The pavilion was shaped like a huge radio tube attached to a base, with the base forming the front section of the building. The tube proper, at the rear, housed the television exhibit.

The RCA baby carriage exhibit in the pavilion’s foyer was meant to prevent kidnapping of the youngsters (certainly a response to the horrific Lindbergh kidnapping earlier in the decade). If the “baby” was removed, an activated voice cried, “Call all parents!” After a naming contest won by Mrs. J. R. Claesson, the dummy baby was called “Letta Alone.”

Even though the Fair’s second day attendance dropped dramatically, the RCA pavilion continued as a major draw with the innovation of television.

The pavilion displayed the “Room of Tomorrow,” meant to highlight a family’s use of the newly developed television. John Vassos, and industrial designer, prepared a “functional” room that included not only the television, but, also, a radio, phonograph, facsimile and moving picture units. The blue carpet complimented the contrasting cool and warm shaded walls and the rosewood furniture.

RCA generated seventy-two hours of live programming each week from its pavilion. Visitors could be part of the daily television broadcasts. Young ladies, known collectively as Miss Television, assisted scores of willing subjects through the intricacies of the new art form.

It was soon discovered that women were somewhat reluctant to appear before the television cameras. Most insisted on applying extra makeup, disregarding the technician’s advice that “television lights the natural facial coloring best.”

The initial two-hour live broadcast of the Fair’s opening ceremonies, including FDR’s speech, taught the young industry three important lessons: one camera was not sufficient to cover large outdoor events, the cameras must “roam around” during speeches to keep the audience’s attention and telecasters needed to talk less and let the pictures do the explanation (obviously a hold-over from radio commentary).