Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

me. I saw Barnsley for a few minutes and again in the afternoon meeting he talked to me. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked. "Oh, wonderfully," I fibbed. He said he was "keeping himself busy," and I wondered whether he meant in a business way or otherwise. I was on the verge of confessing I had had a very dull evening the night before, but of course I didn't. We made small talk about the convention and then a woman buyer from Indianapolis broke into our conversation and, believe me, she monopolized it. I didn't get a word in edgewise. That night I went to a radio broacTcast at CBS — I'd written ahead over a month ago for the ticket, and I'd been pretty excited about it. But when I took a cab over to CBS, on Madison Avenue, and stood around with the people who were waiting for the studio doors to open I felt isolated. I was all alone. I almost jumped out of my skin when someone touched my elbow and said, "Miss Snyder!" IT WAS Barnsley, looking as though he'd discovered a gold mine. His eyes were bright with surprise at finding me there and I guess my expression reflected the same emotion. We laughed happily for a moment, and talked about the show we were going to see. But the man with Barnsley — he was a radio man for some advertising "agency — kept pulling impatiently at his arm, trying to get him away to meet someone he saw across the foyer, and so he left me, saying he hoped I'd enjoy the show. To tell the truth I didn't enjoy it as much as I might have if I had not met him. My mind kept going back to Barnsley, and I wondered who he was with by now. Maybe that buyer from Indianapolis, I mused unhappily. So when the program ended I walked out to the street with the rest of the people and looked for a cab. My heart sank lower when I saw how the weather had changed. It was pouring rain and the night was raw. Cabs were mighty scarce. Then Barnsley and I met again and he held my arm and led me to a taxi that seemed to come from nowhere. "I'll drop you off wherever you want to go," he said. I was just about to say I was going right back to the Commodore when I noticed the cab driver's name on that little card up near the roof. Malcolm Ray was the name, and I thought it mighty strange, for a cabbie. And Malcolm took any words I might have had in my mind right out of my mouth. "If I kin suggest a place for youse folks," he said with a broad Brooklyn accent, "leave me take you to The Eagle's Nest. Foist Street and Tenth. There you will find good eats and besides you won't get clipped. But I'm only suggestin' it, and you don't have to do what I say." Barnsley looked at me with his mouth wide open. Then he laughed and asked the driver to tell him more about The Eagle's Nest. "It's really an erster house," said Driver Malcolm Ray, "but the music's good if youse two want to dance." Many's the time I recalled that conversation with the Brooklyn cab driver and I always pictured him as a kind of Brooklyn cupid with a Brooklyn bow. and arrow. It was as though he were pushing us into something we really wanted to do in the first place. Barnsley asked me if I felt adventurous, I PIN-UP BEAUTY! You would hardly have picked Edrie Beal for a pin-up girl when the snapshot below was taken. But what a difference (right\ when she had completed the DuBarry Success Course! HOW ABOUT YOU?wouidnt like to be slender again, wear more youthful styles, hear the compliments of friends? The DuBarry Success Course can help you. 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