Radio television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

How fo A on o two-week vacation! July TRUE STORY NOW AT NEWSSTANDS TELLS YOU HOW! Let's face facts. The overwhelming majority of single young girls on summer vacations are out to capture THE man. It's as natural and normal as homemade apple pie. No one can map out a miracle. But if there ever were a basic set of rules that a young girl should follow to insure the ultimate in "arranging conditions so as to suit her purpose," this is the story. It tells — * where to go + how to act ir what to say and NOT say * what to wear and HOW TO WEAR IT * what to do and NOT TO DO and many other accepted means of making a summer vacation romance LAST! You single girls can't afford to miss this. This is the REAL LOWDOWN! Plus many other heart-stirring stories and True Story's many pages of expert Home Service information. per set of 2 rings 88 You'll love these rings— the simulated diamonds look like a "million dollars" and sparkle with many stones. Order today Eiving ring size. SEND NO MONEY. Pay postman only $1 plus postage for both rings. If you send $1 cash with order we pay all postage. GUARANTEE: wear rings 1 0 days. If not pleased return for refund. White nflTU mure cna «■ °f £*»©* eold col°r effect or t»U I n KINbb rUK >l sterling silver mountings. M^ HAREM CO. "THE HOUSE OF RINGS"^M| '^^T 30 Church St., Dept. R-349, NewYork7, N-Y. ^^B THREE HAPPY PEOPLE (Continued from page 31) and between meals. He doesn't go for sweets and he seldom takes a drink. Let him take one drink and boom, he puts on two pounds! He has to watch his weight which is a pitiful thing for he loves to eat. So, an olive in a big jar is none of my doing. None of Sid's routines are any of my — " "The car," said Sid's voice, a quiet voice but with omen in it, "when I taught you to drive the car, know what I mean?" "Oh, that, well . . ." "She wanted to drive the car," Sid explains, putting on that patient expression with which he regards the vagaries of Miss Coca, "she kept on egging me and egging me. So one Sunday I said okay, let's go — because how much nagging can you take? So we get in the car and I tell her, 'Put your foot on the gas. Shift gears. Put your foot on the gas. Shift gears. Put your foot on the gas. Shift . . . you know how it is, you tell a person one, three, four, six, seven times — the twentieth time you get aggravated, red in the face, start to holler. That's what I did. Then suddenly I started to laugh. I said, 'This is funny.' So," Sid shrugged, "Imogene and I did it on the show." "OometiMes you are your own source O of material," Florence put in defensively, "when Shellie was born — know what / mean?" "Three and a half years ago my daughter is born and now she thinks of it!" "You thought of it and not so long ago either when, on the show, you lampooned a father waiting for his first baby to be born." "So all right, so I walked around the hospital, I didn't know where, what, who . . . I was talking to myself out loud. Sure. Why not? I was making all kinds of bargains with God . . . I won't do this anymore, please . . . From now on, who will know me? To pass the time 1 was also making up things we'd do together, my son and I. I was telling him, 'We'll go skeet shooting in the Catskills. Your old man does a lot of target shooting. We'll ride horseback,' I said, 'I'm a man on a horse. Swimming, too. Ever see your Pop swim? No? But you will. And badminton. Your mother is very unathletic. I'm trying to teach her badminton. My hobby is collecting guns. Think you'll like that? 1 thought you would.' and then the nurse comes in and tells me, 'Mr. Caesar, you have a beautiful little girl.' " "Which reminds me of another grievance I cherish and that is when people say to me, 'Being married to Sid Caesar, you must laugh all day long!' Oh, no. Apart from the fact that Sid rehearses all day long, six days a week, and rests the seventh day, Sid isn't funny offstage. He's serious. He's intense. He's a pessimist. A worrier. And every once in awhile he shuts up like a clam. He walks in and you know that's it. Not a word out of him for hours, sometimes for days." In appearance Sid Caesar is most certainly not the way people who watch him on television think he is. He looks a good ten to fifteen years younger in person than on the television screen. And so much handsomer that your first reaction to the tall, dark and glamour is, this must be Sid Caesar's younger brother! "Television does one of two things to most people," Sid explains his youthful (and dreamboat) appearance. "It either adds ten to fifteen years, or it takes them away. On me, it adds. I am twenty-eight — look thirty-eight on the show and know it. Makeup might subtract a few years from me, but I don't use any makeup. I can't. I'd sweat it right off. I perspire when I work like in a Turkish bath." "He cares so intensely about everything," Florence says, "I met Sid — let's see, we've been married seven and a half years, so it would be eight and a half years ago — at my uncle's small hotel, Avon Lodge, near Woodridge in the Catskills. I was working as a childrens' counselor at the resort and Sid came up with the band. From that first day, we went steady. All I remember thinking was, Well, this will be a very pleasant summer romance . . . "But things are never merely a tepid 'very pleasant,' with Sid. He's too intense for that. Too extreme an extremist. In love, as in everything else. So the first thing you know, the very pleasant summer romance turns into the last act of Romeo and Juliet. "The war had something to do, of course, with the dark overtones shadowing our romance. For during that summer of falling in love and knowing it, of being together every waking moment, Sid knew that in the fall he would be in the Service. He was inducted into the Coast Guard in November. And well do I remember our 'last Goodbye.' The first one. We'd been somewhere for dinner that last evening and when we got back we stood at my door and Sid was saying, 'Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, so long . . . may never see you again, goodbye, goodbye . . .' It was his big chance to play dramatic but the drama in it was that he wasn't playing. "The next morning, I hear his voice on the telephone: "'TVThat happened,' he says, 7 just W happened to wander to one side of a pillar that divides the induction center in half. Then I hear the induction officer saying: All the men on this side of the pillar go to Parris Island. The rest of you go to Manhattan Beach. I'm going to Manhattan Beach!' "Not long after this came word that Sid was to be shipped out. There was another 'last Farewell.' This time it was on the telephone: 'All the men from A to L are being shipped out,' he's telling me, as il reading from 'Hamlet,' 'so goodbye, goodbye, this is the End.' "So what happens? Again his voice on the telephone, saying, 'Just wrote you a letter, packed my stuff and I'm shipped to — the Brooklyn Barracks.' "This went on, with variations, until on July 17, 1943, exactly one year to the day after we met, Sid and I got married. Because Sid had only a forty-eight houi leave, we were married very quietly, just family, a few old friends and the service held in a little chapel in New York. "How Sid ever became a comedian," says Mrs. Sid, "is something I will never know He never had the most remote idea,