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.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
LIFE
The friendship between Sonja and Don Ameche is a real and lasting one — quite different from the headline romance which she shared with young Tyrone
derisive chuckles of the Garden committee. Wilhelm Henie stood a pace behind her, silent; he was a little miserable about the whole situation. Back in peaceful Oslo his chair by the fireplace sat empty while he • traveled in the shadow of this energetic girl — and sometimes he grew tired. He'd been right about coming to America, too. These men were most discouraging. Well, Sonja would have to convince them herself. It was her problem.
She was forthrightly trying to solve it. ''But my name is famous," she was saying. "I'm the world's greatest skater. You know it. And the people are interested."
"My dear young lady," said the committee's spokesman, "people are only mildly interested. America isn't skating-conscious. If you were a famous dancer, a notable singer — Besides, you want too much. A
Sonja and Selma, snapped off set during one of Mrs. Henie's daily visits
reasonable sum, perhaps — but fifty percent of the gross receipts!"
The committee chuckled again.
"You saw me here in 1932, when I won the world's championship in the Garden!" blazed Sonja. "You heard the applause!"
"That was a competition — a different thing."
"Then I will rent the Garden from you. and stage my own show."
The spokesman shifted uneasily. "That would cost you too much, Miss Henie," he told her seriously.
"I can afford it!"
"I'm afraid you couldn't. . ." And this time his tone held an unmistakable significance.
She turned, raging but still poised, at the door. "I will ask more money when you come to me," she said imperiously, and went out, followed by the silent Wilhelm.
DACK at the hotel she faced her parents. "It's ridiculous," she told them. "I have no time for such nonsense. I must put on exhibitions and be famous in this country, so Hollywood will be interested. I tell you, I will be in moving pictures before the year is out. Watch me!"
For once neither Selma nor Wilhelm felt strong enough to argue.
Less than a week later a Madison Square Garden talent scout called his employers long distance from Hershey, Pennsylvania. He had just seen the Garden's newest attraction, was even now waiting to interview her and offer a contract. Who? Sonja Henie, who danced on skates — beautiful, intelligent, exciting, glamorous, a showwoman of the first order. . . What? Absurd: the rink in Hershey had turned hundreds away, the crowd had gone mad. It was still going mad. Well, they could listen then. One minute while he got the booth door open — there. Hear that? Hear that thunder of hoarse shouting and that explosive applause? And it was fifteen minutes since she had taken her final bow.
Sonja sat in her Hershey hotel suite the next day and grinned wickedly at the Garden committee, who had come to her. "You (Continued on page 86)
63