Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1941)

GIRL BAIT Amazing Confessions of a Murder, Inc., Henchman COR months you've read about smasliing the nation's most sinister crime syndicate — Murfler, Inc. And you were shocked to learn that man\ of these gunmen were mere boys — a legion of innocent youths recruited into a vicious army of crime menacing our young men and threatening our freedom as surely as an invading horde ! "Girl Bait" is the astonishing confession of a former teen-age Murder, Inc., gangman with an luininating introduction by Austin McCormick, wellknown crime commissioner. Begin it now in True Story for November ! YOU CAN WEIGH WHAT YOU WANT Dieting — ■ no longer a rigidly malnutritions formula. Today any healthy woman can be enchantingly slim — provided she has a reasonable amount of patience and scientific facts to guide her. "Weight Control — ^'ou Can Weigh What You Want," appearing in November True Story, is a truly remarkable article of wise instruction by Dr. Norman R. Goldsmith, l)rominent beautician. Nina Wilcox Putnam, tiie famous author, recently reduced 47 pounds by this simple method. Don't miss this educational feature in the new True Story! In This Issue ir Eddie Cantor's Favorite Love Story if Life With Benny — by Mory Livingstone il The Secret Thoughts of Wol/y Windsor ■ir We Shall Build Good Ships — stirring book-length novel and a host of fasciiidtiug True Storji features and departments 76 compassionate. Jill was holding me in her arms and it was all right. All at once I knew that it would always be all right so long as I was with her! I knew that . . . and I wanted to shout, shout! But instead, I choked up and began crying like a baby. "Forgive me, Jill," I said. "I love you!" "Do you sweet?" She was whispering. I nodded, unashamed of the wet that was on my face. I was glad and crazy and mixed up — and in love as I had never been in love before in all my life! I T WAS a fine California winter, the days bright and warm, and the nights crisp with wind and crystal clear. I bought a season ticket for the Coliseum and Jill and I went every Saturday. One evening we decided to drive down to Laguna for dinner, but the car raced through the night, making scarcely a sound, and we went on to San Diego. The streets were thick with sailors and girls. Welcome Navy signs appeared everywhere. Jill and I ate dinner and drove to the harbor. Warships lay at anchor, side by side. Destroyers, four abreast; long, sleek submarines; cruisers and tenders. Their yardarms blinked; searchlights combed the sky. A night squadron of Navy Boeings roared overhead. We were silent, just sitting there in the car, and then Jill spoke very softly. "California's beautiful, isn't it? It's pretty . . . and has sunshine, and some very nice people in it." " — Such as Jill Lynn." "You're sweet! Only — I was thinking of Vicky." "Oh." "She'll always be between us, won't she? We both loved her, and she'll be there. . . ." "Jill?" "Yes?" "I — want you to know something." I was turned toward her, my elbow on the steering wheel. "Vicky was all honey and silver. She was laughter at midnight. Only she wasn't the first girl I ever had — but you are the first, because it's all different . . . I'm supposed to be eloquent. But I don't know how else to tell you!" She was looking down. "It's — nice of you to say that, darling. Even if you don't mean it." "But I do!" She was crying suddenly. "Do you know — I believe it! "Drive, darling," she said a bit later. "Drive along the shore." "Okay, and you sing." I drove down the long ribbon of road, the headlights glowing through the night, and Jill sang. The sky was silver with dawn when we arrived back in Hollywood. The streets were still and the rows of tall palms stood like lonely totems. I pulled up to the apartment and saw her to the door. I walked back to the car, whistling. Ed Cornell was sitting in the front seat. LIE WORE a thin, shabby topcoat, and ' ' he sat there shivering, his hands jammed in the pockets. "Isn't it rather early in the morning for ghouls, Mr. Cornell?" His white face was gaunt and haggard. "I've been waiting for you since midnight," he said. "I was over there — across the street. You didn't even see me when you drove up." "What do you want?" "The usual things." He coughed. "You — you can drive me — to my hotel — if you wiU. I think I've caught pneumonia waiting for you. The cars haven't begun running yet. I can't afford taxi fare. It's five miles." "You've got nerve, I'll say that." "I've spent too much of my own money following you already." "I'm crying." "But they'll reimburse me when I bring in the material for your trial. They usually do in these cases." He had begun snuffling. "You'll drive me, won't you?" I started the car. I hated his highpitched voice. It was a sort of nasal tenor, all one tone. "I hope it isn't pneumonia," said Ed The Jill and Peg of Phofoplay-Movie Mirror's "I Wake Up Screaming" as the screen will see them: Betty Grable and Victor Mature get set for Fox's "Hot Spot" PHOTOPLAY conibiiied with movie mirror