indeed without the musical accompaniment. In the hands of a real poet, however, the song lyric matured in style until it became a literary form no longer dependent on music. By the time of Wyatt and Surrey the song lyric and the literary lyric were two separate patterns. Finally, in Spenser there is no suggestion of the original accompaniment of music. 64 Inasmuch as poetry and music were closely allied at one time, the reason for their separation should be considered. "Music and poetry separated," John Erskine maintains, "when poetry became musical." 6 5 Words and music complement each other only when each performs its own peculiar function. When poetry became so musical that any accompaniment proved an impertinence, then attention was focused on the words. The corollary is true too. If music becomes so important and compelling that words obtrude, then words are dropped. That is apparently what happened in the subsequent development of both arts. The music used to accompany the sacred words of the church developed into the exquisite

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chorales of Bach and finally into the instrumental music of Mozart and Beethoven. The drama which was fused with the music grew in complexity until various types began to be distinguished. Today we have legitimate drama, light opera, musical comedy, grand opera, the revue, vaudeville, burlesque, various types of motion pictures, the circus, the cabaret, and, finally, the radio play. It is in the radio play that music returns to the drama. Of course, grand opera and musical comedy are dramatic forms using music, but there because of language problems the emphasis seems to be on the music rather than on the words. "Of Thee I Sing" and "Carmen Jones" are notable exceptions. The motion pictures, too, have turned to music. In "The Plow That Broke the Plains" Pare Lorentz's poetry was complemented by Virgil Thomson's music. The radio play almost invariably depends on music for mood, development of action, and continuity. The use of music in motion pictures would seem to indicate that music will continue to play an important part in drama even if—or when—television supplants the radio we know today. At present, the radio drama, deprived of visual aids, must depend upon aural devices, of which music is the most effective. Radio drama is couched in simple words presenting simple ideas that can be easily set to musical accompaniment. John Erskine points out that the simple hymns were sung, while the more literary hymns were regarded as poetry, printed in anthologies, and left unsung.68 The words of the popular songs today are simple, indeed, and sound painfully inadequate when read without the music. The radio poet writes his words with full knowledge that music is a necessary complement. Clemence Dane in her preface to The Saviours warns the reader: But I must remind the reader that the music is necessarily missing, and that this music is not mere decoration or accompaniment, but a fair half of the whole scheme. Only those who have heard a

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performance will realize how maimed the text seems without that other half.67 Modern composers have recognized the importance of music on the air. Kurt Weill wrote the music for Maxwell Anderson's "Magna Charta." Virgil Thomson composed the score for Erwin and Eve Spitzer's "Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man." Earl Robinson collaborated with Millard Lampell to write the radio cantata, "The Lonesome Train." Mary Lou Williams and Jeff Anderson wrote the music for Corwin's "boogie-woogie" biographical ballad "Done Got a Medal." Bernard Herrmann and Lyn Murray wrote the music for other Corwin plays. In England, Serge Prokofiev's music written for the motion picture was woven into Louis MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky." How the music is used varies with the play. As noted, even opera has been written for the radio, but that is still rare. Music is most frequently used for punctuation. Just before the radio scene is over, the voices fade into the music, and then the next scene swells into actuality. The continuity of the play is left unbroken, and the radio program acquires a fluidity that the stage play cannot rival. Some script writers use the musical term "segue"—incorrectly, from a strictly technical point of view—to designate this musical transition. 68 Convenient though this device is, it hardly adds to the effectiveness of the play unless it helps create the mood, a function that music can perform superbly. T o create the mood in "Where Jonathan Came," Sidney Alexander describes the music he needs for one transition: "The music crashes and continues stormy; striped with black moods and nervous stirrings. Then it dies off and continues soft with the sound of bats' wings and forest whispers." Most writers are not quite so specific, leaving the exact nature of the score to the judgment of the composer. Norman Rosten, for instance, is content usually to indicate merely where the music is to come in, but in a moment of great intensity when Himmler learns that he

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is in Lidice, Rosten gives this direction in "The People vs. the Unholy Three": "Music: Punctuate with chord: Ominous, hangs like an echo then down behind." In this manner excitement, pathos, anger, fear, and mystery can be suggested by the music. Music can suggest more than mood. It can indicate action too. Corwins "Appointment" is a half-hour play, yet two escapes from a concentration camp occur, as well as other important incidents. Corwin uses music to suggest the escapes, and foreshortens action in this way in order to have time for all the action. When he wrote his Biblical drama "Samson," he sent specific directions to Bernard Herrmann, staff conductor and music director at CBS, concerning the music he wanted. The eye-gouging scene was to be suggested in the following manner: Two effects of extreme dissonance and brutality, to convey the burning out of Samson's eyes. I don't want to do this realistically by plunging a red-hot poker in some water, or by groaning, or anything of the sort. Two brief musical outbursts, that is all.89 Music of this kind must be written specifically for the radio poetry; excerpts from operatic or concert literature are inadequate. It is true that readers of poetry on the air very often require an organ background, but there the use is largely artificial, because the music and the words are not designed for each other, and the reader is really introducing an extraneous element into his program which often detracts from the force of the verse read. But when the music is designed for the words, then a broadcast becomes a rich aural experience. Anyone who has heard Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Murder of Lidice must remember how the light, tripping music that accompanied these lines underlined the savage irony of: An officer walked in Wilson Street, A German officer jaunty and smart; A sabre-cut on his cheek he bore,

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This recitative technique was used by the Greek dramatists and found its way into the opera. A Mozart opera, for instance, is composed of songs separated by recitative, speaking to a musical accompaniment. Some readers may recall that Mr. Skimpole, in Dickens' Bleak House, conducted his ordinary conversation to his own accompaniment on the piano. The radio makes more serious use of this musical device. In Violet Atkins' "Treasury Star Parade" program "I Saw the Lights Go Out in Europe," Edward Kilenyi, the pianist, spoke as he played. When he played a Chopin ballade he turned to Poland: Poland did not want war. There was music played. . . . And operas sung. . . . And love and mating. . . . And the grass sprung From earth that was not yet a bloodied earth. (Music builds) But—Hitler sat in Berchtesgaden, Like a fat spider, sprawled and waiting, As he had waited for Schuschnigg! (Low Kilenyi chord) For Horthy! (Kilenyi chord) For Chamberlain! (Kilenyi chord) For Munich! (Kilenyi music up, angry—down in sorrowful mood.)

71

When the speaking becomes a chant in chorus, the musical accompaniment is not even needed. The Koralites, a verse choir group, have been instrumental in developing this technique on the radio. They speak chorally, blending low and high voices in harmony to give radio poetry vitality and tonal color. Norman Corwin used them on many of his programs, and the Columbia Workshop called upon them very frequently for its verse plays.72 Choral speaking on the radio offers very many interesting possibilities. Sometimes music is so much part of the action that it can-

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not be dissociated from the play. Archibald MacLeish uses the ordinary scale sung by a woman to bring Air Raid to a shattering end. The diminishing music note again. Over it the voice of the Singing Woman rising in a slow screaming scale of the purest agony broken at last on the unbearably highest note. The diminishing drone of the planes fades into actual silence.73

In one case the poet deliberately distorts the music for dramatic effect. Instead of representing the music, he misrepresents it. In this respect Harry Kleiner's "Requiem in A" can be compared to the motion picture "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." In the film the director threw the picture out of focus because the madman telling the story could not be expected to see things normally. In "Requiem in A," a story of Robert Schumann's insanity, the composer hears the note A even when he calls for C#. The audience hears the same note heard by the distracted musician and consequently shares his affliction. As the play progresses, Schumann's "Manfred" tangles with "Parsifal" until the result is a horrible jumble. Thus Schumann's growing madness is graphed vividly by the discordant music. The flexibility of radio is shown by the increase of aural opportunities as a result of visual restrictions. The poet can use speech, musical accompaniment, chant, which is musical in itself, opera, and even pure music. Radio dissolves the boundaries between the aural arts and presents a fused combination of them all. SILENCE

Silence on the radio is, perhaps, the most dramatic "sound effect" of all, because there is so little of it. The radio audience has become so accustomed to a constant flow of words and music that a brief silence, hardly noticeable on the stage, becomes portentous and almost unbearable on the air. Says

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Corwin, in "Anatomy of Sound," a prose script: "Nine seconds don't seem long in casual pursuits, but in a radio studio they amount, roughly, to forty years." MacLeish, in The Fall of the City, has the noise of the crowd diminish and fade into an expectant silence as the dead woman is about to speak. The hush is magnified because the audience cannot see what is happening. When the dead woman finally does break the silence, her words acquire additional significance. The director, of course, very often is responsible for the use of these devices, but the radio poet has learned to write the silence into the script. After the judge pronounces the sentence of death on Giles Cory, in "Where Jonathan Came," Sidney Alexander writes these directions. There is a wolflike roar from the crowd. The music has now spiraled to its peak and after the judge's pronouncement, it crashes, breaks into little fragments, and fades away. There is absolute silence for a moment and then Giles' voice is heard again. Silence has always been important in drama. Its use in the following excerpt from Rosten's "Paris Incident" seems in no way different from what it would be on the stage. Captain: Trooper: Trooper Trooper

Well, madame—will you talk now? (Silence) Who are your confederates? (Pause) Come—speak! 2: Wo sind sie? (Silence) 3: wo VERSTECKEN SIE SICH? (Silence)

Yet there is this essential difference. The audience cannot see what is happening, and thus the silence, magnified by the listener's uncertainty, intensifies the suspense. THE

CHORUS

The fragmentary nature of radio drama calls for a cohesive force to give it unity and focus. The announcer or narrator serves that purpose. He is not a new figure in the theater; he appeared a long time ago in the ancient Greek plays. Then

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he was the coryphaeus, or leader of the chorus. The Greek chorus was used to comment, to describe, to foreshorten action, to explain, to emphasize, to repeat, and to tie the play together. Sometimes the chorus spoke in unison, sometimes it was broken up into contrasting groups, and sometimes the leader spoke alone. In the hands of the artist, the chorus was a very dramatic instrument that participated in the action, commented on it, and very often expressed the author's viewpoint. In Aeschylus' Agamemnon the chorus summarizes the situation for the audience. Nine years are gone, and the tenth is here, Since he whom Priam has cause to fear . . ,74 It creates the mood. What means this haunting Fear Incessant hovering near To scare my prescient heart with vague unrest? 75 It repeats for the benefit of the audience. The sum of all your counsels, then, is this : That we make certain how it goes with the king.70 It comments. Reproaches cross. The battle is hard to judge. Robber is robbed, slayer slain. Revenge is sure. Firm stands, while Zeus remains upon his throne, One law, "Who doeth shall suffer." 77 Some of the Elizabethan dramatists tried to revive the classic chorus in imitation of Seneca, but these plays never became popular. They were limited to the academic stage, if they were acted at all.78 The popular Elizabethan play used lyrics, but found the chorus an unwieldy instrument. On the radio stage, the same chorus has a much more natural place. On the modern stage, the narrator in Thornton Wilder's

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Our Town suggests at once the Greek coryphaeus and the modern radio commentator. In the motion picture "Moon and Sixpence" a similar use of the narrator was made. In radio, however, the narrator is a perfectly natural and necessary figure. He is the announcer who must keep the audience informed. The listener does not have to make any concessions to reality as he does in Our Town or "Moon and Sixpence." Archibald MacLeish found the radio commentator essential for poetic drama. For years modern poets writing for the stage have felt the necessity of contriving some sort of chorus, some sort of commentator. . . . But this chorus, this commentator, has always presented an extremely awkward practical problem. How justify its existence dramatically? How get it in? How get it off again? In radio this difficulty is removed before it occurs. The commentator is an integral part of radio technique. His presence is as natural as it is familiar. And his presence, without more, restores to the poet that obliquity, that perspective, that three-dimensional depth without which great poetic drama cannot exist.79 The announcer in The Fall of the City takes the radio audience to the square of the city and describes the action as it mounts in intensity. In Air Raid he is on the roof of a tenement, bringing the tragedy of a betrayed and betraying civilization into the living room of the listener. Because the radio commands such a great audience, the announcer has become the public spokesman. MacLeish uses the narrator as a fixed figure around whom the action swirls. That was the Greek method. Corwin reverses the procedure in They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease. Here, as we have seen, the narrator is given a symbolic mobility. He travels with the bombers; then moves ahead to describe the city. Excuse us: well go on ahead to see. Allow us to precede you. We flash ahead

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As fast as thought anticipates a deed And here we are: the city. . . . The narrator in Bernard Dryer's "Winged Victory" is given the same mobility. He travels with the shell fired out of the cannon, and then remarks: "Let's move ahead of this shell." Emerging as the central figure in the verse drama, the narrator can even tell part of the story to foreshorten action and bind the separate scenes. In D. G. Bridson's "The March of the ' 4 5 ' " and in Louis MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky" the battles are described, not dramatized. In Maxwell Anderson's "Magna Charta" the announcer tells most of the story, pausing every now and then to permit an illustrative dramatic scene. The use of narration in a play is one of radio's distinct contributions to dramatic technique. 80 Most radio plays make use of the single announcer. In radio verse plays, however, the role of the narrator is entrusted often to several voices and sometimes to several choruses with consequent opportunities for varied choral effects. "The Fulton Fish Market," by Kimball Flaccus, uses a narrator and a male and female chorus for emphasis, repetition, and comment. In the radio presentation the verse choir group, the Koralites, acted as the chorus. John LaTouche, in "The Traitor," uses five voices as narrators, sometimes singly, sometimes together. These voices constitute the Greek chorus of earlier days. LaTouche's "Ballad for Americans," originally written for the stage, employs the same chorus technique, and it is significant that it won its great popularity on the radio. The function of the chorus remains exactly what it was at the time of Aeschylus. "The chorus too," according to Aristotle, "should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an integral part of the whole, and take a share in the action." 81 It relates the passage of time in Sherwood Anderson's "Textiles." Now the day of the hand loom has passed. Life is speeding up.

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In Rosten's "The Ballad of Bataan" it summarizes action, foreshortening for radio purposes. The chorus tells how Corregidor was taken. They took it by the backdoor of hunger, and thirst, the backdoor of disease. It illustrates with specific instances in Wyllis Cooper's "Army Hour." Announcer: We the people from the little towns with the earthly names: Chorus: Eagle Grove . . . Sank Center . . . Green Valley . . . Dobbs Ferry . . . Tomkinsville . . . Lake Charles . . . It boasts in Benét's "Listen to the People." We built the cities and the skyscrapers, All the proud steel. We built them up so high The eagles lost their way. It taunts in Kleiners "Requiem in A." You will never write again . . . You are mad with music Music is for your madness only . . . It comments ironically in Rosten's "Samson Agonistes." The old man bargained and we're beaten. And it affirms the high purpose of civilization in Schoenfeld's "What W e Defend." We defend the right to be an individual To be ourselves To dream our dreams . . . In this way the chorus serves as a very convenient channel for the didactic aims of radio poetry. THE ENDING

T h e radio writer has no time to spin out his last words; he must hurry to make way for the next program. Neverthe-

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less, the listener has become so accustomed to rapid transitions that unless the conclusion is definite and unmistakable, the ending may catch him by surprise. At the end, therefore, the poet very frequently summarizes the theme of the play, as in Stephen Vincent Benét's "They B u m e d the Books." We The The The

are waiting, Adolf Hitler. books are waiting, Adolf Hitler. fire is waiting, Adolf Hitler. Lord God of Hosts is waiting, Adolf Hitler.

Norman Corwin, trained specifically in writing for the radio, closes his plays with even greater finality. This is the ending of "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas": This is I. Remember me, your sotto voce friend? I've just come back to tell you that the story's at an end. "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget" concludes: The budget balances. The budget balances. Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye. T h e music swells in volume; the play ends. The next program is ready to go on. THE DRAMATIC CONFLICT

T h e radio play, despite its many scenes, sound effects, music, and choruses, is basically simple. T h e plot is stripped of all intricacies. The story of almost any verse drama can be told, therefore, in very few words. In The Fall of the City the people are warned that they must fight for their freedom, but they fall prostrate before a conqueror of their own making. In Air Raid defenseless women refuse to believe that they will be attacked. Then the bombs fall. They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease tells how a ruthless enemy bombs a peaceful people. At the end the bomber is shot down. "They Burned the Books" proclaims that no fire can burn out the human spirit; fascism will go the way of all tyrannies.

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There is a characteristic lack of individual conflict in these plays, conflict which generally is the sine qua non of the theater. In marked contrast is the succession of entanglements in the daytime serials or "soap operas." 82 The husband loses his money; he falls in love with another woman; he loses his job; he meets with an accident—these are the personal tribulations that are notably lacking in the radio verse drama. The radio verse play is a social document. In a narrow sense, frequently it is not a play at all. Stephen Vincent Benét's Nightmare at Noon and "Listen to the People" are dramatic in form, but they have no plot structure. There is no "story." The first warns us that fascism can come to America. The second insists that the people will not fail; they will win. There is conflict, but it is the conflict of ideas. It is a conflict between two ways of life. That is the basic dramatic material in most of the verse plays. Intricate plot may be desirable in a mystery play; in a didactic play it is a hindrance. If necessary, the story element is scrapped, and the play becomes panorama or polemic, or both. These are propaganda plays. The audience must be swayed. "And the conflicts that are resolved," Frederick Morton observes, in Theatre Arts Monthly, "are not chiefly between dramatis personae but between the theme of the play and the mind of the audience. You, the listener, are the drama's obstacle that needs to be overcome or focused into action." 83

4 POETIC TECHNIQUE OF THE RADIO V E R S E PLAY

LANGUAGE COMMUNICATES B Y MEANS O F S Y M B O L S

which are translated into action, feeling, or thought. The word "go," for instance, is merely a symbol which must be transmitted into motion. This symbolic process, according to Susanne Κ. Langer, in Philosophy in a New Key, forms the very basis of thinking, dreaming, and aspiration. Ideas are undoubtedly made of impressions—out of sense messages from the special organs of perception, and vague visceral reports of feelings. The law by which they are made, however, is not a law of direct combination. . . . Ideation proceeds by a more potent principle of symbolization. The material furnished by the senses is constantly wrought into symbols, which are our elementary ideas. Some of these ideas can be combined and manipulated in the manner we call "reasoning." Others do not lend themselves to this use, but are naturally telescoped into dreams, or vapor off into conscious fantasy; and a vast number of them build the most typical and fundamental edifice of the human mind—religion.1 Literature, as a medium of language, depends on the symbolism of words and experiences common to both reader and writer to effect communication. George H. Mead, late professor of social philosophy at the University of Chicago, analyzed the symbolic process in drama thus: The vast importance of media of communication such as those involved in journalism is seen at once, since they report situations through which one can enter into the attitude and experience of other persons. The drama has served this function in presenting what have been felt to be important situations. It has picked out characters which lie in men's minds from tradition, as the Greeks did in their tragedies, and then expressed through these characters

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situations which belong to their own time but which carry the individuals beyond the actual fixed walls which have arisen between them, as members of different classes in the community. . . . You cannot build up a society out of elements that lie outside of the individual's life-processes. . . . You cannot start to communicate with people in Mars and set up a society where you have no antecedent relationship.2 Establishing an "antecedent relationship" is a highly complicated process. Simple words have complex connotations. 3 The word "Hitler" is a symbol which means anathema to us, but to the German people it meant panacea. As the audience increases, the number of common symbols necessarily decreases. "Since the newspaper, book, or radio audience is larger than the lecture audience, the symbols used must be simpler." 4 In poetry, meaning transcends mere verbal connotations, because inherent in the symbolism of the verse are factors such as form, rhyme, tonal quality, and rhythm. To cite Susanne Κ. Langer again: Artistic symbols . . . are untranslatable; their sense is bound to the particular form which it has taken. It is always implicit, and cannot be explicated by any interpretation. This is true even of poetry, for though the material of poetry is verbal, its import is not the literal assertion made in the words, but the way the assertion is made, and this involves the sound, the tempo, the aura of association of the words, the long or short sequence of ideas, the wealth or poverty of transient imagery that contains them, the sudden arrest of fantasy by pure fact, or of familiar fact by sudden fantasy, the suspense of the literal meaning by a sustained ambiguity resolved in a long-awaited key-word, and the unifying, all-embracing artifice of rhythm.5 THE SYMBOLIC PROCESS IN RADIO POETRY

In radio poetry symbolism goes beyond even these factors, because between the listener and the writer are the intermediaries of the actor, the sound effects, the music, and the in-

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strument itself. Thus, characters, words, music, actors, and the radio become symbols through which the audience is influenced. These symbols are based on the listener's experience, including experience with motion pictures, newspapers, and books. To take a case in point, a Japanese now has become associated inevitably with evil and treachery as a result of the motion picture, newspaper, and radio barrage. A Japanese, therefore, denotes and connotes evil as soon as he appears in any play and says, "So sorry, please." Similarly, Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito people the verse plays of Norman Corwin, Norman Rosten, Stephen Vincent Benêt, and others, because they are convenient symbols of evil that the radio audience has learned to recognize at once. On the other hand, the American and the Englishman are the embodiment of things good and noble. This passage from Norman Corwin's "The Enemy," one of the programs in "This Is War!" demonstrates how the radio writer depends on such symbols as the audience recognizes at once. These are the holy men who planned and ordered the unholy things . . . they and their circle of cutthroats. . . . The Emperor's autograph, the Fuehrer's scrawl, the signature of Mussolini are scratched across the bloated belly of every infant who has starved to death; the fingerprints of Tojo and of Goering and of Hess, of Ciano and Nomura, they stand out clearly on the necks of thousands hanged for being loyal to their countries. Characters in radio verse plays of this kind, as we have seen, become stereotypes. Stereotyping is essentially the method of propaganda. "To be successful," LaPiere and Farns worth point out, "he [the propagandist] must erect a supercosmic drama in which his person or the idea he represents becomes stereotyped as a kind of hero or, in some instances, as a heroine." 6 In the hands of the demagogue this technique becomes a very dangerous weapon. As Cantril and Allport explain, in The Psychology of Radio, "a sound argument is always less important for the demagogue than are

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weighted words. Senator Long has allied himself in his discourses with God, King Solomon, Christ, the Pilgrim Fathers, Bacon, Milton, Shakespeare, Plato, Socrates, and Abraham Lincoln. By the trick of verbal juxtaposition the glory that is there is made to shine upon him. Father Coughlin's listeners are "brothers in Christ,' but bankers are 'grinning devils/ and Communism has a 'red serpent head.' " 7 Obviously, there is great danger in stereotyped symbolism of this kind. It is convenient because people respond easily, but this readiness to respond bears great menace. People become conditioned; they react without thinking to catch phrases and slogans. The demagogue uses words such as "freedom," "democracy," and "liberty" with perhaps more facility than does the sincere patriot. According to LaPiere and Farnsworth, "This tendency on the part of people in our hurried and divergent social life to behave in terms of stereotypes rather than in terms of actual personalities has led to the practice of providing people in public life with characteristics which will get them put into desirable stereotypes by the general public." 8 During the war, the Writers' War Board, in a pamphlet issued in 1945, How Writers Perpetuate Stereotypes, a digest of data prepared by Columbia University's Bureau of Social Research, maintained that the use of "stock characters" in plays, novels, short stories, motion pictures, radio programs, newspapers, and advertising copy was "unconsciously fostering and encouraging group prejudice." 9 Yet dependence on symbols that the public recognizes instantaneously does not necessarily mean dependence on stereotypes. That is the easy, time-saving way, but soon stereotypes wear out, and others have to be substituted. The town of Lidice has been used as a symbol of martyrdom until it is questionable whether the public responds to it. The word has become cliché. "Tolerance," "freedom," "democracy," and the like, supported only by insistence and reiteration, probably

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suffer the same fate. But in the hands of the sensitive and skillful dramatist, the simple symbols can become powerful tools in shaping people's thoughts and emotions. Stephen Vincent Benét's "They Burned the Books" serves as a good example. Hitler is represented as a tyrant, which is probably the most common symbol used in connection with him. Yet Benêt takes the listener through history and a long succession of tyrants to prove that tyrants have always existed and that civilization has been the struggle between freedom and oppression. The great spirits of the past—Milton, Swift, Schiller, Heine, Clemens—testify that all great tyrants have tried to kill man's spirit, and that all have failed. In the light of this background the audience fits Hitler into his proper niche and joins the fight against oppression. Another example can be found in Norman Corwin's "New York—a Tapestry for Radio." The use of the metropolis as a symbol of internationalism at work is a happy one, because all Americans know that New York is a polyglot, cosmopolitan community. The picture of this city crowded with different races, customs, languages, and nationalities living in peace becomes an effective symbol because it translates internationalism into terms and experiences that the listener knows and appreciates. Sometimes, in an effort to avoid the conventional symbol, the radio poet may go too far afield. In Corwin's "There Will Be Time Later" he bases an entire scene on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. In another part he speaks of "a clash of swords against Achilles' shield." It is questionable whether these symbols communicate anything to but a small percentage of the radio audience. Similarly the symbol of the phoenix in Ruth Lechlitner's "We Are the Rising Wing" seems to be obscure for most of the listeners. This does not preclude the use of symbols with which the audience is not familiar, but it does mean that the poet has to develop them in terms the audience already knows. In MacLeish's The Fall of the City

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a conqueror who has no material existence is hardly a concept the radio audience would understand and accept. But the audience is prepared for the symbol; it is given a frame of reference on which to construct an interpretation of the symbol. MacLeish has the dead woman warn the people that masterless men will take a master. The messengers tell them what is happening elsewhere. The General explains that the people will have to fight. By the time the Conqueror comes, the audience recognizes that people create their own masters. Final corroboration comes at the end of the play, when the helmet of the Conqueror opens and it is found to be empty. In radio, however, even the weak phrase can acquire strength as the result of accent, stress, inflection, and timber of the voice. A clever reader can transform a banal passage into what sounds like glowing poetry. There is symbolism inherent in the voice of the actor. To go even further, there is symbolism in the name of the actor himself. The radio audience knows Hollywood stars intimately. Frederic March, Charles Laughton, Herbert Marshall, and others are more than names. Motion pictures have built them up until they become representative of everything that is appealing. When Frederic March read "Untitled" on the air, the audience probably endowed the verse with the same symbolic quality that it attached to the star. To add impact to its programs "The Treasury Star Parade" used Lynn Fontanne, Frederic March, Alfred Lunt, Walter Huston, Joan Blondell, Bette Davis, Henry Hull, and Robert Montgomery not only for their acting skill but also for the power and authority of Hollywood and Broadway. The music itself is symbolic. In the midst of a war, no matter how feeble the words of the drama may be, the strains of the "Star Spangled Banner" will arouse patriotic fervor. A stirring march will create excitement; a funeral march may bring on tears. In the motion picture "The White Cliffs of

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Dover" Sousa's martial music that heralded the arrival of the first American contingent of soldiers in England aroused a storm of applause from the audience. In radio the music becomes even more symbolic because it must substitute for the eyes. Finally, the voice of radio itself becomes, possibly, the most effective symbol of immediacy. The radio brings outside events into the privacy of the home. People listen for news and entertainment. The man who used to say "It must be so; I read it in the paper" probably has changed to, "I heard it on the radio." According to Lennox Grey, in What Communication Means Today : We have four centuries of increasing print-mindedness, and decreasing ear-mindedness. Suddenly that trend is reversed. We can hardly believe it. But we had better believe it, for careful surveys by the Office of Radio Research have shown that Americans are more inclined to believe what they hear on the radio than what they read in newspapers.10

Because radio uses the immediate concerns and emotions of the people, the audience comes prepared to react even to the most threadbare of symbols. It is in the light of a symbolism necessary for the vast listening audience that radio poetry technique must be examined. A POETRY OF PUBLIC SPEECH

Long before poetry was written, it was chanted to people who were hungry for words. The story of the Odyssey must have been sung for generations before Homer wrote it. Beowulf must have grown that way. The poet was the storyteller who entertained, persuaded, and inspired. His was the poetry of the spoken word, the poetry of public speech. The content and the technique were determined by the demands of a large audience of listeners. With the invention of printing, the nature of the audience

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changed. The poet wrote often for the single reader locked in the privacy of his home. As a result, poetry became more personal, more individual in its appeal. The broad lines of public speech were broken into the many tributaries of private communication. The poetic drama, however, retained the original function of verse. Shakespeare wrote Hamlet for an audience that shared poetry as a common experience. His sonnets, on the other hand, were the expression of quiet and secret thoughts. An interesting comparison can be made of the rhythm in Hamlet, let us say, and any one of his sonnets. Iambic pentameter is used in both instances, but whereas the line in the sonnet usually scans easily, the blank verse in the play is punctuated by pauses, numerous irregularities, and interjections. The sonnet is the poetry of the book; the play is the poetry of public speech. For that reason Hamlet can be presented on the modern stage with great success. Shelley's The Cenci cannot. Shelley failed as many poets who wrote for the stage failed; he wrote fine poetry, but not fine dialogue. In "The Music of Poetry," T. S. Eliot criticized the nineteenth-century verse plays on that score. It is not primarily lack of plot or lack of action and suspense, or imperfect realization of character, or lack of anything of what is called "theatre" that makes these plays so lifeless: it is primarily that their rhythm of speech is something that we cannot associate with any human being except a poetry reciter. 11

Written for the mass audience of millions, radio poetry uses the idiom of common speech. The words are the words of the people talking. THE LANGUAGE OF RADIO POETRY

While poets like Sandburg found the radio a natural medium for their "public" verse, others were forced to change their style, for radio poetry at all times must be simple and

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clear. It is controlled by the heterogeneity of the audience, and the physical limitations of the ear, which cannot dart back to clear up difficult points. Radio poetry, therefore, usually presents ideas in simple, everyday words, repeating frequently, so that even the inattentive listener finally catches the import of the lines. The language of radio is lucid to the point of transparency. Two striking examples of this lucidity of verse for the air can be found in the work of Eve Merriam in the United States and Louis MacNeice in England. Miss Merriam's nonradio verse has appeared in many magazines. It is what is known as "intellectual" poetry. The reader must explore each word to understand the full meaning of the lines. How measure exact degrees of evil? Pleading that flabby oval is less round than vicious circle? 12

Yet when she wrote "Song of the Scorched Earth," a radio poem for Russian War Relief, she deliberately simplified the verse to such an extent that she admitted it did not sound like her work at all.13 Said the Soviet land "I will feed no fascist hand. I who have served the towering Soviet state, the great one-sixth of the earth, would be cramped inside your crawling Nazi lie. . . ."

Louis MacNeice also writes what may be termed "difficult" verse. Warmed and cajoled by the silence, the cowed cipher revives, Mirrors himself in the cases of pots, paces himself by marble lines, Makes believe it was he that was the glory that was Rome, Soft on his cheek the nimbus of other people's martyrdom, And then returns to the street, his mind an arena where sprawls Any number of consumptive Keatses and dying Gauls.14

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MacNeice's radio play "Alexander Nevsky" is much more direct. We have learnt our lesson and so, I hope, have the Germans. They thought that Russia was an easy prey, They thought to pick off our cities one by one, They thought that their brute strength would conquer the Russian soul— They made a grave mistake. Davidson Taylor, of CBS, in an address delivered before the Poetry Society of America, warned the "obscure" poet to stay away from radio. Two styles of poetic composition were practised by the troubadours: the "trobar ciar," a simple, direct style, and the "trobar clus," obscure, complex and sophisticated. . . . But every artist has to decide whether he is on the side of the "trobar ciar" or the "trobar clus." If the latter, he had better stay away from radio. If the former, radio welcomes him. Poetry is not necessarily disreputable, because it can move multitudes. After all, it was said of Jesus that "the common people heard him gladly." 15 MacLeish's Air Raid is written largely in words of one or two syllables. They lean there careless and talking: Their shawls are bright in the doors: The morning air's on their apron: 16 Radio language leans toward the colloquial. Benét's Nightmare at Noon contains expressions like these: What's that, brother? Double talk? The dopes who write "Jimmy's a dope" on the tunnel walls. In Kreymborg's The Planets, Jupiter asks: "And where are they now?" The Second Man answers: "In the soup, sir." Ruth Lechlitner, in "We Are the Rising Wing," speaks of the "Moll to the Big Shot." John La Touche, in "The Traitor," uses a "New Yorkese" dialect in his verse about Benedict Arnold.

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I read in de paper—a general was a rat Sold our Geòrgie Washington, and took a powder. Irve Tunick, in "Builders of American Aircraft," brings in a baseball reference: "The Dodgers could use an extra pitcher." Even the English verse plays, generally more restrained, have learned to use American slang. In D. G. Bridson's "Aaron's Field," written completely in verse, the tourists say: "We'll come this week, if it's O.K. by you." Aaron answers: "It's not O.K." Corwin believes that even interjections like "mmm" and "let me see" have a definite place in radio poetry, because they are essential parts of our speech pattern. 17 Removed from its contextual relationship, language like this sounds very much like prose. But set to the pulse of common speech, these simple colloquial words may be given a significance that is poetic. An excerpt from Norman Rosten's "Miss Liberty Goes to Town" is a good example of this transformation. Maybe we don't know all the lines after "O, say can you see" but we've got the song in our blood We're the people, mister. We keep coming up after the wars, depressions, the famines, the minor and major disasters. The land sinks under the sea in one place and she rises clean and free in another. And we're on the land, The U.S.A. land. This poetry of public speech resembles the poetry of Walt Whitman, Carl Sandburg, and many other modern writers who are sometimes called "proletarian" poets. The reason is obvious. These poets have sought to write for a simple audience. They want to be heard and understood. Naturally, the figures of speech must be clear and simple

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too, appealing to the experience of the average listener. As Corwin put it: There is no retina of the ear to carry over syllables as the eye does images; hence the radio writer's imagery must never be too intense, or shot at the listener too fast. It must be directly communicable and easily assimilated, or it has no right to be on the air.18 Thus, Benêt uses very simple comparisons in Nightmare at Noon: There are black children and white and the anxious teachers Who keep counting them like chickens. [Words] Strong as tanks, explosive as the bombs. In "The Ballad of Bataan" Norman Rosten tells how . . . the drywind came in from the sea at noon like a blowtorch. Corwin, in They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease, speaks of "churches sticking steeple-swords into the sky." The little village in Bernard C. Schoenfeld's "Little Johnny Appleseed" is "lovely as a young girl is lovely," and in MacLeish's The Fall of the City the people "whirl from the streets like wild leaves on a wind." MacLeish's imagery for the radio contrasts sharply with the figures he wrote for the stage. Air Raid uses obvious imagery, rooted in common experience: The beer comes out of the bottles: so does the talk too.19 Like swinging a colt on a bridle.20 As geese do coming inland.21 The figures in his stage drama Panic are much more subtle: Deeds are the brittle keepers. Our time's fame is Reef coral: dead ones erected it: life Sucks at the edge with salt bitterness.22 Not all radio poetry is couched in this staple, unpretentious language, of course. First of all, poetry written simply is not

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always lucid. Kreymborg's The Planets ends with a voice saying: "The exquisite voices fade away. Silence. An invisible curtain falls. Or doesn't it fall? Is there no curtain? Silence. . . ." It is this type of cryptic speech that makes Corwin call The Planets unsuitable for radio.23 Again, some writers maintain the poet's privilege of assigning elevated speech even to the simplest character. The shepherd in Christopher Hassall's BBC play, "Devil's Dyke," says: "I am a shepherd of the simplest learning," but in his very next speech he seems quite learned indeed: But do not scorn, haughty with knowledge, The ancient magic of simplicity, Nor strive to better the accepted forms Of intercession, trustfully bequeathed Lake heirlooms as the generation die. There are examples of imagery in radio poetry, moreover, that are genuinely difficult. Joseph Liss, in the Columbia Workshop play "Story of Dogtown Common," describes the fog swallowing "the crushed planks of head-on prows, feeding the gourmand brine with twine twisted nets and raw flesh bones." The following excerpt from A. M. Sullivan's "A Day in Manhattan," another Workshop play, would certainly baffle the ordinary listener. Pentelicus bore the Parthenon To the soul of Phidias; The shrine of Pallas Perches like an ivory coronet On the brow of the Acropolis.24 And in his "Midnight Caravan" there occurs such a rapid succession of images that the ear cannot possibly assimilate them: Dynamos pause in a purr as darkness erases bright squares from the blackboard And sleep is a loom where men weave a raiment of pride to cover the scars of their ego.

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A city may slumber in peace when the wheels of its hunger slow down to the hours of silence.25

When Sullivan was asked about these difficult figures, he admitted that they were "too complicated for radio." He felt, nevertheless, that there was a kind of "infection" quality- in poetry which transmitted the effect although some of the images were missed.26 Mitchell Grayson, former director of dramatics at WNYC, New York, agreed with Sullivan. Shown a difficult figure of speech in a play he had produced, Sidney Alexander's "Where Jonathan Came," he insisted that the audience would catch the meaning because the poetry was sufficiently vivid and dramatic.27 Even Corwin violates the very rule of easily-communicable figures that he promulgated. In "Priming the Prime Primer" Milton Robertson satirizes the difficulty of Corwin's imagery. S stands for subtlety, and to illustrate subtlety, Robertson quotes from Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease: Our rhythms jangle at the very start, Our similes concede defeat, For there is nothing that can be compared to that which lies beyond compare. You see? We are reduced already to tautologies.

A Voice breaks in with a sharp whistle: "Boy . . . that sure is subtle!" But perhaps these poets are not so much interested in metaphorical clarity or consistency as they are in a kind of "flash" impression which is like the "flash" impression of conversation. Images are flashed upon the ear and mind for a kind of complex "cluster" impression, so that many images —some of them even missed—create a symbolic meaning that the audience can assimilate. To illustrate, the listener yields an instantaneous, emotional response to this cluster of images in Fanya Foss Lawrence's "The Fountain of Dancing Children."

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Here then is the song of the Iron Children It flashes like the sun in a mirror It warms like fire It will deck your hair with flowers Listen, bitter and anguished children of the world Children of China! Here is a song which will fill your empty rice bowls Children of France, Spain, Greece Here is your milk and honey It will smash the ghetto walls of Poland It will crack the concentration camps and prisons.28 The fact that the poet writes in the language of his time is hardly a startling revelation. Shakespeare wrote in the idiom of his day. The most notable poets do. There is one law, T. S. Eliot declares, that poetry must obey: "the law that poetry must not stray too far from the ordinary everyday language which we use and hear. Whether poetry is accentual or syllabic, rhymed or rhymeless, formal or free, it cannot afford to lose its contact with the changing language of common intercourse."29 The seeming limitations of radio, therefore, are the poet's greatest opportunity, for they challenge him to use the dramatic language of conversation, and as a result, his poetiy becomes a vital force in the lives of his people. THE RHYTHM OF RADIO POETRY

The student of literature would commonly suppose that blank verse would be the form best suited to radio verse plays. MacLeish holds that blank verse is anachronistic today. In the introduction to his stage play Panic he wrote: . . . the rhythm of blank verse and the rhythms of the spoken language of our country are precisely opposed. The rhythm of blank verse is spacious, slow, noble, and elevated. It moves forward in muscular iambic march. . . . It is the poetic counterpart of a language—but of a language spoken in deliberate ages

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by violent and deliberate men: men ceremonial in their hatreds, deliberate even in their laughter. The rhythms of contemporary American speech on the other hand are nervous, not muscular; excited not deliberate; vivid not proud. . . . The voices of men talking intently to each other in the offices or the mills or in the streets of the country descend from, stressed syllables; they do not rise toward stressed syllables as do the voices of men speaking in Shakespeare's plays. . . . The American language is a language of accents. Its most marked characteristic is its accentual strength—a strength which the more even, toneless, British tongue rarely achieves. And its whole beauty and color, its great vigor and vitality, result from the sharpness and distinction of its stresses.30 In an effort to pattern his verse form on American speech, MacLeish constructed a five-beat line with the stress determined by the sense, not the number of syllables. His line has as few as five syllables sometimes, and at other times as many as seventeen. The rhythm descends from a strong first syllable instead of ascending as in iambic verse. MacLeish did not develop his poetic line for radio use. A study of Conquistador and Panic reveals that he had been using this strong, flexible rhythm, which in many ways resembles Anglo-Saxon verse, long before he wrote for radio. Evidently he found it useful for broadcasting because it was a pattern based on speech rhythms. The American stress, as MacLeish hears it, is illustrated in the statement of the Studio Director in Air Raid. Those of you who driving from some visit Finger the button on the dashboard dial Until the metal trembles like a medium in a trance And tells you what is happening in France Or China or in Spain or some such country 31 In advertising literature, acutely sensitive to the rhythms of everyday speech, we find the same kind of strong, initial stress. Leafing through the June 5, 1944, issue of Time, we

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may pick out at random examples of advertising slogans such as: "Think Ahead Electrically," "Bullets pull the hole in after them!," "How to tell when it's time," "Finding tomorrow's answers today," "Dig for Victory," "Don't listen to idle rumors," "Wrapping up jobs is a packaging problem," "PM for Pleasant Moments," "How to make money out of your office," and "Saving Fuel is Our Business." This similarity between radio verse and advertising slogans is not accidental. Both depend on the cadence of conversation to catch and keep attention. The narrator in Norman Rosten's "Cavalcade of America" program "The Road to Victory" comments informally: December 7, 1941 A windy day, not too cold . . . Sunday—a good day for taking it easy. Buy a paper. Read a book. Start the radio. Lean back and look over the roto, the comics, see how Dick Tracy made out. Sleep it off, sleep late, plenty of time. Take it easy, America, this is your day. There is a strong, imperative stress in these lines with no effort made to allocate a fixed number of syllables to each line. If anything, it is the voice that supplies the cadence, accenting and pausing to give the lines the rhythmic quality of a man speaking quietly to an audience. Stephen Vincent Benét's "Listen to the People" has the same conversational cadence: This is the firecracker day for sunburnt kids, The day of the parade, Slambanging down the street. Listen to the parade! There's J. K. Burney's float These lines defy the ordinary rules of scansion; they are not predominantly iambic, trochaic, or dactylic. But there is a regular recurrence of stress that makes these lines rhythmic

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when read aloud. That is the key to the study of meter in radio verse: the lines are written to be read. The radio poets use this loose and flexible pattern because it lends itself easily to reading aloud, as Norman Corwin pointed out in an interview. A complicated line structure, he maintained, was not good for broadcasting. He even rearranged Stephen Vincent Benêts poem "Invocation" so that he could read the lines aloud more easily.32 Even prose writers sometimes arrange their radio scripts for sheer convenience of reading. Ted Malones prose introductions look like verse: . . . but the real New Yorker is the little ragamuffin from the west side who has no leash or rope or anything for his dog— and doesn't know what kind of dog he has— but the little rascal minds his master— who in place of his leash has his whistle. Malone rearranged William Allen White's prose essay "Mary White" for radio reading: She never fell from a horse in her life. Horses have fallen on her and with her— "I'm always trying to hold em in my lap," she used to say. Here the prose becomes rhythmic, partly because there is an inherent stress in the lines, but partly because the voice supplies a stress that is sometimes extrinsic. The accent in radio verse is the accent that is found in Carl Sandburg's poetry, because he, too, speaks directly to the people. It is an accent that shifts with every change in the emotion of the speaker and the tempo of his speech. The General, in The Fall of the City, speaks with the fervor and the rhythm of anger.

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You I Are you free? Will you fight? There are still inches for fighting! There is still a niche in the streets! You can stand on the stairs and meet him! You can hold in the dark of a hall. You can die! 3 3 T h e intensity of imminence—the Germans are coming c l o s e r is caught by the nervous rhythm in MacNeice's "Alexander Nevsky." Coming coming coming comingWatch them, Igor, watch them, A little black cloud, it looks so little Away out there on the ice But it's coming nearer and nearer, Growing larger and larger Coming coming coming coming. A. M. Sullivan explained that in "Transcontinental" he tried to speed up the rhythm as the train rumbled on faster and faster. 3 4 Downgrade we go, past depot and tower, Tracks all clear for eighty miles an hour. The wheels are singing a song of the states As we pass the crowd at the crossing gates. 35 T h e most frequently used form in radio poetry is a kind of free verse with very few, if any, run-on lines. F r e e verse attempts to release the line from formal technical requirements. As the thought stops, so does the line, as in this excerpt from Schoenfeld's "Little Johnny Appleseed." Once upon a time in America, In the year 1806, in the month of June, On the borders of the Licking Creek in Ohio, There was another G i a n t Johnny Appleseed. These lines were written to b e spoken. They end conveniently at the end of each thought or breath phrase.

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In advertising, again, we find the same attempt to make reading as convenient as possible. The Temple Radio advertisement in the New York Times Magazine of September 3, 1944, reads as follows: When you were bom, son, "Jive" was called "rag-time." Yet, even then, Temple Radios Were noted for Fine performance. Today, in the armed services, You've little time for Thoughts of Radio's place In entertainment. The poetic line, thus, is very flexible. In his notes in Thirteen by Corwin, Corwin reveals that he substituted other expressions to bring his verse dramas up to date. "Of Peace's latest coma" was changed to "of which side bombed what hospital." 30 He made no effort to replace the exact rhythmic equivalent. There was no need for that: the pattern is very loose. The line varies from the short, stabbing phrases of Lawrence's "The Fountain of Dancing Children" The iron children This is the answer This is the power This is the strength The might of Russia to the long and lingering clauses in Corwin's "There Will Be Time Later" The key is heard turning in the barbed wire cage mid the clamors of the box barrage And Liberty, that dogeared parchment signed by Christ, the angels and a most impressive list of sponsors big and little Arrives in your mailbox in the morning.

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T h e long line is used to express the contemplative, the peaceful; the short line, the startling. In this excerpt from Milton Geigers "Moonlight" we have examples of both: The mottled moonlight harlequins the earth . . . and a pale white face that stares upward, speechless through the trees. A man! A wounded soldier I The form of radio poetry is thus utilitarian. This does not necessarily belittle radio verse. In good poetry the form that is used is the best pattern for the expression of the language and the thought. T h e rhythm of Greek dramatic poetry changed, Aristotle found, as a result of the spoken word: As soon, however, as a spoken part came in, nature herself found the appropriate metre. The iambic, we know, is the most speakable of metres, as is shown by the fact that we very often fall into it in conversation, whereas we rarely talk hexameters, and only when we depart from the speaking tone of voice. 37 Today, because our speech patterns are more nervous and complex, a formal scheme in radio verse might restrict its spontaneity and naturalness. Nevertheless, the danger is that the verse can become so relaxed that it is scarcely distinguishable from prose. And a waiter, happy because he expects a good tip, Carries the tray to a pent-house apartment Where an old, bald-headed business man And a young woman in evening dress Sit laughing and drinking champagne.38 MacLeish raises the question of whether this loose structure is an effective vehicle for dramatic poetry. And if blank verse is no solution, neither is a solution to be found in those relaxed forms of iambic composition which merely loosen the line until the tension essential to poetry disappears. The critic

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who tells a playwright that his verse is so free as to leave the audience doubtful whether it is prose or verse does not compliment him. Verse, after all, is not an arrangement upon the page: it is a pattern in the ear. If it does not exist in the ear, it does not exist. 38

And Bernard De Voto, criticizing Corwin's On a Note of Triumph in Harper's Magazine, writes: "Radio has shown a marked liking for this bastard form of speech, which has neither the discipline of verse nor the structural strength of prose." 40 While it is true that free verse is predominant in radio poetry, it must not be assumed that other forms are not used. Light verse, particularly, requires a formal regularity of meter. Corwin's "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas" and Erwin and Eve Spitzer's "Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man" are examples of light verse that can be scanned conventionally. Verse that is set to music also requires greater regularity of rhythm. Corwin's "Done Got a Medal" and "Movie Primer," for example, have parts that are designed to be sung and these are quite formal in pattern. Millard Lampell's "The Lonesome Train," with music by Earl Robinson, is similarly more regular in meter, although Robinson's music is sufficiently flexible to admit many variations. Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Murder of Lidice is the notable exception in radio verse plays. For the most part it is written in an easily scanned trimeter and tetrameter, sometimes slipping into the ballad. Now get you up, my little girls three And up, my little soni And get you dressed in your black best As if you mourned someone! 4 1

Nor must it be assumed that blank verse has disappeared from the radio play. Christopher Hassall, an English poet, uses it as the principal rhythmic scheme in "Devil's Dyke."

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Rise, gentle shepherd, from your mat of straw And take the early morning, rise and see The punctual hawk astride a falling wind Shoot downward like a meteoric stone.

The pace of verse like this seems too leisurely and stilted for the modem ear, unless it seeks to capture a pastoral or heroic mood of earlier times. Yet blank verse may be used for variation to good advantage. At a moment of retrospection, when the play pauses in momentum, the Astrologer in Kreymborg's The Planets comments: Smoke is still in the fields and in my glass, The years of bloodshed darken all precision. But I can hear the drums, the muffled drums. And since that first boy fell, and others fell The earth has never known so many dead 4 2

Here blank verse has an organic place. In the radio adaptations of Biblical stories blank verse again is an appropriate form. Henry Carlton, adapter of Bible stories, used blank verse because he felt that its slow, dignified measure expressed best the spirit of the Bible.43 Blank verse, however, is rarely used exclusively. D. G. Bridson's "The March of the '45'," for instance, uses pentameter, tetrameter, and trimeter lines. Archibald MacLeish does not scorn blank verse completely; he uses it creatively in his radio plays. If, as he says, blank verse is an anachronism, then it can be given to those characters who belong to or long for the past. Thus, in The Fall of the City the false orator, who urges peace at a time when the enemy is approaching, speaks in blank verse that can be scanned fairly easily. The future is a mirror where the past Marches to meet itself. Go armed with arms! Peaceful toward peacel Free and with music toward freedom! 4 4

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T h e regularity of the rhythm as well as the rhetoric gives the lie to the sincerity of the speaker. In Air Raid, to give another example of organic rhythm, the old woman expresses a typically Shakespearean sentiment in its ironic universality in typically Shakespearean verse. Death's the one thing every creature does And none does well I've ever seen—the one thing Weak and foolish every creature does.45 In the radio broadcast "Radio and the 'Literature of Power,' " m a d e on August 14, 1940, by a graduate group at Teachers College under the supervision of Dr. Lennox Grey, one teacher pointed out MacLeish's debt to Shakespeare. Listen again to the Announcer in "Air Raid," as he gives the pattern of life of these people. This time think of Shakespeare, who like Browning and the Old English poets wrote also for listeners, not for eye-minded readers. The Announcer speaks as if he were in a plane: "Across the drover's plain the planter's valley . . . The poplar trees in alleys are the roads The linden trees in couples are the doors The willows are the wandering water flowing The pines in double lines are where the north wind burns the orchards Those are the mountains where no meadow is squared nor a Stream straight: nor a road: nor water quiet The town is in those mountains" Notice the spacious effect of the Shakespearean long verse and the cosmic image centering on this one spot in a wide world. You can hear old Gaunt's words now in Richard III Dying Gaunt is high above it too: ". . . this scepter'd isle This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise; This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war;" 46

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Here blank verse is used for a definite dramatic and poetic purpose. Blank verse disappears, however, when the Announcer speaks. The voices in the crowd have short, staccato bits. Masterless men. . . . when shall it be . . .

MacLeish's rhythmic subtleties are not characteristic of radio poetry. When his intricate variations were pointed out to Norman Corwin, Albert N. Williams, and Mitchell Grayson —all radio men—they admired the poet's skill, but they felt that much of it was wasted on the air. It was too subtle for the audience to recognize or even to feel.47 A L L I T E R A T I O N , ASSONANCE, AND R H Y M E

In radio poetry tempo is more important than metrics. Our time sense is not established by steps across a stage, but by the clock, the sense of time flying. Alliteration, assonance, and rhyme, devices which identify and punctuate the tempo of the lines are, therefore, rhythmic as well as melodious. To give a simple example: "The furrow followed free" from Coleridge's Ancient Mariner and "The waves pursued the ship" are both iambic trimeter, but Coleridge's line is much smoother and faster in its pace. Literature grows by a genetic process: modem poetry stems from older verse structures.48 Radio poetry has learned many of its lessons from Anglo-Saxon versification. The ancient poet was an orator who chanted his lines to an appreciative audience. A study of his verse is more than an academic exercise, for radio poets, chanting to a modern audience, have explicitly imitated Old English patterns. The bard's line, divided in two to permit the singer to pause, was held together and paced by alliteration of consonants or vowels in stressed syllables, the number of syllables in each half varying considerably.

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Swa féla fyrena Átol ángengea

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féond máncynnes óft gefrémede 49

Professor Charles Grosvenor Osgood finds a four-stressed, alliterative echo of this verse in Milton's Paradise Lost. Wár weáried

hath perform'd what wár can dó. . . .

Both of lóst happiness

and lásting pain; 50

The gleeman, as he struck the harp to accompany his verse, found the pattern an admirable instrument for his chant. "This explosive alliterative verse," Henry W. Wells observes in New Poets from Old, "has itself the rhetoric of an inspired oratory." 51 In radio poetry the spirit and cadence of Old English verse emerge renascent. In MacLeish's The Fall of the City the messenger reports: He He He He

was violent in his vessel: was steering in his stern: was watching in her waist: was peering in her prow: 52

Here is the Anglo-Saxon poetic line, strongly alliterative, with a pause between the second and the third accent to divide the line in half. The Teachers-College broadcast, "Radio and the 'Literature of Power'" emphasized this similarity. MacLeish knows that Anglo-Saxon poetry . . . was for the ear rather than the reading eye. Lasten to this from the Old English poem "The Battle of Brunanburgh," translated by Tennyson, which might refer to modern dictators. Change Anlaf to Adolph and it fits perfectly. "Traitor and trickster And spurner of treaties— Ne nor had Anlaf With armies so broken A reason for bragging In perils of battle

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On places of slaughter— The struggle of standards, The rush of the javelins, The crash of the charges, The wielding of weapons. 53

Of course, the modern radio pattern is not always the exact counterpart of Old English poetry, but numerous examples can be quoted to prove that alliteration is used very frequently to punctuate and to identify the lines for the audience. Stephen Vincent Benét's Nightmare at Noon: They made fun of the strut and the stamp and the strained salute . . .

Corwin's "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay": . . . man's monkeying with mania and murder.

Lechlitner's "We Are the Rising Wing": Look to the sky!—the nets of night and the wind walls

Albert N. Williams' "The Towers of Hatred": surrounded secure by suppers and breakfasts and sleeping on Sunday!

Auden s "The Dark Valley": You'd be surprised at all the possibilities of hungry hawks and famished foxes, and stealthy stoats and lurking lynxes and bold bad bears, at all the varieties of clutch and claw and teeth and talon and snap and snatch.

Advertisers learned long ago that alliteration made a very strong identification device. Using the June 5, 1944, Time again, we find such alliterative slogans as: "Out of the mind into the mike," "You can't make a copying mistake," "Performance is the payoff!" and "Now taste what time has done!" Like alliteration, assonance and rhyme are designed for the ear, which, less critical than the eye, accepts true rhyme,

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assonance, and false rhyme with equanimity. The ancient ballads that were sung made use of all these devices. An example of assonance is found in the last stanza of the ballad "Sir Patrick Spens." Hauf ower, hauf ower to Aberdom, It's fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. Assonance is used in nursery rhymes for the same reason. Rock-a-bye baby on the tree-top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock. And, again for the same reason, assonance appears in radio verse. Woody Guthrie, famous for his "Dust Bowl Ballads" and really a wandering minstrel, wrote an original ballad for Peter Lyon's "Cavalcade of America" program, "Wild Bill Hickok." In his ballad Guthrie uses assonance as well as rhyme. He set down to poker with his hat o'er his face, And he drawed him a hand full of aces and eights. The rough, unlettered poet is not the only one to use halfrhyme and assonance. A very skillful poet like MacLeish often prefers to get his musical effects this way rather than set orthodox rhymes at the end of lines. Perhaps he feels that the regular recurrence of rhyme would give his poetry a tinkling artificiality that would impugn its sincerity. Whatever the reason, long before he wrote for the radio MacLeish turned to assonance rather than rhyme. The "terza rima" of Conquistador, for instance, is built on assonance. MacLeish found the device useful for radio as well. The Fall of the City and Air Raid are full of internal rhymes, half-rhymes, and assonance. A short passage of six lines from The Fall of the City reveals little to the eye but the ear hears unexpected musical effects: Those who'd lodge with a tyrant Thinking to feed at his fire

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And leave him again when they're fed are

Plain fools or were bred to i t Brood of the servile races Bom with hang-dog face . . ,54

Norman Rosten used a similar technique in "Death of a King." Women are confined, not men! Shall we stand and freeze eyes to the air, or do we know why? The king has put his tongue in hiding but the people cannot read hand-signs.

These aural devices are not characteristic of radio poetry exclusively. Many modern poets, influenced by Gerard Manley Hopkins, are using assonance and internal and "slant" rhymes to enrich the tonal quality of their verse. W. H. Auden, Stephen Spender, Dylan Thomas, Muriel Rukeyser, and Winfield Townley Scott are but a few of the poets using this technique today. It is difficult to evaluate the effectiveness of these devices in radio poetry. The radio audience, for the most part, is certainly unaware of the technical dexterity of the poet. Yet the ear, detecting vowel and consonant similarities, may find the musical effects euphonious without realizing why. Rhyme and assonance do not appear so frequently as alliteration. A radio poem of thirty minutes using rhyme throughout would soon weary the listener's ear. In a ballad like Maxwell Anderson's "Magna Charta," which takes less than fifteen minutes to broadcast, rhyme is used from beginning to end, although even here the rhyme is broken by bits of prose dialogue. Kreymborg's ten "Fables in Verse," fifteen minutes each in duration, are written almost completely in rhyme. The longer verse plays usually have no rhyme at all, The Murder of Lidice, by Edna St. Vincent Millay, being an important exception. D. G. Bridson's "The March of the '45'," a very long verse play, does use couplets and quatrains, but the poet varies

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the rhythm to prevent monotony. English radio poets seem to use rhyme more formally than do the Americans. Thus, Robert Kemp's "Cutty Sark" employs a regular stanzaic form. His heart hungering, spirit starved, Man still rears high his deities Of mined ore and toppled trees, Of brass beaten, of wood carved. Kemp relieves the austerity of these stanzas with free verse. In the free-verse radio play, rhyme, if used at all, has a specific purpose. Auden's "The Dark Valley" has no rhyme except in the woman's song, where it is perfectly natural. Again, Albert N. Williams uses no rhyme in "American Song" until the river sings out in exultation. The truck driver in A. M. Sullivan's "Midnight Caravan" sings out similarly in rhyme. The verse plays set to music, Corwin's " D o n e Got a Medal" and Lampell's "The Lonesome Train," need the rhyme to punctuate the melody. A very effective use of rhyme is found in light verse, where the intent is humorous or satirical. Rhyme, finding a natural place in the tripping rhythm of such poetry, contributes to the sharpness of the thrust. Corwin experimented with light verse for gentle satire in such plays as "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," "Radio Primer," and "Movie Primer." In the first he delighted in using such Gilbert-and-Sullivan rhymes as "radio" and "hey-di-ho." In his notes Corwin admits candidly that "even a corny emphasis might be amusing whenever the rhymes themselves taste of corn." 5 5 In "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas" Corwin comments humorously on a current musical practice. I've heard just lately, men are giving the razz To classical music by making it jazz: They're swinging Bach, and what is keener, They're doing the shag to Palestrina. D. G. Bridson's stanza in "Aaron's Field" is satirical.

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The open spaces and hills and fields Belong to the people. They're National Parks. Nobody's got the right to stop us Walking across them. It's in Karl Marx. Alfred Kreymborg, in The Planets, has several satirical passages which use rhyme similarly. In most cases rhyme is out of place in dramatic dialogue. Just as Shakespeare omitted rhyme save for functional use at the end of a scene or in a song, so the modem radio poet generally avoids rhyme. He depends on the vigor of the rhythm to sustain the poetry of speech. POETIC PROSE

Words arranged in linear structure need not be poetry. Conversely, lines printed as prose can sometimes be poetry. In radio there is a wide use of what is called poetic or "illumined" prose. W. H. Auden's 'The Dark Valley," for instance, is arranged as prose. They sank a shaft from the surface of the earth, they drove through darkness, drifts with a purpose; in sombre stopes they scooped out ore, gold speckled quartz with their quick hammers. They managed much, those many miners. But father was foremost, first of them all with drill and dynamite and daring hands at deeds deep down where no daylight was, and equally noble was no man living; Father moved like a river, riding the world. The prose here is highly alliterative, richly figurative, and carefully cadenced. If we wanted to tamper with the arrangement, we could easily present this in verse form. Corwin, too, uses an alliterative and figurative prose, particularly when the mood is elevated. America means the sound and the sight and the smell of high tide under the full moon with occasionally the moan of the whistlingbuoy drifting up when the wind's blowing in from the ship channel . . . it means the age-old sound of the sea—the same sound folks are hearing this very moment up around Penobscot Bay.68

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Sterling Fisher, NBC director, praised Stuart Ayer's "The Search for Freedom" because its poetic prose was admirably suited for radio.57 And they came to New York—and they came to Boston and Chicago and San Francisco—to a hundred cities and a thousand towns . . . between 1830 and 1860, more than eight hundred thousand Pats and Marys and O'Sullivans came to the United States . . . and they built the roads and the railroads and worked in the mines and the factories.

The pauses indicated after every thought really break this prose passage into the thought-stopped lines of the radio poets. Wyllis Cooper uses poetic prose in his program "The Army Hour." There was Shiloh and Gettysburg, and the bloody wheat fields of Soissons; and those places are peaceful today, save only where the evil conqueror treads again; but he shall not prevail. For we are strong, America; and our sons and our brothers have not died in vain: nor shall those who follow after them die in vain.

Poetic prose, it seems, is prose only because it is so arranged on the page of the radio script. Arranged differently, it would be the free verse of the radio poets. Maxwell Anderson's "The Feast of Ortolans" and "Second Overture" appear in prose form in the mimeographed radio scripts, but are presented as verse in his Eleven Verse Plays. Ruth Merritt of WHA, the University of Wisconsin, may have the reason for this: "I remember reading somewhere that when Maxwell Anderson started to produce Winterset, he had written it like poetry, only he had it printed like prose so the actors wouldn't overdo it." 58 Perhaps Anderson did not want his radio verse plays overdone either. It is hard to know just where to draw a line between prose and poetic prose. Script writers seem to feel the need at times of great emotional intensity for a more elevated and cadenced prose. Much of this prose, if not poetry, is certainly poetic.

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Morton Wishengrad, author of the NBC "Lands of the Free" and "The Eternal Light," consciously strives for this effect when he feels the mood calls for it. But he warns that it must not be overdone or else it will call attention to itself and protrude from the play.59 His "Valley Forge" begins as follows: Valley Forge . . . it was different in the Spring. The sun was on the green meadow and the scent of wild honeysuckle was on the wind. The kingfisher waited for the shad at Pawling's Ford while overhead the migrant ducks rising from the South wound with the Schuykill. Ice is on the Schuykill now . . . ice and snow. Milton Robertson, former staff writer for WNEW, New York, also feels the need for a poetic prose differentiated from the ordinary prose of dialogue.60 In his "Andrew Jackson" he begins and ends with the same passage to establish the proper emotional context. They say, in New Orleans that if you walk soft in the night when the moon is down and the whip-poor-wills cry lonely from the swamps—they say that then, you may come across a phantom man and woman. The man moves grimly ahead, bared sword in hand . . . the woman walks by his side, her movements touched with pride, her phantom eyes glowing with a deep love. This, they say in New Orleans. In very many prose radio scripts, particularly in introduction and conclusion, this type of poetic prose is found. It can be found also in the exhortative eloquence of advertising, and, on a far higher plane, in the authors comments in such novels as John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath and John Dos Passos' U.S.A., which seem consciously to recall radio. THE COMBINATION OF POETRY AND PROSE

It must not be assumed that radio poets fail to differentiate between poetry and prose. The functional use of each is one of the most successful features of radio drama. The writer shifts from one form to the other with complete ease and

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freedom. Poetry is used for the generalization; prose for the specific illustrative instance. Poetry is used for moments of intense feeling; prose for everyday dialogue. Poetry is used for the unreal, the symbolic, the fantastic; prose for the realistic and the factual. If we were to substitute "prose" for "history" in Aristotle's explanation, we would have the radio writer's use of poetry and prose: "Hence poetry is something more philosophic and of greater import than history, since its statements are of the nature rather of universale, whereas those of history are singulars." Θ1 Corwin, for instance, explains in his notes how he used both poetry and prose in "The Oracle of Philadelphi": "Like some others of my scripts, this one uses the device of contrast between two levels of speech—the colloquial speech of the cast and the stylized language of the principal figure." 62 The central figure in this play, the oracle, speaks in verse; the illustrative incidents are dramatized in prose. In Corwin's "Daybreak" the pilot, who occupies an exalted position, speaks in a poetic prose, while the ordinary characters use colloquial speech. Pilot: The highest mountains and the highest buildings meet the morning in the same hushed moment. Thirty-fourth Street in Manhattan is awash with prophecy of day . . . Manny (Lobsterman): Only eight so far in two strings. Crabs mostly. They eat the danged bait till they ain't nothin' left for the lobsta. The announcer in They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease describes the bomber in verse, but the characters in the bomber use prose. In "Radio Primer" Corwin gives the definitions in verse. Announcers are men who announce; They have pep, they have zep, they have bounce. Then examples of different types of announcers follow in prose. In this manner verse acts as a binder that ties the

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prose incidents together to give them the old desiderataunity, coherence, and emphasis. The narrator in Bernard Dryer's "Winged Victory" takes the audience from place to place in verse, but there is a prose interlude at every scene for illustrative dialogue. The narrator in Schoenfeld's "Little Johnny Appleseed" speaks in verse; the scenes in his life are dramatized in prose. Irve Tunick, in "Builders of American Aircraft," gives verse to the pilot as he soars over the rest of the world, but as soon as the play comes down to earth to describe the incidents in the lives of the builders, the dialogue changes to prose. The bard in Lyon's "Wild Bill Hickok" chants in verse, introducing each prose episode in this authentic story of America's frontier life. Writing on two levels, the poet can differentiate tone and mood sharply. In John LaTouche's "The Traitor," poetry is given to the voices at the beginning to establish the mood; to the chorus for comment, and to Benedict Arnold as he muses in memory. But the realistic historical scenes in his life are set in prose. "Prague Is Quiet," by Lewis Jacobs, a story of Prague under German domination, is written in prose, but the statue of Johannes Hus encourages the people in verse. The verse form identifies the symbolical character in Williams' "American Song." The river sings out metrically; the farmers talk in prose. When a farmer speaks exultantly, however, his prose changes to verse. Maxwell Anderson, too, keeps "The Feast of Ortolans" down to the prose level until the play mounts in dramatic tension; then when Lafayette warns the company about the impending revolution, he speaks to them in verse. An excerpt from Clemence Dane's "The Unknown Soldier" will illustrate how freely and effectively the radio writer uses both poetry and prose. The Mother: We can't discuss anything if you get excited and hysterical.

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The Girl: Watch it, my girl, hysteria won't do! Just say, quite quietly, that you're of age and that you've got to go. Inside yourself you know you're free. But gently! Give them time! They'll see. Look, Father—look, Mother—I don't mean to be hysterical; but I came of age last week, and I must do what I think right. Girls— they're not the same as when you were young.63 The ordinary dialogue is prose. The dramatic aside is separated and identified by the rhythmic form in which it is cast. The radio poet, thus, uses a combination of poetry and prose to achieve contrasting effects and moods. THE MARKS OF HASTE

Unfortunately the ear is not always critical. Ridgley Torrence told the Poetry Society of America that as a practical joke he very often reads trivial verse with a great show of declamatory vigor. Then after he has impressed the listener, he shoves the book under his nose and shouts: "Look at it!" Torrence concluded: "The ear is easily seduced." 64 Peter Monro Jack, in a review of A. M. Sullivan's A Day in Manhattan, quoted this expression from the book: "The sword is mighty but the blows of the pendulum hacking away at the minutes of glory shall bring the tyrants to dust." Jack commented: "Read slowly, without the music coming down under or coming over in 'windy, reedy-varying tempo,' this is merely a mess of words." 65 Consistency of metaphor seems to be less important to the poet than the stirring of feelings by various combinations of images. In this metaphor from Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease the effect is of riding dizzily, not of a neatly accurate figure of speech: No: I see Death sucks you down the skies as flame intoxicates a moth.

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In a pattern of this kind mixed metaphors are not very hard to find. Dyer's "Reveille": [We] Saw countless hosts behind us, Yet unborn, grasping the torch we carried, And going on—Today, Tomorrow, From our Yesterday, As though behind a bulwark . . . Well—It seems we missed the boat. LaTouche's " T h e Statue of Liberty": But I see also faces, nibbling like mice At the foundations of faith; weaving hate, A bloody thread across the fair landscape. Tyrrell's " T h e City Awakes": They hang on his words: each sound falling in a silver dish. Williams' " T h e Man T h a t W e d the Wind and Water": It was the river grown virgin in the winter threshing out its arms like honest men against the tides of spring. Lawrence's " T h e Fountain of Dancing Children": Bitter as gall is the laughter. Harsh and cracked are its liquid tongues And no children sail boats on its water. These few examples do not necessarily disparage radio poetry. Mixed metaphors can be found in the poetry books that fill the library shelves. There are enough of these in radio poetry, however, to be symptomatic of either a general relaxation of standards or a quest for new effects—or both. Unquestionably, there are factors in radio which can lead to carelessness in technique. Verse plays are usually written for one performance only. T h e writer does not expect to hear his work broadcast a second time. T h e radio play is rarely

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reviewed in public. Possibly Theatre Arts Monthly may take notice of it, but except for that there is no really critical review; a casual reference in a newspaper or magazine is the best most radio poets can expect. The professional radio writer is always rushed for time. Norman Corwin began the rehearsal of "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay" before the script was even finished. He had to complete the work between rehearsals.ββ In his foreword to More by Corwin he writes: Each of these plays was written against a deadline, and most of them within a week's time. This does not excuse their imperfections, but perhaps gives weight to my warning that a schedule of this sort is dangerous and should be tried only once in the lifetime of a conscientious radio-wright. 07

The script writer cannot spend weeks reviewing and revising his work. Milton Robertson estimated that he wrote two thousand words a day.68 The radio writer [according to Peter Dixon in Radio Sketches] can't depend on inspiration. He must have the sort of temperament that enables him to work steadily every day, six or seven days a week, and regardless of the weather, a cold in the head or a hangover. Radio programs operate on split-second schedules, and in radio contracts the time element is stressed above everything else. 69

Irve Tunick, who wrote many radio scripts for the U. S. Office of Education, warns would-be writers for the air that they must be quick or they are lost. Tunick prefers to use poetry for his scripts, but usually he does not have enough time. He types his script and sends it off with no revisions. There is always another script waiting to be written. "Once you think you're an artist," Tunick declares, "you're through."70 Norman Rosten testifies that very often the sponsor, exercising his somewhat dubious right to tamper with a script he has bought in an effort to make it conform to the usual radio pattern, will strike out some of the sharpest writing the poet

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has done, and leave behind a dull and even disjointed play.71 That is why Rosten declares: "Those of us, including myself, who have worked in the media of poetry, drama, or the novel as well as in radio, know that radio is the sheerest caricature of art." 72 If a radio writer does attract attention, he may be called upon to write the same thing week after week. Corwin, for instance, presented a series of twenty-six programs. A series like that is ruinous for a poet.73 The radio neophyte, however, has very few outlets for his work. "Outside of the Columbia Workshop and the NBC Radio Guild," Corwin wrote in 1941, "I don't know where a poetic script has a chance." 74 Now there is no Radio Guild or Columbia Workshop. Opportunities for new radio poets spring up sporadically on special broadcasts. Good poets, as a result, are not drawn to radio as often as they should be, or perhaps as they should like to be. Still other factors tend to produce hasty and careless writing. Much of radio poetry is frankly experimental. The medium is still new and its potentialities have not been completely explored. Edith Isaacs, the editor and drama critic, wrote: "Corwins plays are not evenly first-rate. They should not be, since he is working in a field whose range is still experimental." 75 Finally, radio poetry is very often utilitarian. Technique, in that case, is sometimes sacrificed for content. Such are the factors making for haste and carelessness. Other factors, or even some of these factors, may make for vigor and sincerity. While the radio poet may not expect a second production, he is aware of the size of his one-time audience. His play is usually recorded nowadays, and his directors and sponsors are likely to re-examine his work with considerable care in planning for the future. More is at stake than in a poem written for a page in a magazine. With further recognition of the radio verse play as an art form and a consequent increase in public interest, radio poetry may develop in maturity and form.

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ORCHESTRAL EFFECTS

Norman Corwin was once asked whether he thought he was a poet. He answered: "Some people have called me a poet and there have been a f e w w h o maintained I was an orchestrator— I said, 'Look, I'm a radioman.' But lately I've come around and damned if I don't think orchestrator isn't just about it!" 7 8 The word "orchestrator" suggests the remarkable opportunities the writer has to develop tonal effects by the use of words alone. The speeches of the chorus invite choral speaking. This need not mean speaking in unison, although that is done very often. The radio poet has gone further and borrowed from music until he has an orchestration in verse. He uses highpitched vowel sounds for the soprano; low-pitched sounds for the bass. He uses tenor and alto voices in solo and choral parts. He achieves chord effects. He even practices counterpoint: one voice starts, then another, then a third, and even a fourth until a fugue-like effect is built up. He uses one group to act as a ground-bass, chanting, while another, in descant form, simultaneously recites the theme and develops it. Voices can be modulated b y the distance from the microphone, a factor that is not available to the theater. This entire technique endows spoken poetry with a tonal color and symphonic variation and power that radio transmits with remarkable effect. It has been shown that very often the verse plays are planned for many voices with definite tonal range. In "Song of the Soil" A. M. Sullivan seems to choose his vowel sounds with a selective musical ear. Baritone: The factories in the sod Are owned by God, Tenor: And his power plants are run By the sun,

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Contralto: He patterns everything In the Spring, Soprano: And his foreman daffodil Starts the mill." The men's voices get the lower-pitched vowels; the women's, the higher-pitched. Ruth Lechlitner in "We Are the Rising Wing" gives her words musical overtones too. The character, Public Mouth, is assigned to a tenor; Gloria Golden, to a soprano. They are the leaders of Chorus I, the voices of which are "high, shrill, imperious." A man, baritone, and a woman, alto, are the spokesmen for Chorus II, whose voices are 'lower, deeper, sustained and harmonious." Chorus I speaks with shrill vowel sounds. I hear his plane 1 I see iti The words spoken by Chorus II are pitched lower. It's so dark now . . . Mother, we're hungry! In Kreymborg's "Cricket Wings" the insects sing, using highpitched vowels. When I fly, I never die I never die I never die I never die When I sing I never sting I never sting I never sting When I'm still I never kill I never kill I never kill . . . Kreymborg discards even words in this play, substituting descriptive sounds. Boom tarara, Doom tarara, Tomb tarara tomb! Zoom tarara, Room tarara, Bloom tarara bloom! Choral speaking blends these words and sounds into a harmonious unit.

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In Herb Rickles' "Streamlined Fairy Tales," the Koralites rendered even the sound effects chorally. The entrance of the king is announced in "The Lion and the Mouse." Girls (as trumpets): Ta tatata ta ta ta ta ta tahhhh! Men (octave lower): Ta tatata ta ta ta ta ta tahhhh! Sonnie (discord): Ta ta . . . tah! Koralites (as drums): Tarrump . . . tarrump . . . tarrump . . . tum tum . . . The two girl members of the group supply the high-pitched sound effects needed to describe the mouse. creepety creep; creepety creep; creepety creepety creep. The Koralites believe that "the use of a number of voices in the recitation of poetry" offers an approach that has not been used so frequently as it might, "that the blending of high and low voices in precision and harmony" gives radio poetry "a new, dramatic force." 78 Norman Corwin has probably been most succesful in experimenting with the symphonic use of voices. "We have seen," Erik Barnouw writes, "that radio directors and writers tend to think of actors' voices in musical terms, especially in the selection and grouping of characters according to voice pitch." Corwin "actually applied to speech some of the rhythms, counter-rhythms and interweaving patterns of group singing and orchestral music." 79 Corwins adaptations of poetry for the radio illustrate his technique best, but an impressionistic poem he wrote for the radio, "Interview with Signs of the Times," indicates the orchestration of verse. Corwin wanted to paint a verbal picture of the electric signs on Broadway. He used five men, five women, and two choruses for this purpose. The women turn the lights on and off.

POETIC TECHNIQUE 1st 2nd 3rd 4th

153 Woman: Woman: Woman: Woman:

Winking Blinking Blinking Winking

Then as the women continue "winking and blinking," the men come in with a countertheme. 1st 2nd 3rd 4th

Woman: Blinking Woman: Blinking Woman: Winking Woman: Winking

1st Man: And up we go now 2nd Man: And now we go down 3rd Man: And up we go now 4th Man: And now we go down 80

As can be seen, when these parts are typed, they must be placed side by side. Poetry of this kind is not linear; it is harmonic verse for the ear. One voice begins; then another takes up the theme. Sometimes a group of voices serves as a ground-bass, while the rest of the voices carry the main verbal melody. The two choruses, for instance, chant "and round" seventeen times, while above this accompaniment the other voices describe in greater detail the lights of the electric signs. Radio poets are becoming increasingly aware of how the ear can help them develop symphonic effects. When Gilbert Seldes reviewed MacLeish's The Fall of the City in Scribner's Magazine, he praised "the selection of contrasting voices and the balancing of sound when the narrator spoke over and under the crowd voices. 81 And James Boyd found MacLeish's "The States Talking" "the one play in the book which will not respond to treatment as a one-act play. . . . This piece is something like a chorale or an oratorio of the spoken word. Action is of little importance. The director has an opportunity for interesting effects in massing and placing the voices and the counterplay of one voice against another." 8 2 This shifting of voices from the foreground to the background is performed naturally and effortlessly by the radio. "Radio's ability to place one element squarely in the aural background level," according to Barnouw, "is one reason for the often

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extraordinary effectiveness of well-handled choral speech in radio." 83 RADIO POETRY A COLLABORATIVE ART

The intricate symphonic treatment of poetry emphasizes what a highly collaborative art radio poetry is. The writer is but one part of a complex pattern. This is true of the theater, but commonly on the stage there are fewer collaborators in a given type of performance. In radio sound effects contribute another part. Music is used. Engineers devise technical effects. The director casts voices for contrast; he plans perspective and pace. Sometimes the play is written as a vehicle for a particular actor. Thus, Max Wylie calls all broadcasts collaborations. "Good broadcasts," he adds, "are the result of fortunate collaborations."84 John LaTouche concurs. Radio is an art rising directly out of the industrial technique of our civilization, keyed to its rhythms. It is a cooperative art, which relies on music, sound, and production being blended with the text precisely, accurately, and instantaneously. And all its elements move in perfect timing with the inexorable minutehand of the clock. 85

Norman Corwin, in his triple role of writer, director, and producer of radio plays, recognizes how interdependent writer, director, producer, conductor, engineer, and actor are. To Corwin the sounds and the music are as much parts of his play as the words.88 That is why Corwin notes in Thirteen by Corwin: "But an even more practical reason why the Primer ["Radio Primer"] will seldom be heard is that no production can get far without the music Lyn Murray composed to my lyrics." 87 And that is why Corwin devotes three pages to a description of how the sound effects are achieved in They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease.88 The simple sound effect in the following scene from Corwin's "The Long Name None Could Spell" adds rhythmic insistence to the lines.

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Narrator: Shall a broadcast on the radio impersonate the red jellies of the broken body? Or meter the convulsive quiver of the man who wouldn't talk? Sound: Whiplash Narrator: who wouldn't talk? Sound: Whiplash Narrator: who wouldn't talk? Sound: Whiplash Davidson Taylor, of CBS, likes to think that Shakespeare surely would have taken advantage of the resources of radio had he been writing today. Taylor quotes from King Richard the Third: As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloster stumbled; and in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard Into the tumbling billows of the main. Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in thine ears. "Think what an extraordinary sound sequence," Taylor writes, "could be made of the tossing vessel, the falling Gloster, the struggle on the hatches, the engulfing waves." 89 A list of the collaborators in the following two broadcasts illustrates how completely co-operative radio poetry can be. "Alexander Nevslcy" was written by the English poet Louis MacNeice. The music was taken from a score by the Russian composer Serge Prokofiev. The BBC Symphony Orchestra was led by Sir Adrian Boult. The movie actor Robert Donat played the leading role. We Hold These Truths was written by Norman Corwin at the request of the Office of Facts and Figures. The cast included Edward Arnold, Lionel Barrymore, Walter Brennan, Bob Burns, Walter Huston, Marjorie Main, Edward G. Robinson, James Stewart, Rudy Vallee, and Orson Welles. Bernard Herrmann, who composed the score, con-

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ducted a symphony orchestra from a Hollywood studio; Leopold Stokowski led the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in the national anthem from New York City. The concluding speech was delivered by President Franklin D. Roosevelt from Washington. The play was broadcast by the four major networks. Radio poetry becomes such a complex aural experience that it seems almost a mistake to publish it. The eye can read the sense of the words, but the music, the sound effects, the technical devices, the assonance, the internal rhymes, the shifting rhythms, the choral speech—almost the entire aural appeal of radio poetry—are lost for the most part. The printed version of Benét's "They Burned the Books" pales beside the radio broadcast in which the crackling of the flames, the thudding of the blows, the excitement of the music, the harshness of the voices give the play a devastating dramatic effect. A man reading a symphonic score, to use an analogy, gets very little pleasure from the music unless he is so gifted that he can actually hear the music in his mind's ear. That is how radio poetry should be read. Carl Van Doren urges that Corwin's plays be read "with the ear as attentive as the eye." 00 The outstanding virtue of Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease, according to Douglas Coulter, CBS executive, "is that it plays better than it reads. As poetry it is splendid; as radio it is perfect." 91 Even MacLeish's The Fall of the City, Coulter believes, "was more forceful on the air than on paper." 82 A. M. Sullivan wams against using the critical scalpel on radio poetry if it is read on the printed page. Poetry of this kind must be read aloud before it can be criticized. "You must judge the sum total of radio poetry," Sullivan insists. "You cannot analyze it line by line as you would printed poetry." 03 The writer for the radio must hear his words as he writes them, Emerson S. Golden explains in an article advising authors to turn to the radio:

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For written words are usually accepted in their original or primary meanings, but when the same words are spoken they assume secondary meanings and connotations. It is absolutely essential, therefore, that you read your scripts aloud as you write them. 94

Inasmuch as the schools are beginning to recognize radio drama as an art form, the study of radio plays has already been introduced into the classroom. Here, too, the mere reading of the printed page would appear to be inadequate. Alice P. Sterner recommends, in A Course of Study in Radio Appreciation, that radio drama be studied by the ear: "As a literary form the radio drama is often difficult reading for the high school student. . . . Our dramatic literary heritage should be received by the student and by the adult also in the way it was intended to be received—by the ear." 05 An outstanding virtue of this procedure is that students can dramatize the scripts themselves more readily than stage plays, which depend on scenes, costumes, and memorization. In the school, recordings, oral readings, and student performances promise rich educational and poetic experiences.

5 DOCUMENTARY THE

RADIO

TECHNIQUE

VERSE

OF

PLAY

T H E DOCUMENTARY THEATER AND DOCUMENTARY

motion picture have counterparts in radio programs. All three have become instruments of popular education. Noteworthy among the documentary films are "Grass," "The River," "The Plow that Broke the Plains," "The Memphis Belle," "The March of Time" series, and the weekly newsreels. For a while the stage, too, presented some very stirring examples of documentary drama. The Federal Theatre

productions

"The Living Newspaper" and "One-Third of a Nation" received wide acclaim for using the appeal of the stage to dramatize such national issues as drought, conservation, and the need for better housing. THE N A T U R E OF T H E RADIO DOCUMENTARY

PROGRAM

Following December 7, 1941, radio writers were chiefly concerned with documenting the war. On one Sunday alone, March

14, 1943, these documentary war programs

were

listed by the major networks: "This Is Our Enemy" (Mutual), "This Is Fort Dix" ( Mutual ), "Soldiers of Production" ( Blue ), "Woman Power" ( C B S ) , "The Army Hour" ( N B C ) . T o this list can be added the transcribed "Treasury Star Parade" programs on the smaller stations and various other topical broadcasts. As an instrument of popular education the radio has several significant advantages. It can describe events as they occur. It can reach a tremendous audience. It can maintain immediate, close, and continuous contact with the changing scene in the modern world. These advantages are so telling

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that the documentary presentation may be one of the most important contributions of radio. George H. Corey, director of the Blue Network documentary program "This Nation at War," once defined the documentary as a broadcast that brings "direct to the listener, actual happenings from the scene where they are taking place, with the voices of the actual participants." 1 This defition would exclude many radio plays generally classified as documentaries. "Live" broadcasts are not always practicable, because events do not always occur to suit the convenience of the broadcaster and the audience. The British Broadcasting Corporation has made great strides in solving the problem by using recordings. The story of an entire air raid, for instance, including the voices of the participants, the sound of the engines, and the bursting of bombs, was placed on records, which were subsequently edited and arranged into an exciting broadcast of an actual raid.2 These broadcasts, however, are but a small part of the educational resources of radio. John K. Hutchens, former radio editor of the New York Times, formulated a more inclusive definition of documentary programs. He called them "those lectures in dramatic form." As an example of a war documentary program he cited the Blue Network series, "Free World Theatre." These were American documentaries, Hutchens explained, "rooted in reality and then building on it by dramatic means that may be technically fictional but are of the essence of truth."3 This broad definition would include such programs as We Hold These Truths, "Transatlantic Call," and "This Is War!" TI IE THEMES

OF THE DOCUMENTARY

PROGRAM

It must not be assumed that poetry is used extensively in documentary broadcasts. That would be far from the truth, because the list of such programs using verse is a short one. Using even Hutchens' broad definition, we find

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twenty-nine plays in this group. The Twentieth Century Fund, a nonprofit, nonpartisan research organization endowed by the late Edward A. Filene, employed Albert N. Williams to write a series of thirteen broadcasts on economic themes, "The Next Step Forward." The Public Affairs Committee also called upon Williams for a series of five broadcasts, "Public Affairs Weekly." Norman Corwin's We Hold These Truths was commissioned by MacLeish's Office of Facts and Figures to celebrate the Bill of Rights Week. The series "The World Is Yours," sponsored by the United States Office of Education with the co-operation of the Smithsonian Institution and the National Broadcasting Company, presented documentary programs on science and economics, five of which used verse: Peter Harkins' "Romance of Rivers," Irve Tunick and Farney Rankin's "Dust Storms," Irve Tunick's "Aircraft Engines," "Builders of American Aircraft," and "Fifty Centuries of Silk." The British Broadcasting Corporation commissioned "The Story of a Valley," by George Asness and Ralph Schoolman, recorded in the United States and broadcast in England. Alfred Kreymborg's "The House That Jack Didn't Build," Bernard C. Schoenfeld's "What We Defend," "Wyllis Cooper's "The Army Hour," and the Ohio Writers Project's "The National Road" complete the list. The line betwen these documentaries and other radio plays is very often a shadowy one that frequently can be erased to admit additional programs. A listing of the titles of Albert N. Williams' documentaries reveals the new subjects radio poets have found. The first program in "The Next Step Forward" series, "Where the Food Money Goes," is an explanation of the tremendous cost of distribution. "Debts for Sale" analyzes the problem of installment buying. The third program, "The Tax Problem," discusses the need for graduated taxes. "Big and Little Business" is self-explanatory. The fifth in the series, "Bringing Taxes into the Open," is a discussion of hidden taxes. The problem

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161

of foreclosures is the theme of "Lifting the Mortgage." "Who Pays the Sales Tax" argues the unfairness of that form of taxation. "Security for All" criticizes the existing old-age security laws. The problem of the retail store is dramatized in "Let's Play Store." "Balkanizing America" reveals the state-tax barriers to interstate commerce. "Distributors at Work" explains the difficulties and cost in the distribution of goods. "Intelligent Buying" seeks to educate the consumer. The last of the series, 'The Next Step Forward for America," serves as summary. In Williams' "Public Affairs Weekly," the first program, "Adrift on the Land," presents the problem of migratory workers. "Men and Machines" discusses the displacement of men by machines. "We Are a Free People" warns the majority against denying rights to the minority. The need for distributing medical treatment to the poor is pointed out in "A Healthy America." The last of the series, "This Land of Refuge," takes up the problem of the refugee. The other documentaries, as we have seen, dramatize similarly broad economic and social themes. Corwins We Hold These Truths was written to explain the significance of the Bill of Rights. Peter Harkins' "Romance of Rivers" is the story of rivers and floods. "Dust Storms" by Irve Tunick and Farney Rankin explains the reason for these storms and the precautions necessary to prevent them. Irve Tunick's "Aircraft Engines" and "Builders of American Aircraft" develop two chapters in the history of aviation. Tunick's "Fifty Centuries of Silk" skims over the history of the development of the silk industry. The history of the TVA is told in "The Story of a Valley," by George Asness and Ralph Schoolman. Alfred Kreymborg's "The House That Jack Didn't Build" is a poetic treatment of the housing problem. Bernard C. Schoenfeld's "What We Defend" explains the meaning of democracy. Wyllis Cooper used poetic prose in "The Army Hour," a program that acquainted

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the public with the personality and the work of the American Army. "The National Road," the joint work of the Ohio Writers Project, is a program telling the story of the building of the road to the West. THE ROLE OF POETRY IN T H E DOCUMENTARY PROGRAM

These subjects are very important, indeed, but they hardly seem usual for poetry. A discussion of high prices, for instance, calls for clear exposition and comparative statistics, but hardly for verse. Yet poetry is used in these programs for two reasons: ( 1 ) the issues touch emotions, and ( 2 ) verse is the most economical and effective way of presenting the issues.4 Its compressive force and allusive power charge political, scientific, and historical subjects with unexpected impact. In praising the use of verse in Williams' documentary programs, John LaTouche explained: "Poetry is essential in these broadcasts because of the ability to concentrate mood and expression, to present facts in a vivid frame, and to make legitimate impacts on the ear that visual writing could never achieve." 5 Williams found that in the documentary programs he was writing, poetry was more effective than prose. When he wrote his expositions in verse, he received 700 to 900 letters a week from interested listeners. When he shifted to prose because poetry is much more expensive to produce, the number of letters dropped amazingly. 0 The listeners probably did not even know that poetry made the difference. John LaTouche asked a farmer who liked Williams' program : "Did the poetry confuse you?" The farmer answered: "They was just discussin' farms, and made a lot of sense too." 7 Williams begins the discussion of old age security with the vitality and compression of verse. This is a tale of loneliness and age, of the salt blood drying and the firm step gone.

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In "Debts for Sale" Williams explains the loss in purchasing power in two lines. You tighten up the belt one little notch, in thirty million families, that's thirty million notches. In We Hold These Truths Norman Corwin uses verse to translate one hundred fifty years into the history of freedom in America. One hundred fifty years is not long in the reckoning of a hill. But to a man it's long enough. One hundred fifty years is a week-end to a redwood tree, but to a man it's two full lifetimes. One hundred fifty years is a twinkle to a star, but to a man it's enough to teach six generations what the meaning is of liberty, how to use it, when to fight for it. "The Story of a Valley" uses poetic prose to bring the program to a triumphant close. Hear that hum? That's the voice of TVA, whirling out power to turn the wheels of a nation—but it's more than that—it's the throbbing pulse—and the singing spirit of America! And in "The House That Jack Didn't Build" Alfred Kreymborg attacks the profit motive in housing. Every man is human but There's inhumanity In men whose profits help themselves And not democracy. POETIC AND DRAMATIC TECHNIQUE

The "epic" issues of documentary programs prompt poets to "epic" symbolism and "epic" cadences. Ε. B. White, essayist and poet, found a distinct resemblance between radio verse and the sweeping lines of Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman should be around today to see how the boys are regenerating his stuff. For a long time I kept wondering where

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I had heard all this singing before—the radio programs dramatizing America, the propaganda of democracy, the music in the President's chats, the voice of the poets singing America. Then it came to me. It is all straight Walt. The radiomatics of Corwin, the sound tracks of Lorentz, the prophecies of MacLeish and Benêt, the strumming of Sandburg, the iambics of Anderson and Sherwood. Listen the next time you have the radio tuned to the theatrics of the air—you will hear the voice of old Walt shouting from Paumanok. If there were any doubt about where he stands in the literary ladder this decade has put an end to it. He is right at the top. He must be good or he wouldn't be heard so clearly in the syllables of our contemporaries. There is a certain something about this sort of writing which is unmistakable; the use of place names, the cataloguing of ideas, the repetition of sounds, the determination to be colloquial or bust, the celebration of the American theme and the American dream, the appreciation of the man in the street and the arm round the shoulder, the "song of the throes of democracy." You can't miss it when you hear it. Sometimes, when one is jittery or out of whack, it seems as though one heard it too much—so much that it loses its effect. But Walt unquestionably started it. He was the one who heard America beating on a pan, beating on a carpet, beating on an anvil. He heard what was coming, and he said the words. 8 Woven into this verse pattern are lists of states, rivers, and communities and quotations from historical documents to give the program an indigenous quality. " T h e Story of a Valley" itemizes the rivers in the valley: the Clinch, the Holston, the F r e n c h Broad, the Powell, the Little Tennessee, the Hiwassee, and t h e Duck. I n " D e b t s for Sale" Williams calls to all the people in the United States: Now, listen in Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama, In Dakota, Colorado, and Montana. Various voices in the Ohio Writers Project's " T h e National R o a d " call out familiar phrases.

DOCUMENTARY

TECHNIQUE

165

Tea and Taxes No Representation Liberty or Death Don't tread on mei A few lines from the soundtrack of Lorentz's documentary film "The River" will illustrate how closely his verse resembles Whitman and radio poetry. We built a hundred cities and a thousand towns— But at what a cost! We cut the top off the Alleghenies and sent it down the river. We cut the top off Minnesota and sent it down the river. We cut the top off Wisconsin and sent it down the river. We left the mountains and the hills slashed and burned, And moved on.® Irve Tunick and Farney Rankin found that some of Pare Lorentz's lines in the documentary moving picture "The Plow That Broke the Plains" would fit exactly into their own documentary radio play "Dust Storms." They got the permission of the Department of Agriculture and used the lines unchanged. 10 This type of free verse, which makes few demands on the listener, is used easily to transmit ideas and information. In "Aircraft Engines" Tunick speaks for the builder of the airplane. This is a voice I made— I gave it power and rhythm I gave it strength and body. Williams describes the refugee in "This Land of Refuge." They are the hated and the hunted and the haunted! and over the world the sun rises red, red beneath the dust of cities crumbling beneath the steel foot of tyranny, of towns and cities done to death by invader's vengeance.

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Rhyme is used rarely. Harkins, in "Romance of Rivers," does start with quatrains, but he soon switches to free verse and prose. T h e C B S American School of the Air presented a program on statistics in lively operetta style. T h e statistician sings: I'm a sterling statistician, A mathematical tactician . . . And rumba with the numbers And make with tables no one ever reads. and then goes on to explain the importance of statistics in daily life. Very little lyrical poetry is used unless it fits into the didactic pattern. Williams' verse has a lyrical touch when he describes the coming of spring. and the skies reached April fingers into the soft tired fields and tore the soil apart . . . But the lines were written to introduce the problem of the, migratory worker in the spring. T h e documentary program covers so much material that the writer uses a succession of short prose scenes interspersed with poetic comments. Tunick's "Builders of American Aircraft" exemplifies this technique. T h e airplane pilot glories in the power of his machine. This roaring mass of metal— This roaring tube of stuff pulled out of the earth, Steel, aluminum, rubber, copper— This roaring mass is a plane. As he exults, he remembers a man who was a pioneer in aircraft building. His name was Ed Musick—he had an itch to fly. This introduces a prose scene about Musick, who wanted to fly so badly that he built his own plane out of odds and ends. As the scene shifts back to the pilot, the script once more

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167

turns to verse, until the aviator mentions the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk. The prose scene that follows dramatizes the exciting event of that day. The same technique is used in all the documentary programs that use verse. This succession of poetry and prose allows the writer to comment and generalize in compressed, figurative language and to illustrate in factual prose. Despite this facile technique, the documentary program risks the danger of deluging the audience with a tidal wave of facts and figures. The script writer turns to the narrator, to the chorus, and to technical devices to help him solve the problem. The narrator in Corwins We Hold These Truths calls upon those who suffered for freedom. The murdered men. The lopped-off hands. The shattered limbs. The red welts where the whiplash bit into the back. Must you know what they said? Must you know how they argued? Must you be told the evidence, the silent testimony of the wraiths? Must it be told verbatim? Listen, then. The narrator in Wilhams' "The Tax Problem" explains the results of faulty taxation. Turn the land back to weeds, and set the plow to rust, dam up the stream of wealth and slow down the turning wheels of commerce because the tax rate in the lower brackets is so high! The chorus in "The Story of a Valley" explains why the trees were cut down. They were building sidewalks in New Orleans so they cut down the trees of the valley . . . They were building ships so the ax rang in the Tennessee . . . They were building railroads so they razed the hillsides of Tennessee . . . In the same play the chorus chants statistics which ordinarily

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would prove most uninteresting. As the narrator praises the Tennessee Valley Project, the chorus intones: Twelve hydro-electric dams and countless levees for flood control! . . . A nine-foot navigation channel cleared from Paducah, Kentucky to Knoxville, Tennessee, a distance of six hundred and fifty miles! . . . Trees planted by the millions; fertilizer manufactured and distributed! . . . Punctuated by a musical chord after each statement, these facts are so emphasized by the weight of the voices and the novelty of the presentation that they gain dramatic import. The "filter mike" and the echo chamber permit other variations in the presentation of statistics. The writer finally completes his didactic task by repeating and summarizing all essential information. Albert N. Williams, in "Where the Food Money Goes," has each character appear briefly to summarize his part in the distribution scheme. Sometimes, as in "Debts for Sale," Williams had an expert called in at the end of the program to present his views on the subject. In another script, "Intelligent Buying," he first presents the facts outlined in a previous program before he dramatizes the new problem. It becomes clear, then, that these documentary programs are really teaching devices, using teaching techniques to present history, geography, science, and economics in a dramatic framework. THE WRITER

The verse technique in documentaries has resulted in such effective productions as Pare Lorentz's "The River" in the motion pictures and Norman Corwin's We Hold These Truths in radio. It cannot be expected that verse will overtake prose as a medium of expression on the radio, but it may seem surprising that comparatively few programs have taken advantage of the opportunity to use it. Even on a low level

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169

poetry in a documentary can "primp up" information, and on a higher plane, as in We Hold These Truths, the poetry becomes a sincere and spontaneous expression. The radio writer is not completely to blame for the dearth of poetry. Documentary radio scripts are written by professional script writers, who are very busy men. Much as they would like to use verse, they simply do not have the time that verse requires. Irve Tunick felt that there was an intense need for verse in documentary programs. He declared that he would like to use verse, but that he was so busy writing scripts that he rarely had time for poetry. Tunick wrote more than one hundred and fifty consecutive weekly scripts, generally preparing six hours of radio programs each week.11 Under such conditions there can scarcely be any time for verse. Norman Corwin, too, admitted that he had no time for verse in the programs he wrote for the "This Is War!" series. He had to meet a rigid schedule, and poetry had to be sacrificed.12 A series of documentary programs exacts its toll, too, as in Albert N. Williams' scripts for the Twentieth Century Fund. In his first program, "Where the Food Money Goes," verse is used ambitiously with alliteration and even rhyme. We are the plowing and planting people Our sons and all our daughters will be wealthy for the waters . . .

As the series continues, however, poetry is used less exclusively and carefully. In the last script, "The Next Step Forward for America," very little verse appears. Nor can the professional script writer be urged to write more slowly and carefully. As ever in literature, the economic factor plays its part. Frank Ernest Hill found that the professional radio writer was paid but $40 to $75 for a half-hour sustaining program, "a much lower rate, considering the kind and amount of work, than is paid by reputable magazines." 13

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The Federal Communications Commission announced that the average weekly salary of a radio writer was $47.93. This average, based on the week beginning October 14, 1945, and compiled from data received from nine networks and 876 stations, was far below the $57.79 for announcers, the $62.49 for production men, and the $81.20 for staff musicians.14 Under these circumstances the writer is apt to regard his work as a chore rather than a literary creation. The cloak of anonymity under which he often works probably reinforces that point of view. The radio audience is rarely aware of the author of a program, although it knows the sponsors and sometimes the actors quite well. The popularity of an Arch Oboler or a Norman Corwin is the exception rather than the rule.15 That radio writers still want to use poetry becomes all the more significant in view of these facts.

ó ADAPTATION

OF

POETRY

E V E R Y MEDIUM OF COMMUNICATION· HAS OPPOR-

tunities and restrictions which control the content and the treatment of the material presented. The stage play necessarily undergoes many revisions before it can be filmed as a motion picture. Similarly, the stage play or motion picture must be translated into radio terms before it can be broadcast. Poetry, unless it is written specifically for radio, must be adapted for a medium that depends completely on the ear and for an audience that is extremely heterogeneous and presumably hostile to metrical speech. Even Shakespeare's plays, with dialogue which paints the scene, establishes the mood, and introduces the characters, have to be adapted, because Shakespeare wrote for the stage and intended his characters to be seen. THE

PROBLEMS

Adaptation becomes a creative task. In order to make a piece of literature designed for one medium conform to the genius and limitations of another, the adapter must change, rearrange, omit, add, and rewrite. Plays must be condensed to fit into the briefer radio period. Introductory and descriptive scenes are omitted; instead the narrator is permitted to summarize. Long passages must be cut and telescoped; difficult expressions are left out; allusions that might prove offensive are deleted. Lines may have to be transposed to break up long speeches. The plot structure may have to be simplified. The adapter may even write in lines to make the radio version clear to the listening audience. Lines that are important are very

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often repeated so that nothing is lost. Characters are identified vividly; if necessary, they are changed to suit the needs of radio. All the resources of broadcasting—sound effects, music, multiple narration, technical devices, choral speaking —are used to present a version that is simple, clear, animated, and absorbing. In the opinion of Max Wylie, former CBS director, the adapter "may do anything with any piece, whether poetry, prose, or drama, which truthfully translates to radio the import, the flavor, and the purpose of the original in its fullest integrity." 1 Wylie adapted "Job" by omitting several sections of the book. "This is not mutilation," he insisted. It is a necessary compression job through which every property must pass when it leaves its normal pressure on the printed page and enters the pressure of the spoken line. If the intention of the original is rigidly preserved and if its effect is powerfully delivered, no alteration can be called literary butchery. Alteration is butchery only when it butchers. 2

In this spirit the adapter revises the great verse classics of the stage. Sophocles, Euripides, Marlowe, and Shakespeare must all conform to the aural requirements of radio. Nor does that mean that these verse plays are debased in the process. The contrary may sometimes be true. According to Val Gielgud, BBC drama director, radio enhances the appeal of Shakespeare's plays: . . . while the plays of Shakespeare in the theatre are most magnificent examples of classic tradition and must be watched in a certain conventional manner . . .

a Shakespeare play broadcast

becomes an intimate thing, a thing less severely majestic, less esthetically dignified, but one, from the point of view of the average man, far more immediately comprehensible, even more —dare one claim it?—absorbingly interesting. 3

Burns Mantle, the drama critic, was not a radio man, yet he shared Gielgud's enthusiasm. Although history has no record of a successful stage production of A Midsummer

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Night's Dream, he declared, the radio version of the play is ideal because the imagination has free rein, with no visual representation to restrict it.4 Shakespeare's plays have been presented so many times on the air that Davidson Taylor of CBS could write: "Shakespeare is a radio success." 5 The Columbia Broadcasting System, the National Broadcasting Company, and the British Broadcasting Corporation have sponsored many Shakespeare productions. Notable series of Shakespeare plays broadcast in America were the NBC Radio Guild adaptations, from 1934 to 1936; the "Columbia [CBS] Shakespeare Cycle" in the summer of 1937, and the NBC "Great Plays," from 1938 to 1942. The other masters of the verse drama have also been successful on the air. Besides Shakespeare, BBC has presented adaptations of Sophocles, Euripides, Aeschylus, Marlowe, Ben Jonson, Milton, Dryden, and Hardy.6 The NBC "Great Plays" broadcast adaptations of Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Marlowe, Gilbert and Sullivan, John Drinkwater, and Maxwell Anderson.7 While the verse drama is the most important example of the radio adaptation of poetry, other verse forms have been broadcast too. As we have seen in the case of Max Wylie, adapters have prepared radio versions of Bible stories. They have transformed into radio plays such narrative poems as Longfellow's The Courtship of Miles Standish, Robinson's Tristram, Stephen Vincent Benét's John Brown's Body, Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Browning's "Pied Piper of Hamelin," and Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum. Descriptive verse, patriotic verse, nonsense verse, even lyrics have been shaped into the radio pattern, and in this way Jonathan Swift, John Keats, Walt Whitman, Carl Sandburg, Robert Frost, Vachel Lindsay, Edgar Lee Masters, Thomas Wolfe, Kenneth Fearing, and many others have become radio poets. Since Shakespeare is relatively popular on the air, a study

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of the methods used to adapt his plays for broadcasting should be made to reveal the techniques of changing a stage play into a radio broadcast. SHAKESPEARE ON THE AIR; THE ADAPTATION OF THE STAGE PLAY

On February 27, 1942, BBC broadcast Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra in full, from 8:00 to 9:00 P.M., and from 9:20 to 10:50 P.M., a total of two and one-half hours.8 In this country commercial commitments render this method unfeasible, although some attempts have been made to present as complete versions as possible. For an NBC production Charles Warburton arbitrarily divided King Richard III in half, presenting the first part in a one-hour performance on January 30, 1936, and the second half the very next week on February 6. Thus two hours were devoted to a single play. Warburton did the same for King Henry IV. Shakespeare wrote this historical drama in two parts; Warburton presented four parts in four successive weekly performances. King Henry V was divided in two so that two hours could be given to the radio performance. The American Negro Theatre presented Romeo and Juliet in two half-hour broadcasts on September 30 and October 8, 1945, over WNEW, New York. Under such circumstances, particularly when two hours are devoted to a complete performance, comparatively few liberties need be taken with the play, but it does mean that the continuity is interrupted for an entire week, a somewhat impracticable procedure for radio. It is not at all certain that a faithful and complete reproduction of the text is desirable on the air. When "The Student Prince" and Craig's Wife were broadcast as mere radio reproductions of the stage plays, they failed because they left the listening audience puzzled.9 John Barrymore evolved another formula for broadcasting Shakespeare. He offered first his own synopsis of the play;

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then assisted by an expert cast, he acted scenes selected to interpret the action. In this way he presented a Shakespeare adaptation in forty-five minutes.10 Most Shakespeare adaptations have kept the essential structure of the play, but have cut it to fit into a one-hour period. This technique has necessitated many omissions and revisions. Shakespeare used his introductory scenes to sketch the situation, the characters, the locale, and the time. This preparatory work was necessary for the Elizabethan stage. But radio is keyed to brief introductions; it must get on with the story and catch the interest of the audience at once, not give the milling audience time to settle down. The preparatory scenes, therefore, are shortened or omitted entirely. In their stead the announcer quickly summarizes the essential information. In Edwin Wolfe's adaptation of Julius Caesar, the announcer begins: "Rome, Italy in the year 44 B.C. A day in February and the people in the streets celebrating the feast of the Lupercal." The entire first scene and part of the second scene of Act I are omitted completely. Brewster Morgan's adaptation of Much Ado about Nothing omits most of the first scene. His adaptation of Twelfth Night leaves out the first scene entirely. Morgan leaves out all of Scene 1 and most of Scene 2 of As You Like It. Gilbert Seldes omits scenes of the Induction in his arrangement of The Taming of the Shrew. The Ziebarth and Erekson radio version of Macbeth omits the first two scenes of the play and begins directly with Scene 3. Their adaptation of Othello goes even further. It begins with the second scene of Act II. Yet in the Hamlet adaptation, Brewster Morgan keeps the introductory first scene, probably because the very compressed dramatic opening makes it eminently suitable for radio. It is undoubtedly for this reason that Erik Barnouw retains the first part of Scene 1 in Macbeth, although he does omit the last part because, Barnouw explained, the function of these lines is to get the witches off the stage, and that is not necessary in radio.11

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Any scene that does not advance the story or is simply descriptive is generally left out. In consequence, many lines of fine poetry have been deleted. Edwin Wolfe dispenses with all the third scene of Act I of Julius Caesar, the scene describing the supernatural portents of disaster. The Brewster Morgan version of Julius Caesar calls upon the narrator to summarize this ominous episode. Now night has fallen. A storm breaks over the capital. The seven hills are stabbed with lightning—thunder crashes and rolls unendingly above the city—wind and stinging rain drive the superstitious Romans into their houses to cower in their beds. In the shelter of a pillar stands Cassius. Another cloaked figure joins him stealthily. Thus the adapter omits the static, descriptive part of the play to begin with Cassius' calling out: "Who's there?" Long speeches are pruned to conform to the radio rule that dialogue must be brief. Whereas Shakespeare lingers on the philosophical and psychological import of what the characters are saying, the adapter is content to give the substance of the speech and then go on to quicken the pace of the story. In Act I, scene 2, of Julius Caesar, Cassius makes a speech to Brutus from which Edwin Wolfe cuts all the words in square brackets: ['Tis just: And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow.] I have heard Where many of the best respect in RomeExcept immortal Caesar—speaking of Brutus, And groaning underneath this age's yoke, Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes. In the same scene Wolfe leaves out eight and one-half lines from Cassius' long speech beginning "Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world." The adapter uses the beginning

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and the end of the speech, telescoping the dialogue without losing the continuity. Another adapter, Brewster Morgan, breaks up the same speech by introducing shouting and blaring of trumpets, causing Cassius to pause and thus achieving brevity of dialogue. The scene in which Caesar is assassinated is stripped of speech-making. The action moves very quickly to the murder. Difficult or unsavory expressions, naturally, are left out. In Bamouw's adaptation of Macbeth the archaic terms and the references to Jew, Turk, and Tartar are omitted. In Brewster Morgan's radio script all the off-color references to Ophelia that are found in Act III, scene 2, of Hamlet are expunged. This policy probably accounts for the fact that no radio performance of The Merchant of Venice seems to have been given on any of the national networks since June 15, 1930. Even greater liberties are taken. Sometimes lines are transplanted in order to make a better radio version. Barnouw gives Macbeth some of the lines Shakespeare wrote for Banquo, lines which were intended largely for information, not characterization. "In radio," Bamouw explained, "the unequal apportioning of the dialogue would cause Macbeths ver)' existence to be shadowy and doubtful, and only Banquo to be fully 'alive.' " 1 2 Since a character exists for the radio audience only when he speaks, Barnouw borrows words to create the aural existence of Macbeth. A little later on Barnouw makes the witches cackle before Banquo talks to them; otherwise the radio audience may think he is still talking to Macbeth. The rearrangement of dialogue very often serves to break up the long speeches which would prove unwieldy on the air. In Wolfe's Caesar Brutus' remark 'Was the crown offered him thrice?" is transposed to interrupt Casca's long prose description of Caesar's refusal of the crown. In Bamouw's Macbeth Lady Macbeths remark is shifted to break up her

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husband's speech in Act II, scene 1, which begins: "Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!" Lady Macbeth interrupts with these lines, which in the stage version precede Macbeth's speech: These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.13 Transplanted thus, they punctuate a long passage without interfering with the continuity. Charles Warburton transposes part of an entire scene in order to clarify the plot for the audience. Because the Friar's speech over the bodies of the lovers in Act V, scene 3, of Romeo and Juliet really summarizes the tragedy, it is used as a prologue to the radio play, thus helping the audience to understand subsequent events. Since subplots complicate a play, the adapter very often leaves them out. The entire episode of Cinna, the poet, Act III, scene 3, of Julius Caesar, is omitted from the Wolfe and the Morgan adaptations of the play. Morgan, in addition, leaves out the scene between Portia and Brutus, Act II, scene 1. Bamouw leaves out the characters of Ross and Angus in Macbeth to simplify the plot structure. As has been noted, Gilbert Seldes dispenses with the entire Induction in The Taming of the Shrew. The adapter sometimes finds that in omitting characters he must compensate by adding to Shakespeare's dialogue. Morgan deletes the character of Brutus' wife, Portia, from Julius Caesar. In the quarrel scene, Act IV, scene 3, Brutus, however, must explain his grief to Cassius: "No man bears sorrow better.—Portia is dead." The audience knows no Portia; therefore Morgan has Brutus say: "Portia my wife is dead." The blank verse suffers, but not much more by addition than by omission. Morgan adds additional bits of dialogue to identify the characters fully. When Cassius speaks to Brutus, he says:

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"Will you see the order of the course?" The radio audience is not sure to whom he is speaking. Morgan has Cassius say: "Brutus, will you see the order of the course?" In Macbeth, Bamouw had the problem of making a silent ghost palpable to the radio audience. Banquo's ghost appears in Act III, scene 5, but does not talk. The announcer, of course, could tell the listeners that Macbeth was seeing a ghost, but that would destroy the illusion. Bamouw makes the ghost talk. Using the "filter mike" to give his voice a sepulchral quality, Banquo's ghost says: "All hail, Macbeth, that shall be king hereafter," a line belonging to the witches.14 To compensate for the loss of the listeners vision, the adapter sometimes gives the announcer a very large part. Charles Newton gives most of the first five pages of his adaptation of The Tempest to the narrator, who tells the introductory story. Except for an occasional quotation from the play, this is pure narration. This device is used to sketch parts of the plot rapidly. Again, in Melvin R. White's radio version of Romeo and Juliet the narrator summarizes for the audience: Thus Romeo becomes involved in a quarrel and kills a Capulet. Remembering the Prince's decree that "if ever you disturb the street again your life shall pay the forfeit of the peace," he hides, later appearing at Friar Lawrence's cell to find out what the Prince had decreed shall be his punishment for killing Tybalt. Thus we find Romeo in Friar Lawrence's cell.15 In Julius Caesar Morgan has the narrator interrupt immediately after Caesar's encounter with the soothsayer in Act I, scene 2. The mighty Caesar and his train of followers move forward to the races. But two men linger behind. This one, broad of brow and thoughtful of countenance, is Brutus, statesman and scholar, scion of a noble and illustrious family, ardent believer in the republic. That one is Cassius, dark, hawk-like, passionately patriotic—but personally envious and avaricious. Cassius speaks— obliquely—with one eye on the receding figure of Caesar.

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Thus the narrator supplies the visual details the audience needs to follow the story easily and appreciatively. As a further consideration for the audience, radio drama repeats important ideas until even the inattentive listener can follow the thread of the story. Edwin Wolfe has the soothsayer in Julius Caesar repeat: Beware the Ides of March Beware the Ides of March Beware the Ides of March. Then in the assassination scene, just before Caesar dies, the soothsayer is heard once more: "Beware the Ides of March." Repetition like this helps the ear to carry the burden of the continuity. Keeping the completely aural nature of radio in mind, Barnouw changes one of the characters in the "Pyramus and Thisbe" scene of A Midsummer Night's Dream. In Shakespeare's play Moonshine is represented by one of the characters. Since Moonshine is a visual character, Barnouw substitutes the wind for the moon and uses appropriate sound effects to create the character for the listeners.16 Wynn Wright, the radio director, justified the change: ". . . one must do some violence to Shakespeare in presenting his work over the air, and it was generally agreed that this is permissible provided the author's basic theme is not violated." 17 Barnouw even modernizes Shakespeare's language in "Pyramus and Thisbe." Shakespeare has Theseus say: "No, no epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. It was notably discharged." This becomes, with a little satire on radio itself: "No epilogues, I pray you! Never listen to epilogues; for 'tis certain they contain some commercial matter. Nay, leave your after-dinner speeches alone. The play was sufficiently windy." 18 "That green plot shall be our stage" becomes: "Now we will do our play in action before the microphone."19 It must be pointed out, however, that this version of "Pyramus and Thisbe" was largely experi-

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mental. In another radio version of "Pyramus and Thisbe" Barnouw takes no such liberties with the language, although again he changes the moon into the wind.20 Naturally, the radio plays are not divided into the acts found in the textbook editions of Shakespeare. To that extent they are nearer to Shakespeare's stage versions, which had no act divisions. One scene fades into another. Sometimes the narrator bridges the gap; sometimes music is used. There is no intermission except the customary pause for station announcement. In A Midsummer Night's Dream the radio used Felix Mendelssohn's music for introduction, transition, and conclusion. Sound effects and all the other technical resources of radio supplement the words. The same technique in the radio versions of Shakespeare's plays is used to adapt other famous verse plays. Euripides' Alcestis, adapted by James Church, Sophocles' Antigone, by Charles Warburton, and Aristophanes' The Birds, by Blevins Davis, also show dialogue condensed and telescoped, some lines inserted, and lines rearranged to break up long speeches. The narrator introduces, comments, and summarizes to keep the continuity of the story. Music and sound effects endow these radio presentations with rich aural overtones. In these plays, of course, the basic text is already a translation. In a recent adaptation of Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, Ranald R. MacDougall noted: "We have retained large sections of the play in the sonorous blank verse in which Marlowe wrote it, but we have taken the liberty of carrying forward the stress and the action of the other parts in a modern manner and with modern effects." ADAPTATION OF LONG NONDRAMATIC POEMS

Stage verse plays offer ready material for the adapter, because they are already dramatic in form. The adapter's problem is complicated when he must translate into radio terms poetry that is not dramatic. In narrative poetry, how-

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ever, he finds at least one basic element for a radio play, the story. For long narrative poems the adaptation technique is again essentially omission and elision in order to condense the story into the brief radio period. "The Book of Job," which has been adapted three times (once by Wylie and then in England by Robert Speaight, J. R. Coates, and John Burrell, and again in America by Erik Bamouw) offers a comparatively simple problem, because the story is really dramatic and the dialogue is indicated very clearly in the Bible. And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.21 In the BBC adaptation this becomes simply: The Lord: Whence comest thou? Satan: From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down . . . The adapters omit sections of Job, particularly the nondramatic material at the beginning and parts of the difficult philosophical argument at the end. The descriptive part, condensed, is assigned to the chronicler. Musical bridges span the gaps between the narrator and the scenes in the play. Much more rearrangement is required in narrative poems in which the scenes and the dialogue are not so clearly outlined. In Edwin Arlington Robinson's Tristram, for instance, the adapter, Stella Reynolds, omits the entire introductory, section and most of the descriptive parts. The plot is simplified substantially. The Isolt-of-Brittany subplot is removed completely. The narrator comments and bridges the scenes, using appropriate lines from Robinson's poem. The action is divided into scenes, with voices fading in and out; sound effects, "filter mike," and other devices support the action. Stella Reynolds adds to Robinson's dialogue only when the listener needs additional information. Andred is hurt, and

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so he is made to groan "Ohl my back—my back!" to emphasize that fact for the audience. The dialogue is cut, and long sections are telescoped. The adapter seizes the opportunity to use Wagner's "Tristram and Isolde" music for background, mood, and transition. Paul Wing, who prepared a radio script of Burton Braley's "Morgan Sails the Caribbean," inserts dramatic prose episodes to vary the presentation. The narrator gets the important task of introducing the scenes, commenting, and summarizing. From Longfellow's The Courtship of Miles Standish, the adapter, Wells Hively, omits most of the simply descriptive lines. He writes in a part for the chorus, which whispers: "John Aldenl John Alden! John Alden! Betrayer of friendship!" Norman Corwin, who adapted Stephen Vincent Benét's John Browns Body, divides the poem into many short scenes, using three narrators to read some of the transitional passages. Despite the fact that he prepares it for a full-hour broadcast, Corwin breaks up long speeches and omits many others. He uses a chorus of women on the "filter mike" to whisper: "John Brown . . . John Brown . . . John Brown." This gives way to: "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave," and the line becomes the whispered accompaniment to the dialogue that follows. John Brown, after he is dead, speaks on the "filter mike" to give his voice the haunting quality for "There is a song in my bones." Corwin repeats lines for the benefit of the ear. Ellyat says: "I can't stay here and fall in love with Melora." The narrator repeats: "No, he can't stay here and fall in love with Melora." Norman Rosten made a similar adaptation of Stephen Vincent Benét's Western Star, using many scenes, narration, a chorus, prose dialogue, music, and sound effects. Educational stations, when presenting poems to student audiences, generally make fewer revisions. When Romance Koopman prepared a radio version of The Bime of the Ancient Mariner for WHA, The University of Wisconsin's School

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of the Air, she filled the teacher's role by explaining the difficult words at the very beginning of the program. "Eftsoons means once. Kirk means church." The Ancient Mariner tells most of the story, with occasional interruptions by the guest and the announcer, who reads those parts of the poem in which the Ancient Mariner is not an active participant. Although the adapter tries to maintain the dramatic form of the radio play, she avoids making serious changes in the text. What is the adapter to do, however, with poems like The Rtibáiyat which do not tell a story? Paul Wing found one solution when he wrote an original play called "Thorns in Omar's Garden." The central character is Omar Khayyam. Naturally, the poet, Omar, recites his own verse in the drama. In much the same manner Talbot Jennings wrote the play, "Man with a Beard," in which Walt Whitman appears in a military camp of this war and gives a wavering soldier courage and perspective by reciting his verses on America and democracy. Whitman's "Sea Drift" was chosen for radio adaptation because it permitted a story progression and dialogue. The announcer introduces the program by explaining how appropriate the poem was for broadcasting purposes: "Written many years before the advent of radio, it lends itself to the medium with great ease, and contains in its original form the essence of dramatic presentation." "Sea Drift" is then divided into scenes, separated by music; the characters, the Boy, the Girl, and the Man, speak poetic dialogue supplied by Whitman. Sound effects of the wind, the waves, and the birds supplement this version. It is not always necessary to write a story as a framework for the poetry. In three other adaptations of Walt Whitman's poetry made in 1944, the script writers are content for the most part to let Whitman speak for himself, interrupting only occasionally to vary the presentation. Thus Corwin introduces his adaptation: "I have adapted these poems with as little invention as possible, taking dramatic license only to the

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extent of interrupting with a few of the questions which certainly were asked of Whitman in his time. Every word to be spoken by Mr. Laughton [Charles Laughton, the narrator], however, comes directly from the pages of Walt Whitman." The narrator asks: May I speak Seems to me You like the Just who do

to you for a moment? you're pretty sure of yourself. sound of your own name, don't you? you think you are, anyway?

Whitman answers: "Walt Whitman. A cosmos of Manhattan, the son!" and continues from there. A bit later, a child asks: "What is grass?" and Whitman answers with his poem on grass. The same question-answer technique is employed by Morton Wishengrad in his adaptation for the "NBC Inter-American University of the Air." A man asks: "Walt Whitman, what do you hear, Walt Whitman?" The poet replies: "I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear." A few of the questions which Whitman answers by quoting his poetry are: "Of whom do you sing, Walt Whitman?" "Have you no room for God, Walt Whitman?" "What widens within you, Walt Whitman?" Sometimes the adapter varies the procedure by having Whitman ask the question. Thus the narrator turns to Whitman for guidance: "Walt Whitman, it is clearer now, but still I cannot fully understand. I doubt myself, Walt Whitman." This comment, which is, incidentally, a typically Whitman line turning on itself, elicits this response from the poet: "Why, what have you thought of yourself?" Then the narrator quotes from Leaves of Grass. Carl Carmer writes the continuity of his adaptation, which he prepared for Carl Van Doren's "American Scriptures," in a somewhat flexible blank verse. He describes Whitman in these lines: A huge fellow, Wearing a broad, light-colored hat, blue coat;

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A shirt with a frilly collar, flowing tie, Part-hidden by his mighty, flowing beard. Carmer calls upon Whitman to read. Now, good gray poet read to us once more Read us this song of our democracy . . . In this adaptation, as in the other two, the reading of Whitman's poetry forms the basic text of the program. Another poet of democracy, Carl Sandburg, was adapted twice by Norman Corwin. In his first version Corwin makes poetry a completely co-operative art by taking sections of Sandburg's The People, Yes, adding prose dialogue to give it continuity, and collaborating with Earl Robinson, the composer, in presenting a radio opera, "The People, Yes." Part of Sandburg's poetry is sung; part chanted in recitative, much in the manner of "Ballad for Americans." There is no traditional plot, just the poetic and dramatic expression of the firm conviction that "The People are gonna win out some day, and that's a fact." Three years later, in 1944, Corwin brought the same message to the American public in another adaptation of The People, Yes. In this version the music, written by Bernard Herrmann, is used only incidentally, and Sandburg's lines are recited by Charles Laughton with occasional prose interludes to illustrate the character, speech, and humor of the American people. The emphasis, again, is on Sandburg's poetry, which proclaims great faith in the destiny of the people. ADAPTATION

OF

SHORTER

POEMS:

ORCHESTRATION

AND

AUGMENTATION

The adapter has a very different problem when he is faced with the task of building a short poem into a radio program. Instead of condensing, he must expand his material. In his radio adaptations of short poems Norman Corwin unquestion-

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ably has done the most creative work. He defines this technique as "a new treatment of the very old art of poetry . . . a technique of orchestration and augmentation created expressly for radio. This technique adapts for the enjoyment of the ear, poems written originally for the eye; and in doing so, full use is made of the freedom implicit in the title: Poetic License." 22 Corwin is quite willing to make radical changes in a poem, adding many lines and situations of his own to transform a short piece into a radio broadcast, without changing the mood or the spirit of the poem. He blends voices in chorus; he uses the solo voice; he repeats; he writes in prose dialogue; he breaks up lines; he omits lines; he superimposes one voice on another. "Orchestration" and "augmentation" describe exactly what Corwin does. His adaptation of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," built on the dramatic elements which Browning himself has supplied— dialogue, refrain, action, and a rapid story pace—opens with solo narration, the statement of the theme. Then the lines are distributed to many voices, an example of multiple narration. The chorus chants some of the lines in unison. Corwin develops the theme in true musical fashion by having one group chant a rhythmic accompaniment of "Rats" while the other group tells part of the story or repeats some of the essential lines.23 Corwin's adaptation of F.P.A.'s "Christopher Columbus" divides the burden of the narration among several voices. While one chorus supplies details about Columbus, the other simultaneously intones "In Gen-o-way, In Gen-o-way" as a bass accompaniment.24 In Carl Sandburg's "Psychological Portrait of the State Executioner" Corwin obtains a very dramatic effect by "pyramiding." One voice begins to call: "Kill, Kill, Kill!"; a second voice joins; then a third until six voices are shouting together: "Kill, Kill, Kill!" from pianissimo to fortissimo, begin-

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ning with the solo instrument and concluding with the entire ensemble. 25 For much of his choral work Corwin depended on the Koralites. The Koralites do more than chant lines in unison. They blend their voices carefully to produce a harmonious, almost musical, effect. Much good poetry [Kenneth Hayden, the manager of the group, explained] does not lend itself to choral interpretation. Group ideas are best expressed in solo voice. In spite of the increase in its popularity . . . the potentialities of choral speech are not fully realized. In its professional form it still awaits authors who can make the most of its possibilities of orchestration with the speaking voice.26 Corwin augments or amplifies the poems by adding illustrative prose dialogue. This contributes variety and dramatic power to the presentation. "In most cases," Corwin wrote, "the poem in its original form is useless for radio and I contend that it must be adapted very freely if it is to achieve any validity on the air." 27 In this spirit Corwin gives pace and movement to the radio version of Holmes's "The Deacon's Masterpiece." No voice has a speech longer than nine lines. Interjections like "aya," "mmm," and "go on" are used for variation and verisimilitude. As the parson goes riding, prose dialogue is introduced. Neighbor: Mornin', Parson I Parson: Mornin,' Mr. Peebles. Neighbor: Haow's the old shay standin' up? 28 Corwin adds a character, the "stooge" of vaudeville: Narrator: Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay? Stooge (bluntly): No.29 In this way prose alternates with verse. Says the stooge again: "No, I told you," in answer to the same question. In another place the stooge repeats: 'Tes, go on. It was 1755." He comments: "Interstin' theory." Sometimes Corwin deliberately

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causes the speeches to overlap. Just as the narrator says: "And he said, 'Now, looka here, I'll tell yeou,'" the Deacon comes in with: "Now, looka here, 111 tell yeou." 30 The poem acquires such dramatic variety that it succeeds admirably as a radio play. Holmes's "The Height of the Ridiculous" is expanded in much the same way. Corwin uses all the original lines but also intersperses prose dialogue to round out the radio version. Narrator: I'll call Gadsby, and try my lines on him—Oh Gadsby! Gadsby (off mike): Yes, sir. Coming, sir.31 Using this technique Corwin adds to the humor implicit in F.P.A.'s "Noah Webster." The narrator says: And the first edition came off the press In 1828, I guess. The sound of the printing presses going at great speed is heard. The narrator interrupts: "No, that was in 1828! Presses were much slower in those days." A voice answers: "Okay," and the presses slow down.82 Corwin takes the opportunity to expand a single line of poetry into several lines of prose dialogue. Vachel Lindsay's "The Daniel Jazz" has the line "He answered de bell." Immediately after that Corwin invents this scene: Daniel: Who dere, please? Ahab: Dis is Old Man Ahab-a-callin'. Daniel: Will yo' step right in, please.33 Corwin uses sound effects of thunder, the roaring of lions, a bell, the slap of a brush, and the clanking of shovels in rhythm to enrich the tonal effects of the poem. In Samuel Haskell's "Claire de Lune" there is an ominous accompaniment of drum beats all the way through: Men are marching tonight to kill m e in the moonlight!34

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In the Sandburg poem "Psychological Portrait of a State Executioner," we mentioned before, Corwin uses the "filter mike" in a "flashback" scene. As the man thinks of a line he read in an old school reader, the "filter" voice supplies it: "I'm to be queen of the May, mother, I'm to be queen of the May." Corwin omits words or lines that would jar the radio presentation. He omits, for instance, "a few censorable lines" from Swift's "Gentle Echo on Women." Except for these lines, however, the poem makes excellent broadcasting material, because its humor depends entirely on the echo effect, which radio transmits superbly. Shepherd: What must we do our passion to express? Echo: Press. Shepherd: Is there no way to moderate her anger? Echo: Hang her.35 Corwin at all times tries to keep the essential spirit of the poem despite all the changes he makes. Humorous poems are presented in humorous fashion. Thomas Hood's "A Parental Ode to My Son, Aged Three Years and Five Months" is called "a study in frustration," and the announcer explains: "It is a sort of self-portrait of a poet trying to compose a piece in praise of his offspring." 36 The child is heard whimpering; the wife contributes offstage remarks; the father is interrupted as the child attempts to swallow a pin. There are sounds of running, closing of doors, shouting, and wailing—all designed to keep the poet from writing his poem. Corwin dramatizes nonsense verse, emphasizing the whimsical elements. In Edwin Lear's "The Pobble Who Lost His Toes," the Pobble is made to complain: "Gee whizzikens, why did they pick on my toes?" In Lear's "Two Old Bachelors" the narrator remarks: "And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more." A voice interrupts with a Gilbertand-Sullivan turn: "Not even onct?" The narrator concludes: "Never heard of more." 37

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191

Serious poetry, of course, is treated seriously. Matthew Arnold's "Dover Beach" is read very quietly; no liberties are taken; no changes made. The adaptations of Kenneth Fearing's "The World of Tomorrow" and Edgar Lee Masters' "Silence" stick very closely to the original. Employing these various techniques, Corwin has presented to a wide radio audience many important poets of different times, ranging from William Shakespeare to Robert Frost and Stephen Vincent Benêt. While Norman Corwin is pre-eminent in this field, other adapters have used the "expansion" technique with variations of their own. William A. Bacher and Malcolm Meacham built a prose drama around the sonnet "High Flight," by John Gillespie Magee, the poet who was killed in action with the R.C.A.F. The reading of the poem becomes the climax of the program, which sketches the chief incidents in his life. 38 The same adapters used choral effects, music, and multiple narration to transform Thomas Wolfe's "The Face of America" into a symphony of words. Solo voices state the different themes; the chorus blends them. Eldridge: America has a thousand lights and weathers— Huston: And we walk the streets. . . . March: We walk the streets forever. . . . Chorus: We walk the streets of life together. . . ,3fl Vachel Lindsay's "The Congo," as adapted by Katherine Anderson, is primarily a musical presentation. In the script the adapter wrote: "Mr. Lindsay believed that poetry is another form of music; and, as music, must be heard in order to stir the heart and mind of the listener successfully." The radio version of "The Congo" is made into an orchestration. It is written on regular music-score paper with musical notations to guide the reading and the singing. A verse choir, a male chorus, a female chorus, solo voices, sound and musical effects complete the symphonic treatment of the poem. Chesterton's "Lepanto," which makes interesting use of the same

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rhythmic patterns as "The Congo," gets a similar musical setting. Three narrators are used to read the lines, and the music interposes frequently, so a comparatively short poem is expanded into a thirty-minute script. Originally written for a stage revue, John LaTouche's "Ballad for Americans," with music by Earl Robinson, "became the musical sensation of the season," thanks to the radio. 40 Here, too, the different voices, the chorus, the recitative, the singing, and the music made the poem effective radio material. Our marching song will come again Simple as a hit tune Deep as our valleys High as our mountains Strong as the people who made it For I have always believed it And I believe it now And you know who I am? I am. . . . America]41 "Ballad for Americans," in both treatment and subject matter, anticipated many of the radio verse plays that followed it. The idealistic theme, the simplicity and informality of the language, the use of prose and poetry, the recitative and conversational technique, the combination of solo and choral singing, the use of refrain, quotations, and lists of names undoubtedly set the pattern for Millard Lampell and Earl Robinson's radio cantata, "The Lonesome Train." The spirit and the style of the cantata are indicated in the closing lines about Lincoln sung by the Chorus: His heart was tough as a railroad tie, He was made of stuff that doesn't die, He was made of hopes, he was made of fears, He was made to last a million years! Freedom's a thing that has no ending, It needs to be cared for, it needs defendingl Freedom!

7 THE READING ON T H E A I R

IN

THE

EARLY

OF

DAYS

POETRY

OF

BROADCASTING,

PEOPLE

were invited to recite and read poems. For a while these programs flourished. David Ross, Margaret Anglin, Norman Dey, A. M. Sullivan, Tony Wons, and Ted Malone became wellknown readers of poetry on the air. One by one, however, these names have disappeared from the field. Today there are few formal poetry-reading programs left on radio schedules. This does not mean that the reading of poetry has largely outlived its usefulness for broadcasting. The contrary is true, for instead of appearing on a few unsponsored programs, poetry is now being used wherever and whenever its power is needed. Particularly now, when people need solace, guidance, and inspiration, poetry almost inevitably finds a place in the split-second niches of radio. FUNCTIONAL USE

Lynn Fontanne's reading of Alice Duer Miller's The White Cliffs of Dover, affirming America's kinship with England at a time when defeat seemed near, aroused great enthusiasm. When the Australian freighter "Jarvis Bay" went down fighting a German battleship with puny 5-inch guns to protect ships in a convoy, Gene Fowler celebrated the event with the poem "The Jarvis Bay." John Garfield, the movie actor, read it on the radio to the accompaniment of music written by Meredith Wilson.1 "American Scriptures," a program presented by Carl Van Doren during the intermission of the broadcast of the New York Philharmonic orchestra, turned to poetry again and again

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in order to interpret America for Americans. On May 30, 1943, Memorial Day, Tallulah Bankhead read Francis Miles Finch's poem "The Blue and the Gray." On October 3, 1943, Carl Sandburg read excerpts from his book The People, Yes. On October 31, 1943, Norman Corwin read an excerpt from Whitman's Leaves of Grass and Stephen Vincent Benét's "Prayer for United Nations." Thanksgiving's place in American life was noted by Orson Welles, who read Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Thanksgiving" on November 21, 1943. Kate Smith read Julia Ward Howe's "Battle Hymn of the Republic" on January 2, 1944, after telling how it came to be written. Whitman's and Sandburg's poems on steel were read on the February 27, 1944, program of "American Scriptures" to pay tribute to steel as an instrument of American democracy. As a memorial to Stonewall Jackson, Carl Van Doren presented a program on May 7, 1944, which used an excerpt from Stephen Vincent Benét's John Browns Body on the death of the Confederate hero. On May 28, 1944, another Memorial Day program featured the reading of Douglas Southall Freeman's "The Last Parade." The "Radio Hall of Fame," with Deems Taylor as master of ceremonies, used poetry when the occasion called for compressed expression. On the December 12, 1943, program, "Love Letter for Microfilm," by Claire Niesen, asked this question: Are there words to capture and hold in miniature all the love I have for him—as the micro-camera will take this letter of mine and make it infinitely small? Are there tiny jewels of words, to be engraved on a locket of love no bigger than a needle's eye?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnet, "How Do I Love Thee?" was read to conclude the letter. On the December 26, 1943, program Raymond Edward Johnson read a poem of hope for America, "Toward the Future," by Stephen Vincent Benêt. Deems Taylor, incidentally, used verse in a rather amusing fashion to introduce the network announcement in the "Radio

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Hall of Fame." On the May 21, 1944, program Taylor announced: You know, it's extraordinary, how much a real poet can express in a few simple lines. Take, for example, this stanza from "Skipper Ireson's Ride," by John Greenleaf Whittier. It runs: Sweetly along the Salem Road Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. Little the wrecked skipper knew Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. Riding there in his sorry trim, Like an Indian idol, glum and grim, Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear Of voices shouting, far and near. . . . Riggs [announcer]: This is the B L U E Network.

Taylor used this device several times. Poetry was enlisted to help fight the war. On March 15, 1943, Paul Muni read Langston Hughes's "Freedom's Plow," a plea to Americans to keep their hands on the plow of freedom. On April 23, 1944, the New York Newspaper Guild presented a reading of Alan B. Rothenberg's "Song of the Double-V," a poem on the need for victory at home as well as abroad. On November 22, 1944, "Great Moments of Music" quoted Whitman's lines ending: O days of the future I believe in you, O America because you build for mankind we build for you!

to induce people to buy more war bonds. On December 10, 1944, "We, the People" presented Frederic March in a reading of excerpts from Russell Davenport's poem My Country, with music composed and conducted by Deems Taylor. Perhaps the important role of poetry can best be demonstrated by the use the Office of War Information made of verse. "Watchwords of Liberty," recorded for broadcast abroad, used Stephen Vincent Benét's "Prayer" and excerpts from "They Burned the Books" to fight fascism in Europe.

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On short-wave broadcasts to the Middle East the OWI used the poetry of the East as an acknowledgment of their culture. Joseph Ausländers letters in verse, The Unconquerables, were translated into the language of the people to whom they were addressed and broadcast to them. Many other important pieces of poetic literature were translated into different languages and used in short-wave broadcasts to summon the people to the side of the Allies. The Armed Forces Radio Service broadcast a program called "Words and Music." It featured well-known actors reading "popular" and classical poetry to an organ accompaniment. According to the publicity officer, the program proved "exceedingly popular for nighttime listening overseas and in hospitals." For awhile soldiers' contributions were read, but this had to be discontinued because of rapid demobilization. William Rose Benét's poem "Day of Deliverance" was broadcast several times through the benefit of the Third Service Command. Benét's "The Strong Swimmer" was read on "The March of Time," as was Leonora Speyers "Birthday Cake," a narrative war poem, which appeared in the Sunday magazine section of the New York Times. Sometimes the poems are woven into the dramatic structure of a radio play. When Violet Atkins, in "I Speak for the Women of America," praised the women who worked and suffered to help build America, she used lines from Walt Whitman's "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" and Edgar Lee Masters' "Ann Rutledge."2 The nature of the script prevented her from mentioning the titles or the poets, but the poems served the purpose well. When a program is required to celebrate a special occasion or anniversary, the script writer turns with alacrity to an appropriate poem which will do honor to the subject. No February 12 or July 4 passes without some poetic recognition of the day. On February 12, 1944, for instance, Clifton Fadiman read Rosemary Benét's "Nancy Hanks" and Edgar Lee

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Masters' "Ann Rutledge" during the intermission of the Boston Symphony Orchestra's broadcast. On February 13, 1944, Mayor La Guardia read "We Here Highly Resolve," a poem by Major Dick Diespecker of the Royal Canadian Artillery. "Against the Storm," a Christmas program in wartime, introduced a child reciting "Christmas Morning," by Elizabeth Madox Roberts, as a message of cheer and courage. Helen Mencken marked Christmas, 1944, by reading H. I. Phillips' "Christmas Casualty," a poem on the death in war of a great, great grandson of Clement Moore. In Orson Welles's "Columbus Day," a "Cavalcade of America" script written in collaboration with Robert Meitzer and Norris Houghton and broadcast on Columbus Day, 1942, the narrator read Walt Whitman's "Passage to India" and Joaquin Miller's "Columbus." Lillian Everts reads suitable verse at the end of the fifteen-minute talks she gives on small stations such as WBYN, Brooklyn, to mark particular occasions. "American Scriptures," it has been noted, used poetry to celebrate important occasions and anniversaries. Anniversaries of poets themselves are celebrated, and tributes paid. When the 125th anniversary of Longfellow's birth was celebrated on February 27, 1932, a special program of readings from his works was offered. The 373d anniversary of Shakespeare's birth was celebrated in a radio program called, "A Tribute to Shakespeare," prepared by James Church and Charles Warburton. In addition to the presentation of a few scenes from Shakespeare's plays, three of his songs were sung, and Ben Jonson's poem on Shakespeare was read. After the death of John Gillespie Magee, Orson Welles read Magee's sonnet, "High Flight" on the "Radio Reader's Digest." A few weeks after Stephen Vincent Benét's death, radio paid its respects with a program of Benét's poems and selections from his radio play "They Bumed the Books." In 1938 and 1939 Professor Warren Bower, of New York University, who conducts "The Reader's Almanac" on WNYC,

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New York, directed a series of celebrations of authors' birthdays by comments upon their work and readings from it. Poets whose birthdays were thus celebrated were Whittier, Robinson, Sandburg, Amy Lowell, Millay, Coffin, Frost, and Housman. Bower invites original verse and reads some of the best. Occasionally he invites poets to read their work on the air. Poetry has an essential part in Archibald MacLeish's series of historical plays, American Story. When MacLeish tells about the Incas and the Aztecs in the fourth script of the series, he introduces Incan and Aztec songs. In the seventh play he quotes from Michael Drayton, John Donne, Christopher Marlowe and Andrew Marvell to show how the new world crept into the English poetry of the time. Describing the hardships of the early colonists, in the eighteenth century, MacLeish has the congregation sing psalms to avow their belief in the Lord. The story of Nathaniel Bacon, No. 9 in the series, uses the ballad about Bacon: The rich and proud Deny his name, The rich and proud Defile his fame. . . . Similarly, in the tenth script of American Story MacLeish sets the ballad about José Antonio Galan to the music of a guitar. The appearance of poetry on commercial programs testifies to the fact that poetry still has the power to entertain. The astute radio performer Bing Crosby invited Basil Rathbone to read poems such as Shakespeare's sonnets on his popular program "The Kraft Music Hall." Evidently Rathbone was well received, because he appeared several times as a guest artist, reading serious poetry on a broadcast that featured a crooner and a comedian. On another program, "Three-Ring Time," sponsored by Ballantine Beer, Ogden Nash read his light verse between vocal solos and Guy Lombardo's dance-band

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199

music. "Hymns of All Churches," advertising General Mills, presented Franklin MacCormack, who occasionally read a religious or didactic poem on a program consisting almost entirely of the singing of hymns. The Squibb program, "Keep Working, Keep Singing, America," with David Ross as master of ceremonies, also found time every now and then for a poem. Additional evidence that poems provide desirable material for broadcasting is furnished by the publication of two anthologies: The Radio Book of Verse and Poems for Radio. According to the publishers, Poetry House, New York City, nearly two hundred radio stations have quoted from these anthologies, which present the work of new poets. Leonard Carlton, the program director of WLIB, Brooklyn, the station owned by the New York Post, is very much interested in broadcasting poetry, not on a regularly listed program, but at all times when it is needed. The chief drawback to this policy, he finds, is that permission to use poems must be obtained from publishers and poets long in advance, a requirement which interferes with all but long-range plans. Carlton is now trying to induce publishers and poets to grant him "blanket" permission to use poetry on noncommercial programs presented in the public interest.3 FOLK POETRY ON THE AIR

Perhaps another trend in radio is to recognize that America has a deep reservoir of folk poetry that can be channeled into broadcasting. It cannot be said, strictly speaking, that folk poetry on the air is merely read, for actually it is presented as it should be, chanted to an accompaniment, usually of a guitar or a banjo. In this way radio transmits the original quality of a poetry that has always been intertwined with song. The depth of that reservoir of song has been marked by men like John A. and Alan Lomax, whose research in this field has resulted in these anthologies of authentic American

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ballads: American Ballads and Folk Songs, Cowboy Songs, and This Singing Country. The theater has attempted to capture this material in the Theatre Guild production of the 1944-45 season, "Sing Out, Sweet Land!" a musical which is described as "A Salute to American Folk and Popular Music." Recordings made by the Asch Recording Co. are preserving folk poetry that ordinarily, perhaps, would be lost. For these recordings ballads like "Black Is the Color of My Truelove's Hair," "The Foggy, Foggy Dew," and "Careless Love" are sung by Leadbelly, Mary Lou Williams, Josh White, Burl Ives, Woody Guthrie, Cisco Houston, and others. These "bards" find a natural outlet in radio. On WSM, Nashville, Tennessee, and transmitted from there on the NBC Network, "Grand ΟΓ Op'ry" presents mountain folk songs sung and played by Renfro Valley folk, people who represent possibly the purest Anglo-Saxon stock in America. These songs have rarely been printed, being handed down by word of mouth from generation to generation. "Grand ΟΓ Op'ry" has brought to the radio audience such authentic folk poetry and music as "Bully of the Town," "How Many Biscuits Can You Eat?," "The Cross-Eyed Butcher," and many others. Students of American poetry and music have found these ballads valuable source material. The program is evidently very popular. When a group of Nashville citizens, in the mistaken notion that "Grand ΟΓ Op'ry" reflected unfavorably on the culture of the city, petitioned the station to remove it from its schedule, the wave of letters that resulted was so overwhelming that the program was retained.4 In 1944 Woody Guthrie, the minstrel from Oklahoma, sang ballads on WNEW, New York, on a fifteen-minute program on Sundays. For part of his program Guthrie summarized the news in verse of his own composition, which he sings as he strums his guitar. This was not a complete innovation on the air. On November 18, 1943, Richard Dyer-Bennett, accompanying himself with a guitar on "The March of Time," sang

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201

his own verses about events of the day. The Norwegian fanner who resisted the Nazi edict "to fill his quota as he killed" answers his oppressors. Sirs, the undersigned begs To inform you concerning my quota of eggs. I posted your warning right where the hens live But the stubborn old bipeds failed to give, So I wrung their necks, the foul saboteurs. Delighted to serve you—Sincerely yrs. Richard Dyer-Bennett sang a program of folk songs on WNYC, New York, on February 14, 1945. Burl Ives, whose growing popularity as a ballad singer is being charted by radio programs, recordings, Broadway performances, and concerts, was signed for a thirteen-week series on the "Radio Reader's Digest," beginning March 4, 1945. Philip H. Cohen, at the time connected with the Library of Congress, used the folksong recordings of John A. Lomax in many of his documentaries. 5 This alliance of poetry and music is an ancient one, and it seems safe to predict that on the air the alliance will be reinforced. Of particular interest on that score is the BBC production "The Chisholm Trail," which was played for a group of radio editors on January 25, 1945, at the BBC office in New York City. The script and music for this story of the Old West were written and arranged by Elizabeth and Bess Lomax, who obtained their material almost entirely from the Library of Congress. The program, one hour in length, used Burl Ives, Woody Guthrie, Lee Hays, Cisco Houston, and other balladeers to sing the trail songs of the period. Perhaps we should point out here that folk songs are not the only means by which music and poetry may be combined on the air. In 1944, on WNYC, New York, a young American soprano, Judith Doninger, introduced a new note—and an old one— by singing Shakespeare's lyrics to music written by distinguished composers of the past.

202 THE DECLINE OF THE FORMAL

READING

OF

POETRY

POETRY-READING

PROGRAM

The success of poetry in broadcasting throws into high relief the apparent failure of the formal poetry-reading programs to hold their place in radio. Ted Malone, the last of the important readers on the air, left poetry during the war to broadcast stories from England. On June 11, 1945, he returned to the American Broadcasting Company to present fifteen minutes of story-telling every day from Monday through Friday. Except for a few programs on educational and city stations and such presentations as Harvey Hays's "Words and Music," in which the reading of verse shares the microphone with songs and organ music, the poetry-reading program as such seems to have disappeared. Every now and then a new verse program appears on a commercial station and then lapses. Eve Merriam's "Out of the Ivory Tower" began early in 1942 on WQXR, New York, after the station had rejected proposals for two hundred similar presentations." In the fall of the same year the program was no longer on the air. Louis Reid, who investigated the broadcasting of literature, reported: "The reading of poetry—even dramatic poetry . . . has attained to date only meager representation upon the air waves." 7 In England Tom Harrison, in an article in The Observer, complained that the reading of poetry appeared only intermittently on the BBC schedules. 8 Why has the poetry-reading program, which once was popular on the air, declined in importance? Hostility of the radio audience is cited as one reason for the absence of such programs. "Certainly the learning to enjoy poetry on the radio," one critic feels, "will take as much concentration and patience as the learning to write it." 0 In 1930 Harriet Monroe, then editor of Poetry, wrote: "It is not strange that the public cannot yet listen intelligently to poetry, for they have had no practice in listening since the invention of printing." 10

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203

The readers of poetry are quick to defend the radio audience. David Ross, the poet-announcer who conducted the program "Poet's Gold" for eight years before it was discontinued, declared: It has always been my belief that the spoken poem, when presented sincerely and understandably, could break down the old antagonisms, so that the listener might be reconditioned and reeducated to a fuller appreciation of poetry. To this end I originated my series of Poet's Gold readings. Five years of such programs have convinced me that people have a natural appetite for poetry, and once having learned to listen, they will demand it out of a deep necessity.11 A. M. Sullivan, who read poetry on the "New Poetry Hour" for many years, thought at first that his program would have a "cultured minority appeal," but he found that he had a surprisingly large and varied audience.12 In Gateway to Radio the authors, Ivan Firth and Gladys Shaw Erskine, commented on Sullivan's poetry program: 'The fan mail on this series is remarkable, and is indicative that the public will respond to serious programs, if and when they are given the chance." 13 Because of this fan mail, Sullivan was sure that there was a great untapped audience for poetry that radio could discover. Eve Merriam believed that many people were afraid of poetry. She hoped to abolish that fear with her program. The response was very encouraging, especially in view of the fact that she read only modern and generally difficult verse. One listener wrote: "If that is modern poetry, I can stand it." 1 4 Yet all these programs have been dropped. The readers of poetry blame the "commercial" attitude of the radio executives, not the audience, for the dearth of verse programs. In 1930 Harriet Monroe, as editor of the most important poetry magazine in the country, went to see the director of a radio station in an effort to improve the quality of the verse being broadcast. "It was apparent," she reported, "that nobody in his office was competent to decide what poetry should be sent

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out to their million listeners—the art was abracadabra so far as they were concerned." 15 A few months later Roland V. Weber, director of the lecture bureau and announcer, WNYC, New York, wrote to Miss Monroe on this subject: "Being non-commercial, WNYC can afford to raise its standards above those of commercial stations, to influence its audience toward the very best in every field of achievement." After he quoted a long list of poets whose work was broadcast on WNYC, Weber concluded: 'This list should prove to you fully that the radio-station managers are apt to underestimate the intelligence of their audience." 1 6 "Radio has a business attitude towards its programs," David Ross declared, "and the business man has an antagonism toward poetry because he has a misconception of poetry and poets." 17 The result is that poetry programs are handled rather summarily, being shifted around and even eliminated if the time is needed for entertainment which seems to have a wider appeal. In an interview A. M. Sullivan complained: "Naturally I am at the mercy of the big commercial companies that pay for their time, and they shift me about. The result is that listeners often fail to hear me at the accustomed time." On one occasion Sullivan, who was not paid for his programs, prepared his audience in advance for a famous poet, only to have the entire program canceled for a baseball game. At best, evidently, radio stations tolerate these poetry-reading programs. Eve Merriam's program on W Q X R was not dropped, but she finally had to give it up herself because she was not paid for her work and she found as a result that it was costing too much time and money. Some of the blame falls on the readers of poetry on the radio. The reading of poetry is an art which, unfortunately, even many poets have not mastered. Stephen Pottes, who edits the literary features of BBC, found the selection of competent readers for the network's poetry programs his most difficult problem. 18 W. E. Williams criticized a Tennyson-read-

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ing program produced by BBC: "He [the reader] did nothing whatever to coax or acclimatise his audience to poetry. . . . If you are putting on poetry at 9:20 you must assume that your audience will consist mostly of people who have still to be won to poetry." 19 Cesar Saerchinger, who has done extensive broadcasting in Europe, speaks up for the audience: "If a thing that is considered high-brow does not go over, it is only because it has not been well enough done." 20 James F. Macandrew, co-ordinator of the New York City Board of Education station WNYE, wrote: "Do not think . . . that I am of the opinion that poetry cannot be broadcast effectively. I think it can but it must be done superbly. I think there is a need for research leading to the development of technique by which this can be done."21 Sterling Fisher, director of the NBC Inter-American University of the Air, feels that poetry is so difficult to broadcast that it is better not to do it at all rather than to do it badly.22 Davidson Taylor, who bought many verse plays for the Columbia Workshop, raises the question whether the mere reading of poetry is effective material for the radio. In the symposium published in Poetry he stated: Just as the symphony has reached over the air a new and larger public who have learned to understand and love it, so poetry and the poetic drama may be able to win a responsive new audience through radio. But it must be borne in mind that, whereas music is perfectly suited to the conditions of radio, poetry will win its hearing

only by

skillful and realistic adaptation

to the

new

medium. 23

The attitude of the radio executive can be very easily understood. He wishes to present programs that have the greatest possible audience. Poetry readings must compete with other types of broadcasts. The program that plays to the largest audience will be the program to be retained. There are many ways of estimating the size of a radio audience. The most scientific method is to sample by means of the

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telephone or the personal interview. A simple way of testing the popularity of a program is to count the fan mail. This is hardly an accurate measure, because it does not represent a true cross-section of the radio audience. William S. Paley, former president of CBS, discounts the value of letters of this kind: "Fan mail is not merely a minority but a weighted minority opinion, since more people are likely to write and mail a letter because of violent disagreement than because of vigorous approval."

24

Yet Paley adds that much of it is

valuable, and Ted M alone testifies that his program was restored time and again because of his fan mail. Every time his program was taken off the air—and that happened a number of times—an avalanche of letters of protest swept "Between the Bookends" back on the radio. 25 A sufficiently large number of listeners evidently can influence radio stations to keep programs that ordinarily would b e dropped. T h e radio audience has power, if it cares to use it. T h e vice-president in charge of programs of the Mutual Broadcasting Company, Julius F . Seebach, Jr., emphasized this fact by speaking directly to the audience: ". . . anything that can contribute to our knowledge of your likes and dislikes is of the most vital importance to us in the planning of our schedules and the creation of our programs."

26

An inter-

esting new device for testing the likes and dislikes of listeners, T h e Program Analyzer, has been developed by Dr. Paul F . Lazarsfeld, of Columbia University, and Dr. Frank Stanton, now president of CBS. T h e volunteer listener holds a green button in one hand and a red in the other. If he likes something, he presses the green button; if he dislikes anything, he presses the red. If he is indifferent, he presses neither one. A moving paper tape graphs all these impressions electrically, and in this way a record is made of the listener's feelings all through the broadcast. 27 Unfortunately, the more intelligent listeners, according to David Ross, generally do not write fan mail and do not

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bother to protest when a program they enjoyed is removed from the radio schedule. A. M. Sullivan, too, found that most of the audience of the type that listens to poetry do not write letters to radio stations. If that is so, then the people who enjoy poetry programs are to blame if these presentations go off the air. In the essay "Radio—a Brief for the Defense" Deems Taylor insists that if listeners want better programs, they must demand them. It is an axiom in radio circles that the better your program the scantier your Opera

fan mail.

broadcasts

are

You may think that the a

great

cultural

Metropolitan

contribution,

and

that

Amos 'n' Andy are not. The fact remains that one broadcast of the latter may bring in eight times as many letters as the entire twenty-five broadcasts of the former. The fan letter is a ballot; and if you are above casting yours you must be above complaining if the election goes against your party. 2 8 TED MALONE

The fact that "Between the Bookends" was a popular radio program of long standing until Ted Malone was sent to England in 1944 to broadcast war stories makes a study of his methods important. Malone first began reading poetry in 1928 on a small station in Kansas City. Since that time he has been on the air almost continuously. Radio, Malone said, is an intimate medium; the voice comes in even through locked doors. He establishes individual contact with his listeners at the very start of the program: "May I come in?" asks Ted. "I see you are alone. . . . Now I'll just take this rocker here by the radio and chat awhile. . . . What lovely new curtains. . . . Well . . . " 29 Malone maintained this air of intimacy by speaking quietly and casually. He read simply without oratorical flourishes, exaggeration or affectation. To some, perhaps, his reading seemed to pay too little attention to the rhythmic and tonal qualities of poetry, but Malone was more interested in keep-

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ing the pattern of a livingroom conversation than in emphasizing poetic felicities. Ted Malone read to a simple audience that preferred the warm, friendly poetry of sentiment; hence he used a great deal of poetry that appeals to sentiments about familiar experiences. Using organ music as a background, Malone sat down to chat with his listeners about subjects that "impinge on their lives." Occasionally he ventured beyond the realm of the familiar to read more difficult poems that could be understood and appreciated after a short introduction. "Between the Bookends," thus, covered a wide variety of poetry, ranging from very sentimental poems about mother, the home, and dogs to the work of Shakespeare, Keats, Shelley, Hopkins, Sandburg, Millay, Lindsay, Lanier, Yeats, Tennyson, Amy Lowell, Masters, Leonard, and Markham. The reaction of the audience was his only touchstone. He did not read Poe's poems, because they were too gloomy, but he did read from Laurence Hope's India's Love Lyrics, because he found from his fan mail that his listeners liked them. On one program he tried T. S. Eliot's "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," but he never used it again because he discovered that the audience was indifferent. Malone's method of presenting the poems was governed also by his consideration for the audience. He introduced the verse simply by underlining the significance that the listener would understand. Hamlet's soliloquy, "To be or not to be," for instance, was prefaced by this explanation: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, is unhappy because his father is dead and his mother has married his father's brother, Claudius, who is now ruling as king. The ghost of his father visits him to tell him that he was murdered by Claudius and to demand revenge. Tortured with grief, horror and anger, Hamlet delays in carrying out his father's injunction. Finding himself alone, he speaks his indecision aloud. Everyone who has been in a des-

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perate situation, hesitating on the edge of action, will understand what he says about life—which is more difficult to bear than anything except death, that mysterious and possibly even less endurable experience.

In similar fashion Malone told Elizabeth Barrett Browning's romantic story to interest his audience in her sonnets. Robert Browning's "My Last Duchess" was presented as an interesting tale; Keats's "Ode on a Grecian Urn," as a story about a picture. Recognizing that "O Attic shape" might have an entirely different connotation for the average person, he explained the allusion before reading Keats's poem. Malone was the teacher again when he encouraged people to read the poems they heard. After he read Portia's mercy speech from The Merchant of Venice, he suggested that his listeners get the play and read it. In his pedagogical capacity Malone co-operated with the high-school magazine Senior Scholastic, reading on his program every year the prize-winning poems written by high school students in the literary contest the magazine conducts. While he was on the air Ted Malone got thousands of letters a week. Sometimes he received as many as ten thousand original poems in one week. Very often, according to Malone, the best and freshest work came from the least educated group in his audience. He used a few of the submitted poems on his program, and he made a conscientious effort to answer the letters he received, employing a secretary for that purpose. Some of the letters reveal an honest appreciation of the poetry read. The Shakespeare program elicited a very enthusiastic response. One person wrote: "As for me, it took me back to New Hampshire wood roads, to the sound of creaking wheels of my grandfather's high top buggy." Another listener wrote: "I am sure that Shakespeare lay very still and listened, this noon, just as we all did." A man who tuned in late and thus missed the mention of Shakespeare's name enjoyed the program so much that he wanted the name of the author of

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the selections, "especially the one about the advice of a father to his son," referring evidently to Polonius' speech in Hamlet. Most of the letters were from women, perhaps because an afternoon program can expect an audience composed largely of women. Malone made such a personal appeal that, as many of the letters indicate, his audience was interested in him as well as in the poetry. This bond between the reader and the listener won for "Between the Bookends" a very large audience, as evidenced by the fact that the series was always rated near the top of radio's sustaining programs.30 OTHER READERS OF POETRY

From 1927 until he died, in 1947, George Ward conducted a program of poetry and music called "Melody and Rhyme," the latter because Ward said that some of the verse he read was not really poetry. Ward, a WNYC announcer, presented his program over WNYC, New York City's station, at the rather unusual time of 8:00 to 8:45 Sunday morning. "Melody and Rhyme" devoted a substantial part of the period to music alone. The program was spaced carefully to offer the greatest variety. A poem was read to a musical accompaniment, usually recorded. Then a record was played alone, followed by another poem. On the forty-five minute schedule Ward used four to six poems. These were all simple, clear, and generally sentimental. Edgar A. Guest was one of the favorites. Ward tried Joseph Ausländers "Steel" once, but he found it too "heavy" for Sunday morning. Nevertheless, he managed to include easily understood poems by Shakespeare, Keats, Shelley, Coleridge, Masefield, Frost, and Noyes. Sometimes people wrote to ask why he did not stick to good poets. His answer was that he had to satisfy his mass-audience; therefore he "mixed it up from A to Z." 31 "Words and Music," supervised by Harvey Hays, is a program combining poetry and music which began on June 13, 1932, in Chicago. It is still on the NBC network. The read-

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ing of poetry has a subsidiary role in this presentation, most o f the time being devoted to music furnished by Ruth Lyon, soprano, Edward Davies, baritone, and Elwyn Owen, organist. T h e poetry that Hays reads against a musical background is chiefly "sweet" and sentimental. Hays does not stop to mention the poet's name; right after the musical number, he begins to read a selection appropriate to the music. Complex poetry has no place on this program. 32 Similar programs appear on and disappear from the air. "A Moment for Meditation," for example, was presented on the N B C network for a short while in 1944. In this program the pattern was exactly like "Words and Music." A male quartet and an organ supplied the music, and then poetry was read sonorously to organ accompaniment. Tony Wons' "Scrapbook," no longer on the air, had the unique distinction of winning two radio sponsors, a tobacco company and then a greeting-card firm. Wons was on and off the N B C network from October, 1940 to April, 1942. 33 Wons, as befitted a commercial program, used subjects that were "sure-fire." Dogs, children, home, mother, and other subjects dear to the heart of the radio audience appeared frequently in the "Scrapbook." Two poems that proved particularly popular on the program were "Little Dog Angel in Heaven" and "I Always Wanted a Toy Balloon." H e read to an organ or string-quartet accompaniment, inserting for continuity little bits of homely philosophy to be illustrated by the verse. 34 T h e "Scrapbook" was admittedly sentimental, although judging from his anthology of poems read on the program, Wons read also simple poems by Oliver Goldsmith, W . S. Gilbert, Christina Rossetti, John Dryden, Thomas Moore, and John Suckling. 3 5 A few readers of poetry refused to compromise by yielding to sentimentality. David Ross, A. M. Sullivan, and E v e Merriam, while recognizing that the reader must make some concession to the nature of the medium and the

audience,

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nevertheless tried to present good poetry only. Except for Sullivan they are no longer on the air as readers of poetry. David Ross began reading poetry on the air in 1926, a long time ago as radio goes. While he insisted on reading good poetry only, it had to appeal to the ear; it had to be simple and clear, and it had to create what Ross called an "instantaneous emotional shock." The highly involved and complex poem [Ross wrote] is too manysided to be grasped in its entirety. Simple poems are more successful on the air. The oversubtle poem is for the reading room or library. But the poem that is read aloud must touch off an immediate response or it will fail of its purpose.36 The list of writers represented on his program, as indicated, by Poet's Gold, an anthology of poems used on his program, is a roll call of the best poets: Christopher Marlowe, William Shakespeare, Conrad Aiken, Matthew Arnold, Stephen Vincent Benêt, William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Ε. E. Cummings, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, John Masefield, and Carl Sandburg.37 Ross read the poems to the accompaniment of music, usually the organ. Inasmuch as the program was presented fairly late in the evening, he tried to make his reading melodious and soothing, introducing no comments of his own and withholding the names of the poets until the end of the program. In order to test the extent of his audience, he once offered a copy of a poem read on the broadcast to anyone who requested it. He got 1700 letters, a remarkable response in view of the fact that most people do not bother to write letters to radio stations.38 A. M. Sullivan, a poet and former president of the Poetry Society of America, conducted the "New Poetry Hour." For programs of special appeal [one radio book commented] none have been more significant than A. M. Sullivan's New Poetry Hour over WOR. In this there is no pandering whatever

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to the sentimentality of the moron, who will respond to the third rate poetry of the cheap ballad type. The whole presentation is motivated by a sincere desire to project an appreciation and understanding of poetry in its various forms, rhythms and moods, to the student and lover of poetry. 3 9

The "New Poetry Hour" presented the poets reading their own work and discussing technique and trends in poetry, a procedure which helped to give the poems proper tonal and rhythmic values. Sullivan was instrumental in presenting more than three hundred poets on the air, some of national reputation, others just beginning to be known. Some of his guests were Joseph Auslander, Stephen Vincent Benêt, William Rose Benêt, Mark Van Doren, Edgar Lee Masters, David Morton, and Marya Zaturenska. Although Sullivan tried to get the poets to read their simple poems, the appeal of the program was definitely intellectual. The poems were read with no musical background at all, for Sullivan said he disliked using music as wallpaper, although he did care for music written specifically for a poem, an entirely different matter. The "New Poetry Hour" attracted great interest and thousands of letters requesting copies of the poems read, offering suggestions, and even commenting critically. These letters were rarely sentimental in tone. Many colleges took official cognizance of the program, and writers and publishers evinced friendly interest. The Poetry Society of America gave the program its official support. Nevertheless, the program had to be discontinued because it lacked "commercial" appeal. 40 In 1948 Sullivan resumed the reading of poetry on a noncommercial station, WNYC. His program, "The Poet Speaks," patterned on the "New Poetry Hour," combines the reading and the discussion of poetry. Eve Merriam, a young poet, began "Out of the Ivory Tower" on WQXR, New York, early in 1942. She was interested in presenting the modern poets, many of whom write rather obscure verse. Eve Merriam tried to select their sim-

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plest and most understandable work. She used no music at all except as an introduction at the very outset of the program. Dividing her fifteen-minute period in half, she interviewed the poet in the first part, trying to bring out the biographical highlights; then the poet read selections from his own work. Miss Merriam felt that this procedure stimulated the listener's interest, particularly if the poet's personality and training were revealed. Her guests included Genevieve Taggard, Mark Van Doren, Muriel Rukeyser, A. Fleming MacLeish, Marya Zaturenska, Horace Gregory, Stephen Vincent Benêt, William Meredith, Harry Brown, John Beale Bishop, and Kenneth Fearing. The fan mail she received revealed a highly intelligent audience. Peter Monro Jack had his class at Briarcliff Junior College listen to the program, and the student-poets at Columbia University were encouraged by her example to set up a poetry program of their own on Columbia's intramural stations. 41 T H E READING

OF

POETRY

ON EDUCATIONAL

PROGRAMS

The aim of educational programs is to teach. Unrestricted by any commercial considerations, these programs need make no compromises save those inherent in instructing any group of students. The result is that the most ambitious and constructive poetry-reading programs are now broadcast by the educational stations. Two of the university radio stations doing the most progressive work in poetry are WOSO, the Ohio State University, and WHA, University of Wisconsin. WOSO has been broadcasting for the past twenty years. "Lyric Ohio" presents the work of Ohio poets. 42 The Radio Junior College Program at Ohio State broadcasts readings of Byron, Christina Rossetti, Gray, Lanier, Masefield, Donne, Scott, and de la Mare. "Fidler's Green" offers poetry in conjunction with music. WHA sponsors a very carefully organized radio school, the Wisconsin School of the Air, which has been on the air since

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1930. The series "Invitation to Reading," under the supervision of Professor Robert C. Pooley, includes many poetry programs for high school students. The purpose of the series is to broaden the student's "reading horizon." A manual and supplementary material are issued to enhance the educational value of the broadcasts. The unit "Narrative Poetry," in "Invitation to Reading," dramatized Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, Byron's "Prisoner of Chillón," Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and Benét's John Brown's Body. Another unit, "Lyric Poetry," broadcast readings of poems grouped conveniently as "Poems about Nature," "Poems about People," "Poems of Courage and Inspiration," and "Poems of America Today." 43 An outline of one of the scripts, "Poems about Nature," may indicate how the program educates as well as entertains its audience. The readings of Bums's "To a Mountain Daisy" is prefaced by a prose dramatic sketch about the poet. The narrator then explains the next poem, Millay's "God's World," before he reads it. The third number on the program begins with illustrations of rhythm in life. The rhythms of a man walking and a horse galloping lead to the reading of Lanier's "Song of the Chattahoochee." Finally, a sketch about a vagabond introduces Carman's "Vagabond Song." Another script, "Poems about People," presents in similar fashion Byron's "She Walks in Beauty," Browning's "Incident of the French Camp," Kipling's "Gunga Din," Colum's "An Old Woman of the Roads," and Frost's "Death of the Hired Man." "Invitation to Reading" is but one of the series on WHA that include poetry reading. The fifth program of another series, "Literature, Then and Now," entitled "Modern Verse," introduced poets reading their own work in recordings. Still another series, "Moods and Melodies," combines poetry and music. Organ music and vocal solos alternate with the reading of verse. The literary level of these poems is indicated by the writers represented on one program: Sara Teasdale, John Masefield, William Ellery Leonard, Celia Thaxter, John Keats,

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and Wilfred Wilson Gibson. To bring poetry to the children in grades 7-9 the series "Living Language" offered in 1940-41 three programs: "Words That Make Music," "Rhymes and Reason," a broadcast designed to encourage the writing of poetry, and "The Summing Up," the reading of student contributions. For grades 4-6 "Book Trails" included four poetry programs: "A Pocketful of Rhymes," "Troubadour Tales," "Rhymes without Reason," and "Voices of Verse." Alan Beaumont and the WHA Players also brought poetry to grades 4-6 in the 1941-42 session with "People Passing By," "Christmas Poetry," and "Rollicking Rhymes." In 1942-43 WHA presented "Storybook Land," a series for children in grades 1-3 which included four programs of verse, "Follow Your Nose" (travel poetry), "A Wreath of Rhyme" (Christmas poetry), and "Pease Porridge Hot" (dining in rhyme). In the 1943-44 session "Storybook Land" included one program of verse, "Laughing Ho Ho" (rhymes for fun). The 1944-45 session scheduled a new series, "Adventure Stories," a program of readings of children's classics in prose and poetry. The poems listed were Beowulf, Song of Roland, and The Odyssey. It can be seen from these instances that there is nothing haphazard about the poetry program at WHA. They demonstrate the careful organization and presentation of material necessary to introduce poetry as an educational as well as entertaining experience. In the radio schools conducted by the city boards of education the reading of poetry occupies but a minor place. A number of reasons for this can be ventured. Poetry is not popular in the schools. Teachers have placed the emphasis on prose. An analysis of the recent Regents examinations in English conducted by the University of the State of New York reveals very clearly that the study of poetry has been minimized. When poetry programs are broadcast, they are usually cast in dramatic form, which would seem more effective for radio presentation than mere reading. Finally, any poetry presenta-

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tion is difficult to do well. Frequent rehearsals and painstaking attention to details of rhythm and vowel quality are so important that it is not surprising that the radio schools prefer the simpler prose broadcast. Despite these difficulties, a few school stations report poetryreading programs. The Department of Visual and Radio Education, Detroit, Michigan, occasionally presents teachers' and students' verse. For a number of years the poet laureate of the metropolitan area of Detroit and a number of runners-up have read their original poems on the air. Kathleen N. Lardie, a member of the department, explained why there were no additional poetry broadcasts: Our programs are of a synthesis type seeking to touch all parts of the curriculum, and so poetry has been emphasized only in a small percentage of the programs. However, we feel that it plays an important part and look forward to the time when more of it can be used in our program.44 The New York City Board of Education's station, WNYE, used to broadcast poetry readings occasionally. In the spring of 1940 the station presented "Odes to Occupations," "Poetry for Fun," and "Poetry in the Theatre." In certain of the broadcasts for classes in English and speech there have been readings by individuals and performances by choral groups. There has never been a complete series, however. In 1944 WNYE broadcast Norman Corwins "The Oracle of Philadelphi" and Archibald MacLeish's "The States Talking," but scheduled no poetry-reading programs as such. Josephine French, the director of radio education at Akron, Ohio, reported that in the spring of 1942 three fifteen-minute programs, during which children read some of their poems, were presented by the Board of Education. Miss French occasionally reads poetry during broadcasts she makes to the children. 45 The programs of the schools of Cleveland, Rochester, Portland (Oregon), and Alameda (California) seem to

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indicate that verse is read only in occasional discussions and dramatizations of poetry.46 Commercial stations have co-operated with schools in broadcasting educational programs. The American School of the Air, a CBS presentation, was probably the most famous of these. The American School of the Air used to present a number of poetry-reading programs each year. In the first semester of the 1938-39 session poems by Carl Sandburg, Robert Frost, and Archibald MacLeish were read. Soon after that the radio school abandoned these formal poetry broadcasts. Sterling Fisher, director of the school until he became director of the NBC Inter-American University of the Air in 1942, felt that the reading of poetry on the air was merely duplicating the classroom teacher's work and as such was not making the unique contribution of which radio was capable.47 Poetry programs under Fisher's direction were allied with music, drama, and the dance. In the 1944 session of the Columbia School of the Air poetry was read only in a dramatization of Longfellow's The Courtship of Miles Standish. NBC does not conduct a school for elementary or high school students, and its Inter-American University of the Air includes no formal poetry programs, using verse, as has been pointed out, only in such productions as MacLeish's "American Story." Another commercial station, WAAT, Jersey City, presented Professor Paul Nickerson of the Montclair State Teachers College every Sunday in a reading program of student verse. He conducted a poetry-writing contest among the schools of the New York metropolitan area, reading the prize-winning poems on the last program of the series. The formal reading of poetry, it can be seen, holds no important place in radio today, but it must not be assumed that some day it will disappear entirely. People evidently like to listen to reading. Mark Van Doren read the entire Scarlet Letter in a series of radio broadcasts, and the movie actress Madeleine Carroll read Bromfield's The Rains Came on the

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C B S network. Another series, " T h e Tale Teller," broadcast in 1945 on W Q X R , New York, the reading of short stories in condensed

fifteen-minute

versions. The opening story was

Poe's " T h e Tell-Tale Heart." Poetry, it would seem, should prove effective for programs of this type because of its rhythmic and tonal qualities. W e have seen how many times broadcasters have turned to poetry for the compressed expression of ideas and emotions. Perhaps some day the full "commercial" possibility of poetry will be realized.

8 THE DISCUSSION ON T H E R A D I O

OF

POETRY

IN THE FIELD OF ADULT EDUCATION THE RADIO HAS

made great contributions. Forums, discussions, interviews, lectures, speeches, and plays are breaking down the common concept that the radio will not go beyond the ken of the twelve-year old. In the study of literature, a series like "Invitation to Learning" demonstrates vividly that the radio is capable of programs requiring mature concentration, judgment, and appreciation. PROGRAMS FOR

ADULTS

In "Invitation to Learning" every Sunday morning three critics, experts in their fields, meet to discuss an important work of literature. There is no attempt to simplify the discussion; there is no condescension toward the audience. The listeners get the benefit of mature, intelligent, and well-considered opinions. No schoolroom can hope to capture the spirit and spontaneity of these discussions, which, in spite of their profundity, very often develop into highly entertaining programs. For the most part prose works are discussed, but in every series some programs are devoted to poetry. On three separate broadcasts in one series, Huntington Cairns, Allen Tate, and Mark Van Doren discussed Lucretius' On the Nature of Things, Dante's The Divine Comedy, and Milton's Paradise Lost.1 Parts of the poems were read to illustrate the critics' opinions. In another series five poetic works were analyzed. One program, "The Holy Bible: The Book of Psalms," brought together Louis Untermeyer, Irwin Edman, and Mark Van

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Doren. In the discussion that followed Louis Untenneyer read the 44th Psalm in Hebrew to demonstrate the "rich alliteration, and an almost insistent semi-rhyme." In the course of the broadcast Untermeyer also read the 148th Psalm in English, Van Doren read the 29th Psalm, Edman, the 8th, and Untermeyer concluded by reading the first part of the 137th Psalm. A second program was based on Aeschylus' The Oresteia, with Whitney J. Oates, Jacques Barzun, and Mark Van Doren as commentators. Again poetry was quoted liberally. F.P.A. (Franklin Pierce Adams), Irwin Edman, and Mark Van Doren appeared on a third program, "Horace's Poems: Odes, Satires and Epistles." Translations by F.P.A., John Dryden, and Eugene Field were read. Margaret Webster, Stringfellow Barr, and Mark Van Doren discussed Shakespeare's Hamlet on another of these broadcasts. On the fifth of the poetry programs Goethe's Faust was analyzed by Allen Tate, Jacques Barzun, and Mark Van Doren. During the 1943-1944 winter season "Invitation to Learning" scheduled six programs dealing with the discussion of poetic works: Shakespeare's Othello, Wordsworth's poems, Schiller's William Tell, the Niebelungenlied, Hardy's Dynasts, and Racine's Phèdre. The summer series of 1944 included four additional poetry programs: Stephen Vincent Benét's John Browns Body, Keats's poems, the Njal Saga, and Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. The 1944-1945 winter schedule presented discussions of Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac, Lindsay's poems, Aristophanes' Lysistrata, Poe's poems, and Corneilles The Cid. The summer season of 1945 added programs on Yeats's poems, Fitzgerald's Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, and Dryden's poems. The first quarter of the 1946 series scheduled programs on "The Book of Revelation" from the Bible, Browning's poems, Euripides' The Trojan Women, and Ibsen's Peer Gynt. A similar series was sponsored by the British Broadcasting Corporation. Called "Writer in the Witness Box," the broadcast brought together authors to discuss literary subjects. One

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such program, "Poets and Poetry," invited Walter de la Mare, Stephen Spender, and Desmond Hawkins.2 "The Writer As Artist" introduced T. S. Eliot and Desmond Hawkins. Poems by Wordsworth, Blake, Shakespeare, Housman, and others were read to reinforce T. S. Eliot's viewpoint.3 Literary programs for adults seem to be growing in popularity. Three typical presentations are 'The Author Meets the Critics," on the NBC network, "Of Men and Books," on the CBS network, and Warren Bower's "Reader's Almanac," on WNYC, New York. Reflecting the public's preference, these broadcasts introduce poetry infrequently. The May 24, 1944, program of "The Author Meets the Critics" brought Norman Corwin face to face with the critics, John McManus, Sterling North, and John McCaffrey to discuss More by Corwin—an acknowledgment that radio poetry and drama were achieving critical recognition. Professor John T. Frederick, of Northwestern University, conducting "Of Men and Books," discussed the role of Poetry: a Magazine of Verse on February 20, 1943. On March 20, 1943, he spoke on "Poetry in Wartime." Bonaro Overstreet, author of American Reasons, was invited on May 15, 1943, to read her poems. The subject of the September 4, 1943, broadcast was "Poetry in Living Literature." The work of Walt Whitman was discussed on January 29, 1944. Professor Warren Bower's program, "The Reader's Almanac," which we described in the preceding chapter, occasionally admits the discussion of poetry in connection with the reading. An important series was Ted Malone's "Pilgrimage of Poetry," broadcast in 1939-1940. Malone circularized 700 colleges and universities to get the rankings of the great American poets of the past. After compiling his figures, he chose the top thirty-two poets. The first six were Poe, Whitman, Lindsay, Dickinson, Robinson, and Longfellow.4 Then Malone actually made a pilgrimage, visiting the homes of these poets and broadcasting from each a brief biographical sketch of the

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223

poet, a similarly brief analysis of his poetry, and excerpts from his best-known works. The thirty-two poets thus discussed were, in order of presentation, Francis Scott Key, Edgar Allan Poe, Philip Frenau, Joyce Kilmer, Walt Whitman, Stephen Crane, Elinor Wylie, Alan Seegar, John Greenleaf Whittier, John Bannister Tabb, William Vaughn Moody, Sara Teasdale, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, James Russell Lowell, Lizette Woodworth Reese, Sidney Lanier, Joel Chandler Harris, Stephen Foster, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, James Whitcomb Riley, Vachel Lindsay, Eugene Field, Joaquin Miller, Francis Bret Harte, Harriet Monroe, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Amy Lowell, William Cullen Bryant, Emily Dickinson, and John Howard Payne. The names were so arranged for geographical convenience. The program issued a supplementary booklet, Album of Poetic Shrines, giving information about the poets' lives and poems. Outside of these series, as can be expected, poetry is rarely discussed on the air. Carolyn Wilson Link, author of the book of poems, There Is Still Time, was interviewed on WOR, New York, on December 7, 1944, by Martha Deane. On October 3, 1945, Tennessee Williams, author of the poetic plays, The Glass Menagerie and A Streetcar Named Desire, discussed "Poetry in the Theatre" with George Freedley on the program "Theatre Time," WNYC, New York. Doubtless there will be a fair number of occasions of this kind, but they will not greatly influence radio or the public. Sometimes a radio play will dramatize a poet's life and add to the understanding of his poetry. "The Cavalcade of America," sponsored by E. I. du Pont de Nemours and Co., has been foremost in this field. 'The Cavalcade of America" seeks to interpret the spirit of America through the lives of its outstanding sons and daughters. Norman Rosten's "Wait for the Morning," a story of Emily Dickinson, Robert Tallman's "I Sing a New World," a play about Walt Whitman, and Robert

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L. Richards and Robert Tallman's "Nature Land," a program based on the life and poetry of Carl Sandburg, are three notable plays in this series on the lives of American poets. Inasmuch as these plays use a verse technique, they have been discussed in the chapters dealing with original poetry written specifically for the radio. A fourth play, "Oliver Wendell Holmes," written in prose, dramatizes the chief events in the poet's life, emphasizing the writing of "Old Ironsides" and quoting excerpts from the poem. The introductory announcement in Norman Rosten's "Wait for the Morning" reveals the spirit of the program. America, they are saying these days, is many things. Its voice has thousands of tones—the roar of factories, the steady clump of men

marching,

the murmurs

of people—and behind

all

these

immediate sounds of our past, other voices in other times that have defined America, E d g a r Allan Poe's wild genius, Whitman's "barbaric y a w p " and the voice of the woman our play is about tonight—Emily Dickinson. That, too, is America.

Another notable series, "White Fires," presented by KNX, Los Angeles, in 1937, dramatized great moments in the lives of famous poets and utilized "some work of the author which was associated with that moment, weaving this into the drama as a recitative combined with music." 6 The National Broadcasting Company, in the series "Adventures in Reading," broadcast in 1939 a dramatized biography of John Milton, "The Story of John Milton," by Helen Walpole and Margaret Leaf. The story of his life and work is told in prose. These dramatic programs demonstrate what some of the readers on the air found, that on the radio the personal and the narrative elements are very important in arousing and keeping the listener's interest. PROGRAMS FOR CHILDREN

Although literature courses were offered by WMAQ, Chicago, as early as 1926, the very first radio school was the Ohio

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225

School of the Air, organized by the Ohio State University on October 10, 1928. WHA, the Wisconsin School of the Air, began in 1930, at the University of Wisconsin. The North Carolina Department of Education established a radio school in 1931. The Indianapolis school system followed in 1932. The schools of Alameda (California) and Rochester (New York) organized radio courses in 1933. Detroit came next, in 1934; Akron, in 1935; New York City, in 1936. Lafayette (Indiana) schools began broadcasting over WBAA in 1936, and in 1937 Minneapolis established radio courses for the classroom. In the same year the Western New York School of the Air was organized, broadcasting over W B E N , Buffalo. In 1938 the Atlanta school system began to broadcast lessons for the classroom.0 This list is by no means complete, but it illustrates the steady and significant growth of educational stations, soon to be greatly expanded by the new educational F M stations. On the commercial networks the CBS American School of the Air began in 1930 as a sponsored program advertising Grunow Radios. After one season the Columbia Broadcasting System took the program over as a public service feature. In 1948 CBS finally abandoned the program. On the Mutual Broadcasting System the University of Kentucky's School of the Air functioned from 1940 to 1942 and then was dropped from the network's schedule. The National Broadcasting Company presented isolated educational programs during these years, but its organized school of the air, the Inter-American University of the Air, was not started until July 6, 1942, when Sterling Fisher went from CBS to NBC. 7 In educational radio the program supplements the work of the teacher; it does not compete with it. H. B. McCarty, the director of the Wisconsin School of the Air, defined the role of radio in the educational program thus: Radio is not intended to replace the teacher or make the teaching load lighter. Rather, to be valuable it requires thoughtful preparation and follow-up. But the teacher who makes a careful,

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intelligent use of school broadcasts will learn the radio brings to the classroom fresh stimulus and ideas, adding interest for pupils and teachers alike, by truly making of learning an adventure.8 On the educational radio program, whether from networks or university stations, poetry is not presented in isolation. Radio combines poetry and music, uses collections of folk songs, emphasizes poetry by means of sound effects. Radio, in short, correlates many arts and skills to present poetry to the audience. The early programs did not offer much that a good classroom teacher could not provide. Little by little, the programs veered away from what the teacher could do and did what radio alone could do. This changing concept of the educational program can best be illustrated by the programs of the American School of the Air, which used to broadcast during school time so that the program could go directly to the classroom. In 1945 CBS switched the time to 5 P.M., EST, a move which probably won a larger audience, but lost direct contact with the school. In 1930-1931 narrative poems and excerpts from poetic plays were either read or dramatized. "David and Jonathan," from the Bible, the trial scene from The Merchant of Venice, Antony's speech from Julius Caesar, and Longfellow's The Courtship of Miles Standish appeared on the CBS schedule. In 1931-32 Hiawatha, Beowulf, and Markham's poems were read. In addition, Markham delivered a lecture on "What Is Poetry?" and Edward Vance Cooke spoke on "Wizardry of Words." Similar programs were presented in 1933 and 1934. In the 1935-36 session of the American School of the Air, interviews with contemporary poets led to discussions of Omar Khayyam, Homer, Dante, Milton, and Poe. Lizette Woodworth Reese, Harriet Monroe, Roy Helton, Archibald MacLeish, William Rose Benêt, and Daniel Henderson appeared on these programs. The 1936-37 session continued the interviews with poets. This time, however, only two poets were

DISCUSSION OF P O E T R Y

227

introduced, Stephen Vincent Benêt and Lew Sarett. Additional programs of poetry appreciation, poetry reading, and verse choirs were broadcast. In 1937-38 only two poetry lessons were given, a program of Indian poetry and a discussion of American poetry by Robert P. Tristram Coffin. In 1938-39 Sandburg, MacLeish, and Frost were represented in three different broadcasts. Early in 1939 came a marked change in the treatment of poetry. The American School of the Air gave up its formal poetry programs. Instead, Sterling Fisher, the new director of the American School of the Air, presented series combining music, poetry, and the drama. One program, with Archibald MacLeish as commentator, offered Shakespeare, Kipling, Verlaine, Heine, and others set to music. Another, with MacLeish again, discussed Debussy's tone poem in relation to Rossetti's "The Blessed Damozel," and Dukas' "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" as a musical interpretation of Goethe's poem. A quotation from the Teachers Manual and Classroom Guide, issued by CBS, indicates how music and poetry were thus interrelated: "the Debussy prelude depends for its effect on a translation, into tone, of the atmosphere of Rossetti's poem; while the Dukas is a free fantasy of the Goethe poem." On another program, "Music and Drama," Aaron Copland, the composer, was the commentator. Mendelssohn's music for A Midsummer Night's Dream, Tschaikovsky's prelude to Hamlet, excerpts from the "Peer Gynt Suite" by Grieg, and the "Valse Triste" by Sibelius were played and related to the literature they represent. An additional "Music and Drama" program discussed and illustrated various operas.9 During the 1939-40 session of the school Sterling Fisher presented "Folk Music of America." Cowboy songs, sea chanteys, songs of the Gold Rush period, forecastle ditties, lumberjack and teamster songs, British ballads in America, love songs, Negro spirituals, railroad, outlaw, and farmer songs, and "blues" were discussed and sung on the program. Most of the

228

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material was taken from John A. and Alan Lomax's anthologies of folk songs. In the ensuing session of the school the folk music program was continued. In 1941, as a friendly gesture toward the other American countries, Sterling Fisher changed the name of the CBS program to the School of the Air of the Americas and, accordingly, broadcast "Music of the Americas," songs of the children, the sailors, the woodsmen, the miners, and the cowboys. Love songs, patriotic tunes, and topical songs served to link the Americas and to link music and poetry. Earl Robinson, the composer, referring to these folk songs, said: "From where I sit that's pretty good poetry. And this is just a tiny sample of what has already come from the people in their folk songs. Why can't poets make a study of this kind of stuff and, beginning there, carry it on?" 10 In 1942 Sterling Fisher moved to NBC to assume the directorship of the NBC Inter-American University of the Air. Under his direction, the Inter-American University of the Air, presented in the evening and sometimes late at night, does not go directly to the schools. It has broadcast adaptations of novels and poems and poetic scripts such as "Lands of the Free" and "The American Story," but it has not introduced any discussion of literature save as an introduction to the adaptations. The educational stations likewise avoid the formal discussion program. On the Wisconsin School of the Air, in 1939-40, the series "Literature—Then and Now," devoted five weeks of the sixteen to poetry: "Tales and Ballads" discussed "Beowulf" and examples of sea chanteys, cowboy songs, and folk ballads. "Characters—Then" introduced Chaucerian characters; "Characters—Now," well-known figures in modern verse narratives. 'The Literary Epic—Then and Now" brought together Paradise Lost and John Brown's Body for fruitful discussion and comparison. Another series on WHA, "The Radio Reading Club," sought to stimulate reading for pleasure by making children aware of the new experiences, inspiration, and joy

DISCUSSION

OF

POETRY

229

awaiting them in books. "The Radio Reading Club" emphasized prose selections, but programs like "Pipes of Pan" and "Words in Music" encouraged students to read poetry. In 1940 "Speaking of Poetry" surveyed the field of modern poetry in a series of thirteen broadcasts conducted by Mabel Louise Cook. Such poets as Emily Dickinson, Vachel Lindsay, Amy Lowell, Robert Frost, Stephen Vincent Benêt, and Carl Sandburg; and such subjects as "Poetry and War," "Children as Poets," and "Modern Themes" were discussed, and illustrative poems read. In 1941 WHA added the Wisconsin College of the Air to its schedule, presenting as one of the programs in the series, "The World Today through Literature," a discussion of T. S. Eliot and Thomas Mann as representatives of two schools of modern thought. The WHA schedules for 1942-43, 1943-44, and 1944-45 included dramatizations and reading of poems, but no separate discussion of poetry. The 1944-45 course outline, for example, listed two literature series, "Book Trails," a story-telling program, and "Adventure Stories," a program of readings of children's classics.11 It is not surprising that comparatively few poetry-discussion programs are listed by the educational stations. English is but one part of the total curriculum, and poetry is but one part of the English course. In the field of poetry, dramatizations and other adaptations offer more attractive radio fare. WOSO, the Ohio State University station, broadcasts many poetry programs, but it lists only one series of lectures, "An Introduction to Literature," delivered by Professor William L. Graves of the Department of English. Professor Graves is presented in thirty-minute talks on prose, drama, and poetry, illustrated frequently with the reading of selections. The program is on the junior-college level. On the high-school level, the Akron Board of Education encourages the original writing of poems and stories by pupils. There are no actual writing programs, but the radio presentations use "suggestion and inspiration" to encourage creative

230

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OF

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work.12 The New York City school station, WNYE, broadcast in 1940 "Shakespeare for Pleasure," a series of three programs —"Julius Caesar," "Popular Appeal of Shakespeare's Serious Plays," and "Enjoying Shakespeare's Comedies." The radio co-ordinator of the station found, however, that it usually was preferable to present poetry chorally or dramatically.13 Earle A. Kennedy, of the Alameda City ( California ) School of the Air, declared: A dramatic program has much greater listener interest than a talk, in the opinion of local station managers. . . . General observation of children's reactions to radio programs suggested that they followed dramatized programs with intense interest. 14

The discussion of poetry, thus, even when relegated as it usually is to the educational programs, is generally transformed by radio techniques and resources into dramatic and richly connotative presentations. This does not mean necessarily that all lecture and discussion programs on the air are to be discounted, but it does place them in their proper perspective as relatively minor occasions in the radio schedule.

9 C O N C L U S I O N S

IN SEEKING LITERARY INFLUENCES, LET US LOOK

back before we look ahead. The history of broadcasting encompasses a mere twenty-eight years, a period so brief that one might question whether anything genuinely significant could have been done. The machine age, however, has accelerated the pace of literature. The motion picture shows how quickly a new-art form can develop. Radio has been even more meteoric. In view of the hundreds of radio stations and their eighteen-to-twenty-four-hour schedules, the twenty-eightyear period of broadcasting in actual number of words delivered corresponds probably to centuries of the theater. This "theater of the ear" is something new, with its own language. A few years ago Julian Green, a bi-lingual novelist, wrote a book about France in tribute to a country he loved. After writing part of the book in French, he decided to turn to English in order to reach a wider public. When he began to translate his French into English, he found that he was really writing another book, different in style, mood, and treatment. What he had said in French could not be said in English.1 The situation is somewhat analogous for radio language. A poet must write for the radio in terms of radio. The verse play of the air, therefore, must be considered a new literary form. But it would be a mistake to dissociate that form completely from the dramatic and poetic literature that preceded it, for the radio verse play is a branch of the genealogical tree of literature. LITERARY

INFLUENCES

Dramaturgically, the radio verse play has brought back the role of the Greek chorus, permitting the author to speak

232

CONCLUSIONS

directly to his audience. Never before, not even in the time of the ancient Greeks, has the narrator been such a natural and essential part of the play. In radio he is the announcer, the link between the performer and the listener. The audience has learned to accept and expect him. The radio verse play is indebted to Greek drama for another device. In Greek drama—as in almost all early drama—music was linked inextricably to the words. In the radio play music has become so integral a part that the poet assumes automatically that it will appear in his work, and often writes directions for its use. Whatever jibes may be hurled at radio literature, no one can deny that in restoring music to the drama, radio has made a significant contribution. Radio has made possibly a greater contribution. Not since the days of Queen Elizabeth has poetry held such a vital place in popular drama. Poetic drama in the days of Aeschylus and Sophocles was for all the people. The poetic play at the time of Shakespeare, most critics are agreed, is the most beautiful and powerful dramatic expression in the entire history of English literature. Then poetry gradually gave way to prose on the stage. If verse was used, the playwright found that he was writing for the reader, not the stage. Milton, Shelley, Browning, and Hardy were great poets, but scarcely popular playwrights. Only in operettas, such as those by Gilbert and Sullivan, and in a few contemporary plays—T. S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral, Maxwell Anderson's Winterset, and Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie are outstanding examples—has verse won popularity. In radio, verse has become the medium for a dramatic literature that has the greatest audience the poet has ever known. Because of that audience, the verse differs from that of any stage play. Radio verse is simple and didactic. That is its strength and its weakness. It may be rough, loose, prosaic, but it is alive. It has an audience, and it can move multitudes. Basically, radio verse is utilitarian: it must move multitudes.

CONCLUSIONS

233

The temptation is strong to link radio poetry with all the declamatory verse of the past. Certainly the alliterative oratory of many of the radio plays awakens echoes of Beowulf and Langland. For that matter, even Dryden's work can be summoned for comparison, for Dryden wrote a poetry of statement, using alliteration and other devices to enhance both sense and sound.2 Significantly, Dryden was a practical poet, who used verse to praise his friends, condemn his enemies, and celebrate the heroes of the day.3 Mark Van Doren, in his The Poetry of John Dryden, makes this point about Dryden, which can be applied with equal force to the radio poet today. The writing of plays gave Dryden's hand valuable practice in the quick sketching of action. There was an audience in this case which needed to know briefly what had happened off the stage. The necessity was for being straightforward, not for wandering among rare similes and precious allusions.4

In spirit, radio belongs with the poetry of the public orator and chronicler, a role which Dryden played very well. As poetry became romantic and personal, that role dwindled in importance. The result was that the gulf between the poet and the populace became wider and wider. Only in times of national stress was the poet sometimes restored to his original position. At the time of the American Revolution, for instance, John Trumbull wrote "McFingal" at the request of members of Congress in an effort to cover the Tory cause with ridicule.5 William Bradley Otis, in his study American Verse, 1625-1807, observes: "McFingal" was written for a special purpose at a special time, and was written for the masses. No doubt the Yale tutor would have preferred a more elevated style, but it was necessary to appeal to the people in a familiar, and even in a coarse, manner. 6

But Dryden and Trumbull can hardly be called poets of the masses. Between them and the public loomed the barrier of

234

CONCLUSIONS

the printed page. Even Walt Whitman, who addressed his poems to the common man, won first recognition only from critics and artists such as Emerson and Swinburne. The radio is breaking down the barrier and giving the poet the opportunity to reach the people by means of the spoken word. Dryden and Whitman probably would have seized that opportunity. Whitman's exhortative verse makes particularly good radio material. His flexible line and rhythm lend themselves readily to broadcasting. In our day Carl Sandburg has found the microphone a very effective instrument for his simple, strong, and.affirmative verse addressed to the common people. His poems have been adapted for broadcasting; he has written original verse for the radio; and he has himself appeared several times as the narrator on important radio programs. Just what effect this radio verse will have on the future of poetry is still conjectural. We are still too close to judge adequately. Yet the emphasis on the poetry of speech seems to have had some effect on the writing of poetry. Peter Monro Jack, reviewing Hal Borland's America Is Americans, detected the influence of the radio. Perhaps the radio, the speaking voice, is accentuating this easy and informal way of writing verse. . . . It is a speech and a good speech, not what we know as a poem, but a radio way of making news heard into words said; and very effective it is. . . . But it has to be written and heard while the feeling is strong and immediate. 7

Norman Rosten testifies that radio has influenced the poetry he has written for publication. His long narrative poem The Big Road shows signs of radio technique, using flashbacks, dramatic interludes, and a simple, conversational style. In this work the italicized sections of the verse can be compared to the words spoken over the "filter mike." 8 Another poet, Jeremy Ingalls, according to William Rose Benêt, could never have conceived of the special form in which her long philosophical poem Tahl is cast had it not been for the development

CONCLUSIONS

235

of radio broadcasting: "It is closer to the radio play than to any other single form. The handling of the 'voices' is developed to a point where, by Book Three, listeners begin to spot the different characters by their particular manner of talking." 9 Some of the poems published in the popular magazines and newspapers indicate how far poets have gone toward dropping the traditional subjects and patterns of verse and developing an informal, conversational technique. Norman Corwins "Memo to the Living," published as a complete poem in the June 2, 1945, issue of Collier's, was inserted later into his radio verse play, "14 August," with scarcely any changes. His poem "Christmas: Atomic Age," which appeared in the December 29,1945, number of Collier's, could again, in all probability, be incorporated into his radio verse. A quotation from Ralph Parker's "The Epic of Leningrad," sent by wireless from Moscow and published in the New York Times Magazine, serves to illustrate the influence of radio verse. Suddenly, sharply it captures the city. December birds fall dead on the wing. The frost thrusts fangs through gaping windows. Fuel was short and fires burned low. Life ceased to flow through Leningrad's veins. There was no water, no transport, no light. Snow piled high in the streets and squares like a soft mold over a dead thing. A man trudged slowly along Nevsky Prospect dragging a crude sledge. His wife lay dead on it. A child hacked at the ice with a pick. He was burying his father. 10

It would be unfair to attribute to radio the entire responsibility for this trend. Poets such as Carl Sandburg, Kenneth Fearing, Horace Gregory, and Ε. E. Cummings, each in his own way, have utilized the patterns of everyday speech in

236

CONCLUSIONS

their verse long before radio poetry became an actuality. Radio, however, has set its stamp of approval on this form and has given it the prestige of popular recognition. Poets will always seek their own techniques, but the forms that are accepted and published will naturally do much to channel their activities. AN APPRAISAL OF THE RADIO VERSE PLAY

The spectacle of poetry resurrected as popular literature is so remarkable that we are apt to allow our enthusiasm to color our judgments. Yet the radio verse play seems to be an important development in literature. It is still in its early experimental stages. Radio cannot yet claim a great literature. Archibald MacLeish, Stephen Vincent Benêt, Norman Corwin, and Norman Rosten may be memorable names in the field of radio poetry, but probably their work will be studied for its historical rather than its literary importance. Stephen Vincent Benêt, who wrote many important plays for the radio, called himself an amateur in a field that was just beginning to be developed.11 Great tragedy—or comedy—depends on the conflict between individuals who are warm, real, and interesting to the audience. The audience learns to love or to hate the characters on the stage and so participate, if only vicariously, in the action. Whether the play depends on a conflict of the individual against fate, himself, or others, the welfare of the dramatis personae should become the personal concern of the audience; otherwise the play fails. Perhaps the reason for the great success of "soap operas" is that the characters in these episodes become part of the listeners' lives through week-after-week development of intimate situations. It is in this respect also that the radio verse play falls short. There is no time for character development. The characters are stated rather than evolved, and stated in the convenient, stereotyped terms that the radio—and movie—audience has learned to recognize

CONCLUSIONS

237

readily. The characters thus become types with the superficial characterization found in the fable. Often the emotions are not inherent in the play; they are brought to the scene by the listener. Words will cause tears to flow if the audience comes ready to cry. Bernard De Voto attributes the great success of Corwin's "On a Note of Triumph" to the audience's readiness to applaud anything that attempted to express their feelings on the day of victory: "We wanted instruction, realization, imaginative fulfillment. Nothing could fully have satisfied our desire or fully have lived up to the theme—but we were favorably disposed, and would have regarded any dignified and moving failure as an overwhelming success." 12 Radio capitalizes on that situation. It seizes upon the immediate subjects of the day that are exciting or agonizing the people. Many books and motion pictures win recognition because they are launched just when popular interest in their subject is rising. The radio verse play is in the fortunate position of being able to meet public interest quickly. It can depend on emotions already generated in the audience. The radio verse play becomes a play of ideas, but ideas of themselves do not constitute plays. Very often there may be dialogue, action, oratory, exhortation—but no play. Instead of creating and developing a situation, too often the radio verse play presents one already made. To make up for the consequent loss of dramatic tension, the dramatist frequently turns to mechanical devices, to stunts and sound effects. The radio play is easily manipulated. The script writer can call up scenes of the past or dart into the future with ease. The facility with which he does this sometimes militates against the integrity of the play because the mechanics become so easy that the dramatist allows the mobility of radio to rescue him from the effort of sustaining dramatic conflict. Perhaps the mobility of the radio play has been exploited. The danger is that the play, turning into a series of disjointed episodes with little integration save that supplied by the nar-

238

CONCLUSIONS

rator, will degenerate into what Archibald MacLeish calls a "vaudeville of the air." 13 Much of the poetry, moreover, depends too much on accompanying effects, music, actors, the subject, and the emotional readiness of the audience, and perhaps not enough on the sheer impact of the words. Frequently the poet is guilty of the easy oratory of the Fourth-of-July speaker, which sounds full and impressive, particularly as it is reinforced by music, sound effects, famous actors, and the dignity that radio bestows on all words. Separated from these allies, the poetry seems loose, prosaic, and banal. Francis Hackett, the author and critic, condemns the "hackneyed oratory" of radio: "Verse drama on the radio teaches us to dread mouthy speeches about the heroic past, peopled by roaring bores forever in the act of defying flood, fire and famine. They vociferate and vaticinate with a lugubrious eloquence." 14 Perhaps some of the weaknesses of the radio verse play— the unvaried exhortation, the strident eloquence, and the reliance on music, sound effects, and lists of names to fill in any gaps in the development—can best be revealed by Russell Maloney's parody "Short-Wave Propaganda Program Suitable for Jamming by an Axis Power," which appeared in the New Yorker. Maloney prefaces the parody with this acerb note: The position of the poet in our civilization, while uncomfortable for the poet himself, gives non-poets plenty of chances to write pieces, viz: (Theme music fades in and under.) Announcer: Listen, Hitler! Listen, Hirohito! Listen, Mussolini! Night has fallen over the continent of North America, but the people are not sleeping! The factories are running—(Roar of blast furnace in background.) The trains are running—(Train whistle.) The HERALD TRIBUNE has just gone to press with an editorial urging support of certain provisions of the new tax program—(Rumble of newspaper presses.) And the poets of America are hard at work, dozens and hundreds and thousands of poets, stripped to the waist in the fierce white light

239

CONCLUSIONS

of their study lamps, writing poems, W A R poems, Hitler! M O R A L E poems, Hirohito! Radio continuities like this one, Mussoliniradio continuities, cinema sound tracks, picture captions, they are all poems. Nouns, pronouns, verbs, adverbs, adjectives, prepositions, conjunctions—(The Announcer s voice is drowned out by the rising sound of a multitude of typewriters. Starting at thirty words a minute, they go faster and faster, reaching a crescendo which is abruptly cut off.) It was not always like this. Before we tapped the vast natural resources of our city directories, our maps, our gazetteers, our telephone books, our D I R E C T O R Y of D I R E C T O R S , H O T E L R E D BOOK, W H O ' S W H O , RAILROAD GUIDE, LLOYD'S REGISTER

OF

YACHTS,

SPALDING'S BASEBALL

HORSES

IN

TRAINING,

SOCIAL

REGISTER,

GUIDE—before we discovered the new kind of

poetry, the kind of poetry any strong young American could write, it took a long time to write a poem.15 It is significant that the important radio verse dramas are polemics as much as they are plays. MacLeish's The Fall of the City, Corwin's They Fly through the Air with the Greatest of Ease, and Benét's "They Burned the Books" focus the dramatic spotlight on the message the poet delivers rather than on the interplay of characters and emotions. Perhaps that is the great strength of the radio verse play. It is a social document, direct, simple, and immediate. In purpose, as in treatment, it cannot permit subtlety. Fundamentally, it seeks to indoctrinate and persuade, thus becoming in this sense a radio pamphlet. It was as an instrument of morale and propaganda that the radio verse drama gained significance during the war. It enlisted in the all-out radio campaign to stir the public to greater efforts in behalf of national defense. Norman S. Weiser called the radio theater in 1941 "the most important dramatic medium in a war-tom world, unchallenged as the nation's foremost builder of morale." 16 Despite its many weaknesses, therefore, the radio verse play exerts an influence that is intensified by the very medium on which it is presented. On the radio there are opportunities for

240

CONCLUSIONS

intimacy in the "close-up" voice and the rather "cozy" listening situation. At the same time, the listener has the sense of being part of the very large community of the radio audience. Heard under these circumstances, the radio verse play becomes an exciting dramatic expression of words, music, sound effects, and the pointed immediacy that only a broadcast can transmit. The power of rhythmic speech has long been absent from the stage. Only in isolated instances has poetry achieved public performance. Whatever its defects, the radio has restored poetry to the play. The poet once more has the ear of the public. In gaining his audience, the poet of the air has presented a "public" poetry that is hopeful and affirmative in spirit. Much of contemporary American and British poetry is unquestionably negative, a quality best typified perhaps in T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land. The positive element in radio poetry supplies the balance which keeps poetry in equilibrium and prevents it from becoming detached or distorted, criticism that is often made of modem poetry. The radio verse drama is an art form which combines poetry, prose, music, and drama, using each of these elements when it is best for the poet's purpose. Using the language, the speech rhythms, and the experience of the people, the radio poet can construct drama that has exciting possibilities. The requirement of simplicity is no barrier, because simplicity has never necessarily meant banality. Even the limitation of time is an opportunity to concentrate expression, a concentration that gives power to the short story and the one-act play. In this situation the poet is at his best. He may choose to reduce the scope of his play in order to achieve the single effect of the short story or the one-act play. These types are now famous in literature. There is no reason why the radio verse play cannot win literary and dramatic distinction, and even greatness.

CONCLUSIONS

241

IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION

In 1942 a joint committee of the faculty of Harvard College and of the Graduate School of Education studied the problem of the training of secondary school teachers. Concerned about the confusion of aims in the teaching of English, the committee tried to outline the boundaries of the field. It came to these conclusions about the specific subject of the radio: 1. Valuable instruction in "appreciation" of the radio as a specialized form of art is not yet generally possible. 2. Instruction in how to perform for the radio, produce radio programs, or undertake the radio as a technical mechanism has no place in the course of English. 3. There is no place in English work for listening to the radio when what it offers possesses no literary significance or makes no contribution to instruction in the comprehension and interpretation of speech. 4. The study of records of radio programs is likely to be more useful for any instructional purpose than is listening to broadcasts in the original form. 5. The radio shares, however, with other forms of expression, if methodically and temperately used, a place in instruction for the comprehension and interpretation of speech. 6. The radio may occasionally be useful as a source of experience with literature of established value. 7. Universities should promote research in defining the specialized techniques involved in dealing with the radio as itself a specialized technique and medium of expression, and they should then, in the light of such research, train people to teach the aesthetics and appreciation of radio as a distinct subject. 8. When such a course is maturely established it may, under proper safeguards, be made a part of the teacher-training program in English.17 These conclusions are quoted in full because they reflect the suspicion with which many educators have regarded the radio and its literature. Except as an aid in interpreting speech and in establishing aural contact with literature of accepted

242

CONCLUSIONS

value, the use of the radio in the classroom is relegated "to further study." It is only fair to point out that the Harvard Committee Report, General Education in a Free Society, issued in 1945, recognizes the force of radio: the power to attend to and criticize the spoken word, and all its implications and nuances of its utterance, has regained through the radio a public importance it has not enjoyed since the invention of printing. A modem society has become an audience again.18 The function of the radio in the school does need further study but it need not be minimized or neglected. Radio is a very important factor in the personal life of the student. It is a very important medium—possibly the most important today— for the transmission of language. If this study of radio and poetry proves anything, it is that radio has developed an art form that should be taught, studied, and analyzed in schools, particularly in English classes. Specifically in the field of poetry, original work, adaptations, readings, and discussions on the air should not be ignored or left to the random dialing of the student. The study of radio and poetry transcends the narrow confines of the curriculum and becomes a discussion of verse, prose, drama, music, civics, history, science, geography, and current events. To neglect this tremendous force in the lives of the students is to leave a gulf between the school and the experiences of young people. Somewhere in the school curriculum, it would seem, there should be opportunities for the development of discrimination in listening and a critical appreciation of radio programs.19 This may mean that the student will be asked to read radio verse plays in numerous anthologies that have already been published. Since this method is manifestly inadequate for an art form that is completely aural, mere reading will hardly be enough. The use of recordings of important programs, as the Harvard report suggests, may prove an effective technique. Already MacLeish's Air Raid,

CONCLUSIONS

243

Millay's The Murder of Lidice, and Corwin's On a Note of Triumph have been recorded for transmission on the regulation phonograph. In addition, sixteen-inch transcriptions of important verse programs are available from the Federal Radio Education Commission of the Federal Security Agency, Washington, D. C. These require special turntables, playing at a speed of 33Já RPM. Perhaps as the demand grows, more recordings of radio programs of high caliber will become available for school use and study. Even in the absence of recordings, and certainly as a supplement to their use, oral readings and student-performances of radio scripts can be valuable educational activities. For the latter purpose a microphone, an amplifier, and a speaker are necessary.-0 In a number of the larger schools, public-address systems have been installed. A radio play, consequently, can fit very readily into the normal life of the school. It need not supersede the stage play, but can extend the dramatic and literature program of any school.21 The mechanics of a radio play make possible quick and easy performances. No scenery or curtain of any kind is required. There need be no stage. No memorization is necessary. A few rehearsals are sufficient, and, as a result, more frequent and varied performances can be given with far less effort than is required for any stage play. Courses in dramatics in the secondary schools have already been expanded to include the radio play.22 In 1944 WNYE, the station conducted by the New York City Board of Education, organized a contest in the production of radio plays in which many of the high schools participated. This contest has been established on a regular annual basis. The writing of radio scripts can be another educational activity. The advantage is that there are more opportunities for actual performance of the scripts written by students. Classroom and assembly programs can be enriched by student writing, performance, and listening. Station WNYE conducts

244

CONCLUSIONS

another contest in script-writing among the high school students of New York City. The prize winning play is produced by the station. In 1945 the first prize was awarded for a radio verse play, "There Once Was a Sunrise," by Marvin Botwin, of James Madison High School. Radio units, workshops, and courses have been developed on the junior high school, senior high school, and college levels.23 The Federal Radio Education Committee of the United States Office of Education reported that in 1945, 111 colleges conducted radio workshops and 28 offered degrees in radio.24 This interest in radio will necessarily place increased emphasis on listening and interpretation of speech. Silent reading has been one of the primary concerns of the English teacher, because in adult life students needed proficiency in reading newspapers, magazines, and books as the chief means of gaining information. Now children, as well as adults, are leaning more and more on the radio for news, opinion, information, and entertainment. People must be proficient in listening with comprehension and discrimination. The schools may be called upon to offer more guidance and training in listening and interpretation of speech. A step in that direction has already been made by the National Council of Teachers of English, which during the war issued a pamphlet, S kill in Listening, by Alice P. Sterner, Katherine Monaghan Saunders, and Milton A. Kaplan, as one in its series of "NCTE Pamphlets in Communication." Universities, too, have a vital interest in radio. Wisconsin, Ohio State, Chicago, and Columbia are centers of research and experimentation in radio broadcasting, communication, and evaluation. Much research has already been done, particularly in students' listening habits and program preferences. Much more research has to be undertaken in such fields as the radio prose drama, the use of music in drama, the effects of advertising on radio literature, the contrast between sponsored and unsponsored programs, documentary programs, gov-

CONCLUSIONS

245

ernment programs, the changes in popular taste, the role of the announcer, the changes in dramatic technique, the influence of radio technique on the stage and the motion picture, the use of sound effects, the improvement of listening techniques, the influence of movie-radio stereotypes. There has been a tendency on the part of some educators to sneer at the radio, first, because it is still new, and secondly, because it undoubtedly broadcasts very many inferior programs. But the schools must not make the mistake of neglecting a medium that even now is exerting a great influence on people and language. The raising of people's tastes in music furnishes probably the most convincing example of the educational power of the radio. IMPLICATIONS FOR THE RADIO INDUSTRY

The radio industry is not a philanthropic enterprise; broadcasting companies are organized to make money through advertising. Because of the huge sums of money made available by sponsors, radio stations can furnish the best symphony orchestras, the finest actors, the funniest comedians. Yet the commercial motive behind broadcasting can restrict the artistic integrity of radio literature. The advertiser's purpose is to give the people what they want. He is not primarily concerned with their welfare; he does not seek to raise their standards or improve their taste unless in connection with his own business. If the people seem to want sentimental drivel, the sponsor will spend thousands to give it to them. Advertisers are so careful to please their audience that very often they bend over backwards in an effort to avoid puzzling or offending even a small percentage of the listeners. The script writer must respect all kinds of taboos. He must avoid controversial material; he must handle sex themes gently; he must expunge everything that might be construed as sacrilegious, profane, salacious, obscene, vulgar, or indecent. These taboos, undoubtedly commendable in many ways, can paralyze

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the writer who wishes to challenge or to shock the people into thinking for themselves. "During the good old days of peacetime," Robert Tallman, prominent script writer and editor, wrote in 1942, when the chief problem of radio was to get a technically slick program on the air, writers were hired chiefly to block in the spaces between the commercials, and the vaguer the line of the writer's thinking the better. The main object was not to seek approval but to avoid complaints of any kind. All "controversial" themes were studiously avoided. 25

It is true that the war removed some of these barriers, but Norman Rosten is afraid that now radio will cower once more behind the bars of its taboos.20 This business attitude forces script writers to resort to the easy, stereotyped symbolism of which most radio plays are guilty. In a recent article, S. I. Hayakawa, author of Language in Action, finds little hope for poetry in an age so completely engulfed by advertising. The restoration of poetry to its traditional state as one of the most important of the communicators and creators of the values a civilization lives by awaits, therefore, a time when something less than 9 8 percent of radio time and 8 5 percent of space in mass-circulation magazines is devoted to selling something.

It

awaits an economic change profound enough to relieve advertisers of the necessity of invoking all the symbols of home, of mother, and of American way of life, of morality, and of the Christian religion in order to sell a box of soap-flakes.27

Radio stations look with misgiving on plays which ask unpleasant questions or raise knotty problems. They hesitate to experiment with new forms and material. As Katherine Seymour and John T. W. Martin, two script writers, explain: "With experimental drama, time is needed to achieve significant results. Moreover, the monetary return to the writer is comparatively small. Advertisers will not sponsor a program or series which has never been tested; it is only the broadcast-

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247

ing companies with facilities at their disposal which can afford to experiment. Occasionally, a major poet or dramatist is invited to experiment in radio and is given a sufficiently large fee to encourage him to spend the necessary time. But this is the exception."28 It is true that verse plays by MacLeish, Benêt, Rosten, Corwin, and others seem to refute this accusation, but verse plays are still sporadic and fortuitous occurrences. With but very few exceptions they have been unsponsored programs, presented at odd times which would not interfere with commercial commitments. There is a great need for a stronger and bolder drama. Complete subservience to the dictates of every tiny group in the audience may mean a literature stripped of the capacity for indignation and censure. The radio play does not have to violate good taste, but if it is to be great drama, it must sometimes probe into the public conscience, even at the risk of puzzling or offending. The dramatist should be an artist of quicker perception and keener sensibility than the members of his audience. He must lead, not follow, public opinion. The example of the growing popularity of classical music on the air should prove that the public's taste is not completely depraved and can be improved. Symphonic and operatic music has been broadcast persistently until the audience has learned to appreciate and demand finer music. It is true that music is particularly suited for broadcasting, but for that matter, so are choral readings and adaptations of poetry. These too, it seems, would have real commercial possibilities. Readers of poetry would probably win a much wider audience than might be expected. If novels and short stories can be read on the air, then surely poetry, written for the ear, should be even more successful. Stirring narrative poems, such as John Browns Body and, on a smaller scale, Edna St. Vincent Millay's "The Ballad of the Harp Weaver" would seem eminently suited for radio broadcasting. Poems with marked musical overtones, such as John Dryden's "Alexander's Feast,"

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Edgar Allan Poe's "The Bells," Edith Sitwell's "The King of China's Daughter," and James Stephens' "The Fifteen Acres," to give a few examples, should be easily as effective on the air as were Gilbert Chesterton's "Lepanto," presented by NBC on May 1, 1938, and Vachel Lindsay's "The Congo," which appeared on the "Columbia Workshop" on March 30, 1941. Radio has room for much experimental work in music, poetry, and the opera. There is no reason why the industry cannot consider it a sound business policy to lead the way into new fields of entertainment and experience. The cautious program policy of the radio industry has encouraged writers to conform to the existing radio conventions. Independent and vigorous writers such as Tallman, Corwin, Rosten, and Oboler have flailed out against these restrictions, which hamper their art.20 The few outlets for the creative writer, coupled with the comparatively low rates of remuneration, have probably stunted the development of a strong and vital literature. Most of the verse plays have been written by radio amateurs, poets like MacLeish, Millay, Kreymborg, Benêt, and MacNiece, who have turned to the radio only occasionally. Professional script writers are often forced into more remunerative fields. Four of these, Robert Tallman, Frank Gabrielson, Herbert Clyde Lewis, and George Corey, were engaged by Hollywood motion-picture companies. Norman Rosten finds little room in radio today for the expansion of his talents.30 The situation by no means need be desperate. Radio is developing new writers all the time. Norman Corwin, Arch Oboler, Norman Rosten, and Morton Wishengrad are four young men who have already achieved artistic distinction in the radio field. There is still need, however, for the encouragement of men and women, trained in radio technique, who can write with the absolute freedom and the fearlessness of real artists. In commercial radio there are so many bars to a policy of experimentation and freedom which promises no immediate

CONCLUSIONS

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monetary return that many alternative plans have been suggested to improve matters. The first of these proposals is government ownership of radio. But the system of private ownership is so firmly entrenched that any change is a remote possibility at best. Nor has it been satisfactorily established that government ownership would be the best solution. A government policy could be equally restrictive and cautious. Another proposal is government subsidy. Arch Oboler feels that the government should champion the playwright to permit him more liberty, especially when dealing with controversial subjects. Perhaps government co-operation with the radio stations in the form of government-sponsored programs would give the writer the latitude Oboler requests. The war transformed many governmental agencies into radio producers. According to Norman S. Weiser, they have made a remarkable contribution to radio. The major development within the confines of the dramatic sphere was the influx of government agencies into the producing field. Having spent their adolescence making mistakes on Broadway and in the motion picture field, they emerged as master showmen in the radio theatre during 1941, equipped to handle the new dramatic medium with manpower drafted from radiomanpower that had been responsible for the amazing development of this medium.31

Government control or co-operation is not necessarily the only solution. Paul F. Lazarsfeld, director of the Bureau of Applied Social Research, recommends that the time devoted to sustaining programs be controlled by regional radio councils, on whom would fall the task of planning suitable programs for all the stations. These councils would be supported by public funds in much the same manner as boards of education are maintained. All difficult questions of time, censorship, and undue influence could be covered by special rulings at periodic conferences.32

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CONCLUSIONS

Still another plan has been suggested by Max Lerner in his essay, "Freedom in the Opinion Industries." I propose the TVA principle in our radio system: in addition to, and side by side with, the great broadcasting chains, let us have two major airways reserved for the government and run for it not by its bureaucrats but by the guild of radio artists. 33

Norman Rosten submits the following program. Get back some of the control over writing which is now almost exclusively in the hands of the sponsor. Repeat worthwhile plays. Finally, and most important, let us have a wider outlet for noncommercial radio drama and pay for it. I mean a half-hour each week on each network for a program of original radio plays in poetry or prose. 34

These suggestions, made by men deeply interested in radio and its future, have serious implications for the industry. A proposal that the industry abandon all commercial commitments is quixotic. Can some kind of joint effort be made by all the radio chains to sponsor several unrestricted experimental programs to provide opportunities for creative writing? Meanwhile, despite all barriers, a body of literature is growing that should be recognized. The transitory nature of a broadcast militates against that recognition. Some kind of permanence of form is called for so that radio literature can be reviewed and studied. That the industry acknowledges the need is shown by the numerous revivals of important plays that have been broadcast. The anthologies and recordings of important programs grant permanence in other forms. At present all these methods are haphazard, often leaving the choice of scripts meriting perpetuation to chance and other extraneous circumstances. Can a more systematic plan be developed, comparable to what is being done with photoplays? The Library of Congress, recognizing the motion picture as an art form, is making plans to restore 5,000 motion-picture

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subjects made from 1897 to 1917.35 The Museum of Modern Art and New York University maintain valuable film libraries. A proposal has been made to publish a series of volumes reproducing in full the scripts of the best films of the year, a Yearbook of the American Cinema. Radio has need of similar services. The Library of Congress and the Museum of Modern Art, possibly, can extend their activities to include the radio. It seems, however, that the task would be too great, even for these agencies. Can a Radio Institute be organized and financed by the combined action of the radio companies to solve the problem? The Institute could keep a record of all important broadcasts, file the best scripts and transcriptions, and perhaps even sponsor experimental radio drama. Transcriptions of programs, which are now kept in the warehouses of the stations and rarely released to outsiders, would be particularly valuable Institute property, because the scripts could then be heard in the form for which they were designed. All this material could be made available to students, teachers, critics, writers, and other interested groups. If radio literature is worth study and analysis, it must be filed, classified, and catalogued accurately. The variety of programs would necessitate an intricate library system in order to permit a student to find such categories as poetry, music, historical drama, documentaries, readings, adaptations, and discussions. New library techniques expressly designed for radio material would have to be devised. At present programs are listed chronologically in the stations' files, and little effort is made to classify them according to type or subject. 36 As radio literature grows in importance, the stations may wish to revise their filing methods. They can scarcely be blamed if they prove reluctant to undertake the expense of rearranging and extending their entire repository system. Would the radio industry as a whole, however, be willing to defray the cost of creating and maintaining a permanent and independent agency, such as the suggested Radio Institute, which would

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select, file, classify, and encourage the best in radio literature and music? IMPLICATIONS FOR THE RADIO AUDIENCE

As an audience, radio listeners are probably the most inert of all. They lean back and listen. Very little effort or appreciation is required of them. Many intelligent members of this audience, ignorant of the distinguished offerings on the air or too lazy to find them, use their instruments for music, news broadcasts, and little else. They may deplore the dearth of intelligent entertainment, but their activity stops at that. The intelligent listener must not deprecate the radio as he, or his predecessor, did the early motion pictures. He must learn that radio drama is a serious art form that may merit as much attention as any stage or motion-picture play. He must learn that radio drama has techniques which distinguish it from all other types and that in a comparatively short period plays have been produced which may stand the test of time. Most important of all, he must learn that radio drama has far-flung social implications, the influence of which cannot be denied. He cannot brush aside as trivial radio programs that are capable of fashioning the ideas and the philosophy of millions of people. This does not mean that the listener must accept with goodnatured resignation the inept and childish programs that are very often presented. But he can respect the radio as a powerful social and literary medium and applaud those broadcasts which reveal maturity in both style and treatment. Verse plays are but one manifestation of that trend. If enough people become interested in drama and poetry on the air, the effect will probably be felt, even though no machinery exists for the concentrated expression of that interest. It will have a quickening influence on writers, producers, and executives. The listener's interest can take concrete expression. Sponsors are interested in as large an audience as possible, and they will

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make every effort to win it. Radio has nothing so immediate as the box office by which to determine how large the audience is or how successful the play. Advertisers judge the success of a program by fan mail and various polls and ratings. Unfortunately, the letter still remains the only method by which a listener can clearly applaud merit. It is true that advertisers control radio programs, but because of the very nature of their appeal, advertisers are so vulnerable that the listeners, in turn, can control them. A wave of letters could be instrumental in removing or sustaining a radio program. It is ridiculous to expect a listener to send off three or four letters every night, but unless he takes enough active interest to write when he is impressed particularly, he may discover that the program that interested him most has disappeared from the air. T h e audience must share the responsibility of improving the standards of radio programs. Sheer quantity of fan mail, while undoubtedly important, is obviously unsatisfactory as a measure of audience participation and appreciation. It is not at all an accurate gauge of the size and the composition of any group of listeners. Often it is solicited by all kinds of tempting offers that induce mail from certain elements in the audience. As a box-office report, fan mail frequently is a distorted statement. Therefore, the various organizations which make awards to meritorious programs really serve as representatives of the intelligent radio public. T h e Women's National Radio Committee, the Institute for Education by Radio at the Ohio State University, the George Foster Peabody Foundation, administered jointly by the H e m y W . Grady School of Journalism of the University of Georgia and the National Association of Broadcasters, and the National Council of Teachers of English make awards which are the expression of intelligent, critical opinions. In this way, implemented by newspaper and radio publicity, they bestow public approval on the best programs of various types. This critical approval often comes long after the original

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CONCLUSIONS

broadcast, but it carries weight because it is a thoughtful and mature judgment, and as such is a very valuable contribution. But annual awards can scarcely take the place of detailed and careful criticism that follows soon after the performance. It may be argued that there is not much point in criticizing at great length a radio play that may never be broadcast again. That represents a narrow view of the function of the critic. He does not exist merely to advise people to attend one play or to avoid another. His province is art as a medium of communication. The critic as an expert member of the audience judges how completely the play communicates the writer's purpose and feelings. To this task he brings learning, sensibility, and detachment, for he must develop criteria and evaluate and interpret by means of these. He suggests, condemns, and praises judiciously. Literature is tested and improved by criticism. Without criticism there is no evaluation; without evaluation there is no direction, and often no adequate incentive to produce the best. Good day-to-day criticism of radio is notably lacking today. Newspapers may not care to give free advertisement to what is sometimes looked upon as a rival medium. An important radio drama rarely gets the notice that any play, motion picture, or book is accorded. At best it receives but casual mention both in prospect and in retrospect. Because broadcasting is a daily affair, the newspaper should be the radio critic's forum. The incredible range of radio entertainment makes it impossible for one man, or even a group of men, to do justice to all. Nevertheless, if the critic could focus public attention on the best in radio, he would be doing much to reward and improve radio literature. THE FUTURE

In "A Personal Preface" to The Song of Bernadette, Franz Werfel explained why he chose to tell his story in prose: "In our epoch an epic poem can take no form but that of a

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37

novel." From one point of view, unfortunately, Werfel is right. Poetry seems to occupy such a minor place in the modem world that a poet dares not hope for even a small fraction of the audience a novelist can command. That is undoubtedly one of the reasons why so many young poets eventually turn to prose. But if rigidly literary standards are removed from the definition of poetry, it will be seen that verse attracts a far wider audience than is suspected at first glance. The hold that popular songs have on the public is direct evidence of the great appeal of verse. People sing them and tum to them on the radio. The lyrics of these songs are hawked in the subways and on busy street comers as in the days of Queen Elizabeth. Intrinsically, these song lyrics are as truly poetry as the Elizabethan lyrics, although they are not on the same high plane. The popularity of jingles for advertising purposes is additional evidence. The merits of Crawford Clothes, Pepsi-Cola, and R. H. Macy are chanted in rhythmic language that evidently is very effective. The fact that the radio is mentioned very often in connection with popular poetry is not accidental. Folk poetry is oral poetry. The rise of the radio verse drama is a happy portent that poetry will be presented once more to the public in a form which it can understand and appreciate. It would seem, therefore, that there is a great future for poetry on the radio, a public poetry that is simple, direct, and clear. In all probability, the poetry will be cast in the mold of the verse play because dialogue, characterization, and plot fit smoothly into the broadcasting pattern. Even now, a commercial program, "The Cavalcade of America," produces occasional poetry plays. This may be a sign that advertisers are beginning to recognize the need for entertainment of greater integrity and substance. Even so, we must not allow ourselves to become too sanguine about an immediate glowing future for poetry on the air. Because the didactic verse play was needed for morale and inspiration during the war, radio stations were willing to

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give time to such programs. Will they be willing to give that time now? Norman Rosten thinks that there is a strong possibility that as Bataan and Dunkirk fade in memory, the radio will turn away from verse. After the turbulent war period we can expect, perhaps, a period of quiescence, during which little verse will be presented except on special programs. Quiescence, though, may denote incubation rather than stagnation. Before the war we had verse plays on other subjects. Will a radio verse drama concemcd with public life and problems develop and thus act as an instrument of education, propaganda, and indoctrination—strong or weak, according to the spirit of the times? With greater freedom permitted on the air, will the verse play become a forum for social discussion, criticism, and philosophy? And will its range be extended to include more documentary works in historical, economic, scientific, and social fields? Will the realms of fantasy and psychology offer provocative subjects for radio poetry? The combination of music and drama is so completely woven into the fabric of radio entertainment that the design may be elaboráted into the radio opera. On the wonderfully resourceful stage of radio, free from the critical eye that reveals ridiculous incongruities, opera seems to have new opportunities. Norman Corwin's "Dorie Got a Medal" and "The Lonesome Train," by Millard Lampbell and Earl Robinson, are indications of that trend. In 1944 the League of Composers, in co-operation with the Columbia Broadcasting System, commissioned a radio opera by Bernard Rogers, with text by Norman Corwin. In 1946 the opera "The Warrior," based on the story of Samson and Delilah, won prizes amounting to $1,500 in the Alice W. Ditson Fund Contest, sponsored in collaboration with Columbia University, for a new short opera by an American composer and librettist. The Metropolitan Opera Company presented the work in 1947. Again, the chief drawback to the rise of radio opera is that broadcast entertainment is ephemeral. A poet and a composer

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can hardly devote all their energy and ability to creating a work of art that gets but one performance. A repertory theater, which would give not only these operas but also all important plays as frequent performance as they deserve, would be a valuable radio institution. The revivals of radio plays, particularly the "Corwin Cycle" and "Repeat Performance" on WNYC, New York, demonstrate that the prospect of such a theater is not at all unlikely. While the radio chains have been slow to organize specific agencies for the encouragement of experimental drama, the Benêt Award for Short Plays established by the Dramatists' Alliance of Stanford University is a heartening sign that new material and new writers of distinction will be developed for the radio. This award, "in memory of Stephen Vincent Benêt, is designed to bring out brief plays of high quality on American life and ideas, in prose or verse, specifically suited to radio use." Although the verse play will probably remain the outstanding pattern for radio poetry, it must not be supposed that other verse forms will be found inadequate. Story-telling is still very effective, and in radio the narrator is a key figure. Original narrative poems, especially ballads, can make stimulating program material. The strongly affirmative note in radio may also revive the epic poem that Franz Werfel renounced for the novel. Western Star by Stephen Vincent Benêt presages radio poetry, epic in structure and triumphal in theme. Had Benêt lived longer, perhaps he would have been the one to write it. His John Browns Body found a popular vein that radio poets explored. His example may inspire unknown poets to sing of the glory of the human spirit in a medium that pays tribute to its ingenuity. The reason for the emphasis on original work for the radio is clear. Radio poems must be written in radio terms. Broadcasting, operating on a daily and continuous schedule, will always find room—and need—for adaptations, readings, and

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discussions of poetry. These will be subordinate to indigenous radio literature, but they will perform a service that must not be deprecated. Adaptations, readings, and discussions can be valuable introductions to the best in literature, as the program "Invitation to Learning" undoubtedly is. At the same time, the educational function of these broadcasts need not in the least impair their power to communicate genuine aesthetic experience. FM and television may considerably change the entire pattern of radio drama. After studying the survey of costs of FM broadcasting equipment made by the FCC, Senator Glen H. Taylor, of Idaho, declared: "Radio broadcasting is well within the reach of small business enterprise, farm groups, cooperatives, labor unions and educational institutions." 33 Will FM, thus, tend toward more local production—and, perhaps, more poetry? The advent of television, according to David Samoff, president of the Radio Corporation of America, promises to revolutionize the radio industry. 39 Gilbert Seldes, formerly in charge of television programs at CBS, feels that it is still too early to make any definite predictions about the place of poetry in television. 40 The influence of television, therefore, must be left to conjecture. Will television crowd out radio as we know it today? In reducing the auditory appeal, will television reduce the emphasis on the spoken word and consequently minimize the role of poetry in radio drama? In focusing the somewhat discursive attention of the radio listener, will television, on the other hand, be serving poetry in good stead? So long as television remains a local production, will it appeal to a more closely-knit group, giving greater opportunities to the poet? While the screen of the television set remains very small, will the audience, accustomed to the wide expanse of the motionpicture screen, pay more attention to the spoken word? Even if television is improved, with a large screen and a national network, will the time limit of a radio play tend to encourage

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poetry, because the breath of poetry would not have to be sustained over a long period? Television, requiring memorization, scenery, frequent rehearsals, costuming, and other visual details, will probably tend also to reduce the number of plays that can be presented on the air. Will, then, the choice of a play to be broadcast depend more on quality? Will it call for a repertory technique because the effort would hardly be wasted on only one performance? Would these factors encourage poetry in television? Will television unite four old allies—poetry, music, drama, and the dance? Arnold Sungaard, author of the dance drama "The Picinic," which appears in Mayorga's The Best One-Act Plays of 1944, sees the emergence of this new form of drama. Martha Graham, with verses from Emily Dickinson and music by Hunter Johnson, found her dances beginning to speak in Letter to the World. Since then, almost every modem dancer has tried in one way or another to project a story not only with movement and music but words as well. Valerie Bettis has done this especially well with her production of The Desperate Heart, using a poem by John Malcolm Brinnin, and in Daisy Lee, a dance play by Horton Foote. . . . And more recently Sophie Maslow has created an exciting dance with Jane Dudley and William Bales called Folksay, which is based on Carl Sandburg's The People,

Yes.*1

The news that the CBS television studio, WCBW, has projected a series of dance interpretations based on original stories may indicate that television will be the natural medium for a poetic dance drama. Whether radio remains largely aural or uses the television screen also, two great influential factors will almost certainly persist—a vast audience and the fifteen- or thirty-minute program span. The opportunity to write for a huge audience and the compulsion to concentrate that expression will almost surely turn us to poetry for maximum compression and force. Today we have many aspects of poetry on the air—the adver-

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CONCLUSIONS

tising jingle, the popular song, the cadenced prose of the announcer, the verse play, the radio opera. Tomorrow, as our audiences come to demand more and more of the medium and as that medium changes, what new aspects will be revealed, what new alliances effected, what new forms developed?

Notes

Notes CHAPTER

1

Alice P. Sterner, A Course of Study in Radio Appreciation, New York, Educational and Recreational Guides, Inc., 1940, p. 33. 2 See the account of the round-table discussion "Radio As an Art Form," Irving Reis, leader, Educational Broadcasting 1937, p. 294. 3 "Poetry on the Air," Poetry, XXXVI (July, 1930), 227-30. 4 Interview with David Ross. 6 See the account in News-Week, VI (November 9, 1930), 25. β Letters by C. Wilbert Pettegrew, program supervisor of WOSO, the Ohio State University, and Η. B. McCarty, director of WHA, University of Wisconsin, to the writer. 7 Donald W. Riley, Handbook of Radio Drama Technique, Columbus, Ohio State University, 1941, pp. 6-7. β N e w s - W e e k , IX (June 26, 1937), 22. 9Ibid., X (July 3, 1937), 33. 1 0 Louis Reid, "Broadcasting Books: Drama, Fiction, and Poetry on the Air," in Radio and English Teaching, ed. by Max J. Herzberg, New York, Appleton-Century, 1941, pp. 178-79. 11 Ibid., p. 178. 1 2 Blevins Davis, Great Plays; a Manual for Teachers, New York, National Broadcasting Co., 1938, pp. 3-4. 13 Springfield Republican, Springfield, Mass., March 13, 1938, p. 6C. 1 4 Gilbert Seldes, "Screen and Radio," Scribner's Magazine, CI (June, 1937), 61. 1 5 Statistics supplied by the CBS Reference Library. 1 6 Norman Corwin, More by Corwin, New York, Holt, 1944, p. 55. 17 Francis Chase, Jr., Sound and Fury, New York, Harper, 1942, p. 199. 1 8 Donald W. Riley, op. cit., p. 7. 1 9 John Gassner, ed., Twenty Best Plays of the Modem Theatre, New York, Crown, 1939, pp. xx-xxi. 2 0 Douglas Coulter, ed., Columbia Workshop Plays, New York, Whittlesey House, 1939, p. 349. " News-Week, XIV, July 3, 1939, p. 21. 2 2 Interview with David Ross. 2 3 Merrill Denison, "Radio and the Writer," Theatre Arts Monthly, XXII, p. 370. 2 4 Isaac Goldberg, "Notes on the One-Act Play," One Act Play Magazine, I, June, 1937, p. 187. 2 5 Max Lerner, ' Literature and Society," Ideas Are Weapons, New York, Viking, 1939, p. 418. 2 e John LaTouche, "The Muse and the Mike," Vogue, XCVII ( March 1, 1941), 64. 2 7 Erik Barnouw, Handbook of Radio Writing, Boston, Little, Brown, 1939, pp. 117-18. 1

264 28

NOTES TO PAGES 9-23

See Albert Williams' discussion "The Radio Artistry of Norman Corwin," Saturday Review of Literature, XXV (February 14, 1942), 5. 28 Education on the Air, Tenth Yearbook, Columbus, Ohio State University, 1937, p. 371. 30 Norman S. Weiser, The Writer's Radio Theatre, 1941, New York, Harper, 1941, p. xi. 31 Ibid., p. 2. 32 Carl Van Doren, Introduction to Thirteen by Corwin, New York, Holt, 1942, p. vii. 33 Albert N. Williams, op. cit., p. 6. 84 Edith J. R. Isaacs, "Radio Poet," Theatre Arts Monthly, XXVI ( May, 1942), 347. 80 Norman Corwin, More by Corwin, p. 297. 88 Norman Corwin, "The Sovereign Word," Theatre Arts Monthly, XXIV (February, 1940), 130. 37 See Bernard De Voto, "The Easy Chair," Harper's Magazine, CXCI (July, 1945), 33-3Θ. 88 In Donald Ogden Stewart, ed., Fighting Words, New York, Harcourt, Brace, 1940, pp. 89-90. 38 Ibid., p. 82. 40 Ibid., p. 102. 41 Air Raid, Columbia, No. C-5; The Murder of Lidice, Columbia, No. M-536; The Lonesome Train, Decca, No. DA 375; On a Note of Triumph, Columbia, No. 575; The White Cliffs of Dover, Victor, No. DM-775. 42 William A. Bacher, ed., The Treasury Star Parade, New York, Farrar and Rinehart, 1942, p. xiv. 43 Interview with Miss Shirley Burke, head of the script department, "The Treasury Star Parade." 44 See account in News-Week, XIV (July 3, 1939), 21. 45 Interview with the director, Mitchell Grayson. 46 D. G. Bridson, "The March of the '45'," title page. 47 Robert Kemp, "Cutty Sark," title page. 48 Telephone conversation with the director of the program, Charles A. Schenck. 49 Oliver Larkin, "Air Waves and Sight Lanes," Theatre Arts Monthly, XXII (December, 1938), 890. 80 Norman Corwin, "The Sovereign Word," Theatre Arts Monthly, XXIV (February, 1940), 135. 81 New York Times, June 21, 1944, p. 23. 52 John LaTouche, "The Muse and the Mike," Vogue, XCVII ( March 1, 1941), 64. 53 Interview with Eve Merriam. 84 Herbert Read, "Muses on the Air," Living Age, CCCLV ( January 1939), 471. 55 In Donald Ogden Stewart, ed., Fighting Words, pp. 86-87. 88 In "Poets on the Air," Literary EHgest, CVII (October 4, 1930), 21. 87 Archibald MacLeish, The Fall of the City, New York, Farrar and Rinehart, 1937, p. ix. 88 In Amy Bonner, "Verse Drama and the Radio," Poetry, LXVIII (August, 1941), 281.

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6 9 Norman Corwin, "Radio and Morale," Saturday Review of Literature, XXV (July 4, 1942), 281. 8 0 Jonn Wheelright, "Towards the Recovery of Speech," Poetry, LIV (June, 1939), 164. 6 1 John LaTouche, "The Muse and the Mike," pp. 64, 124. 8 2 Azriel L. Eisenberg, Children and Radio Programs, New York, Columbia, 1936, p. 112. 6 3 Herta Herzog, Survey of Research on Children's Radio Listening, New York, Columbia, 1941 (mimeographed), p. 9. 8 4 See Katherine Monaghan, "Bombs Bursting in Air," Radio and English Teaching, Max J. Herzberg, ed., p. 132. 8 5 In Jesse Grumette, "Radio and English Teaching," English Journal, XXXI (June, 1942), 507. 8 6 See Thomas D. Rishworth, "Educational Broadcasting," English Journal, XXX (April, 1941), 287-93; Frank P. De Lay, "Radio Dramatics as a Teaching Device," English Journal, XXXI ( December, 1942 ), 713-19; Robert Atkin, Edward Stasheff, and Joseph Sexton, "Radio and Recording in the Teaching of English and Speech," High Points, XXV (January, 1943), 39-45; Samuel S. Schiffer, "Radio Script Writing As an English Course," High Points, XXVI (January, 1944), 69-71; Morris Diamond, "The Radio Workshop Laboratory Course," High Points, XXVI (May, 1944), 74-77. 87 Norman S. Weiser, The Writer's Radio Theatre, 1941, p. xv. 8 8 Norman Woelfel and Kimball Wiles, How Teachers Use School Broadcasts—1941, Columbus, Ohio State University, 1941 (mimeographed), Foreword. 8 9 Dora V. Smith, Evaluating Instruction in Secondary School English, Chicago, National Council of Teachers of English, 1941, p. 60. 7 0 Charles I. Glicksberg, "Poetry on the Radio," Education, LXII (October, 1941), 91. 71 David Ross, "Fifth Anniversary of 'Poet's Gold' and Tenth Year of Broadcasting," p. 1. 7 2 Sterling Fisher, "Columbia School of the Air of Americas As an Aid to English Teachers," Radio and English Teaching, ed. by Max J. Herzberg, p. 159. 7 3 Interview with A. M. Sullivan. 74 Interview with Eve Merriam. 7 5 In Donald Ogden Stewart, ed., Fighting Words, p. 89. 7 8 Sterling Fisher, op. cit., p. 163. 77 Letter to the author from Kathleen N. Lardie (Department of Visual and Radio Education, Detroit, Michigan). 7 8 Interview with Ted Malone. 7 9 Elizabeth Carney, "Experiencing Shakespeare through the Radio Theatre Party," English Journal, XXVII (February, 1938), 135. 8 0 "Series of Great Plays," School and Society, XCVIII ( October 1, 1938), 424. 8 1 Leon C. Hood, "How to Study T h e Fall of the City,' " Scholastic, XXXI (November 13, 1937), 21E-22E. 8 2 Frances Klenett Salzman, "Contemporary Literature for the Ninth Year," English Journal, XXXII (September, 1943), 387-88.

266

NOTES TO PAGES 27-47

8 3 Joseph Mersand, "Radio and Reading," Radio and English Teaching, ed. by Max J. Herzberg, p. 197. 8 4 Max J . Herzberg, ed., Radio and English Teaching, p. 4. 8 5 Irwin E dm an, Arts and the Man, New York, Norton, 1939, p. 6Θ. 8 6 "On the Air," Senior Scholastic, XLVIII (March 18, 1946), 39.

CHAPTER

2

See Janet MacRorie, "Taste on the Air," Radio and English Teaching, ed. by Max J . Herzberg, New York, Appleton-Century, 1941, p. 21. 2 "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay," Thirteen by Corwin, New York, Holt, 1942, p. 215. 3 V. F. Calverton, "Cultural Barometer," Current History, XCIV (October, 1938), 46. 4 "The Cavalcade of America," on September 22, 1941, and December 7, 1942; "American Scriptures," on October 3, 1943. 5 James Whipple, How to Write for Radio, New York, Whittlesey House, 1938, p. 12. 6 Edward Sapir, "Communication," Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, IV, 80. 7 Albert N. Williams, "The Radio Artistry of Norman Corwin," Saturday Review of Literature, XXV (February 14, 1942), 6. 8 Philip E. Jacobs, "The Theory and Strategy of Nazi Short-Wave Propaganda," Propaganda by Short Wave, ed. by Harwood L. Childs and John B. Whitton, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1942, pp. 59-60. 8 "Techniques of Persuasion," Propaganda by Short Wave, ed. by Childs and Whitton, p. 265. 1 0 John B. Whitton and John H. Herz, "Radio in International Politics," Propaganda by Short Wave, ed. by Childs and Whitton, pp. 14-15. 11 Ibid., p. 18. 1 2 See Sherman H. Dryer, Radio in Wartime, New York, Greenberg, 1942, pp. 245-47. 1 3 Henry Morgenthau, Jr., "Introduction," The Treasury Star Parade, ed. by William A. Bacher, New York, Farrar and Rinehart, 1942, p. xi. 1 4 See Norman S. Weiser, The Writer's Radio Theatre, 1941, New York, Harper, 1941, p. x. 1 8 Charles J. Rolo, Radio Goes to War, New York, Putnam, 1940, p. 181. « Ibid., p. 271. 1 7 In Sherman H. Dryer, Radio in Wartime, p. 297. 1 8 Archibald MacLeish, Air Raid, New York, Harcourt, Brace, 1938, p. 27. 1 9 Norman Corwin, More by Corwin, New York, Holt, 1944, p. 228. 2 0 John K. Hutchens, "That Realm, That England," New York Times, August 16, 1942, p. 8x. 2 1 Telephone conversation with Sterling Fisher. 2 2 Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Murder of Lidice, p. 31. 2 3 Interview with Morton Wishengrad. 2 4 Norman Corwin, On a Note of Triumph, New York, Simon and Schuster, 1945, p. 57. 2 5 Evaluation of School Broadcasts Staff, National Morale and Radio, Columbus, Ohio State University, 1941 (mimeographed), p. 2. 1

N O T E S T O PAGES 5 0 - 6 5

267

Interview with Irve Tunick. William N. Robson, "Dramatic Programs," Education on the Air, Ninth Yearbook, Columbus, Ohio State University, 1938, p. 180. 28 For a more detailed discussion see Chapter V. 29 In William Kozlenko, ed., Contemporary One-Act Plays, New York, Scribner, 1938, p. 21. 30 In Norman Corwin, "Words without Music," No. 23, pp. 24-31. 31 In Norman Corwin, "Poetic License," pp. 22-26. 3 2 Interview with Milton Robertson, WNEW. 3 3 Hadley Cantril and Gordon W. Allport, The Psychology of Radio, New York, Harper, 1935, p. 260. 34 For catalogue and information consult the Harry S. Goodman Radio Productions, New York City. 35 In Constance Welch and Walter Prichard Eaton, eds., Yale Radio Plays, Boston, Expression Co., 1940, p. 279. 30 In William Kozlenko, ed., One Hundred Non-Royalty Radio Plays, New York, Greenberg, 1941, p. 5. 37 In Alfred Kreymborg, The Four Apes and Other Fables of Our Day, New York, Loker Raley, 1939, p. 230. 38 In Amy Bonner, "Verse Drama and the Radio," Poetry, LVIII (August, 1941), 284. 39 Thirteen by Corwin, New York, Holt, 1942, p. 135.

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Index "Aaron's Field" see Bridson, D. G. Abnormality, study of, 55 Adam and Eve, 62 Adams, Franklin P., literary discussion, 221 "Christopher Columbus," adaptation, 187 "Noah Webster," adaptation, 189 Adaptation, of poetry for radio, 171-92; problems, 171-74; of long nondramatic poems, 181; of shorter poems: orchestration and augmentation, 188-92 "Adrift on the Land" (Williams), 161 Adult education, programs, 220-24 "Adventures in Reading," series, 224 "Adventure Stories," children's classics, 216, 229 Advertisement, alliteration an identification device, 137 Advertiser, see Sponsor Advertising, chief source of revenue, 59; sensitive to rhythms of everyday speech, 126; slogans, 127; poetic prose in, 143; effect of commercial motive behind broadcasting, 245; see also entries under Commercial Advertising jingles, popularity, 29, 255 Aeschylus, 173; Agamemnon chorus, 105 "Against the Storm," a Christmas program, 197 Agamemnon (Aeschylus), 105 Aiken, Conrad, 3 "Aircraft Engines" (Tunick), 51, 160, 161, 165 Air Raid, see MacLeish Akron, Ohio, radio education, 217, 225, 229

Alameda, Calif., radio courses oranized by schools, 225 imo, The" (Carmer), 48 Album of Poetic Shrines, 223 "Alean Story" (Rosten), 51 Alcestis (Euripides), 181 Alexander, Sidney, "The Hawk and the Flesh," 14, 56 The Man on the Queue, 14 "Where Jonathan Came," story of Salem witchcraft trials, 14, 47, 54, 62, 64; echo chamber, 96; music, 100; silence, 104; imagery, 124 "Alexander Nevsky," see MacNeice Alfred, King, 37 Algyer, Harold C., "These Honored Dead," 15 Alice W. Ditson Fund Contest, prizes sponsored in collaboration with Columbia University, 256 Allegorical plays, 34; symbolism in, 91 Alliteration, 135-41; designed for the ear Allport, Gordon W., 54, 85, 113 America, history of, can be followed in ballads, 21; as symbol of freedom, 36; Sullivan's scripts that interpret scenes, 53; freedom in, satirized, 63 America First Committee, thrust at, 36 America is Americans (Borland), 234 American, as symbol, 113 American Academy of Arts and Letters, grants to nonmembers,

f

10

American Association for the United Nations, 45 American Ballads and Folk Sones. 5 200 American Civil Liberties Union, 59

298 American Friends of Czechoslovakia, program arranged by, 43 "American in England, An" (Corwin), 11, 19, 39 American Jewish Committee, 43 f. American Negro Theatre, Shakespeare broadcast, 174 American School of the Air, program on statistics in operetta style, 166; poetry-reading programs, 218; beginning, 225; program lost contact with school, 226; interviews with contemporary poets, 226; new series combining music, poetry, and drama, 227 "American Scriptures," ( Van Doren and Carmer), 15, 31, 48, 185, 193, 194, 197 "American Song" (Williams), 50, 140, 145 American Story (MacLeish), 198, 218, 228 American Verse (Otis), 233 America Was Promises ( MacLeish), 35 Amos 'n' Andy, 207 "Anatomy of Sound" (Corwin), 13, 104 Anderson, Jeff, music by, 44, 100 Anderson, Katherine, 191 Anderson, Maxwell, 5, 7; radio and stage plays, 73, 74, 164, 173; visual details for framework of character, 78 "The Bastion-Saint Gervais," 34, 73, 78 Eleven Verse Plays, 14, 73, 142 "The Feast of Ortolans," 13, 16, 27, 47, 73, 77, 92; used eve of French Revolution as object lesson, 34; ignores resources and techniques of radio, 74; poetry and prose, 142, 145 "Magna Charta," 35 f., 47, 59; music by Weill, 100; announcer, 107; rhyme, 139 "Second Overture," 13, 60, 73; criticism of Soviet Russia, 34;

INDEX dialogue, 82; written in prose form, presented as verse, 142 Winterset, 232; written like poetry, printed like prose, 142 Anderson, Sherwood, "Textiles," 16, 51; could be presented on stage, 70; chorus, 107 "Andrew Jackson" (Robertson), 143 Anglin, Margaret, 4, 193 Anglo-Saxon poetry, 136 Anglo-Saxon stock, purest in America, 200 Antigone (Sophocles), 181 Anniversaries, programs to celebrate, 196 Announcer or narrator, 77, 104 ff., 144, 232, 257; role entrusted to several voices and choruses, 107; in documentaries, 167; salaries, 170; adapter's use of, 179 "Ann Rutledge" (Masters), 196, 197 Anonymous copywriters, messages written by, and broadcast as a special service by various sponsors, 46 Anthologies, 15 ff., 199 Apathy, warning of dangers of, 66 "Appointment" (Corwin), 13, 36, 101

Argumentation, technique of, created for radio, 186-92 Aristophanes, 173; The Birds, adaptation, 181 Aristotle, main characteristics of poetry, 28; stressed plot above characterization, 75; puts plot before character, 93; chorus, 107; on appropriate metre for spoken word, 131; quoted, 144 Armed Forces Radio Service, 196 Armistice Day, 49 "Army Hour, The" (Cooper), 108, 142, 158, 160, 161 Arnold, Benedict, story of, 48, 64 Arnold, Edward, 155 Arnold, Matthew, "Dover Beach," 191 Sohrab and Rustum, 173, 215

INDEX Art, modem, representation renounced, 56 Art and Freedom (Kallen), 97 Arthur, King, 37, 38 Arts and The Man (Edman), 28 Asch Recording Co., 200 Asness, George, and Ralph Schoolman, "Story of a Valley . . .," 51, 160, 161, 163, 164; rebroadcast in England, 19; use of suggestion, 87; chorus, 167 Assonance, 135-41; designed for the ear, 137 Atkins, Violet, "Education for Life," 16, 40 "I Saw the Lights Go Out in Europe," 16, 40; music, 102 "I Speak for the Women of America," 16, 40, 196 "The Silent Women," 16, 40 Atlanta school system, broadcast lessons for classroom, 225 Auden, W. H., 7, 28, 139 "The Dark Valley," 16, 57, 62, 63; use of sound effects, 94; alliteration, 137; rhyme, 140; poetic prose, 141 — and James Stern, "The Rocking-Horse Winner," 55 Audience, growth, 5; largest, using regular radio technique, 10; poets new, 21-23; radio gives poet millions, 22; what it wants: situation must be within experience of, 31; anything that tends to puzzle or offend, forbidden, 58; chooses programs with which it agrees, 59; poet uses word-stirred imagination of, 78, 80; may be educated to value lyric possibilities, 81; must be constantly reminded of presence of characters, 81; the drama's obstacle, 110; more inclined to believe radio than newspapers, 117; unaware of technical dexterity of poet, 139; rarely aware of author of program, 170; plays that puzzled, 174; story must catch interest at once, 175; hostility toward poetry-reading

299 program, 20ü; intelligence of, underestimated, 204; defended: ways of estimating size, 205; has power, if it cares to use it, 206, 252; new device for testing likes and dislikes, 206; more intelligent do not write fan mail, 206 f.; implications for, 252-54; must share responsibility of improving standards, 253 Aural devices, radio drama must depend upon, 99 Auslander, Joseph, "Steel," 210 The Unconquerables, 196 "Author Meets the Critics, The," 222 Authors, see Script writers Authors' birthday celebrations, 198 Aviation industry, story of, 51 Ayers, Stuart, "The Search for Freedom," 39, 142 Aztecs, 198 Bach, Johann S., 99 Bacher, William Α., director of "The Treasury Star Parade," 39 and Malcolm Meacham, adaptations, 191 "A Report on the State of the Nation" adapted by, 15 Bacon, Nathaniel, 198 Bales, William, 259 "Balkanizing America," 161 "Ballad for Americans" ( LaTouche), 8, 9, 107, 192 "Ballad of Bataan" (Rosten), 16, 39, 108, 122 "Ballad of the Harp Weaver, The" (Millay), 247 "Ballad of Youth, A" (Kreymborg), 16, 56, 74, 91 Ballads, of Southern and Western mountains, 21; American, 199 ff. Bankers, as symbols, 114 Bankhead, Tallulah, 194 Bamouw, Erik, 61, 88, 152, 153, 182; pioneer course in writing for radio, 9; adaptations of Shakespeare, 175-80 passim Radio Drama in Action, 17

300 Bamouw, Erik ( Continued) Handbook of Radio Writing, 87 Barr, Stringfellow, literary discussion, 221 Barrymore, John, in Shakespeare's plays, 5, 174 Barrymore, Lionel, 155 Barzun, Jacques, literary discussions, 221 "Bastion-Saint Gervais" ( Anderson), 34,73, 78 "Battle Hymn of the Republic" (Howe), 1Θ4 "Battle of Brunanburgh, The," 136 "Battle of the Warsaw Ghetto, The" ( Wishengrad), 17, 20, 44 Beaumont, Alan, 216 Beer, Ballantine, "Three-Ring Time" program, 198 Beethoven, 99 Benêt, Stephen Vincent, 8, 164, 226, 227; place in field of radio poetry, 236 "A Child Is Bom," 14, 17, 19, 49; overlap, 95 "Day of Deliverance," 196 "Dear Adolf," 14, 33, 41 "Invocation," rearranged by Corwin, 128 John Browns Body, 20, 194, 215, 247, 257; transformed into radio play, 173; adapted by Corwin, 183 "A Letter to Hitler," 18, 41, 83 "Listen to the People," 14, 17, 37, 72, 84, 91; junior high school study of, 27; stylized characters, 90; chorus, 108; dramatic in form, no plot structure, 110; conversational cadence, 127 "Nancy Hanks," 196 Nightmare at Noon, 14, 16, 64, 68; available to schools, 18; written to enlist America's aid against fascism, 36; dramatic in form, no plot structure, 110; colloquialisms, 120; imagery, 122; alliteration, 137 "Prayer," 18,195

INDEX "Prayer for Americans," 18, 41 "Prayer for United Nations," 194 "They Burned the Books," 14,17, 20, 195, 197; junior high school study of, 27; done chorally, 27; war on dictatorship, 41; dramatic conflict, 109; ending, 109; use of symbol, 115; printed version, 156; polemic, 239 "The Strong Swimmer," 196 "Toward the Future," 194 We Stand United, 14 Western Star, 257; Rosten's adaptation, 20, 183 "Your Army," 16 Benêt Award for Short Plays, 257 Benêt memorial program, 20, 197 Beowulf, 117 Best Broadcasts of 1939-40 ( Wylie), 16 Best Broadcasts of 1940-41 (Wylie), 17 Best One-Act Plays of 1938, The ( Mayorga ), 16, 74 Best One-Act Plays of 1942, The (Mayorga), 17 Best One-Act Plays of 1944, The (Mayorga), 17, 259 Bettis, VsJerie, production of The Desperate Heart, 259 "Between Americans" ( Corwin ), 13, 36 "Between the Bookends" ( Malone), 26, 206, 207-10 Beyond the Horizon (O'Neill), 59 Bible, contradiction, 62; radio adaptation of stories, 133, 173; programs, 220, 221; see also Rosten, Ν., "Samson Agonistes" "Big and Little Business" (Williams), 160 Big Road, The (Rosten), 234 Bill of Rights, program commemorating, 10, 160, 161; history and meaning dramatized, 38 Birds, The (Aristophanes), 181 "Birthday Cake" (Speyer), 196 "Black Is the Color of My Truelove's Hair," 200

INDEX Blank verse, 132; anachronistic, 125 Bleak House (Dickens), 102 "Blessed Damozel, The" (Rossetti), 227 "Blue and the Gray, The" (Finch), 194 Bolivar, Simon, 42 "Bon Homme Richard, The" ( Carmer), 48 Bonner, Amy, 59, 84 "Book of Job, The," adaptations, 182 Books seize upon exciting subjects of the day, 237 "Book Trails," series, 216, 229 Borland, Hal, America is Americans, 234 Boston Symphony Orchestra, 197 Botwin, Marvin, "There Once Was a Sunrise," 244 Boult, Sir Adrian, 155 Bower, Warren, "Reader's Almanac," program, 197, 222 Boyd, James, 153 Braley, Burton, Morgan Sails the Caribbean, 183 Brancusi, 56 Brecht, Bertolt, translation of Hays's The Trial of LucuUus, 14 Brennan, Walter, 155 Braircliff Junior College, 25, 214 Bridson, D. G., 11 "Aaron's Field," 57, 65; description of character for listener, 78; length, 85; characterization, 90; slang, 121; satire in rhyme, 140 "The March of the '45" first poetry written specifically for radio, 6, 48; rebroadcast, 19; speeches, 82; length, 85; battle described, 107; meter, 133; couplets and quatrains, 139 "Bringing Taxes into the Open" (Williams), 160 Brinnin, John Malcolm, 259 British Broadcasting Corporation, first dramatic presentation, 5; adaptation of Shakespeare, 5, 173; encouraged new writers to

301 turn to radio, 6; The Saviours, seven verse plays, 37; English history and traditions in plays, 37, 48; use of recordings, 159; Symphony Orchestra, 155 Brock, Herman, 10 Bromfield, The Rains Came, 218 Brown, Robert, 3 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 209; "How Do I Love Thee?" 194 Browning, Robert, "My Last Duchess," 209 "Pied Piper of Hamelin," transformed into radio play, 173, 187 Bryant, William Cullen, "Thanatopsis," 4 Buck, Pearl, "Will This Earth Hold?" 17, 44 "Bud and Baby" (Kreymborg), 90 "Builders of American Aircraft" (Tunick), 51,121,145,160,161, 166 "Bully of the Town," 200 Bums, Bob, 155 Burrell, John, 182 Byron, '^Prisoner of Chillón," 215 "Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The," 74, 103 Cairns, Huntington, literary discussions, 220 Cal verton, V. F., 30 Cantril, Hadley, and G. W. Allport, The Psychology of Radio, 54. 85, 113 "Careless Love," 200 Carlton, Henry, 133 Carlton, Leonard, 199 "Carmen Jones," 99 Carmer, Carl, use of blank verse, 48; description of Whitman, 185 "The Alamo," 48 "The Bon Homme Richard," 48 "The Star Spangled Banner," 48 "Stonewall Jackson," 48 Taps Is Not Enough, 15, 17, 20, 45 Carroll, Madeleine, 218

302 "Cavalcade of America, The," program, 19, 31, 37, 42, 48, 49, 127, 138, 197; seeks to interpret spirit of America through lives of its poets, 223; produces occasional poetry plays, 255 Cellanese Corporation of America, 46 Cenci, The (Shelley), 118 Censorship, 59; can be dangerous, 60 Chants, mountain, 21; of the church dramatized, 97 Characterization: patterns of, the parable, 88-93 Characters, drawn broadly, easily identified, 69; ear cannot distinguish many, 88; cost of a large cast prohibitive, 89; stylized by demands of universality in plays, 92; exists for radio audience only, 177 "Characters-Now," 228 "Characters-Then," 228 Charles, Prince, 48 Chaucer, not suited for radio, 30; radio poets continue oral tradition developed by, 50 Chesterton, Gilbert K., "Lepanto," 191, 248 Chicago, University of, center of research in radio broadcasting and evaluation, 244 "Child is Born, A" (Benêt), 14, 17, 19, 49, 95 Children, study of listening habits of, 24; critical of details, 31; recordings for, 55; programs to bring poetry to, 216; programs for, 224-30 China, Buck's tribute to, 44 Chinese theaters, music, 97 "Chisholm Trail, The," 201 Chopin, 102 Choral group, 69, 217 Choral speaking, 102, 150 Chorus, 78, 80, 95, 104-8, 151; chant in, 102; Greek, 69, 105, 106, 107, 231; chants statistics, 167

INDEX "Christmas: Atomic Age" (Corwin), 235 "Christmas Casualty" ( Phillips ), 197 "Christmas Morning" ( Roberts ), 197 Christmas plays, 49 "Christmas Poetry," program, 216 Church, James, adaptation of Euripides Alcestis, 181 — and Charles Warburton, "A Tribute to Shakespeare," 197 City Awakes, The (Tyrrell), 14, 147 Civilization, problems inherent in our, 50 f. "Claire de Lune" (Haskell), 189 Coates, J. R., 182 Coffin, Robert P. T., 198, 227 Cohen, Philip H., use of folk-song recordings, 201 Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 135, 173, 183, 215 Collaboration, in radio poetry, 15457 Colleges and universities, facilities to play records : radio guilds and courses, 12; interest in radio writing and production, 25; radio workshops, degrees in radio, 244; see also entries under University Colloquialisms, 120 Colman, Ronald, 14, 45 Columbia Broadcasting System, presentation in celebration of V-E Day, 11; Workshop Jubilee, 18; sponsored many Shakespeare productions, 173; dance interpretations projected by television studio, 259; see also Columbia Workshop "Columbia Presents Corwin," series, 11, 19, 44, 45, 46 Columbia School of the Air, 218 "Columbia Shakespeare Cycle" (1937), 173 Columbia University, pioneer course in writing for radio, 9; poetry program on Columbia's intramural stations, 214; center of

INDEX research in radio broadcasting and evaluation, 244; prizes sponsored in collaboration with Alice W. Ditson Fund Contest, 256 Bureau of Applied Social Research, 59, 114 Columbia Workshop, 6, 7, 22, 123, 149, 205, 248; use of sound, 93; experimental drama and poetry, 58; use of Koralites for verse plays, 102 Columbia Workshop Plays, The (Coulter), 16 "Columbus" (Miller), 197 "Columbus Day" (Welles), 197 Comedy with happy ending preferred by audience, 31 Comic opera, without music, 66 Commentator, see Announcer Commercial attitude responsible for dearth of verse programs, 203, 204 Commercial motive, behind broadcasting, 245 Commercial programs, 225; poetry on, 198, 202; see also Advertising; "Cavalcade of America" Commercial radio, bars to policy of experimentation and freedom, 249; alternative plans suggested, 250 Commercial stations, have co-operated with schools in broadcasting educational programs, 218; see also Commercial programs Communism, as symbol, 114 "Concerning the Red Army" ( Rosten), 17, 44 "Confessions of a Soda Jerk" (Sion), 52 Conflict, dramatic, 109-10 "Congo, The" (Lindsay), 4, 191, 248 Conquistador (MacLeish), 126,138 Conservatism, of radio programs, 58-63; danger in, 60 Contemporary One-Act Plays ( Kozlenko ), 16, 70 Controversial themes, avoided, 59, 245, 246; not presented until they

303 cease to be controversial, 60; signs of growing freedom, 61 Cook, Mabel L., "Speaking of Poetry," series, 229 Cooke, Edward Vance, "Wizardry of Words," 226 Cooper, Wyllis, "The Army Hour," 142,158,160; chorus, 108; prose, 161 "Dux Muri," 49 Copland, Aaron, "Music and Drama," program, 227 Corey, George, 159; engaged by Hollywood motion-picture companies, 248 Corneille, 5 Coronet, 17 Corwin, Norman, 5, 7, 164, 248; first poet brought up with radio, 9; name overshadowed all others: grant to, 10; in England, 11; plays in poetic prose style, 16; rebroadcasts, 19, 20; found poetry the poor relative among the arts, 21; adapted modern poetry for radio, 25; on duties of American radio in war, 33; plays written to aid war effort in U. S., 38; in England, 39; primers, 51, 52; scripts about New York City, 53; accused radio officials of helping Axis powers, 60; denunciation of publishers who incite disunity at home, 62; satirizes radio: his humor satirized, 65; criticism of Kreymborg, 66, 123; war dramas too poetic, 67; doubts whether writers of today can add to broadcasting literature, 69; on words as substitute for sight, 76, 78, 79; on "socko" beginning, 82-83; length of plays, 84; music written for, by Herrmann and Murray 100; use of Koralites, 102, 188; re interjections, 121; imagery, 122, 124; held that radio verse lends itself to reading aloud, 128; Benét's scripts adaptated by, 128, 183; view of MacLeish's rhythmic subdeties, 135; use of

304 Corwin, Norman (Continued) light verse for satire, 140; alliterative and figurative prose, 141; plays not evenly first-rate, 149; an orchestrator, 150; symphonic use of voices, 152; belief that no production can get far without music, 154; no time for verse in documentary programs, 1Θ9; popularity, 170; adaptations of Whitman, 184; collaboration with Sandburg and Robinson in radio opera "The People, Yes," 18Θ; adaptations of short poems, 186 ff.; use of the stooge, 188; dramatization of nonsense verse, 190; readings, 194; place in field of radio poetry, 236; see also "Columbia Presents Corwin" "An American in England," 11, 19, 39 "Anatomy of Sound," 13, 104 "Appointment," 13, 36; music, 101 "Between Americans," 13, 36 "Christmas: Atomic Age," 235 "Cromer," 13, 19, 44, 83 "Daybreak," 13, 19, 144 "Dorie Got a Medal," 44, 256; music by Williams and Anderson, 100; rhythm, 132; rhyme, 140 "The Enemy," 16, 38; symbols, 113 "Esther," 64 "14 August," 11, 46, 235 "Good Heavens," 13 "Interview with Signs of the Times," 53; orchestration of verse, 152 "The Long Name None Could Spell," 13, 19, 43, 44; sound effect, 154 "A Man with a Platform," 13 "Mary and the Fairy," 13, 55 "Memo to the Living," 235 "A Moment in the Nation's Time," 13, 43 More by Corwin, 11, 13, 222; written against a deadline, 148

INDEX "A Movie Primer," 20, 52; rhythm, 132; use of light verse for satire, 140 "New York—a Tapestry for Radio," 19, 31, 53; use of symbol, 115 On a Note of Triumph, 11, 13, 17, 18, 45, 132; rebroadcast, 19; reason for success, 237; recorded, 243 "The Oracle of Philadelphi," 9, 13, 217; praised America as symbol of freedom, 36; poetry and prose, 144 "Poetic License," program, 9 "The Plot to Overthrow Christmas," 13, 19, 49, 65, 72, 89; beginning, 83; ending, 109; light verse, 132; satire, 140 "A Program to Be Opened in a Hundred Years," 13 "Psalm for a Dark Year," 13, 37, 49, 68, 79 "Pursuit of Happiness," series, 9 "Radio Primer," 13, 51, 52, 65, 154; use of light verse for satire, 140; definitions in verse, 144 "Samson," 13, 36; music, 101 "Seems Radio Is Here to Stay," 13, 17, 51; alliteration, 137; written against a deadline, 148 "A Soliloquy to Balance the Budget," 13, 51, 52, 59; satirizes radio industry, 65; dialogue, 82; ending, 109 "There Will Be Time Later," 44, 62; use of symbols, 115; verse form, 130 They Fly through the Air . . ., 9, 16, 54, 61, 72, 92; repeated, 18; bought by Hollywood, 20; warning against fascism, 35; use of suggestion, 86; use of sound effects, 94; use of filter, 96; narrator, 106; dramatic conflict, 109; imagery, 122, 124; verse and prose, 144; metaphor, 146; description of

INDEX how sound effects are achieved, 154; plays better than it reads, 156; polemic, 239 Thirteen by Corwin, collection, 10, 13, 130, 154 "This Is War!," 16, 33, 38, 169 "To the Young," 16, 38 "To Tim at Twenty," 81 "Transatlantic Call: People to People," 11 "Twenty-Six by Corwin," 10 "The Undecided Molecule," 46, 54 "Unity Fair," 46 Untitled and Other Radio Dramas, 11, 17, 19, 20, 44, 62, 91 "Walt Whitman," 31 We Hold These Truths, 6, 17, 33; dramatized history and meaning of Bill of Rights, 10, 38, 160, 1Θ1 Number One script in radio, 10; available to schools, 18; junior high school study of, 27; use of suggestion, 87; collaborators, 155; speech by F. D. Roosevelt, 156; verse, 163, 168; narrator, 167 "Words without Music," 9, 17, 66 "Corwin Cycle," 19; revivals, 257 Coryphaeus, 105, 106 Couehlin, Father, 114 Coulter, Douglas, 6, 72, 156 The Columbia Workshop Plays, 16 Council for Democracy, 14, 64; distributes scripts free of charge, 20; "Dear Adolph," result of a collaboration between NBC and the, 33 Course of Study in Radio Appreciation, A (Sterner), 24, 157 Courtship of Miles Standish, The (Longfellow), 173, 183, 218 Cowboy ballads, 21 Cowboy Songs, 200 Craig's Wife, reason for failure, 174

305 "Cricket Wings" (Kreymborg), 66, 90, 151 Critic, province, 254 Critical examination, radio gives no opportunity or desire for, 54 Criticism, of accepted cultural patterns tabooed, 60; couched in parable form, 61; good day-today lacking, 254 "Cromer" (Corwin), 13, 19, 44, 83 Crosby, Bing, 198 "Cross-Eyed Butcher, The," 200 Crossley, Inc., New York City, 10 Cultural patters, taboo on, 60 Cummings, E. E., 235 Current events, psychological aspects, 56 "Cutty Sark" (Kemp), 19, 49, 85, 140 Czechoslovakia, tribute to, 19, 43 Daisy Lee (Foote), 259 Dance drama, 259 Dane, Clemence, "England's Darling," 14, 37 "Hope of Britain," 14, 37 "The Light of Britain," 14, 37 "The May King," 14, 37 "Merlin," 14, 37 "Remember Nelson," 14, 38 The Saviours, 14, 37, 47, 49, 99 "The Unknown Soldier," 14, 38, 49, 72; length, 85; use of suggestion, 87; poetry and prose, 145 "Daniel Jazz, The" (Lindsay), 189 "Dark Valley, The," see Auden, W. H. Davenport, Russell, My Country, 195 Davies, Edward, 211 Davis, Bette, 116 Davis, Blevins, adaptation of Aristophanes' The Birds, 181 "Daybreak" (Corwin), 13, 19, 144 "Day in Manhattan, A" (Sullivan), 14, 53, 89, 123, 146 "Day of Deliverance" (Benêt), 196 "Deacon's Masterpiece, The" (Holmes), 188

306 "Dead men," use of filter, 96 Deane, Martha, 223 "Dear Adolf" series (Benêt), 14, 33, 41 "Dearly Beloved" (Robertson), 56, 96 "Death of a King" (Rosten), 34, 92 139 "Debts for Sale" (Williams), 160, 163, 168 Debussy, tone poem discussed, 227 Delafield, E. M., 6 De la Mare, Walter, 222 Democracies learned to strike back at Germany, 32 Democracy, radio as an instrument for, 32 ff. Denison, Merrill, 7 Desperate Heart, The (Bettis), 259 Detroit, broadcasts by schools, 225 Department of Visual and Radio Education: teachers' and students' verse, 217 "Devil's Dyke" (Hassall), 49, 85, 123, 132 De Voto, Bernard, 11, 237; criticism of Corwin, 132 Dey, Norman, 193 Dialogue, function, 75-81; brevity, 81-82; technical devices add to the force, 93-96; rearrangement, 177 Dickens, Bleak House, 102 Dickinson, Emily, 3, 37, 223, 224, 259 Diespecker, Dick, "We Here Highly Resolve," 197 "Discovery of the Amazon" ( Wishengrad), 43 Disney, Walt, 91 Distortion, 56 "Distributors at Work" (Williams), 161 Ditson Fund Contest, 256 Dixon, Peter, Radio Sketches, 148 Dr. Faust us (Marlowe), 181 Documentary program, nature of, 158-59; themes, 159-62; role of poetry, 162-63; poetic and dramatic technique, 163-68; script

INDEX writer, 168-70; teaching devices, 168; poetry can "primp up" information, 169 Documentary technique of verse play, 158-70 Donat, Robert, 155 Doninger, Judith, 201 Donne, John, 198 "Dorie Got a Medal" ( Corwin ), 44, 100, 132, 140, 256 Dos Passos, John, not accepted by broadcasters, 60 U. S. Α., 143 "Dover Beach" (Arnold), 191 Drama,radio: using verse technique, 6 ff.; attempts to adapt scripts for other media, 20; more difficult and obscure plays have greater latitude, 63; danger of over-simplification, 67; depends on music for mood, 99; calls for cohesive force, 104; introduced into classroom, 157; need for a stronger and bolder, 247; has far-flung social implications, 252; lack of good day-to-day criticism, 254; see also Verse plays, radio Drama, stage: versus radio drama, 68; adaptation of plays for film or broadcasting, 171 Drama appreciation, student compositions on, 26 Dramatic technique, radio and stage practice differ sharply, 70 Dramatists, Greek, limited plays by observing unities of time, space, and action, 71 — radio, see Script writers Drayton, Michael, 198 Dreiser, Theodore, not accepted by broadcasters, 60 Drinkwater, John, 173 Dryden, John, 173, 233 Dryer, Bernard, "Winged Victory," 15, 83, 145; against waste and ruthlessness of war, 35; narrator, 107 Dryer, Sherman H., criticism of Corwin, 66 f. Dudley, Jane, 259

INDEX Dukas, "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," 227 "Dunkirk" (Rosten), 42 Duns any, Lord, β Du Pont de Nemours and Co., 223 "Dust Bowl Ballads" (Guthrie), 138 Dust storms, 50 "Dust Storms" (Tunick and Rankin), 20, 51, 160, 161, 165 Dyer, A. M., "Reveille," 20, 49; mixed metaphors, 147 Dyer-Bennet, Richard, verses about events of the day, 200; folk songs, 201 Ear, is the theatre in radio, 68; incapable of lone attention, 85; cannot distinguish many characters, 88; new highroad to emotional responses, 93; easily seduced, 146 Echo chamber, 96, 168 Economic subjects, broadcasts on, 51, 160, 161 Edman, Irwin, literary discussions, 220, 221 Arts and the Man, 28 Education, function of radio, 23-27; radio as an instrument of popular, 158; radio schools conducted by, city boards of, 216; implications of radio for, 241-45; see also Educational programs Education for Death (Ziemar), 40 "Education for Life" (Atkins), 16, 40 Educational programs, reading of poetry, 214-19; co-operation of commercial stations with schools in broadcasting, 218: for adults, 220-24; for children, 224-30; role of radio defined, 225; avoid formal discussion, 228 Educational Radio Script Exchange of the FSA, 13, 20 Educators, attitude toward radio, 241 Electric advertising signs, Corwin's impressions, 53, 152

307 Eleven Verse Plays ( Anderson ), 14, 73, 142 Eliot, T. S., 3, 222; quoted, 125 "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," 208 Murder in the Cathedral, 232 "The Music of Poetry," 118 The Waste Land, 240 Elizabeth, Queen, 38 Elizabethan dramatists, had to create scenes by sheer power of words, 80; tried to revive classic chorus, 105 Elizabethan lyric, 98 Elizabethan plays, best suited for broadcasting, 6 Elizabethan stage, Shakespeare's introductory scenes necessary for, 175 Emphasis by reiteration, 79 Ending, verse play, 108-9 "Enemy, The (Corwin), 16, 38, 113 England, first radio verse play, 19; history and traditions in plays, 37, 48; history of, covered in one hour, 72; radio situation different from that of U. S.: time schedules, 85; see also British Broadcasting Corporation "England's Darling" (Dane), 14, 37 Englishman as symbol, 113 "Epic of Leningrad, The" (Parker), 235 "Epic" symbolism and cadences, 163 Erskine, Gladys S., 203 Erskine, John, 98, 99 Esquire, 68 "Esther" (Corwin), 64 "Eternal Light, The" (Wishengrad), 143 Euripides, 5, 173; use of dialogue for setting stage, 75 Alcestis, adaptation, 181 Evaluating Instruction in Secondary School English (Smith), 24 Everts, Lillian, 197 Evolution, 91

308 Exaggeration, 56 Exposition, verse play, 76 ff. "Fables in Verse" (Kreymborg), 13, 16, 57, 84, 90, 91, 139 "Face of America, The" (Wolfe), 15, 191 Fadiman, Clifton, 196 Fairy tales, 55 Fall of the City, The, see MacLeish Fan mail, 206 f.; frequently a distorted statement, 253 Fantastic, The, 54-57 Famsworth, Paul R., 88, 113, 114 Farrar and Rinehart, 14 Farrell, James T., not accepted by broadcasters, 60 Fascism, war against, 34-47; technique of, 36; warning of dangers of, 66 Fascists, bombings of innocent civilians by, denounced, 61 FCC, struggle between, and radio industry, 59 Fearing, Kenneth, 173, 235; "The World of Tomorrow," 191 "Feast of Ortolans, The," see Anderson, Maxwell Federal Communications Commission, 170 Federal Communications Commission Act, 58 Federal Radio Education Commission, F. S. Α., 18; transcriptions of verse programs available from, 243 Federal Radio Education Committee, U. S. Office of Education, 244 Federal Security Agency, Educational Radio Script Exchange, 13; lends scripts to radio workshops, 20; see also Federal Radio Education Commission Federal Theatre, findings re recordings, 12; productions, 158 "Festival" (Williams), 17, 50, 91 "Fever in the Night" (Kleiner), 15, 55, 62, 72, 80 "Fiddler's Green" program, 214

INDEX "Fifty Centuries of Silk" (Tunick), 51, 160, 161 Figures of speech, 121 Filene, Edward Α., 51, 160 Filter or "filter mike," 96, 168,179, 183 Finch, Francis M., "The Blue and the Gray," 194 Firth, Ivan, and Gladys S. Erskine, Gateway to Radio, 203 "Fish After Fish" (Kreymborg), 91 Fisher, Sterling, 25, 142, 205; quoted, 39; poetry programs, 218; direction of Inter-American University of the Air, 225, 228; as director of American School of the Air, 227 Flaccus, Kimball, 7 "Fulton Fish Market," 52, 68, 82; use of narrator and chorus, 107 "Music of the Mountains," 53 FM educational stations, 225, 258 "Fog, The" (LaTouche), 18, 41 "Foggy, Foggy Dew, The," 200 "Folk Music of America," 227 Folk poetry, examples of, 21; on the air, 199-201 Folksay (Maslow), 259 "Follow Your Nose," program, 216 Fontanne, Lynn, 18, 116, 193 Foote, Horton, Daisy Lee, 259 Form, plays with dramatic, but without plot structure, 110 "Fountain of Dancing Children, The" (Lawrence), 16, 43, 124, 130, 147 Four Apes and Other Fables, see Kreymborg "Fables in Verse" "14 August" (Corwin), 11, 46, 235 "Four Winds Talk It Over, The" ( Kreymborg ), 57 Fowler, Gene, "The Jarvis Bay," 15, 193 F.P.A., see Adams, F. P. Frederick, John T., 222 Free Company Presents . . ., The, anthology, 16 Freedley, George, literary discussion, 223 Freedom in America, satirized, 63

INDEX "Freedom in the Opinion Industries" (Lemer), 250 "Freedom's Plow" (Hughes), 195 Freeman, Douglas S., "The Last Parade," 194 Free verse, 129 ff.; use of rhyme in, 140 Free World, Theatre, 16,159 French, Josephine, 217 Fried, Edrita, 32 Frontier life, 145 Frost, Robert, 198, 227; radio poet, 173 "Fulton Fish Market" (Flaccus), 52, 68, 82,107 Gabrielson, Frank, engaged by Hollywood motion-picture company, 248 Galan, José Antonio, 198 Garfield, John, 193 Gassner, John, 82; quoted, 6 "Gateway of Oceans, The" (Wishengrad), 43 Gateway to Radio (Firth and Erskine), 203 Geiger, Milton, "Moonlight," 45, 131 General Mills, 199 "Gentle Echo on Women" (Swift), 190 George Foster Peabody Foundation, award to meritorious programs, 253 Georgia, University of, Henry W. Grady School of Journalism, 253 Germans, techniques of persuasion: radio methods, 32 Gielgud, Val, 60, 85; encouraged writers to tum to radio, 6; quoted, 69; on broadcasts of Shakepeare's plays, 172 G. I. Joe cautions people about victory, 46 Gilbert and Sullivan, 5, 173, 232 Class Menagerie, The (Williams), 232 Goebbels, 43 Goering, 43

309 Goethe, 227 Goldberg, Isaac, 8; quoted, 74 Golden, Emerson S., 156; quoted, 157 "Good Heavens" ( Corwin ), 13 Government agencies, radio stations co-operated with, 38 Government control or co-operation, plans suggested, 249 Graduate School of Education, see Harvard College Graham, Martha, Letters to the World, 259 "Grand Ol' Op'ry," 200 Grapes of Wrath, The (Steinbeck), 143 "Grass," 158 Graves, William L., "An Introduction to Literature," lecture series, 229 Grayson, Mitchell, 62, 124; view of MacLeish's rhythmic subtleties, 135 "Great Moments of Music," 195 "Great Plays," 173 "Great Plays" Drama Guide, 26 Greek chorus, 69, 105, 106, 107; chant, 102; radio verse play has brought back role of, 231 Greek dramatic poetry, rhythm, 131 Greek dramatists, recitative technique used by, 102 Greek plays, best suited for broadcasting, 6; more dialogue sung than spoken, 97 Green, Julian, 231 Greenberg, Kenneth, "The Song and the Chest," 49 Gregory, Horace, 235 Grey, Lennox, 134; What Communication Means Today, excerpt, 117 Gronowicz, Antoni, "The League of Animals," 15 Grunow Radios, program advertising, 225 Guest, Edgar Α., 210 Guiterman, Arthur, "Ode for Memorial Day," 49 Guthrie, Tyrone, 6

310 Guthrie, Woody, ballads: news in verse, 200, 201 "Dust Bowl Ballads," 138 Hackett, Francis, quoted, 238 Handbook of Radio Writing (Barnouw), 87 Hardy, Thomas, 173 Harkins, Peter, "Romance of Rivers," 20, 160, 161, 166 Harper and Brothers, 14 Harpers Magazine, 11, 132 Harrison, Tom, 202 Harry S. Goodman Agency, 18 Harvard College, conclusions of joint committee of Graduate School of Education and, to study training of secondary school teachers, 241; Committee Report, General Education in a Free Society, recognizes force of radio, 242 Haskell, Samuel "Claire de Lune," 189 Hassall, Christopher, "Devil's Dyke," 49, 85; elevated speech, 123; rhythm, 132 Haste, marks of, 146-49 "Haunted Water" ( Kreymborg ), 80 "Hawk and the Flesh, The" (Alexander), 14, 56 Hawkins, Desmond, 222 Hawthorne, Scarlet Letter, 218 Hayakawa, S. I., quoted, 246 Hayden, Kenneth, quoted, 188 Hayden Planetarium, New York City, 7 Hayes, Paul, "Intelligencanapolis," 66 Hays, H. R., 14 Hays, Harvey, "Words and Music" program, 202, 210 Hays, Lee, balladeer, 201 "Healthy America, A" (Williams), 161 "Height of the Ridiculous, The" (Holmes), 189 Hellman, Lillian, quoted, 73 "Hello Americans," Welles' program, 42

INDEX Helton, Roy, 226 Henderson, Daniel, 226 Henry W. Grady School of Journalism, 253 Herrmann, Bernard, 101, 155 — and Lyn Murray, music by, 100 Herzberg, Max J., 24, 27 "High Flight" (Magee), 15, 191, 197 High schools, participation in contest in production of radio plays, 243; in script writing, 244; radio units, workshops and courses, 244 Hill, Frank Ernest, 169 Himmler, 43 Hirohito as symbol, 113 "His Name Shall Be: Remember" (Reines), 15 Historical plays, 47-49, 91; American history, 47; English history, 48 Hitler, used Hoerspiele, for radio propaganda purposes, 32, 47; as symbol of evil, 113, 115; Benét's letters to, see under Benêt, S. V., "Dear Adolf" series; "A Letter to Hitler"; "They Burned the Books" "Hitler," word as a symbol, 112 Hively, Wells, 183 Hoerspiele used for radio propaganda purposes, 32, 47 "Hole in the Wall" (Kreymborg), 16, 90 Holmes "The Deacon's Masterpiece," adaptation, 188 "The Height of the Ridiculous," adaptation, 189 Holt, Heniy, 15 Homer, Odyssey, 117 Hood, Leon C., "How to Study 'The Fall of the City,' " 69 Hood, Thomas "A Parental Ode to My Son . . .," 190 Hope, Laurence, India's Love Lyrics, 208 "Hope of Britain" (Dane), 14, 37 Hop!:ins, Gerard Manley, 139 Hopkins, Neal, "Wanted: a Ballad," 15

INDEX Houghton, Norris, 197 "House That Jack Didn't Build, The" (Kreymborg), 16, 50, 70, 160, 161, 163 Housing Problem attacked, 50 Housman, 198 Houston, Cisco, balladeer, 200, 201 "How Do I Love Thee?" (Browning), 194 Howe, Julia Ward, "Battle Hymn of the Republic," 194 "How Many Biscuits Can You Eat?" 200 "How to Study T h e Fall of the City'" (Hood), 69 How to Write for Radio ( Whipple ), 31,75, 81 How Writers Perpetuate Stereotypes, 114 Hughes, Glenn, The Story of the Theatre, 97 Hughes, Langston, "Freedom's Plow," 195 Hull, Henry, 116 "Human Ape, The" (Kreymborg), 35, 91 Humor, subtle, not popular, 31; little room for, that is not ironic, 85; slap-stick, 66 Huston, Walter, 155 Hutchens, John K., 159; quoted, 39 Hymns, only simple, were sung, 99 "Hymns of All Churches," 199 "I Always Wanted a Toy Balloon," 211 Ideas, conflict of, 110 "Illumined" prose, 141 Imagery, 122 ff. Imagination, word-stirred, of audience used to paint a picture, 78, 80 Incas, 198 Indianapolis school system, radio courses, 225 Indian poetry, 227 India's Love Lyrics ( Hope ), 208 Individual enterprise, 58 Ingalls, Jeremy, Tahl, 234 Institute for Education by Radio, 9

311 "Intelligencanapolis" (Hayes), 66 "Intelligent Buying" (Williams), 161, 168 Inter-American University of the Air, 43, 185, 218, 225, 228; "Lands of the Free" series, 39, 43 "Interview with Signs of the Times" (Corwin), 53, 152 "Introduction to Literature, An" (Graves), 229 "Invitation to Learning," literary discussions, 220-21, 258 "Invitation to Reading," 215 "Invocation" (Benêt), 128 Isaacs, Edith, 10, 67, 149 "I Saw the Lights Go Out in Europe" (Atkins), 16, 40, 102 "I Sing a New World" (Tallman), 37, 47, 95, 223 "Islands, The" (Rosten), 42 "I Speak for the Women of America (Atkins), 16,40,196 Ives, Burl, popularity as a ballad singer, 200, 201 Jack, Peter Monro, 25, 63,146, 214, 234 Jackson, Stonewall, memorial to, 194 Jacob, Lewis, "Prague Is Quiet," 15, 96, 145 James Madison High School, 244 Japan, "14 August" hailed surrender of, 11; surrender celebrated, 46; music in theaters, 97 Japanese as symbols, 113 "Jarvis Bay, The" (Fowler), 15, 193 Jeffers, Robinson, "Roan Stallion," 3 "Tower beyond Tragedy," 3 Jefferson, stories about, ideal for broadcasting, 47 Jennings, Talbot, "Man with a Beard," 16, 30, 43, 184 Jewish play, 49 Jews, who arose against the Nazis, 44; fascist persecution of, 64 Jingles, advertising, 29, 255; in French attacking Nazi invaders, 29

312 Joan of Arc, a modem, 40 "Job" ( Wylie), 172 John Brown's Body, see Benêt, Stephen Vincent Johnny Appleseed, 48, 94,122, 129, 145 Johnson, Hunter, 259 Johnson, Raymond Edward, 194 Jonson, Ben, 173, 197 Juarez, 42 Kallen, Horace M., Art and Freedom, 97 Kaplan, Milton Α., 244 Kaufman, George S., 20 KDKA, Pittsburgh, first presidential returns, 3 Keats, John, radio poet, 173 "Ode on a Grecian Um," 209 "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer," 68 "Keep Working, Keep Singing, America," program, 199 Kemp, Robert, "Cutty Sark," 19, 49, 85, 140 Kennedy, Earle Α., quoted, 230 Kentucky, University of, School of the Air, 225 Kilenyi, Edward, 102 Kleiner, Harry, "Fever in the Night," 15, 55, 62, 72; emphasis by chorus, 80 "Requiem in A," 15, 55; music, 103,108 KMBC, Kansas City, poetry broadcasts, 4 Koopman, Romance, 183 Koralites, 55, 102, 107, 152, 188 Kozlenko, William, 295n; feels that microphone plays can also be stage plays, 70 Contemporary One-Act Plays, 16, 70 One Hundred Non-Royalty Radio Plays, 15 "Kraft Music Hall, The," program, 198 Kreymborg, Alfred, feels that microphone plays can also be stage

INDEX plays, 70; stage directions, 74; use of animals to represent human beings, 90 "Ballad of Youth," 16, 56, 74, 91 "Bud and Baby," 90 "Cricket Wings," 66, 90; choral speaking, 151 "Fables in Verse," 13, 16, 57, 90, 91; length, 84; rhyme, 139 "Fish after Fish," 91 The Four Apes and Other Fables . . ., 13 "The Four Winds Talk It Over," 57 "Haunted Water," reiteration, 80 "Hole in the Wall," 16, 90 "The House That Jack Didn't Build," 16, 160, 161, 163; use of verse technique, 50; could be presented on stage, 70 "The Human Ape," mocked the appeaser, 35, 91 "Nature Rides Again," 57, 62 The Planets, 7, 13, 66, 70, 79; dedicated to peace, 35; Corwin's criticism, 66; dialogue, 82; length, 84; allegorical significance, 91; echo chamber, 96; colloquialisms, 120; cryptic speech, 123; blank verse, 133; satire in rhyme, 141 Poetic Drama, anthology, 16 "Rain Down Death," 35 Lafayette, Ind., broadcasts by schools, 225 LaGuardia, Mayor, 197 Lampell, Millard, "The Lonesome Train," 17, 18, 19; collaboration of Robinson, 48, 100, 132, 256; meter, 132; rhyme, 140 and N. Rosten, "The Story of Nikolai Gastello," 42 "Land of the Free" ( Wishengrad ), 47, 143 "Lands of the Free," series, 39, 43, 228 Langer, Susanne Κ., Philosophy in a New Key, excerpts, 111, 112

INDEX Langland, suited for radio, 30; radio poets continue oral tradition developed by, 50 Language, limitations of, 59; of radio poetry, 118; colloquial, 120; American, a language of accents, 126; radio an important medium for transmission of, 242 LaPiere, Richard T., and P. R. Famsworth, Social Psychology, 88, 113, 114 Lardie, Kathleen N., 217 Larkin, Oliver, quoted, 67 "Last Parade, The" (Freeman), 194 LaTouche, John, 8, 21; quoted, 23; on radio as cooperative art, 154; on poetry in documentary programs, 162 "Ballad for Americans," 8, 9; chorus technique, 107; music by Robinson, 192 "The Fog," 18, 41 "The Statue of Liberty," 16, 37, 54; available to schools, 18; mixed metaphors, 147 "Today in radio," 8 "The Traitor," 48, 64; use of suggestion, 86; chorus technique, 107; dialect, 120; poetry and prose, 145 "Laughing Ho Ho," program (WHA), 216 Laughton, Charles, 116, 185, 18Θ; script written for Mrs. Laughton and, 82 Lawrence, D. H., 55 Lawrence, Fanya Foss, "The Fountain of Dancing Children," 16, 43; imagery, 124; form of verse, 130; mixed metaphors, 147 Lazarsfeld, Paul F., 59, 249; quoted, 63 — and Frank Stanton, Program Analyzer developed by, 206 Leadbelly, balladeer, 200 Leaf, Margaret, 224 "League of Animals, The" (Gronowicz), 15 League of Composers in cooperation

313 with CBS commissioned a radio opera, 256 Lear, Edwin, "The Pobble Who Lost His Toes," 190; "Two Old Bachelors," 190 Leaves of Grass (Whitman), 185, 194 Lechlitner, Ruth, "We Are the Rising Wing," 58; use of symbols, 115; colloquialisms, 120; alliteration, 137; musical overtones, 151 "Legend of Dust" (Strickland), 15, 77 Leonard, William, E., 3 "Lepanto" (Chesterton), 191, 248 Lemer, Max, "Freedom in the Opinion Industries," 250 "Literature and Society," 8, 70 "Let's Play Store (Williams), 161 Letters, fan mail, 206 f.; only way listener can applaud merit, 253 "Letter to Hitler, A" (Benêt), 18, 41, 83 Letter to the World ( Graham ), 259 Lewis, Herbert Clyde, engaged by Hollywood motion-picture companies, 248 Library of Congress, 201; plans to restore motion-picture subjects, 250 Library techniques designed for radio material needed, 251 Lidice, extermination of village, 41; used as a symbol of martyrdom, 114 Lidice, The Murder of, see Millay, E. St. V. Life, conflict between two ways of, 110 "Lifting the Mortgage" (Williams), 161 "Light of Britain, The" (Dane), 14, 37 Light verse, 132; use of rhyme in, 140 Lincoln, stories about, ideal for broadcasting, 47; funeral train, 48 (see also Lampell, M., "The Lonesome Train") Lincoln Day presentation, 19

314 Lindsay, Vàchel, 3, 173 "The Congo," 4, 191, 248 "The Daniel Jazz," 189 Link, Wilson, interviewed, 223 "Lion and the Mouse, The," fairy tale, 55 "Lion and the Mouse, The" (Rickles), 152 Liss, Joseph, "Story of Dogtown Common," 15; imagery, 123 Listeners, see Audience Listening, need for proficiency in, 244 "Listen to the People," see Benêt, S. V. Literary discussions, 220 ff. "Literary Epic—Then and Now," 228 Literary influences, 231-36 Literature, dramatic: broadcast, 26 Literature, radio: growth of a new, 7-12; a social instrument of communication, 8; development of a permanent, 12-20; schools beginning to establish courses in, 24; concern of students, teachers, and critics, 27; factors which have stunted development, 248; permanence of form called for, 250; library system necessary to care for, 251 "Literature, Then and Now," series, 215 "Literature and Society" (Lemer), 8, 70 "Little Dog Angel in Heaven," 211 "Little Johnny Appleseed" (Schoenfeld), 48, 94, 122, 129, 145 "Live" broadcasts, 159 "Living Language," series, 216 "Living Newspaper, The," 158 Lomax, Elizabeth, and Bess Lomax, 201 Lomax, John Α., folk-song recordings, 201 — and Alan Lomax, 199; anthologies of folk songs, 228 Lombardo, Guy, 198 "Lonesome Train, The" see Lampell, Millard

INDEX Long, Senator, 114 Longfellow, birth celebration, 197 The Courtship of Miles Standish, 173, 183, 218 "Long Name None Could Spell, The" (Corwin), 13, 19, 43, 44, 154 Longstreet, Stephen, 16 Lorentz, Pare, resemblance to Whitman, 164, 165 "The Plow That Broke the Plains," 99, 165 "The River," 165, 168 Love, 62 "Love Letter for Microfilm" (Niesen), 194 "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (Eliot), 208 Lowell, Amy, 198 Loyalties, psychological effects of the clash in, 56 Lyon, Peter, "Wild Bill Hickok," 48, 78, 138, 145 Lyon, Ruth, 211 "Lyric Ohio" program, 214 "Lyric Poetry" program, 215 Lyrics, 67; song and literary, 98 Macandrew, James F., quoted, 205 McCaffrey, John, literary discussion, 222 McCarty, Η. B., quoted, 225 MacCormack, Franklin, 199 MacDoueall, Ranald R., adaptation of Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, 181 "McFingal" (Trumbull), 233 Machine civilization discussed, 50 MacLeish, Archibald, 28, 164, 226, 227, 238; on spoken word as poetry's salvation, 22; criticized for using a stage device: mobility of later play, 71; length of plays, 84; found commentator essential, 106; on blank verse and rhythms of spoken language, 125; on loose structure of composition, 131; debt to Shakespeare, 134; rhythmic subtleties wasted on the air, 135; use of half-rhyme and assonance, 138; Office of Facts and

INDEX Figures, 160; poetry in historical plays, 198; place in field of radio poetry, 236 Air Raid, 13, 17, 27, 66, 67, 71, 92; warned against totalitarianism, 34; reiteration for emphasis, 79; dialogue, 81; beginning, 83; use of suggestion, 86; music, 103; announcer, 106; dramatic conflict, 109; lucidity of verse, 120; imagery, 122; rhythm, 126, 134; rhymes, half-rhymes, and assonance, 138; recorded, 242 American Story, 198, 218, 228 America Was Promises, 13, 64; warning against fascism, 35 Conquistador, 126, 138 The Fall of the City, 6, 13, 16, 23,27, 61, 66, 71, 92; repeated, 18; as a dance drama, 20; excerpt, 22; studied as contemporary literature and also radio literature, 27; warned against totalitarianism, 34; setting of scene, 77; dialogue, 81; reiteration for emphasis, 80; beginning, 83; characters, 90; noise of milling crowd, 94, 95; expectant silence, 104; announcer, 106; dramatic conflict, 109; use of symbols, 115; imagery, 122; blank verse, 133; alliteration, 136; rhymes, halfrhymes, and assonance, 138; symphonic effect, 153; on air and on paper, 156; polemic, 239 Panic, 122, 125, 126 "The States Talking," 16, 36, 217; dialogue, 81; choral speaking, 153 McManus, John, literary discussion, 222 MacNeice, Louis, 7; use of spoken word to create battle scene, 78 "Alexander Nevsky," 38, 47, 60, 72, 77, 80, 83, 89, 92; length, 85; music by Prokofiev, 100; battle described, 107; verse,

315 119, 120; rhythm, 129; collaborators, 155 Madrigal, Italian, 98 Magee, John Gillespie, "High Flight," 15,191,197 "Magna Charta" (Anderson), 35 f., 47, 59, 100, 107, 139 Main, Marjorie, 155 Malone, Ted, poetry-reading program, 4, 193; prose introductions look like verse: rearranged "Mary White" for radio reading, 128; story-telling, 202; on fan mail, 206, 209; method of introducing Hamlet, 208 "Between the Bookends," program, 26, 206, 207-10 "Pilgrimage of Poetry," series, 222 Maloney, Russell, "Short-Wave Propaganda Program Suitable for Jamming by an Axis Power," excerpt, 238 Man on the Queue, The (Alexander), 14 "Man That Wed the Wind and Water, The" (Williams), 50,147 Mantle, Bums, 172 "Man with a Beard" (Jennings), 16, 30, 43, 184 "Man with a Platform, A" (Corwin), 13 "Man with the Broken Fingers, The" (Sandburg), 18, 40 March, Frederic, 116, 195 "March of the *45', The," see Bridson, D. G. "March of Time, The," series, 158, 196, 200 Markham, Edwin, "What Is Poetry?" 226 Marlowe, Christopher, 5, 173, 198 Dr. Faustus, adaptation, 181 Marshall, Herbert, 116 Martin, John T. W., 246 Marvel], Andrew, 198 "Mary and the Fairy" (Corwin), 13, 55 "Mary White" (White), 128 Masefield, John, 21

316 Maslow, Sophie, Folksay, 259 Masters, Edgar Lee, radio poet, 10, 173 "Ann Rutledge," 196, 197 "Silence," 191 Matthews, Brander, 97 "May King, The" (Dane), 14, 37 Mayorga, The Best One-Act Plays of 1938, 16, 74 The Best One-Act Plays of 1942, 17 The Best One-Act Plays of 1944, 17, 259 Meacham, Malcolm, 15, 191 Mead, George H., I l l "Melody and Rhyme" ( Ward ), WNYC, 210 Meitzer, Robert, 197 Memorial Day program, 19, 194 "Memo to the Living" (Corwin), 235 "Memphis Belle, The," 158 "Men and Machines" (Williams), 161 Mencken, Helen, 197 Mendelssohn, Felix, 181 "Merlin" (Dane), 14,37 Merriam, Eve, 7, 21, 25, 203, 204, 211; verse for the air: nonradio verse, 119 "Out of the Ivory Tower," 202, 213 "Song of the Scorched Earth," 41, 68, 119 "Sound Track of the Life of a Careful Man," 68 Merritt, Ruth, 142 Metropolitan Opera Company, 207; presented "The Warrior," 256 Mexico, story of resistance to invasion, 42 "Mexico" ( Rosten ), 42 Middle Ages, music used in drama, 98 "Midnight Caravan" (Sullivan), 14, 53, 89, 123, 140 Millay, Edna St. Vincent, 8, 41, 80, 198 "The Ballad of the Harp Weaver," 247

INDEX The Murder of Lidice, 14, 17, 19, 41; repetition, 80; music, 101; meter, 132; rhyme, 139; recorded, 243 Poem and Prayer for an Invading Army, 14, 45 "Thanksgiving," 194 Miller, Alice Duer, The White Cliffs of Dover, 18, 193 "The White Cliffs of Dover," motion picture, 116 Miller, Joaquin, "Columbus," 197 Milton, John, 173; biography dramatized, 224 Paradise Lost, 136 Minneapolis, radio courses for classrooms, 225 Minstrel, 98 Mississippi flood, 50 "Miss Liberty Goes to Town" (Rosten), 16, 17, 40, 54, 121 Mixed metaphors, 147 "Modern Verse," program, 215 "Moment for Meditation, A," program, 211 "Moment of the Nation's Time, A" (Corwin), 13, 43 Monroe, Harriet, 202, 203, 226 Montage, 87 Montezuma, 42 Montgomery, Robert, 116 "Moods and Melodies," series, 215 "Moon and Sixpence," motion picture, use of narrator, 106 "Moonlight" (Geiger), 45, 131 Moore, Clement, 197 Morality play, revival of primitive effect of, 80; verse play resembles, 90 More by Corwin (Corwin), 11, 13, 148, 222 "More Than Dreams" (Samuels), 15, 36 Morgan, Brewster, adaptations of Shakespeare, 175-79 passim Morgan Sails the Caribbean (Braley), 183 Morton, Frederick, 110 Motion pictures, technique, 74; use of music, 99; adaptation for

INDEX broadcasting, 171; seize upon exciting subjects of the day, 237 Motion-picture writer, how radio dramatist's medium differs from, 75 Mountain chants and folk songs, 21, 200 "Movie Primer" (Corwin), 20, 52, 132, 140 Mozart, 99, 102 Muni, Paul, 195 Munich Conference, appeasement, 91 Murder in the Cathedral (Eliot), 232 Murder of Lidice, The, see Millay, E. St. V. Murray, Lyn, music by, 100, 154 Museum of Modern Art, film library, 251 Music, 96-103; supplementary device, 75; as signal for lowering curtain, 96; separation of poetry and, 98; when words obtrude, words are dropped, 98; used for punctuation, 100; must be written for radio poetry, 101; distorted for dramatic effect, 103; symbolic; alliance of poetry and, 199201; restored to drama, 232; growing popularity of classical, 247 Musical transition, 100 "Music and Drama" (Copland), 227 Musicians' salaries, 170 "Music of Poetry, The" (Eliot), 118 "Music of the Americas" (Robinson), 227 "Music of the Mountains" (Flaccus), 53 Mussolini, Benito, as symbol, 113 Mussolini, Vittorio, quoted, 61 My Country (Davenport), 195 "My Last Duchess' (Browning), 209 Mystery plays, revival of primitive effect of, 80 "Nancy Hanks" (Benêt), 196

317 "Narrative Poetry," 215 Narrator, see Announcer Nash, Ogden, 198 Nashville, citizens petitioned station to remove "Grand Ol' Op'ry," 200 National Association of Broadcasters, 253 National Broadcasting Company, 3; Shakespeare productions, 5, 173; "Great Plays' series, 5, 26; "Dear Adolph," result of a collaboration between, and the Council for Democracy, 33; documentary programs on science and economics, 160; see also Inter-American University of the Air — Radio Guild, 7, 149; experimental drama and poetry, 58 National Council of Teachers of English, 24; "NCTE Pamphlets in Communication," 244; award to meritorious programs, 253 National Institution of Arts and Letters, grants to nonmembers, 10 National Morale and Radio, 47 National networks, first, 3 "National Road, The," Ohio Writers Project, 160, 162, 164 National Socialists, see Nazis "Native Land" ( Richards and Tallman), 17, 224 "Native Son" (Richards and Tallman), 37 "Nature Rides Again" ( Kreyenborg), 57, 62 Nazis, swept into control of Saar by radio propaganda, 32; confiscation of radio sets in conquered territories, 33 "NCTE Pamphlets in Communication," 244 Negro spirituals, 21 Nelson, Admiral, 38 Networks, see Stations or networks New Directions, 14 "New Poetry Hour" ( Sullivan ), 25, 203, 212 New Poets from Old (Wells), 136 Newsreels, 158

318 Newton, Charles, adaptation of The Tempest, 179 New York City, courses in radio writing, production, speech, for high school teachers and students, 24; in verse scripts, 53, 54; as symbol of internationalism, 115; broadcasts by schools, 225 Board of Education's Station WNYE: poetry readings, 217; "Shakespeare for Pleasure" series, 230; contest in script writing among high school students, 243f. New York, University of the State of, study of poetiy minimized, 216; film library, 251 "New York—a Tapestry for Radio" (Corwin), 19, 3 1 , 5 3 , 1 1 5 New Yorker, 238 New York Newspaper Guild, Page One Award to Corwin, 11; presented Rothenberg's "Song of the Double-V," 195 New York Philharmonic orchestra, 156, 193 "New York's a Poetry Town" ( Robertson ), 54 "Next Step Forward, The" (Williams), 51 "Next Step Forward for America, The" (Williams), 160, 161, 169 Nickerson, Paul, reading program of student verse, 218 Niesen, Claire, "Love Letter for Microfilm," 194 Nightmare at Noon, see Benêt, S. V. "Noah Webster" (Adams), 189 Nonsense verse dramatized, 190 "Norsemen, The" ( Wishengrad), 43 North, Sterling, literary discussion, 222 North Carolina Department of Education, radio school, 225 Nursery rhymes, assonance used in, 138 Oates, Whitney J., literary discussion, 221

INDEX Oboler, Arch, 60, 77, 248, 249; popularity, 170 — and Stephen Longstreet, 16 Observer, The, 202 "Ode for Memorial Day" (Guiterman ), 49 "Ode on a Grecian Um" (Keats), 209 "Odes to Occupations," 217 Odets, Clifford, not accepted by broadcasters, 60 "Waiting for Lefty," 71 Odyssey (Homer), 117 Oedipus Rex ( Sophocles), 71 Office of Facts and Figures, 10, 155, 160; engaged Corwin to write and produce "This is War!" 38 "Of Men and Books," 222 Office of Radio Research, 117 "Of Thee I Sing," 99 Ohio State University, WOSO poetry broadcasts, 4; center of research in radio broadcasting and evaluation, 244 — Ohio School of the Air, first radio school, 225 — radio station WOSO, progressive work in poetry, 214; lecture series, 229 — Institute for Education by Radio, award to meritorious programs, 253 Ohio Writers Project, 160, 162, 164 Old English patterns, radio poets imitated, 135 "Oliver Wendell Holmes" (Richards and Tallman ), 224 Omár Kháyyám, The Rubáiyát, 184 On a Note of Triumph, see Corwin One Act Play Magazine, The, 14, 17, 74 One-Act Plays for Stage and Study, Ninth Series, 16 One Hundred Non-Royalty Radio Plays, (edited by Kozlenko), 15, 295n. O'Neill, Eugene, not accepted by broadcasters, 60 Beyond the Horizon, 59 "One-third of a Nation," 158

319

INDEX "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer" (Keats), 68 Opera, radio: combination of music and drama may be elaborated into: chief drawback, 256 Operettas verse in, 232 "Oracle of Philadelphi, The" (Corw i n ) , ^ 13,36, 144,217 Orchestral effects, 150-54 Orchestration, technique of, created for radio, 186-92 passim "Orchestrator," 150 Organ, poetry read to accompaniment of, 101, 211 Osgood, Charles G., 136 Otis, William B., American Verse, 233 Our Town (Wilder), 105 f. "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" (Whitman), 196 "Out of the Ivory Tower" (Merriam), 202, 213 "Over Here," program to encourage sale of war bonds, 42 Overlap, 95 Overstreet, Bonaro, 222 Owen, Elwyn, 211 OWI, shortwaved to France jingles attacking Nazis, 29 Pacifists castigated, 61 Painting, representation renounced, 56 Paley, William S., 206 Panic (MacLeish), 122, 125, 126 Parable, 88-93; criticism couched in form of, 61 Paradise Lost (Milton), 136 "Parental Ode to My Son . . ., A" (Hood), 190 "Paris Incident" (Rosten), 16, 40, 87, 104 Parker, Ralph, "The Epic of Leningrad " 2 3 5 "Passage to India" (Whitman), 197 "Pease Porridge Hot," program, 216 "People Passing By," program, 216 "People vs. the Unholy Three, The" (Rosten), 20, 43, 84,101

People, Yes, The (Sandburg), 186, 194, 259 "People, Yes, The," opera adapted by Corwin and Robinson, 186 Philharmonic Symphony broadcasts, 15, 48 Phillips, H. I., "Christmas Casualty," 197 Philosophy in a New Key ( Langer ), 111,112

Picasso, 56 "Picnic, The" (Sungaard), 259 "Pied Piper of Hamelin" (Browning), 173,187 "Pilgrimage of Poetry" (Malone), 222 "Pipes of Pan," program, 229 Planets, The, see Kreymborg Play, radio: mechanics of, make possible quick and easy performances, 243; see also Verse play Play, stage: versus radio play, 68; adaptation for film or radio, 171 ff. Plot structure, plays which are dramatic in form, but have no, 110 "Plot to Overthrow Christmas, The" see Corwin, Norman "Plow That Broke the Plains, The" (Lorentz), 99,158,165 PM, 17 "Pobble Who Lost His Toes, The"