Radio stars (Sept 1933)

RADIO STARS Taken the night that Eagle Scout Eddie Peabody broadcast a special boy scout program over the NBC-KGO network. The San Francisco studio was simply beseiged with boy scouts. She Dared to Have a Career (Continued from page 24) THE NEW MASCARA THAT IS ^ y acluallii NON-SMARTING TEAR-PROOF AND ABSOLUTELY HARMLESS YES, We Know— you've read many claims advertising eyelash darkeners — only to have an evening ruined because a tear smudged your mascara and the resultant smarting spoiled your make-up — one of life's little tragedies! But it need never have happened! It can't happen when you use our NEW improved MAYBELLINE mascara. Quickly and easily applied, it instantly makes your lashes appear longer, darker and more luxuriant — and it keeps them soft and silky, too! MAYBELLINE gives that muchto-be-desired natural appearance of eye beauty — the color, depth, and expression of the eyes are intensified by the soft , dark fringe of lustrous lashes. These are the reasons that millions of women are using the NEW MAYBELLINE regularly with most gratifying results. Try It today, you'll be delighted! Black or Brown ■75c at all toilet goods counters EYELASH DARKENER his mother had taught him to make waffles, and last July he assisted during her absence by talking about cakes. Today, Jimmy is thirteen, the eldest of eight children. Oddly enough, the first five were boys and the last three girls. I wish you could meet them, and understand how Mrs. Barton has answered this career-versus-children question. Listen to this roll-call : Jimmy, age 13; Hughie, age 12; Harry, age 11 ; Johnny, age 9; Peter, age 8; Dissie, age 7; Joy, age 5; Paddy, age 3. In the early days, Mrs. Barton had secret aspirations toward a screen career. But eight children . . . well, if you are a mother, you know what happens to your figure. "So I read," Mrs. Barton told me. "I thought if I read the Chicago Tribune every day, the Saturday Evening Post every week, and the Atlantic Monthly every month, I would keep myself informed." Now the scene shifts to Connecti(;ut. One morning, before the husband leaves for his work, his wife confronts him. "I'm going into New York today, Harry. "I've got a letter to somebody up at NBC. I'm going to get an audition." In the NBC offices, a woman with a letter to an executive is nothing unusual. They come, a dozen a day, hungry for whatever crumbs of fame that they may find. So a bright-eyed little lady from Connecticut who asked to read some poems received no great amount of attention. That is, until an executive had heard her voice. And her pronunciation. And her "air personality." Before she left, she had been given two spots on future programs. So much she got for herself. Unsatisfied, she might have got more had not fate brought her to the attention of the General Foods Coinpany. Coincidence, luck, life, call it what you wish, willed that the NBC executive who had heard her first audition should speak of her to a friend who happened to be searching for a voice for a new radio program. And so, after a series of auditions, the air gained a new teacher of cooking named Frances Lee Barton. THIS is the third year of her work. Her third year of a career that she gained when most women would have surrendered to the cares of a family. Not that she neglects her children or her husband. They live in a huge apartment in uptown New York. Six of the children are in school. A colored girl named Lizzy and a sister-in-law help manage things. You can imagine how much things need managing about seven-thirty in the morning when those eight kiddies troop into Mrs. Barton's bedroom for a good-morning kiss. Or for breakfast where it is a matter of record that they do away with two complete boxes of Post Toasties and four quarts of milk. To see Mrs. Barton today, one goes \ip to 250 Park Avenue where the General Foods offices are located. On the third floor is the shining, sparkling radio kitchen from which she broadcasts. If a lemon pie is to be discussed and its recipe given, Mrs. Barton actually makes a lemon pie during the fifteen minutes she is on the air. Your mouth waters as you watch. Sometimes you get to sample those pies. I'm told there's no kitchen like it in the world ... no kitchen which is at the same time a broadcasting station. Certainly it is an amazing place . . . and it is an amazing woman who, with her vital voice, bears its doctrine into countless homes over the country. 42