Radio stars (July 1933)

RADIO STARS Stoopnagle and Budd have a new invention! That little gadget there is a meter for proving that Stoopnocracy is worth twice as much as Boobnocracy — after you've taken away the number you first thought of — times two. The Music of Love speed boat rides, tennis, golf and hikes. "It was love at first sight," they both admit. Ilomay admired Lee's mastery of the keys ; she admired his pep and "regular fella" style. Lee liked Ilomay's singing, he wanted her to sing for him always, and when he saw her for the first time, hair wet and eyes shining, he knew his "time" had come. After moving to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, from Champaign, Illinois, where he was born, Lee, although still a very little chap, used to tinkle the keys on the old black upright every time he got a chance. Of course, there was a lot to do about the house in between school hours, but he managed to practice a bit each day. At night he would give a concert for his parents before trundling off to bed. It must have indeed looked funny to see this tiny night-gowned figure, perched high above the pedals, playing for dear life. He had magic in his fingers even then. Lee reached the age of thirteen. Time a man should seek his fortune. What to do about it? Just pack up and leave. So he did, with little more in his knapsack than a charming personality and a gift of talent from the gods. He had been playing for some weeks at a motion picture house in a small Iowa town when the incident occurred which turned his tracks to Chicago. A man, incensed over the fact that such things as a government tax on a movie ticket existed, became somewhat unruly when the cashier attempted to explain. Lee has broad shoulders and hard hands, and he was no longer the (Continued from page 13) youngster who had left home to seek his fortune. He was a man. There was only one way to settle the argument. He did, with as straight a left to the jaw as was ever seen in Iowa. Then he started for Chicago. He sought new horizons, but for weeks his only horizon consisted of an empty stomach and an emptier pocketbook. gUT a good man can't be kept down, so the adage goes, and Lee proved it. He landed a job with a company which recorded roles for player pianos. They were very sorry that his salary would only be $60 per week. He chuckled to himself. What a lot of hamburgers that would buy. He stayed with the company for five years. Then he landed a job as accompanist for a song plugger. He might have continued being an accompanist, but he had a run-in with an aspiring operatic "star," and vowed he would never play for anybody again. He didn't — until he met Ilomay. Radio interested him; he started a music school ; he played at private parties ; he made recordings. The name Lee Sims became famous. I LOMAY BAILEY didn't always have that crooning break in her voice. Time was when she was an opera prima donna and rose to enjoy rad:o acclaim after years of work before the footlights. She was born in Wellington, Kansas, and she worked her way through school by doing lifeguard work and teaching youngsters how to swim. Fairmont College boasted of her athletic prowess. She won seven state intercollegiate championships. At an early age she became engrossed in singing, and when she finished her education she entered into competition for a scholarship offered by the American Grand Opera Company. Like her tennis championships, she won it. Upon completion of her studies with Vladimir Rosina, the director of the company, she was given a place in the company and sang leads for a year. Following this came a year of Chautauqua and then she came to Chicago to sing with Paul Ash. She met Lee. He, the master of radio technique, taught her how to modulate her tones so that they would be suitable for the delicate microphone. When she had progressed to his satisfaction, Lee introduced her to the listening audience in one of his Piano Moods programs from Chicago. Letters poured in and another radio star joined the constellation. COFT summer evenings are broken by the staccato bark of a speed boat's engine. Out through the entrance to Chicago's Belmont Harbor scoots a long black shape wearing a gleaming eye. Lee and Ilomay are off on another of their cruises. They practically live on the water when opportunity offers. One of Ilomay's favorite diversions is to stage a diving act, about six miles from shore. 4',