Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

THERE are times when secrets ought to be known. When you have heard the secret I am going to tell you, you will understand why. This story is a secret 1 have known for three years, but not until a few weeks ago could 1 break the spell of fear that has kept it hidden. It is a story that should have been told from the house-tops as a glorious example of a woman's triumph over the restrictions of her life. It is, instead,, a story of tragedy and heartbreak. The memory of its joyous beginning has become the scar of a broken dream in Kate Smith's heart, a secret hurt that should have been a beautiful joy. It began as a glorious inspiration and even if Kate Smith had been able to foresee the ending, full of grief and sacrifice, I imagine she would still have gone through with it, for the few moments of sheer happiness her adventure brought her before disillusionment. Just three and a half years ago, Kate Smith woke up to another birthday, a special birthday, for it was a milestone of rich reward and high promise. It found her vibrantly attuned to life. Her career, thanks to Ted Collins, had been salvaged from despair, rescued from a hemmed in theatrical rut where nightly on the New York stage she bore the brunt of an insulting comedian's vicious jibes. It was Ted, when she sought his counsel, who advised her to quit and try radio. It was the beginning of a partnership that had lifted her to a high place in broadcasting. Her voice had been given to a world that said "Thank you" and called for more. Thus, on this birthday, a host of blessings lay in the hollow of her hand. . . . Money . . . nation-wide acclaim . . . horizons unbounded. ... A future packed full of promise. But Kate Smith, the radio star, had not forgotten that other Kate Smith struggling for a break. Nor had money altogether quieted the deep spiritual yearning which, earlier in life, almost cast her in the role of nurse. Throughout the years of her success, she had tried to share a portion of her bounty with others. There was the mother she still worshipped and still obeyed, always with her, and it was good that she could give that mother little surprises, to say nothing of all the comforts and some of the luxuries of life. There were the soldiers . . . kids who had marched down America's streets in 1917 . . . starry eyed kids bound on the great European adventure — but now lying on beds of white in rows, hopeless, broken-bodied men. Singing "My Buddy" had linked her with thousands of them. She knew they loved her. She was determined never to let them down. It was a birthday of silent glory . . . She wanted to share it with others. But with whom? Where would it be possible to do the most good? When Ted arrived that morning he found Kate with her mother trying to decide what they could do that day to properly celebrate the most important birthday of Kate's life. Ted suggested a show, but Kate was doubtful, hesitating a moment. "If you've already thought of something else," Ted said Kate had sung for many homeless waifs like the ones above before the fateful day three years ago when she found four orphans who were to bring her brief happiness before breaking her heart. quickly, "let's do it instead. It was just a suggestion." "Oh no," Kate replied. "It's not that. I was just thinking. Maybe today we could do something worthwhile. A show's all right, but we can see a show any day. I thought perhaps I'd like to sing somewhere." Ted nodded. He remembered that practically all the hospital invitations had been taken care of, but suddenly — yes, that was it. He smiled. "I know a place," he said. "It's not a hospital. The kids who wanted you, remember? That orphans' home?" Kate's face lighted up. "Grand!" She exclaimed. "Let's go. You telephone that we're coming. Mother and I'll take one of my birthday cakes and we'll stop on the way for some ice cream." There was nothing to warn Kate or Ted. Outside the sun was shining after a night of rain. On her desk in the study lay the new contract that was going to give her such a big boost in salary. It was her birthday and they were going to sing for orphans. So they started out, carefree, eager to bring a little joy into the lonely hearts of poor children who had no homes. Kate became increasingly gay as they left the apartment. They stepped downstairs to phone her accompanist and arrange for him to join them at the orphanage. Then Ted hailed a taxi. It was a long ride to the orphanage, one which carried them through a (Continued on page 80) FOUND A SUBSTITUTE— ONLY TO HAVE IT CRUELLY TAKEN FROM HER 23