Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

RADIO MIRROR TUNE INTRUE STORY COURT OF HUMAN RELATIONS Unless you are already a listener-in on the True Story Court of Human Relations, sponsored by True Story Magazine, you are missing one of the most absorbingly interesting broadcasts on the air. Each Friday night the True Story Court of Human Relations brings to its listeners a radio drama filled with thrills; drama, suspense. Broadcast over the NBC Red Network, a turn of the dial will bring into your home this wealth of wholesome, highly enjoyable entertainment. Tune in on Friday night without fail. City Station Local Time New York WEAF 9 :30 PM EST Boston WNAC 9:30 PMEST Hartford WTIC ■ 9 :30 PM EST Providence WJAR 9:30 PMEST Worcester WTAG 9 :30 PM EST Portland, Me. WCSH 9:30 PMEST Philadelphia KYW 9 :30 PM EST Baltimore WFBR 9 :30 PM EST Washington WRC 9:30 PMEST Schenectady WGY 9:30 PMEST Buffalo WBEN 9:30 PM EST Pittsburgh WCAE 9:30 PM EST Cleveland WTAM 9 :30 PM EST Detroit WWJ 9 :30 PM EST Chicago WMAQ 8:30 PM CST St. Louis KSD 8:30PMCST Des Moines WHO 8 :30 PM CST Omaha WOW 8:30 PMCST Kansas City WDAF 8 :30 PM CST Denver KOA 9:30 PM MST Salt Lake City KDYL 9:30 PM MST San Francisco KPO 8 :30 PM PST Los Angeles KFI 8:30 PM PST Portland, Ore. KGW 8:30 PM PST Seattle KOMO 8:30 PM PST Spokane KHQ 8:30 PM PST *Cincinnati WLW 6 :30 PM EST * Sunday. TAKE YOUR CHOICE OF THESE STATIONS EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT DEAF? Rma2i hg news.' You may hear like normal again! Amazing new instrument releases deaf from misery and embarrassment. The Godsend, new Scientific, Electrical Hearing Aid, is guaranteed to give you same strain -free power to hear as instruments selling for $50, $75, $100, and more. PRICED AT ONLY $19.75, complete! Now you may enjoy sermons from back of church, lectures, conversations, radios, movies. Complete with Microphone, Batteries, and TWO Appliances for BONE or AIR CONDUCTION, both for less than the usual price of only ONE. Music and words heard distinctly from all directions, at close range or from distances. No distortion — no head noises. Instrument is lightweight, easily concealed in clothing, no more noticeable than pair of glasses. Write quick for FREE DETAILS, sent in plain envelope. Godsend Company, Oept. M-401. 3785 Beechmont, Cincinnati, Ohio. Win The Man You Want T~\0 you know how to make men "notice" you — even when more beautiful women are present? How to fascinate them? How to make their intentions "serious"? What your powers of attraction really are — and how you can vastly increase them? . . . Send 10c for Personality Test Chart, to show you confidentially how you rate, and booklet, Making Men Like You. Both mailed in plain wrapper. INTERNATIONAL CHARM INSTITUTE, Incorporated, 6 Rockefeller Plaza, New York, N. Y. hall. "Lawdy — mercy! It's done happened. I knowed it would when I broke that looking glass!" She burst into the room waving a yellow envelope in a shaking black hand. Bambi took the envelope. "Why, it's a telegram. For you, Jarvis." Bambi tore it open and read aloud: "Regarding poems submitted may be able to use them with certain changes. Suggest we discuss matter next time you visit New York. Richard Strong." "Richard Strong? Who's Richard Strong? And what poems is he talking about? I never submitted any." "No, darling, but I did," said Bambi. "And even you ought to know who Richard Strong is — the editor of Howard's Weekly." 'Howard's Weekly? That old sheet?" "Just the same, it has more subscribers than any other magazine — and if he takes your poems he'll pay you a lot of money for them." "My poems?" "Certainly. I found them in your desk. They were very good poems. So I sent them to Mr. Strong. And now he wants to print them." Jarvis blew up. "Those — those were just exercises. I never meant to submit them anywhere. They're too trivial. And — and I'm too busy to go running off to New York to discuss any fourth-rate twiddletwaddle I dashed off in an odd moment." "Of course you are," Bambi soothed him. "That's what you've got me for. I'll go to see Strong, and I'll sell him." DAMBI was in Richard Strong's office ™ next morning at eleven o'clock — an hour which was, apparently, too early. "Mr. Strong never gets down before noon," the office boy told her. "I have a telegram, asking me to see him," Bambi said. The boy smiled and shook his head in a superior way. "Old R. G. tosses off telegrams in his sleep." He was a nice office boy, Bambi decided, even if he did try to be hardboiled. Standing at the railing which bisected the office, she asked, "Is that large arm-chair in there rented for the day, St. Peter?" He grinned and swung the gate open. "You win, sister. Only my name ain't Peter. It's Agrippa." "So you think I'm licked with old R. G. before I even come to bat," she said. "Sure. . . . Say, where'd you pick up that baseball talk?" "I used to play it, and not just girls' baseball, either! Why, are you a fan?" Agrippa's washed-out blue eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Am I ? Say, I breathe baseball!" The rest of the conquest of Agrippa was simple, and when Richard Strong came charging through the reception room like an infuriated boar and entered his private office the infatuated lad let her go in without bothering to announce her. "Good morning, Mr. Strong," Bambi said sweetly. He looked up at her. "Where the devil did you come from?" he demanded. "Your outer office. I came to talk about those poems. The ones about a trip through the slums. You know — you sent Jarvis Trent a telegram about them." The Strong eyebrows lowered over suspicious eyes. "Hmph. They had possibilities. Good command of language. Free rugged sweep and rhythm. But bad subject matter." Strong shot his comments at her like bullets from a machine gun. "Too raw for our readers. Too unhappy. Not for our magazine. Our readers are good, conservative middle-aged citizens." Bambi took a deep breath. "But don't you see, that's just the trouble."' "What? Young lady — " Strong reared back in his chair like a sorely vexed sea lion. "I don't suppose you know our circulation has been growing by thousands!" "Maybe so, but just the same the magazine's dying. You said yourself your readers were middle-aged and conservative. Well, some time they're going to be old — and old people die — and then what's going to happen to Howard's Weekly?" "Whoa! Hold on!" Strong waved a hand at her. "I didn't say I wouldn't take your husband's poems if he'd tone them down a bit." "Tone them down?" Bambi said. Nothing could stop her now. "Would you want a sunset toned down because it was too vivid — or thunder because it was too loud? Of course you wouldn't. Nature doesn't pull it's punches. That's what makes life exciting and exhilarating — and real! People don't want to be coddled; they want to be jolted into feeling things, like — " She paused for breath, heard a fire siren shrieking in the street below. "Like that siren. That's what I mean! Try to tone that down, mister!" The siren sounded as if it were right in the room. Strong looked out of the window. "Oh," sighed Bambi. at his elbow, "I love fires! Let's go!" she said. "Fine," he agreed. "Come on!" Like master, like man, thought Bambi a few hours later. Richard Strong was just like Agrippa, trying desperately hard to be hard-boiled, but underneath it all, a dear. From the fire they had gone to Coney Island, from there to a night club, and from there back to Banbury in Strong's big yellow sport roadster. At Coney Island Bambi secured a check for one hundred dollars in payment for Jarvis' poems as they stood, without changes. In the night club she received a second check, also for a hundred dollars, as advance payment for three more. And at home, after Strong had deposited her at her gate, she found a Jarvis who had been pacing the floor nervously because he didn't know what had happened to her. "We're going to New York," she carolled, dancing around Jarvis and flapping the two checks in his face. "It'll only take you a few days to sell the play — and then, darling, you'll be famous!" JARVIS had never been in New York, and Bambi gloried in her knowledge of the city when they arrived. Jarvis, carrying a bag, and completely confused by the noise all about him, nevertheless stubbornly refused to take a taxi, and they walked to Fifth Avenue. "Shut your eyes," Bambi ordered as they neared the corner of Fifth Avenue and Forty-Second Street. "I'll lead you." Obediently Jarvis closed his eyes, and stumbled along, clutching her hand tightly. "One — two — three!" she counted. "Open them! . . . Isn't it wonderful?" "It — it is sort of exhilarating," he admitted. "New York's the most exciting city in the whole wide world!" Bambi was looking up the street in delight at the long string of green traffic lights. Suddenly they turned to red. "Come on, we can cross now." She stepped off the curb. A taxi whizzed past, narrowly missing her, but she called back, "Come on, darling, it's all right." There was no answer. She turned. "Jarvis! Where are you?" Jarvis was gone! She had lost him! The romantic story of Bambi and her absent-minded playwright husband continues every Monday night at eight o'clock on the NBC Blue network.