A national public radio profile today of actress Marsha Hunt at 100 years of age sent me browsing through her career, and I happily stumbled on the movie “Lost Angel.” She played the singer-girlfriend of newspaper reporter Mike Regan, whose interview with scientifically raised child prodigy “Alpha” turns into an adventure in the magic of childhood.
While his reporting technique may not be the greatest example of journalistic detachment, the result is still a sweet story. And there’s more than one mention of the reporter’s being a Harvard grad, which can’t hurt the image of the profession.
Neither can his having a significant other like Hunt’s character Katie, who explores the frequent theme of reporters’ letting their careers get in the way of their relationships… with help from Alpha and an escaped convict.
Lux Radio Theater had the original cast for the one hour adaptation broadcast in 1944 before an appreciative studio audience.
The precocious Margaret O’Brien, 7, is the real star, with James Craig, Hunt, and Keenan Wynn as the escaped convict who complicates matters.
A Facebook conversation just led me to check back and see if I had ever posted a blog item about the radio adaptations of the movie Gentleman’s Agreement, and it looks like I hadn’t, other than a paragraph in my overview of movie adaptations by radio anthology series like Lux Radio Theater.
Lux is the only one that I had found that brought the Gregory Peck film to a radio audience, but it did so twice, in 1948and1955. The player above should get you the 1948 version, or you can click on either year to download an MP3 file.
The film about a non-Jewish reporter going undercover to get a story on anti-semitism was based on a 1947 novel byLaura Z. Hobson and won three Academy Awards, including Best Picture.
In an opening scene, the reporter, trying to explain anti-semitism to his ten-year-old son, says some people hate Jews, some hate Catholics, and some hate Protestants.
“But no one hates us, because we’re Americans,” says the boy. His father explains the difference, then, in a way worth echoing today, “Religion hasn’t anything to do with the country; you get it?”
Other than the basic idea of a reporter immersing himself in a group identity to get a story, there isn’t a lot of journalism technique presented in the brief radio versions of the story. It’s a more anthropological technique, but in this case with a strong element of deception thrown in.
For comparison, the reporter mentions having worked in a coal mine while writing a story about coal miners. (He also did a story about “Okies,” but doesn’t discuss the details.)
In any case, working in a new occupation, even as an undercover reporter, is not the same as pretending to be of a different racial, ethnic or religious group… as he discovers.
“Not that it would make any difference to me…” — with a hint of hypocrisy — becomes a key phrase in the story, whether spoken by a co-worker or the reporter’s new girlfriend. That relationship, of course, is the center of the drama, with the girlfriend’s family, friends and neighbors in suburban Connecticut all at risk of opening closets full of skeletons.
Given the problems of compressing a novel into a movie, and the movie into a half hour radio show, the Gentleman’s Agreement broadcast was still pretty powerful for its day… listen to that audience applause at the end!
Leading man Gregory Peck appeared in the first Lux adaptation, with Ann Baxter as the leading lady. Peck’s role as Phil Green was taken by Ray Milland in the second production seven years later, with Dorothy McGuire recreating her original role, and radio’s ubiquitous William Conrad as the editor.
Although the story is about anti-semitism, the level of racial sensitivity as late as 1955 is reflected in a between-acts discussion of a new film about South Africa that, an announcer mentions, features “tamed” Zulus in the cast.
The 1943 movie “No Time for Love” and this 1944 radio adaptation both starred Claudette Colbert as a society-gal photojournalist and Fred MacMurray as her leading man.
I have found no radio history book that reveals whether he kept his shirt on for the Screen Guild Theater radio broadcast, playing a macho “big, brawny and good-looking” sandhog digging a New York tunnel… and brawling with co-workers, which she captures on film, costing him his job. So she hires him to lug her photo gear around… and gets carried away herself.
Be prepared for more lessons in 1940s-era caveman romance than journalism.
MacMurray never turns into Clark Kent here, but he does get called “Superman” more than once. (Come to think of it, I remember reading somewhere that MacMurray was the muscleman-model for the Superman-alternative comic book character Captain Marvel. Hard to believe if you grew up with the 1950s “My Three Sons” and Disney-comedy era MacMurray.)
Real-life gossip columnist Hedda Hopper also is included in the cast, as Colbert’s character’s sister, already called “Hoppy” in the movie script.
I wound up listening to this after being reminded that Colbert and MacMurray filled the Hildy Johnson and Walter Burns roles in one of the radio adaptations of “His Girl Friday.”
While Colbert didn’t get to play journalists often, she was the romantic interest for reporters in a couple of newspaper-movie classics, “It Happened One Night” and “I Cover the Wayerfront.” She also got to play a newspaper editor-in-chief in a movie I’ve never seen, “Texas Lady,” slightly reminiscent of “Cimarron,” about a woman editor in frontier Oklahoma.
[Ida B. Wells portrait from the collection of the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery, via Google Arts and Culture]
Her New York Times obituary — 87 years after her death — called Ida B. Wells (1862-1931) “one of the nation’s most influential investigative reporters,” part of the newspaper-of-record’s 2018 attempt to set the record straight by publishing biographies of women whose lives and deaths had been under-covered in the past.
The Chicago black history radio series “Destination Freedom” dramatized Wells’ life earlier — in its episode 41, titled “Woman With A Mission,” broadcast April 10, 1949.
The program opens with scenes of her strength and courage — establishing a lifelong pattern of fighting for people’s rights — when she was raising seven siblings after her parents died of yellow fever, and then (at least for a while) winning an early suit against segregation laws, as well as launching her first careers in teaching and writing.
Actress Weslan Tilden narrates, speaking as Wells herself.
“My mission was to resist tyranny wherever I found it,” Wells summarizes in the broadcast, preparing to expose graft and corruption in the Memphis schools and segregation in business.
“I found trouble, but I also found the truth,” she says. That night, the Klan deposits a corpse at her door. (Was that scene supposed to be literally true, or an acceptable way to make a point dramatically in a short radio play? Her pamphlet “Southern Horrors: Lynch law in all its phases” provides more detail of what may be the case in question.)
Undeterred, Wells worked for almost 40 years as a journalist and activist, which included launching a major anti-lynching campaign with “Southern Horrors,” as well as writing for black-owned newspapers, and becoming editor and part owner of the Memphis Free Speech and Headlight in 1889.
Her somewhat belated obituary in the New York Times called her ahead of her time in both journalism and civil rights: “She pioneered reporting techniques that remain central tenets of modern journalism. And… took on structural racism more than half a century before… the 1960s civil rights movement.”
Here’s a Green Hornet episode I haven’t written about yet: The 1948 tale’ s title “The Hornet Bats for a Pitcher” sums it up…
A pitcher sent back to the minors keeps losing, leading a Daily Sentinel sports reporter to suspect something is wrong involving gambling.
That leads his boss, publisher Britt Reid, to put on his Green Hornet mask and investigate …
Unfortunately, the reporter jumps to obvious conclusions and doesn’t catch on that the ballplayer is being framed… no great journalism tips here.
Even the eavesdropping Britt Reid reaches the wrong conclusion from an overheard phone call … but shows up just in time to help out the real heroes of the day — the young man’s pals from the baseball team.
The Adventures of Jane Arden, a thrilling drama of a fearless girl reporter, the most beautiful woman in the newspaper world. Jane Arden, star reporter for The Bulletin, important newspaper of a big American city.
It has taken six years, but I finally found a source for the second episode of radio’s attempt to turn the newspaper strip’s original “most beautiful girl in comics” into a soap opera, “The Adventures of Jane Arden.”
That leaves only about 36 weeks of missing daily episodes to go, if these are, in fact, from that NBC series! Documentation for tapes and mp3 files circulating among collectors and online can be pretty thin.
Perhaps it was the coming of World War II, or the similarity to the 1937 to 1939 Torchy Blane series of movies about another feisty “girl reporter,” but attempts to make Jane Arden as big a star on radio and movies as she was in the comics pages did not take off.
Jane was such a star reporter that in the first episode, we hear a young colleague saying, “Just give me a chance, and I’ll be the best male Jane Arden in the racket.”
Ms. Arden starred in the female reporter role on daily and Sunday comics pages for more than 40 years, 1927-1968, pre-dating other fictional-newsie heroines: Torchy Blane (1937) in the movies, Lois Lane (1938) in Superman comics (and newspaper strips, radio, cartoons and live-action movies), Penny Parker (1939) in a series of Nancy-Drew-style novels, Brenda Starr (1940) in the newspapers, and Hildy Johnson (1940) in the movie “His Girl Friday.”
After the opening description of Jane, the announcer also set the scene in The Bulletin’s 10th floor newsroom, full of “men in shirtsleeves, cuffs rolled up, green shades over their eyes…
“Far back in the room is the slot, the double-row of table-like desks over which the rewrite men finally shape the stories as they will appear in The Bulletin. And guardian of the slot, commander of the news staff, Eddie Dunn. city editor, sits, the final arbiter in the news of the day.”
There was one thing radio could not offer: Jane’s Sunday newspaper adventures came complete with Jane Arden paper doll fashion cutouts, a gimmick picked up by the competing “Brenda Starr” comic, back in the day when big cities might have two competing Sunday newspapers each buying its comics from a different syndicate.
The strip was created by newspaperman Monte Barrett in 1927 and kept running in syndication until 1968. (See the Monte Barrett bio at the Des Moines Register.) His comic was aimed at women readers, and the radio serial that followed a decade later was broadcast in the morning, prime time for soap operas and other programs aimed at women listeners. Jane Arden was promoted in newspaper display ads as “the most beautiful girl in comics,” which became “the most beautiful girl in the newspaper world” to radio listeners.
Radio historians and contemporary publications date the first episode of the NBC Blue Network broadcast as September 26, 1938 after its trial in New York. Confusingly, one standard radio reference book gives Jane’s newspaper an entirely different name than the Bulletin mentioned in my to MP3 examples — instead, it has her at the Comet-Globe, the result of a merger.
But these two mp3 episodes, whatever their broadcast dates, made a pretty exciting series launch, starting with a murder in the newspaper building’s elevator, and Jane giving orders to the coroner, the police and her boss! By the second episode, the newspaper’s reputation was an issue — imagine, letting someone literally get away with murder in the newspaper’s own building… Computing papers dive right into the fun of teasing the editor.
John Dunning’s 1998 edition of “On the Air, the Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio” lists the series title as simply “Jane Arden,” without “The Adventures of…” and says it was broadcast until June 23, 1939, as a Blue Network soap opera, weekday mornings at 10:15. Time zones and other concerns may have shifted the timeslot; I’ve seen one station’s newspaper ad for a late-afternoon broadcast. And a quick check of 1938-39 Chicago Tribune radio listings confirms the program was on at 9:15 a.m. on WLS in the Central time zone, with a music program taking over its time slot on Monday, June 26. Sorry, Jane.
Alas, since the program was a 12-minute daily serial, even having two episodes will leave you hanging, but you do get quick introductions to the characters and their relationships.
Eddie Dunn, the editor, wants Jane to investigate another company in the newspaper’s building, but she is sidetracked by breaking news: Someone is stabbed to the death in the crowded elevator while Jane and Jerry, the cub reporter, are headed out for coffee.
Even with just two episodes to go by, there are features familiar to other portrayals of journalists in radio, film and fiction. For example, Jane and the editor engage in some of the “show some respect for your editor” banter familiar in most appearances of Hollywood’s Torchy Blane or comicdom’s Lois Lane.
“No other woman on the staff calls me ‘Eddie.'” — Jane’s editor
Similarly, a “police-journalist cooperation” theme I’ve noticed in other crime radio series also shows up in the first “Jane Arden” episode. Not only is Jane on a first-name basis with Mike, the Irish cop in her newspaper building and knows his badge number when she calls the morgue and police headquarters — where she doesn’t have to explain who she is.
Editor Dunn sounds a bit grumpy about her calling the morgue and the police before telling him all the details of the murder. Actually, he asks her a good set of questions for the story — and she provides descriptive details for the elevator murder.
Jane, billed as “star reporter,” sounds experienced at hard-news crime reporting; the body in the elevator apparently isn’t the first fresh corpse she’s seen. She says the dead man was good-looking, then adds:
“Death has a way of painting a mask over a face,” — Jane Arden.
Both Jane and the cub reporter demonstrate good reporting skills — remembering details like the killer’s brown tweed suit, brown hat and limp.
Eddie Dunn sounds like more of a mentor than some fictional editors when Jane asks him to give Jerry, the cub reporter, a break.
“I am giving him a break — I’m breaking him in” — editor Dunn on his treatment of a cub reporter.
In a soap opera format of daily continuing episodes, there is no telling how many days or weeks it took to resolve the murder in the elevator story, or where Jane’s adventures went next.
Dunning’s history of radio mentions “Jane Arden” story lines including reporter competition and that newspaper merger, neither hinted in these first two episodes, so there may be more radio adventures — audio transcription discs or broadcast scripts — in collectors’ hands or library archives.
If I find them, I will update these blog posts into a full page in the Soaps or Adventure section listed on the menu at the top of this page.
It has been a while since I have written about old-time radio’s portrayal of the relationship between newspaper reporters and police officers.
This 1944 Green Hornet episode goes beyond the series’ usual scenes of camaraderie between the cops and former policeman Mike Axford — who was part reporter and part bodyguard for Daily Sentinel publisher Britt Reid without being sharp enough to figure out that Reid was also the Green Hornet.
This time the Sentinel’s star reporter Ed Lowrey is at center stage, not through any reporting skill. A gang of bank robbers recognize that Lowrey is known and respected by the police. So they set him up with a pretty girl who plays a key role in a bank robbery, having conveniently planned to meet Lowrey at the bank — where he arrives just as the police are beginning to suspect she might have been an accomplice.
“Sure I know her… She’s O.K.,” he tells the police.
“As long as Lowrey says you’re okay, you’re alright with me,” the sergeant tells the woman, sending her on her way.
But, after Axford describes the whole scene to Reid, the publisher get suspicious about Lowrey’s girlfriend, and plants some seeds of doubt.
Meanwhile, her real boyfriend, the head of the bank robber gang, begins to get jealous…
Let’s just say that the episode also continues the frequent Hollywood theme of newspaper careers being risky for romantic relationships.
The episode “Lowrey’s Big Moment” was originally broadcast on January 15, 1944, and is available at the Old Time radio Researchers Library, otrrlib.org.