“Margaret Buckey, well-known soprano, who is familiar to the fans who tune in on Station KQV, Pittsburgh, is shown above.” A large portrait from the front page of Radio Digest, November 1, 1924.
In the 1920s, when radio was young, the relatively few stations could be heard for long distances, depending on atmospheric conditions and, of course, the size of your aerial. The days before radio networks were a brief glorious age of distributed talent, when the chief entertainers of any city might be heard nationwide and develop a following. Radio networks changed all that: by distributing the same programs nationwide, they concentrated all the radio celebrities in New York, where their studios were.
Father Pitt does not know much about Margaret Buckey, except that she seems to have been a familiar voice on KQV in its very early days. Here is a program scheduled on KQV for December 27, 1922:
10:00 P. M. Program will be given by Miss Margaret Buckey, soprano and Ken Hudson, ukulele and steel guitarist, both of Pittsburgh, who will present a holiday program of the most popular sort. Miss Buckey excels in the songs being heard on Broadway and will sing several new ones and Mr. Hudson will play guitar accompaniment to some of them. The Hawaiian songs, native to his own country to also be a part of the program. Interspersed a number of new dance novelties will be broadcast. A program with a flavor of the holiday season. Ralph Skiles, guitarist will furnish some of the ensemble for both instrumental and vocal numbers. Program: Soprano Songs: “Three o’clock in the Morning,” with duet guitar accompaniment: “A Kiss in the Dark,” by Herbert; “A Little Street in Gay Paree,” from “The Spice of 1922;” “A Corner up in Heaven,” by Berlin, “Home, Sweet, Home,” with string accompaniment. Instrumental numbers: “Kalima” Waltz, for two guitars; “Hawaiian Hula Medley,” two guitars; Hawaiian Song, with ukulele. (selected); “Kanaha Kiki,” ukulele solo. —Radio Broadcasting News, December 23, 1922 (PDF).
In the summer of 1924, commercial radio was only about three and a half years old. Yet it was already a thriving business, and stations were popping up all over the country. There were not enough of them, however, to clutter the airwaves too badly, so that a powerful station could often be heard coast to coast. Thus the national radio magazines ran schedules for all the stations across the country, and radio fans competed to see who could pull in the most distant station.
Pittsburgh had three radio stations listed in Radio Digest, and they all drew on local talent to fill their programming hours, which in those days were still limited. Their schedules for a week (which begins on Wednesday) give us a priceless snapshot of Pittsburgh culture in the 1920s.
Father Pitt regrets having missed some of these programs. Wouldn’t you like to know the story of Epaminondas and his Auntie?
Two of these radio stations are still going. KDKA, of course, has never been off the air. KQV has been kicked around since Richard Mellon Scaife, who had pasted it in his media album, passed on to his reward, but it was on the air again the last time old Pa Pitt checked. Most Pittsburghers have never heard of WCAE, and its call letters were reassigned decades later to a public television station in Indiana; it was a radio station operated by the Kaufmann & Baer department store, which was soon to be bought by Gimbels.
Wednesday, July 16
KDKA, E. Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, 326)
5:30 p.m., Pittsburgh Athletic association orchestra; 6:30, The Pied Piper, “Kiddies’ Buddy”; 8, Valeris Chambordon Gregory, soprano; Bert Berberick, tenor; Emil Wolff, violinist; Edwin Menznemalor, accompanist.
KQV, Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, Daylight, 270)
5-5:30 p.m., Sunset stories and “Diary of Snubs Our Dog” 8:45-9, “Fifteen Minute Song Revue,” Ben and Thelma Fields; 9-10, Mary Christine Seberry, reader; Eleanor Conley, lyric soprano; John M. Hierholzer, flutist; special adaptation with piano, voice and flute obligato of dramatic reading of “The Pied Piper of Hamlin.”
“The Pied Piper of Hamlin” was one of the “Headliners of the Week,” programs singled out for special notice. “ ‘The Pied Piper of Hamlin,’ that hoary old rascal of legend who lured all the kiddies away with his piping will be presented from KQV, Wednesday. The flute and piano will help to charm you.”
WCAE, Pittsburgh, Pa., (Eastern, Daylight, 337)
3 p.m., Fred Rosenfeld, pianist; 6:30, dinner concert, William Penn hotel; 7:30, Sunshine girl; 9:30, musical program, Prof. C. P. Schwan
Thursday, July 17
KDKA, E. Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, 326)
11:15 a.m., Scalzo’s orchestra; 5:30 p.m., KDKA Little Symphony orchestra; 6:30, songs for the children, Merry Heart; 7, “Shrubs and Perennials that Bloom in July”; 7:15, farm program; 8, KDKA Little Symphony orchestra; Barbara Wellman, contralto; 10, concert.
KQV, Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, Daylight, 270)
5-5:30 p.m., Sunset stories and “Diary of Snubs Our Dog”
WCAE, Pittsburgh, Pa., (Eastern, Daylight, 337)
6:30 p.m., dinner concert, William Penn hotel; 9:30, Julia Saam and co-operating artists, pupils of Casper Koch; 11, late concert.
Friday, July 18
KDKA, E. Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, 326)
11:15 a.m., Daugherty’s orchestra; 5:30 p.m., Paul Fleeger, organist; 6:30, Uncle Wiggely story for the children; 8, Pennsylvania Railroad system night: Altoona band; triple quartet, Car Service division; address, Elisha Lee; Louis Smith, tenor; I W. Dalrymple, xylophonist; Helen J. Upperman, soprano; H. W. Farrand, monologist; Blowden Lewis, contralto; Allegro Mandolin sextette; Ruth Radkey, pianist; Helen J. Upperman, soprano; Vera J. Burke, reader.
KQV, Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, Daylight, 270)
5-5:30 p.m., Sunset stories and “Diary of Snubs Our Dog” 9-10, regular artists’ evening program.
WCAE, Pittsburgh, Pa., (Eastern, Daylight, 337)
4:30 p.m., special children’s program, Sunshine Girl; 6:30, dinner concert, William Penn hotel; 9:30, Bohemian musical program, “Liberty,” National Croatian Singing society, J. V. Krabec, director
Saturday, July 19
KDKA, E. Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, 326)
5:30 p.m., dinner concert, Westinghouse band; 6:30, Epaminondas and his Auntie, Radio children; 8, Westinghouse band; Chester sterling, bass.
KQV, Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, Daylight, 270)
9-10 p.m., regular artists’ evening program.
WCAE, Pittsburgh, Pa., (Eastern, Daylight, 337)
6:30 p.m., dinner concert, William Penn hotel; 7:45, Lew Kennedy, baritone; Irene Setzler, pianist; 9:30, Brown’s Original orchestra.
Sunday, July 20
[No listings for Pittsburgh stations.]
Monday, July 21
[No programming on KDKA.]
KQV, Pittsburgh, Pa. (Eastern, Daylight, 270)
5-5:30 p.m., Sunset stories and “Diary of Snubs Our Dog” 8:45-9, fifteen minute song revue, Ben and Thelma Fields; 9-10, Marguerite Lang, soprano; Indira Hesh, contralto; James P. Johnstone, accompanist; artists from studio of Mme. Fitz-Randolph.
Benjamin Henry Latrobe, much more famous for his work on the United States Capitol, was Pittsburgh’s first resident professional architect. This is his only remaining work here, and the only original 1814 building left from the Allegheny Arsenal.
This plaque was originally on the gatehouse to the Arsenal grounds.
A memorial put up by the Daughters of 1812 appears to have had a bronze relief, probably stolen many years ago.
The Arsenal is most famous in history for exploding during the Civil War, killing dozens of the workers, many of whom were children. We note that the building where the powder was stored did not explode—an indication, perhaps, that the architect knew his business.
DESIGNED BY BENJAMIN H. LATROBE; BUILT BY CAPTAIN ABRAM R. WOOLLEY ON LAND PURCHASED BY THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT FROM WILLIAM B. FOSTER. SERVED AS AMMUNITION PRODUCTION CENTER DURING INDIAN, MEXICAN AND CIVIL WARS. THIS TABLET COMMEMORATES AT LEAST 79 CIVILIAN WORKERS—MEN, WOMEN AND MANY CHILDREN—KILLED IN THREE MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSIONS, SEPTEMBER 17, 1862.
Old Pa Pitt would add that the explosions were not as mysterious as all that. It was an arsenal. The place was devoted to manufacturing things that explode, using explosive materials. Everyone knew that Dupont & Co. had been supplying powder in leaky barrels, probably reused in spite of the specific requirement not to reuse them. Everyone knew there was explosive stuff dusting the ground here and there. The only mystery was which of several possible causes set off the first spark, and that mystery will probably never be solved.
The remains of the dead were buried in a mass grave in Allegheny Cemetery, where an expensive marble memorial was put up. The marble eroded into illegibility by the 1920s, and it was replaced with a new monument with a bronze plaque that will last a few more centuries if it is not stolen and melted down.
Today the powder magazine sits in the middle of a pleasant urban oasis called Arsenal Park. Instead of explosive materials, it has rest rooms.
A century ago, radio had become a huge business—yet by the middle of 1925 commercial radio was only a little more than four years old. The growth of the industry astounded even the people most involved in it; the only phenomenon of our time that can remotely compare is the growth of the World Wide Web in the 1990s. (And here is a hint to producers of period movies: your mid-1920s backdrops are not complete unless all the buildings are festooned with improvised radio aerials.)
In the June 1925 issue, Radio Age interviewed “the world’s pioneer radio announcer,” H. W. Arlin, who started announcing for KDKA shortly after it began a seven-day broadcasting schedule. In the interview, he describes some of the daily duties that keep an announcer’s job incessantly entertaining. We should remember that, in those early days, a powerful station could be heard across the country, so Mr. Arlin regularly had to answer telephone calls and telegrams from distant places.
We wonder, incidentally, how much of his insistence that he was never tired was publicity puffery. In spite of his celebrity status, Mr. Arlin left the radio business shortly after this interview was published—though it may have been because he was offered a management position in Westinghouse, and the money was too good to pass up. He lived sixty more years, returning to national radio only once, to announce the returns from the Eisenhower-Stevenson election in 1952.
Catering to the Whims of a Fickle Audience Is No Child’s Play at KDKA
H. W. Arlin, the World’s Pioneer Announcer, Has Never Tired of the Radio Game; Here are Some of His Reasons
Announcing radio programs might be called the world’s most recent profession, because announcers for broadcasting stations were introduced first about four years ago when KDKA, the world’s pioneer station of the Westinghouse Company at East Pittsburgh, Pa., was started.
H. W. Arlin, the world’s pioneer radio announcer, made his debut early in 1921 and has been continuously “on the air” since. Thus his long service entitles him to the honors of being the veteran of radio announcers.
Mr. Arlin’s studio experiences have been many and varied. Life as a radio announcer is not a drab affair, as there is a necessity of being continually on the “qui vive.”
In the following interview Mr. Arlin tells of some of his studio experiences and some interesting contacts with his radio public.
He Never Tires
“I am often asked the question, ‘Do you become tired of announcing?’ or ‘Does radio work become monotonous?’ My answers to such questions are always in the negative, thanks to an ever-curious and an assisting public. By such an answer, I mean that any motonony which might otherwise tend to creep into the almost continual execution of programs is quickly dispelled by a multitude of extraneous duties with which an announcer is confronted.
“Probably one of the most interesting phases of studio work comes through contact with the public, not entirely by personal association, but also through the telephone and telegraph. No work can become monotonous or tiresome where the public is involved. On the contrary, I have found that a study of the whims and fancies of the public has been an exceedingly interesting one. Paraphrasing the famous expression of Abraham Lincoln, ‘You can please some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time; but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.’ Not radio, at any extent. This statement could be applied to the view of the public on any one phase of radio entertainment such as music or sports. When applied to all of the phases of radio, it becomes many more times effective. What one person likes, another dislikes, and what one person condemns, another approves; so an announcer is almost justified in concluding that a ‘fifty-fifty break’ with the listening public is fair enough. However, 100 per cent satisfaction is always the goal.
“In telling of the announcer’s contact with the public we may take into consideration only one phase of this contact; that of telephone conversations. The nature of the telephone messages received, together with the conversations that follow, tend to create in one a desire for the study of people. The thoughts and ideas which prompt these many calls are perhaps innumerable; perhaps some one conceives an idea by which radio can be of aid to him in his own personal advancement or the advancement of some pet theory, or possibly some one desires some information which may vary from that of a query regarding what is the proper food to give a sick baby to that of certain details regarding a program to be broadcast several weeks hence.
Some of the Questions
“A few of the seemingly endless number of such questions and requests may be of interest. A confiding interest in our listeners, (this same public) will necessitate the omission of the names of any personalities involved in the following:
“One of our good Canadian friends recently called to tell us about a circular parking station he had invented for automobiles which would handle two hundred cars and which could be operated by one man. Appreciating the need for better parking service and predicting great success for his venture, he requested that we advise the radio public of his invention with full details as to where to purchase these stations.
“A lady calls us and requests that we announce that she has just left a package of pajamas on the street car and would like to have the service of the radio in recovering them. After being informed that we never make local announcements except in cases of robberies, kidnapping, lost persons and such emergencies, she replies, ‘Well, this is an emergency case, because it is the only package I had.’
“An elderly lady, apparently a student of nature, calls and gives us the following important news item: ‘Will you please announce that there is about four inches of snow in my back yard and that I have just seen two cardinal red birds?’ Of course, a very unusual sight for this time of the year.
“No sooner is the telephone receiver on the hook than the bell again rings and an innocent feminine voice pops the following impression: ‘I just heard you announce that you had received a telegram from New York commenting on the program. I would like to know if you are also broadcasting to Ohio tonight, as I would like to request a number for some friends out there who do not have the advantages of a radio.’
“It has also been brought very forcibly to my attention that radio has made a greater impression upon the public than has music. Of the many proofs of this statement, I might cite an occasion on which a program was being presented by the great Fritz Kreisler. The telephone rings and the following question comes from one of our listeners: ‘Do I have to listen to that novice all evening?’ A very provoking question to ask an announcer on such an occasion. He was then asked if he knew who he was listening to and after replying in the negative, he was very politely told that if his set was not working properly or that if he didn’t appreciate the music, he was in no way obligated to keep on listening the rest of the evening. This, apparently, answered his first question satisfactorily, and was an answer which fortunately savored very little of the thoughts that were running through the announcer’s brain.
The Fickle Public
“A lack of appreciation for the success of artists or for the repertoire used by them sometimes results in requests which provoke a smile from the person to whom they are addressed. When presenting a program at KDKA recently, Mrs. Christine Miller Clemson who before her marriage was one of the country’s contraltos and a concert singer with an enviable record, was requested to sing the jazz number ‘Red Hot Mamma.’
“Perhaps one of the most common requests received is that requesting an artist to sing a particular number. In spite of the fact that there are thousands of songs, a good many listeners cannot quite understand why the singer does not have the particular number they request. Song pluggers are requested to sing ‘Arias’ and grand opera stars are requested to sing jazz numbers by the well-meaning audience. It also happens quite often that in spite of the fact that we receive hundreds of requests for numbers during a particular evening, some well meaning individual is at a loss to know why his or her particular request was not granted.
“Oftentimes a party will call and ask the following question or a similar one: ‘I have a five-tube neutrodyne set and cannot hear anything. Will you please tell me what is the matter with my set?’ The opinion seems to be quite prevalent among a good many listeners that the wavelength determines the distance which a station can be heard, and usually the belief prevails that the distance a station can be heard varies directly with its wavelength. This opinion is the cause of some very humorous questions being asked.
“Among the innumerable questions are such questions as these: What time is it? Where is station WXY located? What is the name of the waltz the band played last Saturday night? What is the wavelength of station WXY? How far are you broadcasting tonight? Who is going to give your program on the 2nd of next month?’
“And so the announcer soon finds himself converted into an information bureau from which the dissemination of news adds a very colorful diversion to his vocation.”
Courtesy of the New England Granite Works, a picture of the fountain in the Mellons’ Walled Garden shows us a little of what the garden, now part of Mellon Park, looked like when the Mellons lived there. The sculpture on the fountain is the work of Edmond Amateis, and the fountain has been beautifully restored for the delight of visitors to the park.
Pittsburghers have always loved party boats on the river. And parties have always been liable to get out of hand. Ninety-nine years ago, one such incident attracted the attention of the Press police-court correspondent. In those days, it was considered a reasonable exercise of liberty of the press to report the doings in police court with a bit of sarcasm and a little cartoon, so here is your Police Court Sketch for today from Elmer Rigdon.
—From the Pittsburgh Press, October 3, 1925, page 4. Transcribed below.
What, you may ask, is a “transition house”? It is a house designed to look traditional but use the most modern construction methods available in 1936. The idea was that the public could be induced to accept modern construction if it came without the modernist offenses against traditional aesthetics. Architect Brandon Smith—best remembered for some extravagant mansions in Fox Chapel—gave it all the decorative flourishes a 1930s suburbanite might expect from a “Colonial,” but under the stone and brick were super-modern materials developed at the Mellon Institute of Industrial Research.
Our information and the architect’s drawing above come from an article about the house in the Pittsburgh Press, published when the house was under construction in 1936. The whole article will interest a few architectural historians, so we have transcribed it below.
The Boylan Building in Beechview, as photographed on February 18, 1930, by a Pittsburgh city photographer.1 We can see that the second floor was an open space useful for all sorts of things—a bowling alley and pool hall, but also dances and basketball games. The barber shop at the left end prominently advertises that it is a UNION SHOP; non-union barber shops were prone to mysterious explosions.
The picture below was taken in 2021 (and nothing substantial has changed since then), so we can see how sensitively this building has been restored for use as a community center. The corner entrance on the left has been filled in, but on the whole the building is pretty much as it was almost a century ago—except that it’s in better shape now.
Thanks to our alert correspondent David Schwing for pointing this picture out in the Historic Pittsburgh collection. We have brightened the picture just a bit to make the details of the building more visible. ↩︎
A brick sidewalk in Allegheny West laid with grey Kittanning bricks. That is rare: most sidewalks in Pittsburgh were made with cheap red bricks. Kittanning bricks were special, generally used for facing buildings; in fact, we often see buildings with buff brick on the front, and cheaper red brick for the side and rear walls that no one is supposed to see.
In the East Coast cities, bricks are red. There are exceptions, mostly high-budget constructions: the Naval Academy in Annapolis, for example, makes extensive use of white brick. But it is striking to East Coasters when they come to Pittsburgh to see that bricks come in a multitude of colors. These are the famous Kittanning bricks, and the leading—though by no means the only—producer of them was the Kittanning Brick Company. They were used more extensively in Pittsburgh and the surrounding area than anywhere else, which is why a street of brick houses in Pittsburgh may be a rainbow of red, buff, grey, and white bricks.
In 1912, the Congressional Committee on Rivers and Harbors held hearings “On the Subject of the Improvement of Allegheny River, Pennsylvania, by the Construction of Additional Locks and Dams.” Mr. S. E. Martin, one of the titans of the brick industry in Kittanning, was invited to give testimony. Note, incidentally, that in the trade the plural of “brick” was “brick.”
Mr. PORTER. I now desire to introduce Mr. S. E. Martin, who represents some brickkilns along the Allegheny River, and the brick interests in general in what is known as the Kittanning district.
STATEMENT OF MR S. E. MARTIN, OF KITTANNING DISTRICT, PA.
Mr. MARTIN. Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, Mr. Porter informs me that the time is a little short, and I wish just simply to present to you an outline of the brick interests as they are represented in what we will term the Kittanning district.
In this district that will be affected by this proposed improvement there are eight or nine companies manufacturing brick between Templeton and White Rock. An estimate of their combined output is approximately 170,000,000 brick.
Now, this brick is not common brick, but face brick—brick that are used for facing buildings of all kinds. It makes an approximate tonnage of about 500,000 in the finished product. This brick, known as the Kittanning brick (which is a gray brick or a buff brick in different shades), can be manufactured only from the clay in this district. It has been proven that this clay does not exist outside of this immediate vicinity, and this clay has made a brick that has popularized itself all over the country.
The CHAIRMAN. What is the name of that brick?
Mr. MARTIN. Kittanning.
Mr. BARCHFELD. Is the Plaza Hotel in New York built of that brick?
Mr. MARTIN. Yes, sir.
The CHAIRMAN. You say it is the only clay in the world from which that brick can be made?
Mr. MARTIN. There is no clay that I know of that will manufacture the same brick.
Here is a bungalow from the book Pennsylvania Homes, published in 1925 by the Retail Lumber Dealers’ Association of Pennsylvania, which had its headquarters in the Park Building in Pittsburgh.
Some graduate student right now is probably writing a thesis on “The Idea of the Bungalow in Early-Twentieth-Century American Thought.” Certainly there is enough material for a hefty academic treatise. We could probably write a thick book just on the cultural implications of 1920s song titles: “Our Bungalow of Dreams,” “We’ll Build a Bungalow,” “A Little Bungalow,” “A Cozy Little Bungalow” (that’s a different song), “There’s a Bungalow in Dixieland,” “You’re Just the Type for a Bungalow.” And so on.
A “bungalow” in American usage was a house where the rooms were all on the ground level, though often with extra bedrooms in a finished attic. It was the predecessor of the ubiquitous ranch houses of the 1960s. It was associated with the “Craftsman” style promoted by Gustav Stickley and others. Low-pitched roofs, overhanging eaves, and simple arts-and-crafts ornament were typical of the style.
What caused American houses to go from predominantly vertical to predominantly horizontal? We will not attempt to answer that question definitively; we have to leave our hypothetical graduate student some material for a thesis. We only offer some suggestions.
First, there are practical advantages to a one-level design. Advertisements often dwell on the number of steps the bungalow saves the busy housewife, which reminds us that middle-class families were beginning to consider the possibility of getting along without servants.
Second, a small bungalow could be built very cheap. It is true that a rowhouse could be built even cheaper, but the bungalow offered the privacy of a detached house. Some of these bungalows were extraordinarily tiny: that book of Pennsylvania Homes featured a “one-room” bungalow, with a tiny kitchen, dressing room, and bathroom, and one “great room” that could become a pair of bedrooms at night by drawing a folding partition across the middle. Most were not quite so tiny: a typical bungalow had a living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and one or two bedrooms on the ground floor.
Third, there was the suburban ideal. In the early twentieth century, Americans were persuading themselves that what they wanted was the country life, but with city conveniences—in other words, the suburb. The city did not always have room to spread out horizontally, but the suburbs were more encouraging to horizontality.
Fourth, the bungalow—as we see in all those songs—earned a place in folklore as the ideal love nest for a young couple. House builders encouraged that line of thinking with a nudge and a wink, and added the helpful incentive that a bungalow for two could be built cheaply with an unfinished attic, and then, as nature took her course, two more bedrooms could be finished upstairs.
Nevertheless, cheapness was not always the main consideration. The bungalow was a fashion, and fashionable families might build fashionable bungalows that were every bit as expensive as more traditional houses, like this generously sized cement bungalow in Beechview, built in 1911 at a cost of about $4,000, which was above the average for Beechview houses, though many cheaper (and more vertical) houses had more living space.
We hope we have given you, our hypothetical graduate student, enough inspiration to make the bungalow an attractive thesis topic. We eagerly await the results of your research.