Radio mirror (Jan-June 1948)

Record Details:

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so hard to keep them in school. I want them to have pretty clothes like the others in school. Still, Papa David, we are so happy, I only wish you could come to our little home. You would hear birds singing, see flowers growing, hear the children laughing, see the corn grow and Papa David you would see a woman with the . softest blue eyes; her hair is turning a little grey before it should for she is only 38 years old. When she'd smile you would know that you are welcome. Mom couldn't get up to cook dinner for you for after my baby sister was born she never walked again. When Papa comes home, you would be greeted with a hearty handshake, and a welcoming smile. Then he would go over and kiss Mom and say "How is my little Kay?" He always plays with the kids. He puts Sue on his back and carries her around the house. Then he plays ball with Bruce and Charles. He teases Anne and Joyce about the boys, tells Dot, Joddy and' me that we are just wonderful to have such a nice dinner for him. After supper is over we all go to Mom's bedside. I take the family Bible and read to the most wonderful people in the world. Then we get down on our knees and thank our God for being so good to us. J. L. THE BEAUTIFUL LOOK Dear 'Papa David: My husband and I had openly scoffed at the philosophy expressed in your Life Can Be Beautiful department. We didn't believe there were people who could really turn their misfortunes into personal triumphs over circumstance. So when our business failed, and we faced possible bankruptcy, we had no faith to fall back on. I don't know how long we would have gone on sinking in our self-pity, if it had not been for one memorable incident. It was the morning our conference was scheduled at the bank. We were waiting in the lobby when a young man in new civilian clothes entered. He took his place in line before one of the tellers' windows, swinging a money bag. We paid no attention to him, until I noticed with a shock that the "hand" which held the bag was not a hand at all, but a hook. As I watched, he reached the window and deftly untied the bag with a second mechanical device where his right hand should have been. He deposited the money, and as he turned to leave, an older man standing near-by called to him: "Say, Frank, have you got a minute? I'd like you to meet a friend." By this time my husband, too, was unashamedly watching. From the look of concern on his face, I could tell that his thoughts were running parallel to mine: How did a man shake hands when he didn't have any hands? Our question was soon answered, for the young veteran walked over to the two men and unhesitatingly extended the hook. For a moment I held my breath. With the greatest nonchalance he took the proferred device, and pumped it heartily. And I can honestly say that we met our appointment and our obligations with a lighter heart and firmer purpose, remembering that look. Mrs. G. K. B. Love That Red-Head (Continued from page 47) native Californian. My mother was a rich man's daughter who had never had to work a day in her life. My father died very suddenly when I was seven, and mother had to face the fact that we were practically penniless. Daddy had had an enormous practice, but there was no cash — and the books were an indecipherable mass of notations, "Pete, the blacksmith, grippe," "Old Mrs. Mason, arthritis." No dates, no amounts. We put them away with Daddy's medical library. A few months before I had sung and danced in an amateur show, a benefit performance for the Galveston Flood sufferers. My act attracted the attention of the manager of a road show company which was playing San Jose at the time. He sought out my mother and offered me a job. Mother got out his card now, and wrote to the man. Two weeks later, I was a permanent member of the company. I literally grew up in the theater, gradually giving up child star roles for soubrettes, ingenues, second leads, leads. At this point, I had my own company, managed by my mother and her new husband, the man who had offered me my first job. Time is time, and an actress can be a glamor girl just so long. I had the usual seven-year span as a leading lady — and married, and had a baby son, and saw the whole big, beautiful coun [ try — and then, gradually again, the t leads gave way to maturer women's ■ parts, then mothers. It was inevitable ', that I should end up playing soine body's Grandmother. I'm glad it turned out that I joined Red Skelton's family. Red and I got to know one another very well, trading life stories, and we became fast friends. One day, while we gossiped in the hall. Red said, "I'm going to have you on my show some day." "I can't wait," I said, meaning it. But I was going to wait, and longer than either of us thought. Red was soon to be out of radio for two yearsf seeing Italy and the South of France as a buck private. I had a long list of pompous ladies to play — for Joan Davis, Burns and Allen, Point Sublime, and other shows — before "Namah" was born. Red came back from the war with the Big Grandmother Idea. He had been looking, cooking, I think, for the right part for me. He said a lot of the boys wrote all the time to their grandmothers . . . there weren't any other radio grandmothers. Edna thought he had something there, and set up auditions for the part. I was one of a dozen character women who tried out for the character. I came into the studio late, but very eagerly. I hadn't seen my "Little-boy" pal since before he put on his khaki pants. I looked about for Red. His voice sang out over the mike from the control room. "That's my Grandma!" And that's all there was to that audition. 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