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There's Jane on the air . . . and
there's Jane at home. It takes a
very perceptive husband to draw the line that separates these ladies
ANE reads quite a lot. Reads novels. Reads the
fashion magazines. A few whodunits. But she is
not interested, I'm afraid, in the American Scene.
A little confused, let me put it that way, about politics.
You say to Jane, "The domestic situation is tough."
"Yes," she agrees. "Help is hard to get."
The other evening some friends dropped by and we got to talking about Stalin and Molotov. "Know what I think?" Jane asked us, "I think they are — Communists!"
I am often asked to describe the difference, if any, between Jane Ace and Jane Sherwood — whether, that is, Jane at home and Jane on the air are "alikes."
"Do you," an acquaintance recently inquired of me, "play straight man to Jane at home?"
No. No, I do not. Away from the mike, I am not a straight man. There is no need for me to be since Jane is not a comedienne off stage. She doesn't try to be funny. She hates funny women who tell jokes. She doesn't gab all the time, although she does, now and again, give you all the details. Nor do I try to be witty with her. She knows all the answers.
The way it is with Jane Ace (as with Jane Sherwood) she doesn't listen very closely to what's going on. What she does get of what's going on, her mind is ahead of you. You run into Jane Ace downtown and "What are you doing downtown?" you ask. The answer is "Just fine!" Or you say to Jane Ace, "That's a lovely dress you're wearing," and she says, "You do!"
Income tax baffles her. Completely. Come the Ides of last March and our income tax was, according to Jane, too high — she really believed the auditor was splitting it with the Government. "The auditor couldn't be doing all this," she said, "and getting nothing but $500 for it!"
And bills. Our bills, Jane laments, are something made up by a writer for the pulps. All the bills that come in — "our" bills — I suggest to her, are from Milgrim, Bergdorf, Saks-Fifth Avenue, coiffeurs. To which she replies, "Well, never mind. . ."
But this doesn't make Jane any different from, let's face it, other women. Almost every man I run into says of Jane (on the air), "My wife is just like that."
3i\ (joodi
[man
as told to Gladys Hall
/W
Unless you find a very erudite woman, a writer, perhaps, or a female doctor or lawyer, women are like that; are like Jane Sherwood. So, no less and not so very much more, is Jane Ace.
It was accidental, pur going on the air. That is, it was accidental that Jane went on the air.
To begin at the beguine, as Jane would put it, I was born in Kansas City, Mo., on January 15, 1900. Jane was also born in Kansas City, Mo., on — well, even her CBS biography leaves this blank. "To mention a lady's age," Jane would be sure to say, "I think it's abdominal!"
My first job was with the old Kansas City JournalPost. I wrote a comedy column every day. I was the motion picture critic. I wrote dramatic criticism — and anything else they had around the place.
I stayed with it for twelve years before breaking into radio — meanwhile marrying Jane, who had been my girl-friend through grade (Continued on page 77)
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