Radio-TV mirror (July-Dec 1952)

I Never Lost the Dream (Continued from page 35) I would tell Powell, "and see Europe." "Sure," he answered, smiling tolerantly. And that was all. All for him. But I have always believed that anything is possible. And I never lost my dream. It was a January day of this year that I stayed home from work with runny eyes, a red nose and a box of nose tissue. During the day I phoned my sister, the one who is a housewife, and she told me about a new television show, The Big Pay-Off. "Guess what the prizes are! A mink coat and a trip to Paris for two," she told me. At three o'clock that afternoon, I tuned in the show and my dream got a new lease on life. When Powell got home from work, I was all excited. "You have to write a letter this evening," I said, then described the show. Randy Merriman asks a husband or boy friend four questions. The first three correct answers "pay off" in women's clothes and accessories. But, for the fourth correct answer, it's Paris in mink. "You have to write the program and tell why your wife deserves these prizes," I added. "Ridiculous." "Surely you can think of some reason why I deserve to be a winner." He sighed and said, "Of course, I can think of plenty. But it's silly. We wouldn't stand a chance in the world of getting on the show." "Anything is possible," I said, and argued and coaxed and coaxed and argued, and two weeks later Powell wrote the letter. The letter described our meeting, which was a bit different from the usual boymeets-girl. The boy was a patient in a Philadelphia hospital. He had spent four nightmarish years in the Army, the last two in battle in the South Pacific, where the fighting was bad and his buddies were killed daily. And he was recovering very slowly from his war injuries because he lacked spirit. The girl was in a group which had come to cheer up the patients and, when she saw the soldier, she said, "What a solemnlooking character you are!" Powell later told me it was the first remark that had pierced his despair. Everyone else had been sympathetic but serious. Well, the girl came back frequently and stopped to see the soldier every time. She learned from doctors and nurses that he was extremely depressed. This was delaying his recovery. She was sympathetic but refused to show it. She would tease him, talk general nonsense, sometimes tell him about her dates. Then, one day, he suddenly came to life and talked for a solid hour. When she left that afternoon, she kissed him. From that day, when Powell began to talk freely, his recovery was rapid. In fact, he quotes the doctor as saying, "A pretty girl sometimes does more for a man than all the doctors put together." Well, pretty or not, it didn't tell the whole story. It was love that actually helped in the healing, for that's what Powell and I had for each other. That was the incident Powell described in his letter to The Big Pay-Off. "You only saved my life," Powell told me, "and if you don't deserve a chance at those prizes, no wife does." R He mailed the letter on January twentyfirst, and my hopes were high. I'd been preparing for a trip to Europe all my life. From childhood, Mother, who was a native of Vienna, had entranced me con80 tinually with stories of the Continent. As a youngster, I collected foreign postcards. I read travel books by the ton and spent three years in college studying French in hopes that some day I would get abroad. Oh, I was anxious, all right. A week later, we received a short reply from the office of The Big Pay-Off. They asked us to be in their offices on Friday, February the first, for an interview, to determine whether we would be on the show. And Powell was away, visiting his father in York, Pennsylvania. I lost no time in getting to a telephone and placing a long-distance call. "Why don't you take a train to New York Thursday and I'll leave after work and meet you in New York." "Well—" "But you are only three hours from New York now," I said hurriedly. Of course, he didn't really have much time to think in a three-minute call. And he agreed. By coincidence, we both walked into a hotel lobby at the same time Thursday night. "I told you it was possible," I said first thing. "They aren't guaranteeing that we'll be on the show." "We will," I said confidently. The next morning, we were in the outer office of the producer with five other couples, waiting to be interviewed. And we were the last to go in. That was the first time we met Randy Merriman, who emcees the show with Bess Myerson. Well, Randy was amiable and wonderful, immediately putting us at ease. "Let's call each other by our first names," he said. He asked us questions about the letter Powell had sent, how we lived and what we did. Then he told us to wait outside a few minutes. We did, holding hands, and then he came out and said, "You kids are going to be on this afternoon." We both jumped up. "Now try to relax," Randy said, "but don't be surprised if you're nervous. Honestly, I always get a lump in my stomach before every show." We found ourselves on the streets then, just aimlessly walking around, waiting for time to report back to the studio. Someone had said there was no sense in going MOVING? For prompt change of address,' please notify us six weeks beforehand; otherwise, some issues may miss you. Also, some back copies may not be available. Write to MACFADDEN PUBLICATIONS, INC., 205 E. 42ND ST., NEW YORK 17, N. Y. Send both old and new address, and if possible, enclose mailing label from a recent copy of your Radio-TV Mirror Magazine. It's possible to have your mailing address corrected by filing your new address with the Post Office; they will notify us. However, if delayed and we dispatch current magazine before that notice reaches us, it means added expense to you because the Post Office will not forward copies unless you pay extra postage. to the library to study — there was one' chance in a thousand that we would hit on the questions that would be on the. show. We walked up and down Broadway,; our eyes open but seeing nothing. And about one o'clock we reported to the' studio. When the show began, we suddenly discovered that it wasn't absolutely certain we would be on. We were the last of four couples and there . was another couple carried over from the preceding day. If we didn't get on that Friday afternoon, we'd be out of luck, for Powell had to be back at work Monday morning. We sat in the audience while the other contestants went before the cameras. And. then we got the signal to go into the wings of the stage. None of the other couples had gotten beyond the second question, so they were moving rapidly. I still get nervous just thinking about those minutes. By then, our brains were positively rattling, Powell's especially, for he had to answer the questions. Powell's knees were figuratively buckling and then Bess Myerson came by, put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a little pep talk. Then we were separated and I found myself being led out to the "wishing chair" and there was Powell up in front of the cameras with Randy Merriman. From then on, I was practically feverish. The first question, a musical one, was for shoes, lingerie and a dozen pairs of hose. "For your Big Pay-Off starter," Randy said, "tell me the title of this song." They played the music. I knew it well but couldn't think of the title, and I realized then what they mean by "freezing up." Then I heard Randy say, "Speak up, Powell." Powell said, "My Darling, My Darling." The audience applauded and a model was demonstrating the next prizes: A lovely purse, a handmade Chinese cocktail hat, costume jewelry and a party dress. "Here's the second question," said Randy. "The gates of a Hungarian prison opened in December of 1951 and four American flyers were freed. The Hungarian government invoked a heavy ransom for the release of these men. Within ten-thousand dollars, what was the amount of money paid by the United States Government?" (Pause, big pause.) "If you read your newspapers, you'll know that one." (And how many times had I been irked when Powell hid himself behind the evening paper?) "One hundred and twenty thousand dollars." "Right on the nose," Randy called out. The audience reaction was deafening and right then and there I began to tremble all over. I hardly saw the next set of prizes — luggage, perfume and a diamond wrist-watch. My mind was on Paris. At that point, Randy pulled out his handkerchief and mopped Powell's face before he read the next question. "President Truman nominated an American General to be the first United States Ambassador to the State of the Vatican City on October 20, 1951. Name this General." "General Mark Clark." "Right again." There was the uproar again from out front. I could feel the excited expectation of the audience, for we were now headed for the big pay-off. Randy and Bess stood on either side of Powell for support. Then there was a tense quiet as Randy began. "For a mink coat and a trip to Paris," he said, "we're looking for the American