By Catherine Snodgrass
This is certainly a funny old world - you can think you know “all about a person,” and then suddenly you discover that he or she possesses a hidden talent which you never even dreamed of.
Now take Russ Walker, for instance. He’s been on WIL for a long time. We knew Russ had gone to college - had a flare for dramatics - been salesman, announcer, continuity writer, and what have you. We even knew his favorite melody, type of feminine beauty, and that he preferred grey suits and blue ties. Well, in fact, we thought we had that “six foot, two” young “he” man thoroughly catalogued.
Then one day a friend of mine remarked that she had read a poem by a Mr. Russell Walker of WIL. I immediately rushed for the station and accused Russ of holding out valuable information.
At first Russ denied the accusation then blushing like a bad little boy, very modestly owned up that he had endeavored to write a few verses, but that he didn’t know how to write good poetry.
Upon insistence he finally fished out of the bottom drawer of his desk a little brown leather book in which was stored some of his typed verses. Naturally, I borrowed that book, much to Russ’ disquietude.
The verses and poems are a credit to the young author, they reveal a love of the beauties of nature.
(Originally published in Radio & Entertainment 10/28/1933.)