Confidentially Yours

Last weekend, over a 27-station MBS eastern hookup, audiences heard a newsy newcomer in radio programs--a weekly behind-scenes news and feature "column" entitled Confidentially Yours. In its first network broadcast, Confidentially Yours had a lot to say that was not particularly confidential about the Hore-Belisha bust-up in Britain, about the Duchess of Windsor's untenanted officers' hospital in France. But it did tell audiences, in the area in which most U. S. Jews are concentrated, a likely item of Jewish news: "One of the largest armies in the modern history of the Jewish race is being recruited and trained to take its place on the Western Front for the expected assault by Germany in the spring. Known as the Legions of Judea, the army already has 25,000 men in training at Aldershot, England, and another 10,000 training in France. A third unit of Jewish soldiers is being formed at Montreal, and is expected to number 15,000 during the next month, thus bringing the total to 50,000."

The glib, confidential voice that made this announcement was that of Arthur Hale, a Manhattan newscaster who in his 43 years has been doughboy, claim agent, insurance man, trackwalker and radio pianist, but never a reporter. Behind his voice was Transradio Press Service, Inc., radio's lone and far-flung news agency.

Transradio, the press association of the air, is directed by ex-U. P. Man Herbert Samuel Moore from offices aptly located in a lofty Manhattan penthouse. There a staff of 40 work in three shifts, putting in terse, readable paragraphs the input of some 7,500 correspondents located all over the world. The result, 50,000 words a day, goes out by teletype to some 250 radio stations from Manila to Mozambique, to 40-odd newspapers from Alaska to London, and over short-wave to ships at sea, including J. P. Morgan's Corsair whenever she puts out. Acclaimed in the radio business for accuracy, wariness and brevity, Transradio got wide kudos during the war-bulletin period for keeping its editorial head screwed on tight, broadcasting no scare heads.

Confidentially Yours, Transradio's new Saturday supplement, was tried out for some six months in Manhattan before its network debut. Its material is gathered and sent in (sometimes in code) mainly by a special corps of nonprofessionals whose identity Transradio protects like secret agents'. Paid by the story, anywhere from $5 to $100, they number about 100, are said to be located in all U. S. State capitals, in 20 foreign capitals, in other likely listening posts. Three Confidentially Yours contributors are supposed to be former U. S. Cabinet mem bers, another a German officer who was in Hitler's regiment. Others: a Senator's wife, a British Foreign Office ex, a titled lady close to Wally Simpson.

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