When I was an announcer/writer at radio station KTAR in
Phoenix, Arizona, my goal was to become a network
announcer in Chicago or New York, the national headquarters
of radio at that time. I listened to the network announcers
and practiced reading commercials as they did so that the
copy sounded spontaneous and ad-libbed. I studied the
delivery of every first-class network announcer in the country,
and soon I could sound very much like them. Every commercial
I read on the air at KTAR, whether for the local mortuary
or sporting goods store, I read as though it were a
national commercial for the most world-renowned company.
I gave so much pizzazz to the local commercials my
announcer friends soon dubbed me "network" and kidded
me — found my efforts ludicrous. They were helping me on
my way. "Why do you knock yourself out on those ridiculous
commercials?" they'd ask. And I would smile and go
about my business.
I would listen every day to those men and women who
were at the very top of my field, and no matter how mundane
the copy or humble a place of business, when I
stepped up to the microphone, I had a picture of the entire
country listening to every word I spoke. I gave it my very
best — always.
And after 2 1/2 years of KTAR in Phoenix, I felt I was
ready for the big time. I told my friends I'd soon quit and
head for Chicago. My announcement was met with unbelieving
stares and the most vociferous arguments. "There
are 450 union card–carrying announcers walking
the streets of Chicago trying to get work in
the big stations there," I was told. But my mind was
made up, and I bought a one-way ticket to Chicago.
In Chicago I took a room at the old Chicagoan Hotel in the
Loop, bought a copy of the Chicago Tribune, and turned on
my portable radio. There were two target radio stations. They
were the two biggest and the best at the time, WBBM CBS in
the Wrigley Building on Michigan Avenue, and WMAQ NBC
in the Merchandise Mart. I tackled WBBM first. I'll never forget
that first day in those beautiful, posh surroundings. The
marble floors, the uniformed elevator starters, those fabulous
brass and glistening hardwood elevators.
Al Morey was program director at the time. He was most
cordial and immediately led me to a large nearby studio for
an audition. He gave me a fist full of copy that included
some tricky commercials and part of a newscast.
The studio was as impressive as the rest of the place, very
large for one thing, with a concert grand piano and soundeffects
paraphernalia. I walked to the standing microphone
and looked into the darkened engineer's room beyond the
slanting glass. There was an old-time engineer, and Al Morey
nodded his head and threw me a hand cue, and I began.
After my interview he told me he'd let me know, and the
next day I repeated the process at WMAQ. Then I waited.
Finally, Al Morey called. I not only had the job, I was under
contract for more money than I had dreamed of earning. My
2 1/2 years of doing network commercials for a local radio
station had paid off, and I was now a CBS network
announcer on a station whose coverage blanketed most of
the midwestern United States, to say nothing of the country's
second largest metropolitan market.
Indeed, I had arrived. I was giddy with a sudden inflation
of my self-esteem. I was a passable writer, and I could hold
my own with any announcer in the country. I was off and
running. My preparation had paid off. Where were all those
450 unemployed union card–carrying announcers?
Learn more about Earl Nightingale and his all-time bestselling programs The Strangest Secret and Lead the Field.