PINT SIZE—BUT POWERFUL . . .
Unique is the word for Johnny.
Johnny is radio’s only vocal trademark. Johnny is the only holder of a
life-time contract in the history of radio. Johnny is only 47 inches high and
weighs only 59 pounds. Johnny is the only name he goes by—and to millions of
Americans. That’s right—Johnny is the lad who three times a week gives his
famous call over two of our major networks.
For little man, Johnny isn’t doing
badly. His job pays him $20,000 a year, plus a good deal of fame. The audition
which netted him all this was just unique as his career. Johnny was a bellhop
in New York hotel. Eleven years ago, a certain Milton Biow—advertising man and
genius of a sort—passed through the hotel and got an idea. He had Johnny page a
non-existent Mr. Philip Morris. Of course, Johnny paged Mr. Morris without
results, but when he reported his failure to Mr. Biow—he found it turned into
phenomenal success. He got the contract for the cigarette account, which Mr.
Biow handles.
Like all celebrities, Johnny has
had to make personal appearances. These turned out to be so successful that the
demands for him got a bit out of hand and the agency was forced to hire a whole
corps of “stand-ins” for Johnny. They’re called “Johnny Juniors” and are all
trained by Johnny himself, before they are sent out as substitutes for the one
and only original. Probably the most outstanding of Johnny’s understudies is
the Johnny Jr. who, each Tuesday night, steps before the Hollywood microphone
to introduce the Ginny Sims program. Each Friday and Sunday night Johnny
himself—in person and really—has to introduce It Pays to be Ignorant and The
Crime Doctor.
Johnny lives in Brooklyn, his
exact address being a carefully guarded secret. Like most of his
fellow-dwellers in that borough, Johnny’s a rabid Dodger fan. All the members
of Johnny’s family, except for himself, are of normal size.
One of Johnny’s main concerns is
his health, especially the health of his throat. He loves hot dogs and hamburgers
and never has any trouble with his digestion. He’s never been seriously ill in
his life and, during the past eleven years on the air, he has never missed more
than one broadcast each year. He worries most about colds and sore throats and
guards against them by loading himself with vitamin pills.
Johnny may be small, but there are
probably very few big men who can look forward to a guaranteed job that lasts
for life. It must be a nice thing to have—and we wish for Johnny that he will
be paging Philip Morris for many years to come.
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