The Heartbreak of Cake Pans

Bob and Ray brought several characters with them from WHDH Boston when they were hired at NBC New York in July 1951, mainly Mary Margaret McGoon and Tex Blaisdell. Then, at the network, they created more people.

One concept they came up with was a staff of announcers. There were ten. The problem was finding a personality for them; a character has to have characteristics. On the first shows, Shep Carruthers was the head announcer. One of the others was a guy who sounded like Elmer Fudd.

Carruthers was dropped, but Bob and Ray found something else for the other to do. They eliminated the “w” for “r” vocalistics and, instead, made him an incompetent roving reporter who talked before his mike was on. He was Wally Ballou.

However, Shep was not forgotten. He was revived in John Crosby’s Herald Tribune syndicate column of April 25, 1954. Crosby was away, so Bob and Ray filled the space with material that was much like you would find on their radio show. In fact, the whistling “s” routine was on an NBC radio show involving another of their phoney announcers, Artie Schermerhorn, who later was a partner or rival to Ballou on the CBS radio shows of around 1960. The fake bandleaders are based on, I think, a WHDH routine.

Nighttime Soap Opera
While John Crosby is on vacation, his column will be continued by a number of guest writers.
By BOB (ELLIOTT) and RAY (GOULDING)
SHEP CARRUTHERS, a former member of our announcing staff, dropped into our office the other day. His new teeth look just fine, and the sibilant trouble he once had is practically gone. (So much so, that he's back on the staff of WSSS, Sioux City.)
In addition to his on-the-air chores, Shep tells us he's also to be assistant program director, and that he's got a lot of new plans for shows. Radio listening habits have changed due to TV, says Shep, and it's now imperative for stations to revise their schedules.
* * *
Among his ideas for Sioux City, he may have stumbled upon a few that will bear watching. For instance, instead of the usual early morning "rise and shine" program (news, weather, farm news, etc.), Shep will sign the station on at 6 a. m. with an educational series, conducted by Dr. Harvey Hurtle, the author, lecturer, and former soap box derby winner. From 9 a. in. to noon, Shep plans three hours of dance band remote broadcasts from local ballrooms. Not that folks would be there dancing that early, but he feels it would be different anyway. Already slated for appearances are such well-known musical figures as Guyl Ombardo. Tom E. Dawsey, Vonman Rowe, and the one and only Fred E. Martin Orchestra, with vocals by Sink Rossbee.
Later in the day, the schedule will spotlight Happy Jack Forbush and his disk jockey program from the Peeping Tom Country Club, where the good folks from the surrounding fox-hunting country get together in their pink coats and battered top hats, after an afternoon of jumping.
* * *

FINALLY, in a daring departure, the new Carruthers lineup features soap operas for evening listening. Shep feels the men-folk miss too much of the daily pathos and drama so popular with their wives, so from now on, they'll be able to enjoy this truly American institution right along with them. He left with us a sample script from his new series, "Mother McGee, the Best Cook in the Neighborhood," and it sure looks good.
Roughly, the story line revolves around the baking of a layer cake for the country fair, under almost insurmountable difficulties. First, she misplaces her baking powder; then her almond extract turns up on the third shelf of the pantry, when it should have been on the second shelf. Discovering that it is impossible to bake a layer cake with one layer, Mother McGee is thwarted because she has only one 9-inch cake pan.
* * *
But let us quote directly from the script. Mother McGee has just welcomed Burford Leffingwell, the village half-wit, into her sunlit kitchen. She tells him to go over and lie down behind the stove, but instead he crawls under the rub and plays he is dust, as a knock sounds on the door:
SOUND: KNOCK ON DOOR.
MOTHER: Come in . . .
SOUND: DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES.
O'FAIL: How do you do, madam? I am Sean O'Fail, a traveling tinker. I also sell 9-inch cake pans. Could I sell you a 9-inch cake pan?
MOTHER: What did you say?
O'FAIL: I said . . .
MOTHER: Bless you, m'lad! How much is the cake pan?
O'FAIL: Tuppence ha'penny.
MOTHER: Here you are, and bless you, lad.
SOUND: COINS FALLING INTO TIN DISH.
O'FAIL: Good day to you kindly.
MOTHER: Good luck attend you, Sean O'Fail, the traveling tinker.
SOUND: DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES.
MOTHER: (musing) Now that I have another 9-inch pan, I can get on with my baking. (HUMS) I will bake a sugar cake . . . Oh! . . . Oh!!!! Where is my OLD 9-inch cake pan?
MUSIC: STING (AND UNDER).
ANNOUNCER: Well . . . it is incredible, but true. Now, kindly Mother McGee has lost her OLD cake pan. She has the new one, but where is the old one? Is there a curse on the tidy little McGee home? Is Sean O'Fail, the traveling tinker, really a tinker, or didn't he speak clearly? What is that letter from J. Edgar Hoover on the mantelpiece? Is there a hint of coming events in the rumor that Anthony Eden is going to switch to snap-brim hats? Listen tomorrow, when we'll hear Mother McGee say. . .
MOTHER: Where is my oregano?
MUSIC: THEME UP TO END.