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RADIO MIRROR
A BODY BEAUTIFUL with the LINIT BEAUTY BATH
Just dissolve some Link in a tub of warm water and bathe as usual. After drying, feel your skin — it will be delightfully smooth and soft — And the Linit bath does away with the damp or semi-dry feeling of the skin that usually follows an ordinary bath . . . Make it a habit to take a Linit Beauty Bath and join the many thousands of women who daily enjoy its refreshing luxury.
Linit is also unequalled for all fine laundering.
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out a script show idea, in which a sponsor is interested. To date, she hasn't been able to get the person she wants to write it. But she certainly expects to be back on the air.
Annette cares about her radio work, her public. She always took great pains with her fan mail.
But tiny Jeanie Lang doesn't seem to care. Remember when Jeanie's piping childish voice, her girlish giggle, made her radio sweetheart number one? College boys proposed to her in droves, and showered her with flowers and gifts.
Afraid it would lessen her popularity if the public realized she was married, Jeanie insisted Arthur Lang, her husband, was her brother. And he said so too, to further her career. When the truth came out, I think it did Jeanie much more harm than if she had been straightforward from the start.
Her last spot on the air was with Buddy Rogers for Ward's Bread, a little over a year ago.
Then she toured in vaudeville, averaging $1000 a week — more than she had made on the air.
I spoke to her husband. "Jeanie's just left to visit her folks in Phoenix, Arizona. She's a funny kid. You never can tell what she's going to do. She's had some radio offers, but she hasn't accepted any of them."
AND then there's Norman Brokenshire. No story of old timers is complete without mentioning Brokenshire, who made history as an announcer. Practically every big program was one of his accounts. There was something so infectious and informal about his style, sponsors literally fought for him.
Too much hail-fellow-well-met living blotted out his radio career. Recently, dead broke, he applied to the WPA for a job.
All the newspapers carried the story, and the Nut Club, a Greenwich Village night spot, employed him as their master of ceremonies. Now he has a new job as an announcer at station WINS.
On top. Sliding, sliding . . . They reign for a brief hour, then disappear. When they're successful, their names and praises are on everyone's lips. Once off the air, some are forgotten immediately. Some we remember for a few fleeting moments.
That's radio fame.
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Red Grange — with his dope on pigskin lineups, he's the football fan's meat. Hear him on NBC Fridays, Saturdays.
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