Radio mirror (May-Oct 1934)

Record Details:

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STOOGE BY PETER DIXON • "Professor!" Toby wailed. "She ain't in the business. She oin't an actress . . . why . . . why . . . she'll ruin everything. . . ." Illustrotions by Carl Pfeufer door man, to Toby's seasoned judgment, meant a table d'hote meal at less than a dollar. Probably sixty or seventy-five cents which left enough for a tip and possibly a cigar. Toby wanted to think. And he knew he could think better with a good meal in front of him than at a quick lunch counter. Suddenly he remembered his laundry. It would cost at least eighty cents to get it and the shirt he was wearing just wouldn't do another day. His dollar was silver. He took it from his pocket, enjoyed the weight of it, and flipped it carefully.. "Heads, onion soup. Tails, clean shirt," he told himself. It was tails. "Two out of three," said Toby to himself. Tails again. "But," Toby argued with himself, "if I look hungry I'll never get a job — and maybe I can wash out this shirt tonight." Straightening his tie, he entered Le Pierrot. It was a cozy place. It had all the intimate charm of the oldfashioned speakeasy though a legal liquor license was displayed prominently over the bar. Toby selected a table in a corner and glanced quickly at the menu. There was onion soup and the luncheon was sixty cents. A waitress — a very pretty girl with red hair, took his order. "Toots," said Toby, "Bring me some onion soup " "Mrs. Toots to you!" said the waitress, firmly and without any indication that this was just a conversational opening. Toby looked at her intently. {Continued on page 59) 13