Radio-TV mirror (July-Dec 1952)

The Secret of a Good Life (Continued from page 36) accomplished pianist. Her mother was a singer who trained her three daughters to sing and harmonize from childhood — the Pickens Sisters started early, and Jane was a happy and talented member of this trio. When Marcella was born, the doctors told Jane that her baby would require many operations. Then came the loss of her husband. Then one blow followed another, as she learned that Marcella couldn't be helped in weeks or months or even a few years. There would have to be constant attendance, a change of climate in winter and summer, special treatments. It would be a long time, an indefinite time. "Even today, after all these years, I remember that period as the most desperate time in my life," Jane says. "The problems to be faced and the decisions to be made for the baby and myself nearly paralyzed me with fear." In every sense of the word, Jane's family had always been good Christians, respected by their neighbors, but, like many people, they hadn't gone to church regularly and had never taken religion very seriously. Jane herself just didn't miss religion until everything turned itself inside out. "My outlook couldn't have been worse then," she remembers. "There were plenty of people with advice, some of it good, but it didn't work for me. I wanted to make my own decision and I turned to God as instinctively as a sick child turns to his mother." Jane's religious experience was so deeply felt that out of it she developed a philosophy rich enough to cope with every need of her life. "I began to think of faith, hope and charity and just what it meant to me and everyone I knew, and my life took on new meaning," she says. "I found there was enough guidance and meaning in religion to meet every crisis or doubt we face in this modern world. "Patience must have been the first thing I learned," she adds, "and how can you have patience unless you have faith in God's working for the good of man? "I think it's the time element which defeats most of us," Jane noted. "If we can't fix something immediately, we get a sense of hopelessness and depression. Without faith, no human being can endure gradual progress which would otherwise seem endless." Jane's goal was to get Marcy as physically fit as possible and, along with this, she wanted Marcy to develop independence: "No human being has dignity without it." And, step by step, Marcy— as Jane calls her daughter — is developing independence of her own. Marcy, now eighteen, has never walked. But she is a model young woman, lovely, intelligent and diligent. She is a fine artist and twice has won awards in the Chicago Tribune contests for fashion designs. Marcy thinks for herself and makes her own decisions. "Everything besides Marcy was and is secondary, but I found my new understanding of religion helpful in many other ways," Jane tells you. "Now, suppose there's a neighbor who makes your life miserable. What do you do about it? Do you fight back with name-calling and malicious gossip?" Jane found herself in a similar situation some years ago, when she was singing in a Broadway show. It was before she attained star billing and she shared the stage at various times with others in the revue. A few of these people teamed up on her. They were rude: They purposely used coarse, vulgar language in her presence and insulted her in the same terms. "I felt like " crying many times, and I did privately," she recalls. "I wouldn't like it any more today, but then I was much younger and it was a real shock." But Jane's reaction wasn't entirely emotional. When in trouble, she tries to analyze the situation. Whether or not she arrives at the right solution, at least she understands better what is happening. She decided these few people in the show were, for some reason, afraid of her — either out of jealousy or fear that she could hurt them on or off stage. Instead of fighting back on their terms, she continued to treat them pleasantly. In time, they saw that Jane was a friend without a petty bone in her system. "That goes right back to faith, hope and charity," she states. "And there's a quotation, although the exact words fail me. 'He drew a circle that shut me out . . . but Love and I had the wit to win — we drew a circle that took him in.' Don't you think that would work in a community as well as the theatre?" Jane lives alone in a Manhattan apartment. Marcy must be South during the winter for her health and then again dur A LETTER FROM HOME Have YOU written our boys in service this month . . . this week . . . this day ? ing the summer she goes to the country. Jane visits her frequently and, in-between times, Marcy comes to New York. There is always time for real living in Jane's crowded schedule. Every morning Jane practices for a full hour. And this is an ordeal — painful, tedious work, but she never misses. After work, she answers all the phone calls that have accumulated. There is no time for lunch and her pick-up is merely gelatin and crackers before she rushes off to the NBC studio to rehearse and broadcast her five-day-aweek show. From the broadcast, she goes into conference with the producer and writers, meets with her manager, stops for fittings, pauses for an interview and devotes time and thought to the work of the Cerebral Palsy Foundation. She is National Co-Chairman, along with Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Kate Smith and Arthur Godfrey. Her position is not a mere title, for once or twice a week she travels to any part of the country to lecture and to organize local committees. Jane's intense interest in the Cerebral Palsy Foundation came about through her religious experience. Curiously enough, it was the same philosophy which also solved a social block. A long time ago she had a fear of meeting people. No matter how satisfied she was with her appearance, when she got to a party, she froze up inside. Shyness? "That's what we call it," Jane says, "but sometimes it's a matter of being too absorbed with ourselves. In a way it's selfishness, nasty word that it is." Religion taught Jane to project herself, interest herself in the welfare and problems of others. When she met strangers, she began drawing them out. She found each person had something different and stimulating to offer. Instead of fearing a strange gathering, she was excited at the idea of meeting new people. This projection, when extended, accounts for her broader and deeper interest in the Palsy Foundation. And when Jane gets lonely, for celebrities are no more immune than anyone else, she may listen to music or read a while for diversion, but invariably she begins to think of something constructive she can do for herself and others. "I get constant inspiration from the Good News Reel letters on my program." she says. "It's amazing how one good act is like a spark that starts off a chain reaction of good events." Recently, Jane read a letter from a little girl named Margery Jean who was dying of cancer. It was a courageous letter that the girl had written without the knowledge of her parents. She wasn't concerned with herself, but she wanted to know why her family couldn't get out of their cramped, pitiful home and into a decent house. Well, another woman heard Jane read the letter, a woman whose best friend had just died of cancer. She wrote Jane that the little girl's letter had given her new hope, the will to live. And that wasn't all. Margery Jean's own neighbors were so moved by the girl's faith that they moved her family into a better home. Margery Jean got to live there two weeks before she died. "When you face a problem, even if it's an incurable illness, the terror fades away," Jane says. "People can't make anything of their lives when they live in fear." Just about five years ago Jane was literally at the end of her rope. Her bookings fell off and for six months she was out of work. In the meantime, her bills and Marcy 's piled up. "I'm a singer but, according to my manager, no one wanted to hear me sing. What could be worse?" Instead of wallowing in her own misery, Jane practiced more strenuously than ever. She came up with fresh ideas, new interpretations of songs. She told herself things would work out well. And fortunately, as she puts it herself, she was introduced to Moe Gale, one of the top managers in the country. "I was sold on Jane immediately,'' he remembers. "God had given her a fine mind and a great voice for doing good. I saw that her problem was a temporary thing, for Jane is the kind of person who does things outside herself, in the interest of others. A person with that kind of attitude can't fail." Jane's comeback is now show-business history. She recovered so quickly that by 1949 she was offered the starring role in "Regina," the famous musical version of "The Little Foxes." The part called for not only a great singer but a woman who could act, as well. "There were doubts about my dramatic ability," Jane recalls. "I had never before attempted such a part on Broadway. But I pitched right in. I knew I could do it." Well, New York music and drama critics are merciless, sparing no one who falters. But they were unanimous in acclaiming Jane's performance. "Meeting a crisis squarely, intelligently and calmly is the most difficult but most effective way to get along," Jane observes. "We all have daily doubts: The baby's cold could turn into a fever, the budget won't stretch, hubby is upset by his boss, the Smiths and Browns will likely ruin your party with an argument." Jane smiles and, with her hand, just pushes them all aside. "Well, if you tell yourself everything's go R ing to work out all right, you can save M yourself a lot of grief and misery. And many times it's that positive attitude itself which makes things better."