Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

ps,. TOMORROW'S STARS 'T'HE radiant, glamorous beauty of the screen stars can now be yours. For the very same methods which the famous stars of the screen and stage use to acquire and maintain their beauty are now revealed by Sylvia of Hollywood in her new book, No More Alibis. Madame Sylvia is the personal beauty adviser to Hollywood's most brilliant stars. It is she who guards and preserves the exquisite charms of the screen's awe-inspiring beauties. It is she who transforms ordinary looking women into dreams of loveliness. In this book Sylvia reveals for the first time all of her carefully guarded health and beauty secrets . . . the treatments and methods which have made her a power in Hollywood. She gives special attention to reducing and building up the body and covers the subject thoroughly with suggested exercises, illustrated by photographs and excellent diets. Some of the subjects covered in this book are: Too Much Hips, Reducing Abdomen, Reducing the Breasts, Slenderizing the Legs and Ankles, Squeezing Off Fat, Gain Fifteen or More Pounds a Month Develop Your Legs, Drooping Shoulders, Clothes Tips for Structural Defects. A Firm Lovely Face, Double Chins, Refining Your Nose, Skin Beauty, Beautiful Hands and Feet. Overcome Nervousness, During and After Pregnancy, The Woman Past Forty. Only 1.00 No More Alibis gives you the very same information for which the screen stars have paid fabulous sums. Yet the price of this book is only $1.00. If unobtainable at your local department or book store, mail the coupon below — now. [ Macfadden Book Company, Inc. j Dept. RM-1 1,1926 Broadway, New York, N. Y. ■ Send me. postage prepaid, the book. "No I I More Alibis!' enclose $1.00. by Sylvia of Hollywood. Name. . . Address. City | State. ' 72 RADIO MI RROR burgers because she was a girl? Honeychile was helping pay her way through Baylor by singing in a choir. She also sang jazz and did comic imitations at the college theatricals. One day the owner of a Waco Hotel offered her $20 for a weekly performance. It was June. Rambler roses ran riot over the barbed wire fences around Waco. Honeychile was telling the Yankee of her good fortune. Her first chance to perform as a professional! As she broke off a cluster of scarlet buds, she scratched her hand slightly. The Yankee kissed it with a great show of emotion. "The owner of that pretty little hand isn't going to do anything so crude as singing jazz and telling jokes in a hotel!" he told her. "I just couldn't see my girl doing anything like that!" "But 1 want a career as a comedienne more than anything in the world. And I want so to help Dad." "A home and children is the career for a sweet thing like you," he began. They were still discussing pros and cons when they came on a hot dog and hamburger wagon. A terrible desire gripped Honeychile. The smell of onions and frying meat was a heavenly fragrance. It became for her a sort of symbol — a test. If he'd just give her her way in one small thing! "Just this once," she pleaded. "Ice cream!" he grinned implacably. The plates with their pink and white and brown Neapolitan slices were handed out by a scrawny little girl with limp brown hair. Big blue circles were under her eyes, her face pinched with long, hard hours of labor. As she placed the plates on the counter, her hand slipped and a wedge of ice cream landed square on the Yankee's vest. "Why, you hopeless little fool !" he snapped, his voice hard and cruel as a whip. "I'm going to report you for that, and see that you get fired!" "A man like that makes an unbearable husband," finished Honeychile. With the poor little waitress he'd nothing to gain by his chivalry and his true, ugly self came popping out. What he really wanted under the pose of putting women on a pedestal was to own them like property. Dominate them completely. Sure he doesn't like his women to work, to become free and fulfilled so they don't need his kind!" AFTER Honeychile I sought that favorite of the intellectuals, Cornelia Otis Skinner. In life, as oh stage and radio, she is a woman of understanding, sensibility and tolerance. Highly intelligent, she still puts heart above head, fineness of feeling above brilliant thinking. And the man she feels is most dangerous to girls like herself — girls who love culture and cleverness but who hate inhumanity and arrogance — is the intellectual snob. A couple of years before she conceived the idea for solo dramas, when she was still acting usual parts in usual plays, she went for a between-season jaunt to Venice. This was prior to her marriage, and as the What Is the Story Behind the Goodwill Court? Why did this program become so popular it took the place of the Major Bowes Amateur Hour Sunday nights? The December issue of RADIO MIRROR brings you the inspiring story of A. L Alexander, the man who made these the most talked about broadcasts in the country. Don't miss it in the December issue. American colony in Venice is small, she found herself pairing off frequently with a brilliant young newspaper man. Well-informed, with a grand gift of gab. he was able to dominate the salons of the socially and artistically great. Whether conversation ran to books, politics or history, he was invariably the most brilliant man in the room. She said to him one afternoon, "Tomorrow night I want you to dine with a couple of friends of mine." They were Jim and Lottie Shanks, a darling, funny old pair she had met and grown fond of on the boat coming over. They had been very poor before oil was struck on their Oklahoma farm. Now, with more than a million dollars, they were determined to make up for all the fun they'd missed in their hard-working youth. Hearty farmer folk, their toil-worn faces simple and innocent, they had answered many an appeal for charity on the boat, but they hadn't been stupid about it. They stood out among the smart throng on deck not, she thought, to their disadvantage. THE following evening gondolieri in swanky, crested uniforms appeared at Miss Skinner's hotel. The Shanks had been thoughtful enough to send their private boats for their guests. They had rented a great palazzo, furniture, servants and all. • Two uniformed footmen were waiting for them with torches when they reached the palazzo landing. A butler opened the door and extended a piece of planking. Before they had time to ascend, the Shanks, themselves, came running out to meet them. "Gosh, it's nice to see you!" called Jim Shanks, a bit clumsy and uncomfortable in his evening clothes. "We're awfully lonely," confided Lottie. The dinner was laid in a huge Renaissance dining hall with painted ceiling, stucco walls and floors of tile mosaic. Drawn up to the long refectory table were priceless old carved choir stalls. But one of these had been replaced by a shabby Morris chair. "I can't seem to get comfortable in those stiff things," apologized Jim Shanks, sitting down in it. Up to this time Miss Skinner's escort had maintained a shocked silence. "But it's so original," he now remarked. "I don't think I've ever seen Grand Rapids mixed with Early Renaissance before!" The dinner was too lavish and elaborate. All through its many courses he wisecracked over the heads of their hosts. He was scrupulously over polite. He imitated Mr. Shanks' mispronunciation of Palazzo. He called everything elegant and handsome, two favorite adjectives of Mrs. Shanks'. Cornelia sat in agony, glossing over his sarcasm as best she could. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Shanks were no fools, that they were simple and easily hurt. How could a man of so much intelligence be so stupid as to think periods of furniture more important than kindness? The Shanks' excessive desire to please her was by no