Radio stars (Oct 1935-Sept 1936)

RADIO STARS Ti^GLAZO puts old-type nail polishes in the discard You've never seen a polish so lovely, so perfect to use GLORIOUS news for lovely hands! A new Glazo, so amazingly enhanced in beauty, so perfected in every manicuring virtue, that you must change your whole idea of what a fine nail polish should be. This new Glazo formula dries to a satiny surface that doesn't chip or peel, that wears for several extra days. Here is a polish that disdains streaking, that flows on with perfect ease and evenness. And so completely has evaporation been eliminated that the polish is usable to the last brushful. For the newest, smartest note in fingertip charm, ask for Glazo Suntan, Russet and Poppy Red. They're exclusive "misty-red" colors, and the latest additions to Glazo's wide range of authentic, fashion-approved shades. Glazo manicure preparations are now only 20 cents each. Did Radio Save Frank Fay's Life? (Continued from page 23) "More Fay!" was the loud demand. The day following his second broadcast the wires, letters and phone calls were quadrupled and, what was more to the point, five different sponsors called Fay and offered him, begged him to accept five different and desirable radio contracts. Royal Desserts won. And Fay is a star again, once again, and literally overnight, Fay is headlining. I went down to NBC's streamlined and luxurious building here in Hollywood the other day to watch Fay rehearse and to talk with him. I hadn't seen him for some three years — the last time being when I had had tea with Barbara and with him at their Brentwood home. I didn't know him when he first came into the control-room. His florid color is almost gone now. (He doesn't drink even beer.) His red hair looks darker. He looks younger in one way, older in another. His eyes have the look of one who has gazed upon spectres of some sort. But then, his eyes always were sad, in startling contrast to his mobile, ironical smile. For that smile is just the same and when he stands before the microphone he is the Fay whom Broadway knew best — the masterly Master of Ceremonies. He is the Fay who is still jesting at the life he knows is not really so very funny — jesting, most of all, at Fay himself. He always refers to himself as "Fay," you know. It was fun to watch him rehearse, to listen to him ... he commented, he wisecracked, he kidded with Eddie Kay and the boys — his band. He writes his own lyrics, does Fay, and most of his own music. Which is something I didn't know before. He writes, of course, all of his own copy. Or rather, he ad libs it. He and Eddie were having themselves a time . . . Eddie, the musician, in his shirt sleeves, Fay, the funster, elegant in a gray tweed suit and gray Fedora hat. During the sort of murmuring singing of one song Fay stopped, turned to Eddie and said: "A nuance faster, just a nuance — nuance, that knocks you, doesn't it?" And Eddie, right back at him, turned to his band and said : "Don't forget, boys, a couple of nuances for Mister Fay I" .... Another time Fay stopped again and referring to a certain bar of music, said : "that is the clinker that has been with us from the beginning — let us get rid of the clinker 1" It's really too bad that we haven't television for Fay — for the play of his eyes, rather naughty, the shrug of the shoulders, the tempo of the body is worth seeing. After the rehearsal was over Fay suggested that we drive out to Brentwood together for a talk. When we got there he excused himself, changed into flannels, old shoes, a polo shirt and went out to confer with his gardeners for a bit. For Fay knows gardening. He does a good deal of his own gardening. He knows all about soil. He knows what plants thrive in the sun and what plants in the shade. He is mad about begonias. He was his own architect for the beautiful, enormous house, spread, with palatial dignity and yet with the warm informal feelings of home, in the midst of gardens and pine trees and swimming-pool and tennis courts. He said! "No, I never studied architecture nor interior decorating in any school. I learned about 'em the way I've learned everything I know — by myself, from experience. If I had a lot of money, that's what I'd do — build and decorate houses." He is mad about this house of his. His best friend is Sir Dog, the huge St. Bernard which almost scares the tar out of you when you clang the bell in the gate. He said: "Sir Dog is the only person I can trust. . . ." He showed me the jade green fountain under a grove of pines and said : "I took that from the He de France!" He showed me the beautiful Spanish madonna who stands, so gently, under tall dark trees. I said : "She must be beautiful by moonlight !" and Fay said : 'Ohhhh.' . . ." And I knew, by the single word, by the tone of his voice, how keenly beauty really stabs him. And finally we were seated in Fay's own knotty-pine panelled den, with its ceilinghigh book-shelves stored with read books, its large workmanlike desk, its etchings and prints . . . Two bronze placques, one of a baby hand, the other of a baby foot are welded into the hearth, irremovable. I think that Barbara must have had them made and put there for Fay . . . And when he had relaxed for some minutes, I said to him : "Now, tell me about it — the radio contract — how you feel about it — everything. . . . Fay's blue eyes were vague and he said: "I haven't much to tell about it ... I have only one feeling about it, one hope, one ambition, perhaps — and that is that they will say, when my broadcasts are over: 'Why, Fay was only on the air for twelve minutes, wasn't he? I thought he was to be on for half an hour!' That's the re1 action I want, that's the only reaction I want. I don't ivork for it, because if I worked for it I wouldn't get it. But I hope for it . . . I hope for the time to pass so quickly that the fans will think it shorter than it is. I want them not to be \ bored . . . I want them to be a little' pleased, that's all. . . . "I can't talk about it very intelligently. Because, you see, I have no formula. I never have had a formula about anything. I never know, when I go on the air, just what I am going to say, or sing, or how Ij am going to say it or sing it. I never even! thought of previewing pictures until the] afternoon of the day before my first broadcast. I can't tell you whether I ar going to keep on doing the previews or not. Or whether I will change the way I] do them or not. I don't know ... I don't' want to know. . . . "The minute I have everything planned and set I get formal. And that's the one thing I don't want to 'get'. I'll do a little of this and a little of that, more or less aa it comes to me. I'll talk about saving piece* (Continued on page 56) en :he rst 54