Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

RADIO MIRROR means unlovable, and not nearly so crude as his behavior. "I never had any use for him after that night." said Miss Skinner. "Among my friends are all sort of people — ditch diggers, wardrobe mistresses, even millionaires. 1 should find it very dreary to know only one sort of people. And I couldn't bear a husband who'd be cruel to my friends!' MY last interview was with Rosemary Lane, Fred Waring's lovely soprano, Rosemary has a flowerlike exquisiteness which seems to flow directly from her character. She likes to think things out and knows how to come to honest, wise conclusions better than many an older, more experienced woman. "If you value harmony in living," she advises, "never allow yourself to become emotionally interested in a man who's so insecure he can't take a big success or a little failure. Let me tell you how I know." She was standing in the big NBC studio foyer in the free moment of a rehearsal. Everybody meets everybody with informality in that luxurious velvet lobby, so she wasn't surprised when a loose-limbed, tall angular youth she'd once met casually came loping up. He had a homely, likable face, an ingratiating male awkwardness, and red hair. "Hello. Rosemary," he said in a voice that matched his smile, "After watching you closely for a week, I certainly know you well enough to want to know you better!" He was one of radio's phenomena. With no training to speak of, he'd come to New York bent on being an actor. A famous orchestra leader had given him a chance and his novel comedy had brought him a sudden flush of popularity. In a small way he was a fad. His banter and his clever, original way of kidding made Rosemary find him a good companion. Under her own swift uptake lies a world of serious purpose and she thought this boy was like herself. He called her Rosy and she called him Redhead. As ambitious young people will, they talked a lot of shop. Rosemary was taking music lessons, practicing several hours a day. "Why don't you go to a good dramatic school?" she asked him. "You know we're really both in radio by lucky flukes. This is our chance to get a good, solid training so we'll have something to offer when our novelty wears off." "That's O. K. for singers," he retorted. "But comedians are born, not made." Rosemary felt that a true artist grabbed the opportunity to serve an apprenticeship. But she didn't want to be critical. Redhead was so warm and gay, she was beginning to feel there'd be a gap in her life without him. And he was so thrilled by every tiny bit of success, so sure he was rapidly becoming the comic-man of the hour, it was hard to step on that bubbling young enthusiasm. It was a shock to both of them that his contract wasn't renewed. "I'll tell you frankly," his boss had said, "you do one sort of comedy marvelously — a natural. But you need to become less limited if you want to stay on the air or the stage either." "Imagine that for ingratitude," Redhead said to Rosemary, "when I've made his broadcast the talk of the networks!" As experience after experience proved that the big shots of radio didn't rate him as high as his own estimation, he became moody, difficult. His charm evaporated. He was touchy, and snapped at Rosemary when she tried to help him. Her loyal little spirit was up in arms. He did have something. He just needed one more break. Surely after this sad time he'd realize he lacked training, and go to a dramatic school if he got another job. People were at their worst, she told herself, when they were discouraged. She couldn't let him go to pieces. She must help him — someway. She talked him up wherever she went, used all her persuasive personality to land that second chance for him. And at last she succeeded. She got him an audition with one of the biggest comedy teams in radio. She went with him to lend her moral support, but he didn't wait for her introduction. He went right up to the great man of the act. "I'm here!" he announced. The star observed him quizzically. "0 K.", he said. "Run through some of your stuff for me. Let yourself go in your own way." How kind. Rosemary was thinking, to let him go his own gait before they try him on their line. But Redhead evidently didn't think so. "Why waste time?" he demanded, "You know who I am. You know my stuff!" "Well, that was practically the end of the story so far as I was concerned," confided Rosemary. "How would a guy like that bear up under the wear and tear of marriage? I tried to help him even after that, but of course it was hopeless. Finally he went back to his home town in New. England, where he'll probably end up as a two-by-four salesman who boasts as he canvasses from door to door how he once was the big shot of the networks!" 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