“Are you on the air, Joe?”
“What program? I keep tuning, but I don’t get you.”
“What happens in radio, Joe?”
Sitting on a table in the book department Joe described rehearsals, sponsor auditions, the cutting of a platter. He told them about Vic Wylie and Tony Vaux. But he did not tell them that this was all small time and that show people in small time radio had to piece out their incomes as pallbearers, and as night-shift waitresses, and as cigarette girls in night clubs.
The advertising discussion in his father’s office ended. Tom Carlin came upon a rapt group in the book department.
“Trying to lure my boys into radio, Joe?” he asked dryly.
One of the men laughed. “It sounds exciting, Mr. Carlin, but I prefer my own job.”
Whatever Tom Carlin started to say was bitten back. Father and son left to get the car.
“Dad, you said a show would cost too much....”
Tom Carlin laughed. “When you get your teeth in, you hang on, don’t you?”