NABusiness

Neville Miller got his first real taste of radio when, as mayor of Louisville, Ky., he directed emergency crews during the 1937 Ohio-Mississippi flood. After a spell as executive assistant to Princeton University's President Dodds, Neville Miller returned to the air, succeeded his friend, Louisville Newspaperman Mark Ethridge, as president of the National Association of Broadcasters. Today his rich baritone, speaking for 428 N. A. B. members, is an articulate voice for the U. S. radio industry. Last week, with the industry noisily congregated at N. A. B.'s 17th annual convention in noisy Atlantic City, Voice Miller succeeded in making himself heard.

With over $1,000,000,000 in assets, total revenues of $111,358,000 last year, Radio is a blue-chip big business. But it has one great obstacle to its future: so long as all station licenses come up for review before the Federal Communications Commission every year, no radio station can guarantee its existence for any longer period. Since FCC took up its cudgel in 1934, it has conked no heads to speak of, and last week Steve Early turned up in Atlantic City, reiterated the "unofficial" reassurances of his White House chief that that big stick is just a lath. Unfortunately, at the moment the big stick was very much in the minds of short-wave broadcasters.

Up for hearings before the FCC in Washington was a ruling promulgated by the Commission eight weeks ago that had kicked up more fuss than anything in radio since Mae West. In permitting stations to sell advertising time on their short-wave broadcasts to Latin America and other foreign parts, FCC inserted a provision that the programs "shall render only an international broadcast service which will reflect the culture of this country and which will promote international good will, understanding and cooperation." Behind the provision, Washington observers felt, was the State Department's Good-Neighborly tact toward Latin-American autocrats. But broadcasters promptly protested what looked like a short-wave shortcut to direct censorship.

Chief witness at FCC's hearing was Neville Miller, who made just that point. The FCC suspended the debated ruling pending completion of its hearings, issued a huffy disclaimer: "It has not been the practice of the Communications Commission in the past nor is the intention of the Commission now ... to require the submission of any program, continuity or script for editing, modification or revision, or for any other purpose prior to its use by a station."

The week's main NABusiness at Atlantic City was to approve a code, drawn up under Neville Miller's supervision, designed to minimize the possibility of collision between broadcasters and FCC at several other danger points:

Advertising ethics, on which most big broadcasters and FCC already see eye to eye, N. A. B. attended to by formally expressing radio's informal Index expurga-torius on such subjects as hard liquor, "products claiming to cure," deceptive claims, overlong or otherwise objectionable commercials.

Controversial subjects have long been radio's controversial subject. Radiomen ask themselves whether the safer and more Solomonwise course would be to sell time to i) all controversialists or 2) none. N. A. B. last week plumped for the second alternative, agreed to give away time for the discussion of public questions up to the limit of the public interest in hearing about them. Exception: during campaigns, when all political parties want too much time.

Religion has been a controversial radio subject ever since Radio Priest Charles E. Coughlin's rabble-rousing rise on bought time. Last week N. A. B., after mulling over a ban on all sales of time to religionists, compromised by outlawing attacks "on another's race or religion."

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