Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

» df Tampax is so well known, now NO BELTS NO PINS NO PADS NO ODOR THROUGH the length and breadth of ' the United States — in city, town and remote village — millions of women are buying Tampax regularly at their local stores. So you can confidently discuss Tampax with anyone to whom you would mention any monthly sanitary protection. The Tampax method has definitely arrived! The reasons are obvious. First, Tampax discards all outside pads and their needed supports of belts and pins. Then there can be no bulges — no chafing — no odor. Changing is quick and disposal is easy . . . Tampax gives a feeling of comfort and freedom that probably always surprises the new user. Perfected by a doctor to be worn internally, Tampax is made of long-fiber cotton firmly stitched and compressed in applicators for efficient insertion. You do not feel the Tampax when it is in place . . . Sold at drug stores and notion counters in 3 absorbency -sizes (Regular, Superjunior). A whole month's supply will fit into your purse. Tampax Incorporated, Palmer, Massachusetts. ( REGULAR 3 absorbencies < super I junior (Continued from page 12) American Broadcasting network, with Paul Whiteman continuing as majordomo of the jazz output. * * * There's a strong possibility that Joan Edwards may quit The Hit Parade and switch to the Philco Hall of Fame show with Peggy Mann, tiny singing discovery of agent Frank Cooper (the man who first predicted lusty careers for Frank Sinatra and Dinah Shore) getting the Hit Parade spot. * * * Gene Krupa will be the next bandleader to go overseas and entertain our occupation troops, following Hal McIntyre and Shep Fields. * * * Paul Weston conducts the Joan Davis show and Frank Devol batons the Ginny Simms airer. * * * Johnny Long, after a so-so period of swing style, has reverted again to sweet syncopation. FROM TAMBOURINE TO TROMBONE The medium-sized lad with the wavy black hair and ambitious eyes had finally heard the news he had been waiting for, praying for, ever since he had formed the little Kearny, N. J. high school band. "Look, kid, stop wasting your time here," the music man had said, "you're ready for the big time. Pick up your marbles and get ready to make some dough with a real band." Now that the boy had received this rough but nevertheless sound appraisal of his musical ability, he was frozen with fear. Georgie was perfectly willing to quit school — after all he couldn't play football any more, not with a severely banged-up knee — and become a professional musician. But what would his father say? Georgie's dad was no ordinary parent. He was a Sal vation Army officer who had devote his life to the cause. Jazz music, blatant and booming from a bandstand, was a far and noisy cry from the churchly hymns sung on lonely street corners, and accompanied by a portable organ and a determined tambourine. George Paxton recalls his dilemma as if it were yesterday. "You know it took me two days to summon enough courage to ask my dad and it was all over in two minutes." Colonel Paxton pushed his spectacles close to his forehead, carefully placed a bookmark in the family Bible and spoke to his son. "George, neither your mother nor I has any objections to your playing music for money. Just remember this. As long as your morals are good any career you choose is satisfactory." The brief but penetrating words from the Salvation Army man have not been forgotten. George Paxton has played with many bands — Frank Dailey, George Hall, Bunny Berigan, Charlie Spivak, Tommy Dorsey. Today he has a dynamic, rising young band destined for national attention. He's played ballrooms, theaters, hotels, traveled coast to coast, but for all that he might just as well be some conservative mid-western business man who comes home to wife and family when work is done. The thirty-year-old bandsman and his attractive wife, May, live in a modest little house in Flushing. They have one child, four-year-old George, Junior, better known as "Chip." Mrs. Paxton met and fell in love with George back in high school. Don't get the idea that George Paxton's band should be exclusively booked for Wednesday socials. They know their way around a jump tune. Get them to play their own arrangement of "Temptation" for proof. But they frown on saucily-spiked lyrics and suggestive hijinks that hind(Continued on page 16) Accepted for Advertising by the Journal of the American Medical Association 14 The Danny 0'Neils start young Billy off on a literary excursion. Danny's CBS program is heard Tuesday through Friday, 7:15.