Radio mirror (May-Oct 1939)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

That was his last word on the subject, but after he left me at the door of the rooming house where I lived, some of the edge had gone from my anticipation over the chance of being featured on one of the biggest network variety shows. I didn't believe a single one of the things he'd hinted about Brad Staley and his methods — I couldn't, even knowing Staley as slightly as I did — but I couldn't help feeling vaguely disturbed over them just the same. Then, at the memory of Brad's charming smile and frank, friendly manners, I threw off my forebodings. Of course it was nonsense! And it had been Brad's own suggestion that Ray Tucker, star comedian of the program, and Mrs. Tucker were to be guests at the lodge as well. I realized, suddenly, that I wasn't worried over what Jerry had said. I was worried because he'd said it. We'd been such good friends. He'd always been at my side when I needed sympathy. And now, when for the first time things looked better for me, he'd acted — yes, he'd acted as if he were jealous. As if he begrudged me my chance. I had never expected that of Jerry. BUT in the morning I felt better. Jerry would get over it, I told myself. Anyway, the important thing was the warm feeling of confidence I'd had at Brad Staley' s words: "I don't mind telling you I think you've got exactly the kind of voice I've been looking for to make my show perfect!" Even if something happened and I didn't get the contract, that speech of Brad's alone would almost make the whole thing worth while! Almost on the dot of noon he drew up in the crowded street outside, driving a cream-colored roadster that seemed to be the embodiment of speed and luxury. I picked up my overnight bag and met him on the steps. Somehow, I didn't want him to see the interior of the place where I lived. His face brightened as he saw me, and I mentally gave thanks that I'd spent more than I could afford for my new suit of white sharkskin, with the bright blue handkerchief tucked in its breast pocket. "You're the only cool-looking thing I've seen this morning," he said, smiling down at me. His eyes were deep-set, and of a blue that contrasted oddly with his jet-black hair and the deep tan of his skin. "Ray and Edna are coming along in their own car," he said as he stowed my bag in the rumble. "Ray always refuses to get up before noon, and it'll probably be three 14 o'clock before they're ready to start, so I thought we might as well go on without them." Then began one of the most enchanting rides I'd ever had. The big, high-powered car seemed to be a part of Brad Staley, he handled it so expertly, weaving in and out of the congested Saturday traffic along the West Side highway and over George Washington Bridge. Once in the country, it hummed with deepthroated satisfaction and leaped ahead, yet its movement was so smooth and soothing that I was surprised when I glanced at the speedometer and saw how fast we were going. All the way to the lodge Brad — I was calling him Brad to his face now, and he was calling me Nicky — kept up a running stream of talk: stories about radio, the theater, people he ■ "I was terribly aware of his nearness. It was one of those moments when, without a word being spoken, the air is full of clamorous thoughts11 knew and I longed to know. I felt as if we'd been friends for years. We had lunch at a little roadside restaurant, and arrived at the lake about four in the afternoon. The lodge was all I had dreamed it would be — a low, rambling log house, set on the high ground overlooking the little lake and surrounded by tall, whispering pines. A breeze ruffled the surface of the water, and it sparkled in the afternoon sun as if it were set with diamonds. A big woman with gray hair and a broad Irish face opened the door and ran down the shallow stone stairs to take our bags. Brad introduced her to me as Mrs. Geraghty, the housekeeper. "Well, here's Falling Leaf Lodge," Brad said with a sweeping gesture of his arm. "It's all yours, Nicky." He stood beside me, and for a moment we were silent. The only sound was that of Mrs. Geraghty's quick steps moving around upstairs. Suddenly, I was terribly aware of his nearness. I knew, somehow, that his eyes were upon my face, not upon the view; and some instinct told me that unless I moved, said something to break the spell, he would touch me. It was one of those moments when, without a word being spoken, the air is full of clamorous thoughts; which can't be measured by time nor explained in words. It was with a real effort that I turned and spoke to him lightly. "Let's go swimming! Can we?" "Of course," he said, responding at once to my tone. "Me,et you here in ten minutes." Upstairs, in the bright, sunny bedroom, I wondered. Had that moment really been tense, electric — or had I merely imagined it, made it up out of a mind that was too full of what Jerry had said? I was sure of one thing — I hadn't been frightened. I liked Brad too well to be afraid of him. Yet there was something overpowering about his vitality, his masculinity and self-assurance. I felt that here was a man who knew women and his power over them. I didn't resent that power, exactly, but I made up my mind that no matter what happened I'd fight against it. But there was no need to fight against it, during the next hour or so, while we alternately swam in the icy waters of the lake and lay full-length on the strip of sandy beach, letting the rays of the sun soak into our bodies. After the noise and confusion of the city, its smells and dirt, this lonely part of the mountains was like a paradise — a beautiful, perfumed paradise. "Run up and get dressed, and then we'll have a cocktail, without waiting for the Tuckers," he said when, glowing from the sun and the water, we returned to the house. "Dinner's at eight, but I don't imagine they'll get here much before seven-thirty." It was nearly seven when I came down the stairs, wearing my one and only evening gown. Brad, mixing drinks at a little table before the fireplace, looked up and grinned cheerfully. Nothing in the world, I thought, could be more pleasant than the next half hour, while we sat before the fire, talking, wrapped in the peace of the soft mountain air. If only, I found myself thinking, we could have the whole evening alone like this — if only the Tuckers weren't (Continued on page 69) RADIO MIRROR