Radio stars (Oct 1934-Sept 1935)

RADIO STARS 1 1 Unbelievct&b, French Ecru RIT ^colors curtains the sensible way won't wash out! ^•-^ " , j> So different from ordinary "surface colors' Try RIT and see! • If you've used ordinary tints and dyes that have to be applied each time you wash your curtains — you won't believe that French Ecru Rit lasts through many washings—looks bright for months. The secret is a patented ingredient in Rit that makes the color soak in deeper. When you take your curtains down for housecleaning — TRY Rit and be amazed at the difference. FAST COLORS WITHOUT BOILING For all tinting and dyeing, Rit is easier, quicker and more economical because more lasting. Even dark colors can be applied without the old-time prolonged boiling that weakens fabrics. Sold everywhere. FRENCH ECRU KIT FOR CURTAINS Rit is a convenient sift out of the package office, impatient to begin work immediately. He hadn't slept a wink, hadn't eaten breakfast. All he wanted was to begin broadcasting. But it was not so simple. His friend, it seemed, had no power to offer him a job! Besides, there was an announcer named Ted Husing already under contract for the Old Gold program. Of course the publicity man was glad to see Harry in New York, but he had not expected in Seattle that he would be so impetuous. He was certain that Harry would find work. As a final gesture of good fellowship, he gave Von Zell a letter to an employment manager. Harry felt numb; his eyes welled with bitter disappointment as he took the letter and went out. In several offices he told his story to secretaries. They looked at him disdainfully. How could he expect work when he applied for jobs without even wearing an overcoat, in midwinter? But lie finally was ushered into the presence of the man he had come to see. He told his story again. The man laughed. Von Zell's friend had offered him a job? Then why hadn't he given him one? But Harry had not come thirty-five hundred miles to be turned down so casually. He pleaded for just one opportunity to step before the microphone. Any program that would pay him even a small salary would be all right. He would be willing to take the smallest job they had. The man who listened to him promised help. He would see that, at some vague, indefinite date, this earnest young man who had managed a radio station in Los Angeles should get a New York audition. He would let him know later when it could be arranged. But Harry Von Zell needed zvork, and now — not future auditions. He needed money. He had a wife, a baby, and his mother to support. Payments must be made on his home. These things flashed through his whirling brain. Once more he began to talk. Fast and furiously he spoke, and the man at last listened attentively. When he finished, Harry was given three programs to announce that same afternoon as an audition. But when his work was finished he could not see the employment manager again. Could not get through the network of secretaries, could not even discover whether the man had heard him. He was told to return the next morning. He went back to his hotel ; there until checkout time he slept, exhausted. He paid one day's rent and then carried his bag to a railroad station check room. For four days he walked from office to office trying to find one man who would listen, one man who could get him back into radio. For four nights he trudged the hard pavements beneath Broadway's glittering lights, only to end each one sleeping, spent and lonely, on a park bench. Rain finally forced him to seek shelter. He rented a tiny room on Tenth Avenue. Each day he sought desperately for a job, and each day was exactly like the day before. Sometimes, during what seemed an endless night, he would awaken, halfmad with worry, and get up and walk again, listening to night revelers, while, cold and hungry, he cried only for a chance to live. He wrote to Mickey. He told her things were pretty tough but that he expected a job almost any day. Then he'd send for her. In reply she sent him a small package. It contained a clean shirt, a few pieces of home-made fudge and one of the baby's tiny socks. He knew that she was worried — knew that sh^ wanted him to come home. He wanted to go, more than anything on earth. But he had no money left. A few days later he received another letter from his wife. It was edged in black. Before he opened it he knew the terrible news it must contain, and he was right. His mother was dead. She was dead and buried, and he was three thousand miles away. Tortured, the lonely, unhappy boy broke down and cried. The landlady heard his sobs. He poured his broken-hearted story into her sympathetic ears. She urged him to borrow money and return to Hollywood immediately. In the morning he awakened fully determined to go home. Then came the bitter realization of what returning on borrowed money would mean. His mother was beyond help now; if he could not bring success to Mickey and his son, certainly he could not bring them debts, a failure. He was a fighter — he'd always fought. He'd do it now! He decided to go back to the studio and ask for a chance to be even an office boy. But Fate, who had dealt Harry Von Zell so many hard knocks, now offered him success. Some one told him there was an announcer's job open at Columbia . . . He arrived without promises, without letters. He knew no one. He possessed only that desperate determination. And he won the job without an audition, because the man to whom he applied had heard him announcing on the Coast. But he might never have got to see that man if he hadn't brushed aside two secretaries and walked into his office without knocking ! He worked at a small salary for over a year. Then Bing Crosby came to Columbia. Bing now was an important singer, and he made certain that his old pal should announce his first radio program. This was the chance for which Harry had prayed. If he clicked, he could bring Mickey and the baby to New York. He stepped nervously before the microphone. And he clicked ! In six months he had saved enough to send for Mickey and the baby. That his son didn't even remember him after his long absence did not daunt Harry now. He would win the baby's love all over again. Mickey remembered him — that was enough. And she still loved him. He still is ambitious, this popular Hoosier announcer. But he never again will make the mistake of being overambitious. He never again will try to do too many things at one time. Happiness, he knows, is here and now. It might be nice to live in a penthouse; it might be nice to own a radio station . . . But right now it's pretty swell just being Harry Yon Zell, and announcing his share of the big major programs. 76