Radio mirror (Jan-June 1948)

tending a play in which her husband, Stuart Erwin, was appearing. Bud experienced his long-awaited triumph. A friend, introducing them to some strangers, said, "This is Bud Collyer, and, oh, yes, his sister, June." Of all the roles he has played. Bud has probably come to be most closely associated with the character of Superman. This association has occasionally led to minor embarrassment. Sometimes listeners, meeting Bud in person, have asked him to demonstrate the remarkable powers of the very fictional Superman. "Yah, yah, go on lift that car," one young skeptic challenged. Bud, who is fit but hardly that brawny, explained that he was Superman only half an hour each day. An elevator operator who was about to shut the door and ascend as Bud was hurrying to the studio one recent day grudgingly consented to Bud's shouted request that he hold it until Bud could board. "What you want me to wait for?" the operator asked when the panting Collyer reached the elevator. "Can't you jump only twenty stories?" One young fan was singularly unimpressed in the presence of the off-mike Superman. Bud and Marian, returning from a one-week vacation last summer at Lake Mahopac in the Adirondacks, stopped to eat at a cafe operated by a friend. The cafe owner's nineyear-old son was eager to meet Superman, Bud was told, and soon the boy was brought in and introduced. Bud chatted with him but failed either to move the earth or rescue any maidens in distress. At parting, Bud said, "I'm happy to have met you." The boy waved a tolerant hand. "That's all right," he said condescendingly. Bud's own children take a detached view of their father's daily impersonation of the Man of Tomorrow. Superman, Bud confesses, is not their favorite entertainment. Mike leans to Captain Midnight, Pat likes mystery shows, and Cynthia, an active child, is not amused by sitting and listening to the radio. When Pat was four, a little boy approached her in awe and said, "Gee, your dad's Superman, isn't he?" Pat was calm. "Who — Bud?" she wondered. "Oh, he's just an actor." The years Bud spent in law school and as a legal clerk have not been wasted, despite his having forsaken the law for radio. He is president of the New York chapter of the American Federation of Radio Artists, and he finds that his early training comes in handy when enforcing parliamentary order when actors, who are apt to be more emotional than lucid, begin straying from the point at issue during AFRA meetings. Marian's career did not start with radio either. A Kansas City girl, she went to New York a dozen years ago to go on the stage. She played opposite the late George M. Cohan in "Dear Old Darling," an auspicious start on Broadway, but then fell into harder times. After appearing in several shows which came off bruised by bouts with dramatic critics and the public, she grew disenchanted. "I decided," she says, "that no one but children of wealthy parents could afford to work in the theater. I went into radio." She was an immediate success. Within hours after her first audition, at CBS, she was cast opposite Chester Morris in a dramatic skit on a Kate Smith show. Parts came thick and fast for her afterward. She was the original Nikki on Ellery Queen, a regular leading player on Mystery Theatre and has taken star roles in so many other shows that she says she gets a mental block when she tries now to remember them. Bud and Marian had known each other — from meeting in radio circles — for some time before both were assigned to Road of Life. It was during their association on that program that friendship grew up into love. A year ago they eloped to Maryland and were married. "We had a twentyfour-hour honeymoon in Atlantic City," Bud says. "Eighteen hours, darling," Marian corrects him. "We both had to get back to New York for radio dates." They settled down at once in the big stone house in Connecticut and since then have been stealing every possible moment from radio in order to spend it in their favorite place — home. They live for Saturdays which both have free from broadcasting engagements. On Summer Saturdays the whole family goes to the Stamford Yacht Club for swimming. "No, we don't own a yacht," says Bud; "too expensive." Despite the lavishness of their home, the Collyers are not extravagant. They own two cars, the Bantam which they use for driving to the station, and an Oldsmobile sedan in which Mr. Clark, their g ar d e n e r-chauff eur-handyman, drives the children to and from school. "They're both pre-war," Marian explains. "Bud and I think new car prices are exorbitant." This is modest transportation indeed for residents of Greenwich where shiny station wagons seem to grow on trees. Not all Saturdays, however, can be spent at the beach. There are often 3en Alexander, gran+er of heart's desires. DRAMA Do Dreams Come True? mmLI^! Find out how you can gel your fondest wish. Fabulous gifts awarded daily. HEART'S DESIRE Daytime — Monday through Friday on the Mutual Network I.ISTEN TO HUMOR LOVE 72 Do you want your dream to come true? Read the HEART'S DESIRE -feature in this month's TntJK ROMANCE Magazine children's parties which the Collyer youngsters like to attend. "Greenwich children seem to have lots of birthdays," Marian says, "and for every birthday there's a party. It seems that almost every week Pat and Cynthia and Mike are invited to one." The three Collyer children, Bud and Marian admit, have more friends in Greenwich than their busy parents have. There is great social activity at the Greenwich Academy, which Pat, Cynthia and Mike attend. The pressures of their youngsters' engagements do not, however, disturb Bud and Marian. Both are fond of children — all children — and consequently like to tailor their own schedules as much as possible to fit those of Pat and Cynthia and Mike. Bud insists, however, on faithful observance of one ritual — Sunday School. He has been superintendent of the High Ridge, Connecticut, Methodist Church Sunday School for four years, and each week he conducts religious training classes which his own children attend. "Bud is very devout about church," Marian says proudly. "He never misses Sunday School. And, do you know, he was invited to deliver the sermon at the Greenwich Methodist Church not long ago." In telling of this invitation, Marian spoke more enthusiastically than she would of a new radio contract. "I looked out at them," Bud interrupted, "and, my gosh, all I saw were middle-aged people. I said, 'Where are the young people? Why don't they come to church?' I believe it started them thinking." It was perfectly natural for Bud to be concerned at the absence of youngsters from the congregation. Children, and young people he thinks, deserve more attention than many of them get from their distracted parents. As for his own, they find Bud a devoted father. "They're wonderful — all three of them," he says. And he's right. Pat, for years, has been playing the piano. Self-taught, she has actually composed tunes. It was only a year ago that Bud and Marian decided she ought to have formal instruction. "I don't believe in pushing children too fast," Bud says. He and Marian are certain that Pat has real talent, but they are determined not to let the rigidities of musical training interfere with her normal girlhood. Cynthia seems to have a gift for acting. "She's the clown of the bunch," Bud says. Marian calls her a "wonderful little actress." Mike, at five, has not yet demonstrated a particular bent. A warm, friendly child, he is content so far to bask in the reflected brilliance of his sisters, whom he idolizes. There is plenty of room at the Collyer place for play. In fine weather, there are a broad terrace, with a huge, double-trunked oak growing in it, and two acres of woods that are the Collyer's very own. When rain or snow confine the family to the house, the children are hardly restricted. Each has his own room, and all can romp in the enormous living room or in a playroom downstairs. Bud and Marian have a plan for decorating the playroom. Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, the creators of the comic strip Superman, have offered to paint murals of Bud's alter ego on the playroom walls. "They'll be very bright and colorful," Marian says. "And very handsome." When she says this, she looks at Bud — in such a way that you know she is thinking that Superman is only second best to the man who plays him on th° 3'r.