The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-09-05

zA prlnC shops ana
 | he thousands
 of other metro-
 politan services
 that are rend- cred between midnight and the morning. A million at work, while six million relax, a million who rarely get acquainted with the daytime and the sunlight.
 But this nocturnal million has a friend, a cheerful friend who stays awake with them on the lobster-trick and makes the night time 6 less dismal job. This pal of the owlish toilers of New York is Stan Shaw, a faithful micro phonic companion. To his million, he is better known as stan, the Milkman," for his all-night shift is labelled "The Milkman's Ma tinee."
 Actually, this is a misnomer, for Stan knocks off when the milk mans horse clatters up the block. He is through at 2 a. m., as the new day starts for the other six million.
 Stan Shaw has been cheering up the nights toilers for four years, taking only one night off each week for himself. He stays up all that night, of course, hav- ing lost his faculty for slumber- ing after dark. But the other six nights of the week, Stan Shaw, the Milkman has been standing before a tubular mike" to chat amiably with his fans and ask what popular music they prefer hearing.
 Between his small talk, he sets photographs discs whirling, play ing all the tunes that have come out of Tin Pan Alley during the past two decades. And he plays only what his parishioners want to nearby request.
 THEY ALL LIKE
 'MILKMAN STAN"
 The requests come in by phone and telegram. In the studio with Stan, the Milkman, are a string of telephones and two telegraph receiving sets. The wires and calls come in direct from all over town, and from out of town. Hey, Stan" goes the typical message, "give us that Moonlight Serenade." It's bootiful." Sometimes he receives 150 such requests per night and he said received as high as 300, indicating that he does not lack for listeners in Gotham or wher- ever his wav-lengths reaches.
 There are no social barriers be- tween him and barkeeps, truck drivers, hackmen, chorines on the late shift, night watchmen and even an occasional local plane pic lot. They all tune in and learn to address him as Stan, though few get to meet him personally. He, in turn, addresses them by their first names when he is ex- changing banter with them on the phone and he likes to recall the whole conversation with his radio audience.
 Gus" he will recite, for ex. ample, Ines the feller who runs the counter of the All-Night Diner or Thoid Avenue, wants us to play Donkey Serenade.' Says it gives him goose-pimples. Reminds him of his sweetheart, Jane." All the small-time gossip about nocturnal Manhattan is cheerfully exchang- ed on the Milkman's Matinee!
 To Shaw, the Milkman's Matinee is an odd climax of an assorted career. He used to be an instructor in psychology at a midwestern college and ditched such academic purusits to form a band. The or- chestra was not a huge success, so he came east to try his luck again. Waving a baton over his breeding musicians, however, gave him an idea of what the public wants in popular tunes. He does not like to refer back to his psy- chological days, feeling that he has left all that behind him. PROGRAM IS AID
 TO THE POLICE
 The Milkman'S Matinee has proven to be more than mere diversion for the all-nighters. It also has been 8 valuable aid to the police in a fugitive hunt. The most exciting pursuit o fcrime the Milkeman's Matinee enjoyed was the night 8 murderer sped along the New Jersey highways to elude the state troopers. Stan broadcast a warning and naturally, the din- CTS btween here and the New Jer- sey coast were listening in. The murderer was caught within fif- teen minutes after Stan had urged his night-time clientele to be on the lookout.
 When he winds up at 2 a. rn., he doesn't go home directly. He generally drops into some beam cry. Often the proprietor, or counter-man, his most devoted fans, don't recognize him!