Radio mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

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Detroit, Michigan Artificial Ear Drum We defy you to tell these magnificent, new, absolutely accurate 1937 model wrist watches from others costing $20.00 to $30.00! Guaranteed by 100-year-old, milliondollar factory! SEND ONLY 25 CENTS to cover cost of packing and shipping, etc. Pay two monthly $3 payments (total $6). Nothing more to pay. No red tape. Unconditional money back guarantee. Watch shipped same day. Both strap and link bracelet included FEEE with either watch. We take all the risk. Send only 25 cents in stamps or coin. MAIL COUPON NOW BRADLEY, Dept. 384A, Newton, MASS. Here's 25 cents. Rush my Watch and FREE wrist strap and link bracelet. Name Address determination to treat him like any other radio actor. She hadn't coached him at all, hadn't even given him any advice about how to read them. Hands off, is the strict policy between Myrtle Vail and her son. Between rehearsals, they told me about George's living arrangements. When they first came to New York from Chicago, George lived by himself at a midtown hotel. Afterwards, when Myrt had leased a house in Forest Hills, he went there to live, paying for his room and board. "He'd better pay, too," Myrt threatened, "or I'll take it out of his salary!" That salary isn't large, but it's larger than a boy his age could earn in any other profession, and out of it he is saving enough to pay his way when he returns to college. Dress rehearsal, when the whole script is run through just as it goes on the air, was called, and 1 stepped into the control room to watch and listen. George hadn't seemed nervous — but he muffed his lines! He read them too fast and too soon, interrupted his mother and Donna. Myrt didn't scold him, but afterwards, when I went downstairs with him for a cup of coffee, I saw that his hands were shaking. "I'm lousy, and I know I'm lousy," he admitted, over the coffee. "I've got an awful lot to learn about radio. Look at the way I blurred my lines just now." (All the same, he was proud of that bit of radio slang, "blurred.") THAT'S all right," I comforted him. "It was just rehearsal. You'll be all right when you're on the air." "Golly, I hope so." He glanced at the clock, pushed back his chair. "It's almost time for the broadcast. Let's go back." Once more in the control room, I watched the broadcast. George's song came first, before he had any lines to speak. Myrt and Marge were supposed to be listening to him, commenting about him in low voices to each other. The song ended on a high note, sweet and clear. "Attaboy!" said Myrt. "He finished that off like a real trouper." She was reading from the script; it was the same line she had spoken a dozen times during rehearsal; but there was something in it now that hadn't been there before — a note of praise, of warm confidence, that was for George alone. He stepped closer to the microphone, holding his script in his hands — and they weren't shaking. He read his lines perfectly, neither too slow nor too fast, without a stumble. The broadcast had ended, and we were leaving the studio in the usual post-broadcast burst of chatter. Myrt patted her son casually on the shoulder. Then she looked over at me, and smiled. I wish you could have seen that smile. It explained why their fans didn't lose Myrt and Marge. NEXT MONTH— Another favorite theme song used by one of radio's leading orchestras — Watch for it — in the May Issue of RADIO MIRROR 74