"Music and the Spoken Word" has been comforting and inspiring listeners for nearly 77 years. Sunday, the live broadcast marks its 4,000th consecutive weekly broadcast - a feat unmatched by any other radio or television program.

"It's like the old duck with paddles underneath," said associate producer Eldon Griffin. "It just keeps paddling and paddling."

But it doesn't happen without the work of hundreds of individuals - many of them unpaid volunteers. And even though it runs like a well-oiled machine, anything can happen on live TV. Music stands have tipped over, microphones have failed, a musician even fell asleep once.

Each episode of the program, which was created by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and combines music with inspirational messages, gets its start at a regular Tuesday planning meeting on the 21st floor of the LDS Church Office Building in Salt Lake City. A dozen or so people gather around a large wooden conference table to discuss themes and musical numbers for future broadcasts, and details like decorations and where to set up extra irons for last-minute wrinkles.

Themes stay within a fairly generic range - from faith and family, to patriotism and peace, hope and joy. Surprisingly to some, the program tries to avoid being overly religious.

"We have to be cautious that we don't step on toes or proselytize or even appear to do that," said Chris Barnhurst, an account executive at Bonneville Communications, the company that distributes the show nationally and internationally.

All the show's writers are LDS, according to producers, though they have discussed regularly soliciting messages from members of other faiths. But the program strives to remain nondenominational so that it can appeal to as wide an audience as possible.

It is broadcast on more than 2,000 radio and television stations, reaching countless thousands of viewers, according to Gregg Garber, a vice president at Bonneville. The Nielsen Ratings say "Music and the Spoken Word" is the No. 1-rated show in its Devotional category, beating out programs such as "The 700 Club" and the "Hour of Power."

In the Salt Lake area in February, it grabbed more viewers than programs such as "Meet the Press" and arena football. Producers are especially proud that "Music and the Spoken Word" is run by stations as a free public-service announcement, not a paid program, as other inspirational shows are.

The program began as a way to create good will, said Barnhurst.

"That's still the intent," she said. "It helps people feel better about themselves and gives them a little hope."

Many people, not just Mormons, have found comfort in the program. When filling out hospital admittance forms, some fans have listed "Music and the Spoken Word" as their religion. Others have proclaimed that while they might be Lutheran or Baptist seven days a week, they belong to the church of "Music and the Spoken Word" for 30 minutes on Sundays.

The 360-member choir rehearses the program Thursday nights. Besides a rigorous audition process that tests prospective members' musical knowledge as well as and talent, each member must commit to several hours of rehearsal each week. They also must attend at least 75 percent of the Sunday broadcasts.

"We don't want anyone here 100 percent of the time," said choir general manager Scott Barrick. "We want them to have a life, too."

Last Sunday, about 30 men made their debut on "Music and the Spoken Word." (The last round of auditions was limited to men to create balance in the choir.) They picked a rough week to do it.

Instead of rehearsing the program on Thursday as usual, the choir instead prepared for a concert they it would later perform with the Oak Ridge Boys. That meant that come Sunday, the choir, camera crew, producers, director and volunteers would be pretty much winging it.

BriefsBoldLeadin o f=interstate-blackcondensed s=9.5 w=9.7 A broadcast is born: o At 7:30 a.m. Sunday, Jessop urges the group to get moving quickly.

"My plane leaves at 11. I'm headed for Siberia," he said. The choir gives a hearty laugh, understanding his joke: that he is being banished after allowing the Oak Ridge Boys to sing their mildly suggestive song "Elvira" in the Conference Center a few nights earlier.

The choir members are fresh-faced and happy as they warm up with a round of deep breathing and scales. Then Jessop takes them through a number. He inspires them to open up and roar by telling how the stones would have shouted at the approach of Jesus, if they could have spoken.

"Let 'em shout! Let 'em rejoice!" he says as his arms swing theatrically in time with the music, every silver hair on his head vibrating. "Build! Build! Build!"

At the same time, crews put the finishing touches on the stage. A camera track is laid. Hundreds of silk tulips, daffodils and quince blossoms sprout around the organ and across the stand. For certain events, the flowers are real. Designers order poinsettias in January in anticipation of the choir's Christmas programs.

All eight cameras are in place, including the jib - a camera mounted at the end of a long pole that can soar above the stage, circle the organ or reach out into the seats to get a shot of patrons.

The singing stops briefly for a booster talk from local suit-selling legend Mac Christensen, also known as "Mr. Mac," who is choir president. Then comes a prayer from a musician, who asks for a blessing on LDS missionaries, church leaders, U.S. troops and dozens of people whose names choir members have placed on a list for special consideration.

About the same time, the Men in Black - the cameramen - gather around doughnuts and caffeine-free Coke to talk about camera shots with Wendy Crossman, one of five free-lance directors who take turns plotting the show's presentation each week. Crossman has decided today's show will have at least 108 discreet camera shots, zeroing in on everything from the chimes featured in an opening number, to a boy soloist, to choir "expressions." Sometimes she'll instruct the camera operators to "make me cry" or"bring it home," and they'll know what to do.

Jib operator Glenn Fisk has filmed the program for years and says he has developed a kind of symbiotic rhythm with the show.

"You have to feel the music," he says. Otherwise the timing is off, or you'll catch a musician with an unattractive scrunched-up face rather than an expressive one.

Meanwhile, Jessop launches a "full facs," a full facsimile of the program, to check for timing. He must land the show in 27 minutes, 5 seconds. This week's show also features associate director Mack Wilberg leading the Orchestra at Temple Square. The volunteer orchestra, organized in 1999, appears on about half the "Music and the Spoken Word" broadcasts. If Jessop hits the timing right on the button, volunteer choir stage manager James Turner will give him a single lemon drop.

For the first time, announcer Lloyd Newell appears.

"From the Crossroads of the West, we welcome you to a program of inspirational music and spoken word," the Brigham Young University professor intones in his oh-so-soothing way.

Griffin says that the announcer appears less often than he used to.

"Television viewers are just not into talking heads anymore," he says.

The run-through lets Crossman and the camera operators check their planned shots. Seated next to Crossman in the control room is TV weather forecaster and musician Sterling Poulsen, Poulson, who taps out time with the sheet music so that Crossman can follow along and cue each shot at exactly the right moment.

She gestures expressively, extending a hand toward one of the dozens of television screens in front of her. "Shot 17, dissolve," she says, slowly drawing her arm back as if she were conducting her own choir. After the run-through is done, they have 20 minutes to make fixes before the live broadcast begins.

This week, despite the lack of rehearsal time, the show comes off without a hitch. Well, for the most part, anyway. There's a small slip on an organ solo, but that will be corrected with footage shot during rehearsal before the program is shipped to the markets that do not air it in real time.

"It was a good one," says producer Ed Payne.

BriefsBoldLeadin o f=interstate-blackcondensed s=9.5 w=9.7 Oasis of goodness: o Sitting in the audience, one is struck by how unabashedly sincere and cheery "Music and the Spoke Word" remains after 77 years. It's an oasis of goodness in a world of cynicism.

Victor Coy has sat in the front row for rehearsals and broadcasts for nearly 16 years, ever since he moved back to Salt Lake City from Washington, D.C.

He was in the audience, too, in the summer of 1930 for one of the first 50 broadcasts. This weekend, his cousin will join him to see the 4,000th episode.

"I enjoy hearing the choir," says Coy, 87, who sang in the group from 1959 to 1973. "They do a wonderful job lifting people's spirits, and they just get better and better."

Jennifer Barrett can be reached at jbarrett@sltrib.com or 801-257-8611. Send comments about this story to livingeditor@sltrib.com.