Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

Contest prize: $430.00 Scholarship in Commercial Art Draw Me! Draw baby's head any size except a size that would look like a tracing. Use pencil. As winner of contest you get a complete art course — free training in commercial art. You are taught, individually, by professional artists on the staff of world's largest home study art school. Contest wanner also gets a set of drawing supplies and illustrated art textbooks. Entries for July 1960 contest must be received by July 31. None returned. Winner notified. Amateurs only. Our students not eligible. Mail your drawing today. ART INSTRUCTION, IN< STUDIO 6690 500 South 4th Street Minneapolis 15, Minnesota Please enter my attached drawing in your draw-a-head contest. (PLEASE PRINT) Name : AGE Occupation Address Apt City Zone County State "I know, Jimmy," she said through Evy. her interpreter. " — you don't like any big crowds. You're tired of them, too many people at once . . . But just this one night. I must have the big feast. In your and my Evy's honor . . . Just for the family — " She winked: " — about thirty of us; maybe a few more ... In your and my Evy's honor." By eight o'clock that night the part} had begun. And the relatives — hordes of them — began arriving. They came from all over, from Copenhagen proper, from surrounding towns and farms outside those towns; by car, by trolley, by train, by foot. They included an uncle, who played accordion, for those people who would dance; a few aunts, who sang, for those \ who would listen; several other women, aunts and cousins and nieces, who brought along quantities of homemade foods, to add to Mrs. Norlund's already-plentiful smorgasbord. By nine o'clock the party was in full swing and Jimmy, despite his silent apprehensions at first, found himself having a good time, a very good time. He danced. He sang along with the ever-singing aunts. He ate. And, though normally not a drinker, he drank a little of each of the several drinks being handed out by a jolly-faced oldtimer — a little beer at first, then some wine, then some of the hard stuff. And, more and more, he found himself having a good time, a very good time, for the first time in a long time. Until suddenly, at one point, while dancing with Evy, he saw a couple enter the room from the outside hallway — and with them a small boy. four or five years old. "Look," Evy said, spotting them too, at practically the same moment, "my favorite cousin, Helga, and her husband . . . And they've brought the little son, Kurt." She led Jimmy over to them and introduced them, first Helga, then her husband, then the boy. "Hello," Jimmy said to all three, but never removing his eyes from the boy's. "Now Jimmy," he heard the girl called Helga say, after a moment, "though we do not speak English well, my husband and I, we have taught our boy to give you a greeting in your language ... Go ahead, Kurt . . . Say what we taught you." The little boy stiffened, and cleared his throat. And then, very slowly, he said: "My name is Kurt ... I give you welcome ... I hope you like our city . . . And I hope when you return to the United States of America that you will bring my greeting to your own city of — " He stopped. "Hollywood?" asked Evy. "Ja." said the boy, " — Holly-vood." The others laughed. Jimmy nodded. "Thank you," he said, not laughing, "thank you very much." He put his hand on the boy's head and. for a short moment, he closed his eyes. And then, opening them, he excused himself and turned and walked back across the room, through the still-dancing crowd, to the spot where the jolly-faced oldtimer was still handing out the drinks. . . . The haunted honeymoon Evy looked over at him from the bed, as he stood near the window, staring out at the night, intently, the way he had stared at the boy, downstairs, a little while earlier. She looked at him for a long time, saying nothing. And then, finally, she spoke. "Why don't you talk about him, Jimmy?" she asked, softly. "It will make you feel better." "Talk about who?" asked Jimmy, his voice little more than a flat whisper. "Your son," Evy said. "I know you're thinking of him. I understand how you feel . . . You never talk about him, Jimmy. But please, turn around — and talk about him to me. It will make you feel better." "No, Evy," he said, not turning. "I won't feel any better. And you'll feel worse." Then he said, "Haven't I done enough, enough to spoil this honeymoon of ours?" "It's a beautiful honeymoon," Evy said. "You haven't spoiled anything . . . It's a beautiful honeymoon, Jimmy." He shook his head. "I wanted it to be," he said. "But how can it be? ... A honeymoon is for two people, Evy. That's a simple fact about honeymoons, Evy. Everybody knows that about honeymoons . . . But we're not alone, are we? There's a third person with us. He's been with us since the minute we started. He's going to be with us, more and more, as we go along ... I know it's not right . . . But I can't get him out of my mind." "He's your son," Evy said. "You must never get him out of your mind. You must think of him always." "Think of him?" Jimmy asked, laughing suddenly, a low and hollow laugh. "Think of him? . . . That's all I do, Evy, is think of him. And it's not fair to you ... I think of him. I dream about him. And in all my thoughts and dreams, do you know what he's doing?" He paused. "What?" Evy asked. "He's forgetting me," Jimmy said. "Day by day, hour by hour, he's looking around for me with those big black eyes of his. And he doesn't see me. And so he's forgetting me . . . Like you forget anything you aren't around all the time. Like with me, when I go back to South Philly sometimes, to the street where I was born, where I used to play, where I grew up — I realize when I get back there how much I've forgotten about it . . . All because I've been away so long. . . ." He took a deep breath. "That's how it is with people, things, Evy," he said then. "How it was with me. How it is with my son . . . You forget . . . You can't help it. And God, Evy, God, but I don't want my little boy to forget me!" Evy got out of the bed and rushed over to him and took him in her arms. "Jimmy," she said, "it's getting cold here, by the open windows. You should come to bed." Again he shook his head. "Not now." he said, "not for just a little while." "Jimmy," Evy said, "I'm not going to leave you till you come back with me. I'll stand here all night." "Just a little while more," he said. "I Want to be alone, just a little while more." "Jimmy — please." Evy said, begging now. "No," he said, his voice loud, angry. "I said I — " But he stopped. And he clutched her suddenly. And he buried his face in her neck, and he began to cry. As she said, very softly, "Jimmy, Jimmy . . . It's going to be all right . . . You'll see. . . ." How it is in Copenhagen It was the following morning. Evy walked into their room and handed Jimmy a letter that had just come from the States. The handwriting on the envelope was Gloria's. But the return address was marked "James Darren, Jr." Jimmy opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper inside it. On the paper was a drawing, crude and comical, of a little boy. Below it, printed in large and slanting letters, were the words: "DEAR DADDY, I LOVE YOU" Jimmy and Evy looked up from the paper after a while, and at one another. And somehow, they both began to laugh. "I told you," Evy said, "that this is the way it would be in Copenhagen — on our honeymoon. Didn't I, Jimmy? "I told you," Evy said, laughing even more, and bending to kiss her husband. "I told you — !" end Jimmy will star in Gtjns Of Navarone, for Columbia.