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On December 8, 1941, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt spoke to a joint session of Congress and, by radio, to the nation:

Yesterday, December 7, 1941 – a date which will live in infamy – the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

This, of course, is one of the most memorable and momentous "sound bites" in the history of radio. Not as well remembered, but memorable just the same, was a comment by Molly McGee on the following day’s episode of Fibber McGee and Molly.

But therein lies a tale.

When the President spoke, his was a familiar voice to the radio audience. His first national radio broadcast had been on July 2, 1932. Having broken precedent by flying from New York to Chicago, he broke another by addressing the very convention which had just nominated him to be the Democratic candidate for President. It was this speech that candidate Roosevelt concluded by declaring his intention to create a "new deal for the American people."

In 2007, The Museum of Broadcast Communications in Chicago held a salute to FDR to mark the 75th anniversary of this speech, and President Roosevelt was inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame by former FCC Chairman Newton N. Minow.

FDR was not the first President to speak on the radio. That honor fell to Calvin Coolidge. Herbert Hoover had also been heard on the new medium. It was Roosevelt, however, who would become, effectively, the nation’s first "radio president," using the medium as an important connector between the public and himself. Younger readers will see an analogy to President Kennedy, who later was referred to as the first "television president." Others had appeared on the medium; he was the one who made it his own.

In the depths of the Great Depression, America very much needed to laugh, and Amos ‘n’ Andy topped the ratings. Others who brought cheer included Eddie Cantor and the "team" of Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy (beginning with their appearances on Rudy Vallee’s Royal Gelatin Hour).

At this time, Fibber McGee and Molly had yet to come into being. When FDR was elected to his first term as President, Jim and Marian Jordan were still playing Luke and Mirandy (and dozens of other characters) on Smackout, broadcast from WMAQ in Chicago. Fibber McGee and Molly debuted on April 16, 1935. By 1940, after Marian Jordan had returned to the show after an 18-month absence due to illness, the program was rushing toward the top of the ratings. As radio historian John Dunning noted, Fibber McGee and Molly became the #1 show in 1943, and remained one of the country’s most popular programs for the rest of the decade and beyond.

Almost immediately upon taking office in 1933, FDR began using the radio to talk to the public on something approaching a one-on-one basis. Radio (as television would later) allows one to speak to millions of people, but not as if the speaker were addressing a large group. Rather, the intimacy of radio let Roosevelt sound as if he were talking to only one person at a time. He understood that, and used the medium masterfully.

The public understood this as well. In their book The People and the President, Lawrence W. Levine and Cornelia R. Levine compiled hundreds of letters from the Roosevelt Library, written by people from all walks of life, in response to each of his chats. The letters praised, criticized, suggested. The power of radio made one and all feel that the President was talking to them, and they could — nay, should — respond. Subsequent researchers have concluded that FDR was very much aware of the content of the letters generally, if not specifically.

Dr. Cynthia Koch, Director of the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum, spoke at the MBC anniversary salute. She made only a passing reference to FDR’s fireside chats in an incredibly complete, yet condensed, recap of the President’s life. It jarred my memory, however, regarding a comment of Cecil Underwood.

Cecil Underwood was the producer/director of Fibber McGee and Molly for about ten years of its two-decade run. I had recently come across a 1974 conversation in which he said that every time FDR delivered his fireside chats, he did so following the Fibber McGee and Molly program as a result of the program’s enormous popularity. Bob Hope normally followed the McGee show; according to Underwood, the comedian would kiddingly complain, "Why doesn’t he take your time?" Underwood replied that FDR wanted Fibber’s audience. Then he said that FDR followed Fibber McGee "four or five different times" — a pull back from "every time."

Anyone who works in history knows that there is often a difference between "history" and "memory." Eventually, the distinction may be lost and memory may become history. Objectivity is often elusive. With that in mind, I decided to investigate the real relationship between the Fibber McGee and Molly broadcasts and the President’s series of 29 fireside chats. (There was no formal designation of "fireside chats," and there are differences of opinion as to the exact number.)

Part of the analysis is easy. The President made his first such broadcast on March 12, 1933, a week after his inauguration, to explain the bank holiday he had declared and the process for reopening the banks. He had delivered a total of six "chats" before the first broadcast of Fibber McGee and Molly in April 1935.

Certainly, Underwood wouldn’t have been referring to those, so we continue. Except for its first few months, the Fibber McGee and Molly program ran on Monday evenings until March 7, 1938 and Tuesday evenings thereafter. Two of the chats were on Tuesday evenings in 1937, before the show moved from Mondays. Only four of the later chats were broadcast on the same evening as Fibber McGee and Molly.

Listings in The New York Times provide the following information regarding these four evenings:

1. The President’s broadcast of May 27, 1941 was at 10:30 p.m. (Eastern time), after both Fibber McGee and Molly and Bob Hope.

2. The broadcast of December 9, 1941 was, indeed at 10 p.m., immediately following Fibber McGee and Molly, pre-empting Bob Hope and preceding Red Skelton.

3. There was a Tuesday evening broadcast on April 28, 1942. The Times carried a United Press story on April 27 to the effect that the time of the broadcast will be determined "late tomorrow." Indeed, the Times had no broadcast time in its morning edition. A review of the following day’s articles in both The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune did not disclose any reference to the time of the broadcast.

Robert Clark, Senior Archivist at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum, very helpfully filled in the missing information, noting that this chat was indeed broadcast immediately following Fibber McGee and Molly.

4. The broadcast of January 11, 1944, FDR’s State of the Union Message, was broadcast at 9:00 p.m. If it ended before 9:30, it was to be followed by Fibber McGee and Molly.

So, it turns out that Underwood’s memory is based on two events — the broadcasts of December 9, 1941 and April 28, 1942. Of course, the importance of events during the week of December 7, 1941 could easily have burned that episode more deeply into his memory.

The attack on Pearl Harbor occurred on December 7, 1941. Thus, it was December 8th that FDR addressed a joint session of Congress, referring to the "date which will live in infamy…." It is hard to even imagine, much less describe, the mood of the country on December 9. According to an article in that day’s New York Times, "An hour before recruiting centers in the city were scheduled to open, military and naval officers were forced to begin interviewing men who tried to enlist in an outpouring of manpower….By 3:30 P. M. yesterday about 1,800 men had appeared at the Federal Office Building, 90 Church Street, to enlist in the Navy and Marine Corps, and thereafter at least 150 men always were in line."

John Dunning later wrote, "With the exception of The Bob Hope Show, Fibber McGee and Molly was the most patriotic show on the air." In this context, the Fibber McGee and Molly program of December 9 has several points of interest. As noted above, it preceded the President’s fireside chat of that date, but it started late. At the regular time, rather than the usual introduction from announcer Harlow Wilcox, the audience heard a report of several war-related items from the press services. Programs had been interrupted as early as Sunday with war reports. Of course, Americans (particularly those on the west coast) could not know if further Japanese attacks were on the way.

The program opened, as it usually did, with a musical number by Billy Mills and the orchestra. That number was itself interrupted with a message from the President of the S. C. Johnson and Son Company, indicating its plan to continue broadcasting the program because of the importance of maintaining laughter even in time of war, but noting that it had invited NBC to break in with news reports at any time.

Much of the program followed the long-established pattern of wordplay :

WALLACE WIMPLE: I haven’t seen you for simply weeks. I suppose that’s because it’s been so rotten out.

MOLLY: No, it’s because you’ve been so written out.

During the course of the program, Molly speaks with Mayor LaTrivia (Gale Gordon) about the purchase of a world globe, and contributes a memorable sound bite to the history of radio:

MOLLY: You want a globe with Japan on it, Mr. Mayor?

LA TRIVIA: Certainly.

MOLLY: Well, then, you better get one quick.

The program included a bit that strongly encouraged the purchase of Defense Bonds, and ended with the singing of "My Country, ’Tis of Thee."

The second of the programs that preceded a fireside chat was four months later, and there were no "break-ins" or other non-program elements. However, Fibber gets a stern lecture from Sis (Teeny) about the importance of planting a Victory Garden.

In today’s world, we have become accustomed to presidential addresses being the first part of a three-part event. Whether it is an application of the so-called fairness doctrine, or simply the assumption that anything the President says is inherently political, the networks give a representative of the other party time for a "rebuttal." Such was not the case in Roosevelt’s time. In the early days of his administration, I think the idea of a rebuttal would have been considered disrespectful. In effect, once the President took office, he was treated as the national leader, not a party representative — at least outside, and even during, the election cycle.

Another development of recent vintage is "instant analysis." The anchormen/women, Washington bureau chiefs, etc., almost immediately tell us what the President just said, and then try to key in on its significance. In earlier days, this was not thought of as a necessary function of the news department.

The President’s talks were invariably followed by a playing of "The Star Spangled Banner." If there was some time left to fill to complete the half hour, other music would follow. Such "fill" can’t be found in radio listings, but this was most likely the case at the end of the December 9, 1941 chat, which ran 27 minutes and 41 seconds. The April 28, 1942 chat ran 32 minutes and 27 seconds. The likely scenario here is that it was followed by the national anthem and then the networks would segue into normal programming. The Bob Hope Show was scheduled for the half hour taken by the President on April 28, 1942. The Red Skelton Show was scheduled immediately after this fireside chat.

Although the length of his administration certainly contributed to FDR’s close relationship with the people, it seems to me that the intimacy of his radio broadcasts was the primary element in developing such a strong emotional bond. In a 1999 biographical piece for Time magazine, historian Doris Kearns Goodwin wrote: "As Eleanor traveled the country in the months after her husband’s death, she was overwhelmed by the emotion of all the people who came up to her, telling her how much they had loved her husband. Porters at the station, taxi drivers, doormen, elevator operators, passengers on the train, riders in the subway told her how much better their lives were as a result of his leadership."

The Levines’ book quotes Eleanor Roosevelt as saying "I never realized the full scope of the devotion to him until after he died — until that night and after….They’d say ‘He used to talk to me about my government.’"

Words can convey only so much. Many will remember, as emblematic of the strong relationship, the classic Life photo by Ed Clark, which featured an African-American Navy sailor playing his accordion as FDR’s body returned to the White House. Tears streamed down the sailor’s face.

One other point can be noted concerning the relationship between FDR and the people, or between Fibber and Molly and FDR. It is likely true that, as Underwood says, Jim Jordan (a.k.a. Fibber McGee) wanted to close the December 9, 1941 broadcast with "Take it away, Frank."

Of course, that never happened.

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