The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1935-03-18
C0UCHLIN FINDS
JOY IN HIS Toll
AT MICROPHONE
Smiles Over IroniC ThruSts.
Finishes Broadcast With
Cheeks Flushed.
BY FORREST DAVIS
Times Special Writer

ROYAL OAK, Mich, Marcn 10
The Rev. Charles E. Coughlin re-
moved his soutane. The collar came
next. He folded himself within a
red silk dressing gown. When he
broadcastS he works" He per-
spires in rivulets, he punctuateS his
remarks with pantomime. although
sitting at a desk. quite as much as
if he had a great audience before
him. He wishes, therefore, to be
free of physical constraint.
Father Coughlin was preparing for
the twenty first in his series of Sun
day afternoon lectures to the scat
tered millions.
The father. in his red gown.
strobe up and down the study, an
attractive room panelled in walnut.
Three secretaries appeared from the
far-flung offices below. one had
typed copies of the address, only fin
ished in note form after a night Of
preparation at 10 a. m. A thin.
young man from the Detroit radio
station fiddled with obscure gadgets
in tiny hallway. He carried on
a loW-spoken, seemingly important
conversation with some one, pre-
Sumably at the station itself.
Time! MY Friends :" .
The hour hand of an alarm clock
moved inexorably toward 4. Father
Coughlin compared his wrist-watch
with the radio mans.
He seated himself at his broad
topped desk. Two black tubular
devices, constituting a microphone,
stood before him. It was two min
utes to and a concealed radio in
strument brought the tail-end of
commercial announcement into the
room. The offer of some trade in
ducement sounded incongruous.
Father Coughlin seized the typed
manuscript. He steadfaStly eyed the
thin, young man. Then, oddly, we
heard the voice of the announcer
brought from the station in Detroit.
The thin, young man lifted his
right hand When it dropped.
Father Coughlin said MY Friends"
and the broadcast haG begun. Every
one except the speaker sighed with
relief. The prelininaries had
seemed interminable.
Warns to His Message
Instantly, I had a sense Of en-
largement. The thought that these
lush metaphors, the sustained, driv-
ing speech of the clergyman in the
red gown was at that moment being
delivered in no one knows how many
sitting rooms and parlorS. drawing
rooms and hospitals, on ships at sea,
and in neighborhood barrooms, the
homes of sod farmers in the Da-
kotaS and doWagers in Park Avenue,
suddenly seemed impressive.
The father warmed to his mes
sage. He levelled shafts OF scorn.
He smiled over his ironic thrusts.
He bristled with indignation. He
was addressing himself to the edi-
tors of America and he looked tel
lingly in the direction of the only.
newspaper man in the room as he
turned a pointed phrase. He en-
joyed himself.
Pale when he began, he was ruddy
and animated when he finished;
fairly steaming with energy.
He dismissed the secretaries-one
of whom had held a copy of the
address to note any variations he
might make, the others being there
for any emergency-and paced the
room with long strides. The priests
elation made the room gay.
"Okay, Steve" He Says
The curtains were thrown back,
he lighted a cigaret. He resumed
the sautane. We descended from
the study to the offices. He hadn't
slept all night, he had said the IL
o'clock mass, had delivered what
should have been an exhausting
address, yet he expanded into good
nature.
At the church We encountered his
mother, sweet-souled and lowering.
you go home now and get some
rest" said Mrs. Coughlin, her voice
rich with pride.
eyes, mother" he replied, you
keep on doing all the worrying for
me-"
She laughingly thrust shamrock
into his overcoat lapel.
"Okay, Steve" said Father
Coughlin with tender pIayfulness,
patting her shoulder. He had es-
capped from the microphone ordeal
for another week.