Golden Age of Radio

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, JULY 11, 1951              Times-Daily Hollywood News By JACK QUIGG (For Bob Thomas) HOLLYWOOD, (AP), -- Silence is golden, especially if you can keep mum as artfully as Gale Gordon . Mr. Gordon, a handsome, fortyish gentleman with a Clark Gable moustache and the trace of a British accent, earns as much as a lot of movie stars simply by keeping his mouth closed—at the right time. One of Hollywood ’s top radio actors he is known in the trade as “The Master Of The Eloquent Pause.” If you don’t quite place his name, you undoubtedly know him by voice if you’re any kind of radio fan—he appears regularly on seven big network programs. Gordon is: Mayor Latrivia on the “ FibberMcGee and Molly ” show: back president Rudolph Atterbury on “ My Favorite Husband ”; school principal Osgood Conklin on “ Our Miss Brooks ”; Mr. Scott, head of RCA, on the Phil Harris-Alice Faye show ; Mr. Merryweather, Ronald Colman ’s rich friend on “ Halls Of Ivy ”;

The Milwaukee Journal – May 19, 1940 Fibber and Molly Still Real Folks By Bill Porter JIM and Marian Jordan (better known to their fans as Fibber McGee and Molly ) are pretty disturbed about some untrue stories being printed about them. “Most of the stories lead you to believe that we were never successful until we became Fibber McGee and Molly ,” said Jim Jordan, “and you’d think that $10 a week was the most we made on radio before we hit the big dough. The truth is a much better story. If you’ll print it we’ll tell it to you.” I said, “Okay, I’ll print it, Mr. Jordan” And he said, “Mr. Jordan is my dad. I’m Jim.” The Jordans, prosperous now whatever  their financial condition before, live today in what you might call an estate, out Encino way. The place is surrounded by a rose-covered, brick wall. Within the walls are flower gardens, lawns, a swimming pool where Mrs. Jordan takes swimming lessons, a shop where Jim makes furniture, a small orange grove with a

Sunday, March 18, 1945                                 THE MILKAUKEE JOURNAL –SCREEN and RADIO Berle Boy Really Lets Himself Go When He Gets All Wound Up With His Dizzy Jobs, Sandwiches Bring Relaxation; Their Effect Is Only Temporary By Irving Spiegel THE BERLE roared into his abode. It was a serene apartment in upper 5 th av.—of pastoral oils, soft lights, draperies of subdued color and row on row of books giving off a philosophical aura. Mrs. Milton Berle —the beauteous Joyee Matthews—greeted him. His galoshes spattered a mixture of snow and mud on light colored rugs. Mrs. Berle winced and the draperies rustled. The Berle puffed on a cigar of billiard stick length. He bellowed for a sand-vate telephone number known only by 4,000,000 friends and acquaintances and a legion of upper Bronx prospective gag writers. A Berle follower had said: “Maybe if you corner the guy in his apartment he might have a couple of rational moments.” It was