We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
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IT was the annual outdoor picnic at Sawtelle Government Hospital. Veterans sat on chairs on the lawn, their scars of wars forgotten, as they watched the program being given on the wooden platform before them.
Suddenly the sun went behind a cloud and it began to rain. Some of the men ran for nearby trees to take cover. Then, as though drawn by a magnet, all returned to their seats. A little girl in a shiny blue metallic dress was up there singing her heart out in the rain. Her clear voice rang out gaily . . . “Come, come, I love you only. . . .”
One of the veterans got an umbrella and held it over her. Another got one for the accompanist. As she finished on a high sweet note, the rain stopped abruptly and the sun shone. There was quiet. Then the thunder of applause.
As the girl stepped down from the platform, an elderly veteran put his hand on her shoulder and said in a moved voice, “You see, Jane Powell, all you have to do is sing and the sun comes out.”
Many of the others didn’t even know her. Their tribute wasn’t for Metro-poldwyn-Mayer’s sensational new singing star, but for a girl in a blue dress who reached out to them with a golden voice and a warm smile and made them feel a little happy again.
This is the story of that girl. A little girl with enormous blue eyes who didn’t mean to be a star — and ( Continued on page 95)
Fink A Smith
Fink A Smith
An apple a day for the pride of Portland which named a park for Jane
She sings opera arias, but her choice is strictly boogie
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