Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

RADIO M IRROR COUGHS COME .FROM TAKE THE SYRUP T HAT CLINGS TO THE COUGH ZONE The right medicine for a cough (due to a cold) is one that does its work where the cough is lodged . . . that is, in the cough zone. That's why Smith Brothers made their famous cough syrup thick, heavy, clinging. It clings to the cough zone. There it does three things: (1) soothes sore membranes, (2) throws a protective film over the irritated area, (3) helps to loosen phlegm. Get Smith Brothers'— it's safe! 35$ and 60$. It "IT CONTAINS VITAMIN A This vitamin raises the resistance of the mucous membranes of the nose and throat to told and cough infections. SMITH BROS. COUGH SYRUP ■■■NOW ON SALE IN CANADA B9H RELIEF FROM PSORIASIS with , !D€RmOIL Make THE ONE TEST Generous trial size 25c stamps or coin Dermoil has been used by thousands of men and women throughout the country to secure relief from the effects of this ugly, stubborn, embarrassing scaly skin disease often mistaken for eczema. Apply it externally. Nonstaining. Grateful users report the scales have gone, the red patches gradually disappeared and their skin became clear again after years of suffering with scaly patches. Dermoil is backed by a positive agreement to give chronic sufferers definite benefit in two weeks time or money is refunded. Beautifully illustrated book on psoriasis and Dermoil FREE. Trial bottle and amazing PROOF OF RESULTS 25c to those who send in druggist's name and address. Prove it yourself no matter how long you have suffered or what you have LAKE LABORATORIES Box S, Northwestern Station |> Dept. M-tl, Detroit, Michigan with you, you're all right." Because he thinks he's darned lucky to have that gallery to play to, Walter will sign autographs till his arm aches, and from his apparent enthusiasm for the task, you'd never dream he's dying to get away and play ping pong with the page boys. He's been snatched from parties and holiday fun dozens of times for an unscheduled rehearsal or broadcast, and never once complained. His mother wishes that he had time to sandwich in some dramatic training between his broadcasts. He has never had a cent spent on him for theatrical lessons. Walter disagrees with her as to the value of such training. He says, "Experience has been a better teacher for me than dramatic schools could be. I've heard kids practicing their recitations and it sounds like a lot of nonsense to me. They're learning to talk like radio announcers. When you interpret parts in a play for the radio, you're supposed to talk like people in the street. You learn that in the street, not in dramatic schools." There are ten do's and don'ts that Walter follows for his conduct in the studios, I found as I talked to him. He hasn't ever listed them himself — I'll do that for him, in a minute — but he obeys them just the same. And every one of them is something every other kid I know would have a hard time learning. Here they are: Never arrive at rehearsals or broadcasts late or at the last minute. Don't do a disappearing act after you get there and have the director tearing his hair looking for you. Don't let him find you in his hair, either. Be thoroughly familiar with your part. Don't lose your script before a broadcast or your place during one. Keep your mind on the show and not on ice-cream sodas. If you are hired to read lines, don't play the Xylophone. They pay someone else to do that. Do a thing the way you're told to, even if that differs from your own idea of the way it should be done — let the silly director think he knows more than you do. Check your parents, dogs, and roller skates outside the rehearsal hall. They're apt to get under foot. Don't ad lib except on programs where you have definite instructions to do so. It throws off the carefully timed schedule. Don't be snooty with your fans. Don't frown while you're granting requests for autographs. Those people can turn a little black knob an eighth of an inch and whoosh — there goes your audience! And last of all — never act your age, but remember it! Don't call your elders by their first names, even if you've known them for years. Walter diligently observes all these rules. But that doesn't mean he isn't free to act like a normal boy the minute his professional duties are over. He has played such intense emotional scenes with Ethel Barrymore and Helen Hayes that they were still weeping in each other's arms after the program went off the air. But you'd have found him a few moments later in the studio check room, helping with the coats and hats. That's his favorite occupation between broadcasts. He plays with his seven pet turtles, he's an expert horseman, and can hardly be torn away from his new 33-foot speedboat. He goes wild with delight when he's at a ball game and Babe Ruth gives him pointers on the game. But his biggest thrills are from his personal achievements — seeing the S. R. O. sign hung out at a theatre where he is making a personal appearance, being made an honorary member of the Chum Club of Glasgow, to which Sir Harry Lauder belongs, being elected vicepresident of an adult dramatic club in Edgewater, New Jersey, where he lives, having the song he wrote selected as his school class song and winning a five-dollar gold piece for being the best speller in Roosevelt School. Speaking of Roosevelt and five dollars calls to mind the fact that Walter gave the first five dollars he ever made in radio to the fund for President Roosevelt's swimming pool. No one suggested that use of the money to him. But Walter had had a touch of infantile paralysis when he was a baby, and his gratitude for his narrow escape frequently manifests itself in sympathy for those whose health is impaired. Every year since he was five, he has appeared in the annual show given at the Crippled Children's Hospital in New York City. On that day, you couldn't buy a Tetley radio performance for a bagpipe full of gold nuggets. For then he's a child again — just for a night ! Jean Harlow's supposed to have refused a New York radio offer because she was afraid of autograph seekers. But here in California she doesn't mind. 106