Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

BOY'S CINEMA Every Tuesday His business ruined by a whispering campaign on the part of a rival firm, Stephen Brewster becomes a rumour racketeer himself by way of revenge—and lands in jail because he repents. A fast-moving drama from the Columbia picture in which the part of Stephen Brewster is played by Jack Holt BEYOND THE LAW THE sudden death of Linda Morgan, announced in practically every newspaper of Europe and Ameiuca, came as a shock to all music lovers—and as a blow to Stephen Brewster, of Brewster Products, Incorporated. The glamorous opera star, often described as "the darling of two continents," had helped tremendously to make the Brewster beauty preparations popular with the public by letting it be stated in every possible form of advertise- ment that she used them exclusively her- self, and it was to be feared that her death would involve a considerable loss of sales unless some equally famous beauty could be found to fill the gap. On the day the blow fell, Stephen Brewster was at his desk in his private office, high above New York's fashionable Fifth Avenue, frowning heavily at the newspaper in which he had read the announcement, when Red Barrett, his general manager, walked into the room with a gloomy expression on his long, clean-shaven face, and several lay-outs for advertisements and showcards under his arm. All the lay-outs bore pictures of Linda Morgan—and had been rendered useless overnight. Stephen Brewster's mouth was tight-lipped beneath a little brown moustache as he looked at them one by one. "I can hardly believe it." he said un- happily. " She was here only last week and in perfect health." He handed the lay-outs back to Red. whose hair was as brown as his eyes, and whose nickname was really a contraction of "Rcdfern," his fvill narhe being Alfred Rcdfern Barrett. "And her name meant so much lo us," mourned Red. "Yes." Steve looked up at him. 'But it means more than a business loss to mc. Red. I'd known her for years." Red was not Uickinc in sentiment, b\it .Noveuilioi- :.'r,lli, l'.':;',i. as general manager he had to be practical. "I've told the advertising department to hold everything until we can find a new celebrity," he said. "Have you any suggestions for another endorser?" "No," Steve replied with a shake of his head, " but I'll go as high as twenty-five thousand dollars for a worth-while name." "For that much money we should get the Queen of Sheba!" "All right. Red—get busy!" Farther down Fifth Avenue, but equally remote from the pavement of that thoroughfare, the head offices of the House of Crandall were situated on the seventh floor of a mammoth building, and the House of Crandall dealt in cosmetics. Towards noon, on that same day, the general manager of the concern, George Harley, was dictating letters to a girl secretary when the door of his room was opened noisily and a very tall and dark- haired young fellow with a moustache of no greater proportions than Steve Brewster's crossed the carpet to the desk in three long strides. "Hi, Bei'nice," he greeted, with a wave of his hand for the secretary. "Good- morning, Mr. Harley!" George Harley, a short and tubby man with greying brown hair, a massive face, and a double chin, scowled at the new- comer through gold-rimined spectacles. Like most men of his stature he was in- clined to be pompous. "Where have you been all morning?" he d(!manded irritably. "Busy." Fred Bowman, advertising manager of the House of Crandall, struck an attitude. "Something important!" Harley was not impressed. "Where's that la.v-out for 'Lash- Lustre '? ' he rapped. " There's a man waiting for it outside. Got it ready?" " Nope—and he can wait. I've got some- thing else here that'll knock you for a loop! " The girl .secretary rose and departed with her notebook and pencil, at a gesture from Harley, and Fred Bowman spread out upon the desk three pictorial adver- tisements he had been holding behind his broad back. "Brewster's ads!" exploded Harle.y. "Are you working for Brewster, or for tlie House of Crandall?" "I'm working for Crandall." was the cheerful reply. "Take another look at those ads." A long forefinger pointed. "See? Linda Morgan—Linda Morgan— Linda Morgan." "Well, what of it? " challenged Harley. " Linda Morgan's dead—so they get some- one else to endorse their products. What's that got to do with us?" Fred Bowman grinned. "A whole lot." he retorted, "if you'll only give me a chance to explain." He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. "What if word got around that their lip- stick, or lotion, poisoned her?" Harley pursed his lips and raised his brows. "Well, it certainly wouldn't help Brewster sales any." "That's right—and it would make a nice opening for us. We could sure use it!" Harley was tempted, but resisted temptation. "No." he said, "the boss would never stand for it." "The bo.ss won't be back from Europe for six months, and you know it. Besides, who's to toll? It's a cinch. Harley—a set- up! Why, we'd double our business in no time, and that would mean a nice fat bonus for the both of us>" Harley rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. ■Just how would you go about it?" he questioned. 1 s i