Cordic: His Is One Show To Hear But Another To See
By EDWARD L BLANK, Press TV-Radio Writer - May 18, 1970

Despite the ability of TV to present a wealth of information or enter-tainment, there in at least one area in which radio probably will always be superior: It offers the audience the chance to exercise imagination.

Foremost in the skill of having district listeners conjure up images of characters and situations is Rege Cordic, heard from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Sundays on WTAE-Radio.

A Personality Profile on Cordic, April 2nd, concerned the man, his attitudes and his aspirations, The column prompted questions about how and with whom he works, who does what and how it's all put together.

To answer the inquiries by observation rather than conversation, the Press TV-Radio Desk moved out to WTAE's Studio A for a full four-hour show and a subsequent 90-minute skit recording session.

While radio can be a relatively uncomplicated medium for presenting entertainment, Cordic and Company is a program involving much additional coordination and organization.

The show observed was one being taped for use the following Sunday. The taping was to begin at 6 p.m., but for purposes of time checks during the show, the clock was set for 9 to coincide with the hour when it would begin playing over the air.

Twice the clock was changed while last minute difficulties were ironed out. For three or four minutes before the session began, Cordic appeared to tense up, yet as soon as he completed the initial introduction on the show, he relaxed.

Stacked about him were tape cassettes and phonograph records containing everything from commercials and skits to popular songs and voice drop-ins. Before him was a schedule he'd made of what was to be included and in what general sequence.

When doing something live he'd listen to the headphones. Usually during the music he'd raise them from his ear for a moment or two.

It was during his use of the skits that his real finesse showed.

Trow, Hardman, McCully Contributors

His principal contributors for the past several years have been Bob Trow, Karl Hardman and Bob McCully.

Trow and Hardman do almost all the characters and write most of the scripts in which their characters appear. They discuss each one briefly with Cordic, who likes to try taping them "cold" once before even reading them once.

That assures him some spontaneity in not knowing for sure what's going to be said next. After the first run-through, if anyone can think of a better way to develop or conclude the bit or if something didn't come off too well, the skit is taped again and again until all parties are satisfied.

Trow's better characters include: Carmen Monoxide ("Hey, Re... Re Cording . . ."), past master of the bad pun; Brunehilda ("Hi, Chub. How are you, Hon"), a ton of fun who misuses words and enters and leaves the studio by the garage door, and Max Korfendigas, the golf pro who is always tipsy when giving his tips.

Hardman's best include: Louie ("Doggone right. What chu tink dat?") an immigrant of no discernible ancestry; Roquefort Q. LaFarge, the high-strung studio assistant and announcer who spends much time complaining about conditions in the announcer's lounge, and Mr. Murchison, the gruff boss of the radio station.

McCully writes skits occasionally for the Hardman characters, but occupies himself mostly with goofy product commercials (Crudley Cars) and non-char-acter routines (the pot hole festival).

Some Had To Be Dropped

Because all skits are recorded now on tape instead of record, at least three characters have not been heard lately: Omicron and Nudnicron, the visitors from outer spade, and Milk, the milkman. Their voices were made by altering the speeds on phonograph turntables and cannot be reproduced the same way on tape.

"Another problem with the Omicron-Nudnicron bits," said Cordic, who did Omicron himself. "was that they were topical in the '5Os and early '60s, but are useless now. The whole relationship to space has changed. The moon was a mystery then. "That whole bag has opened up so that Omicron ii almost most universally obsolete."

Beauregard J. Cornpone, a Hardman character, had to be dropped several years ago for a different reason: "Cornpone," Cordic said, "was a 'the South-shall-rise-again' kind of thing which became particularly unfunny after Little Rock. So we let the darn thing go, We've used that voice, which is sort of a loud Murchison with a southern accent. "We had fun with Cornpone while he lasted. He was the one who would never walk on Grant Street."

Among the one-liners used on the show are bits taken from commercials ("Poor little Mary"), or made by stars ("Hello, Regie. This is Doris Day,") (Jane Russell's: "Well, the only way to describe it is to say it's a big hot love affair wrapped up in music and laughs").

Where the longer skits are concerned, Cordic's voice is pre-recorded just as Trow's and Hardman's are, but he leads into them live.

He'll pretend to begin commenting on a Glen Campbell record, for example, as he presses a switch in start a skit tape. Then as he appears to be interrupted by the character in the skit, he lets the tape take over altogether. As the other character on the tape is speaking his departure lines the live Cordic returns to make the transition into the next record.

It all hinges on split-second timing and switch manipulation by someone who does it with ease. Playing actor and technician are part of announcer Cordic's job.

It's quite a show to see, even if it doesn't look anything like the one going on in the heads of listeners.

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