Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1950)

'tori? BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE ... but I managed to find myself JOAN LANSING a cozy corner by the radio last Friday night and cuddle up to what I think is a pretty terrific, warm-hearted family . . . OZZIE, HARRIET, DAVID andi RICKY NELSON. Along about 9 o'clock (Eastern Time) the nifty NELSONS gladden your local ABC station's airwaves with their happygo-lucky humor and spontaneous good cheer. The wonderful wizard of OZZIE, his cute double-checkmate HARRIET, their bumptious boys DAVID and RICKY ... all add up to a grand way to spend a Friday evening . .' . joining in the entertaining "ADVENTURES OF OZZIE AND HARRIET." (And if you're still cold, you might try one of the H. J. Heinz Company's hot-delight soups. To quote a note from OZZIE : "At noon, at night, at other times . . . warm up with soups by H. J. Heinz!") SOUP-TO-NUTS DEPT dished out along with more glamorous gimmicks such as minks, diamonds and trips-around-theworld . . . await winners on the fabulous "CHANCE OF A LIFETIME" program. What a purseful of prizes they've given away! M.C. JOHN REED KING (he's one King I'd like to be ruled by) put's plenty of zing into proceedings every Sunday night at 9 :30 (Eastern Time) when "CHANCE OF A LIFETIME" comes your way on your local ABC station. I've already sent in my phone number to be eligible for some of that heavenly haul . . . why don't you ? It's a real "CHANCE OF A LIFETIME" . . . sponsored by the nice Bretton Watch Band people. ON THE HOLLYWOOD GRIDDLE . . . who? . . . why? . . . what? . . . when? . . . how? . . . where? . . . get all the gossip straight from Hollywood's first lady of the luminary set . . . LOUELLA PARSONS on her Woodbury soap-box Sunday nights at 9:15 (Eastern Time) on your local ABC station. Lolly, by golly, knows the ins-and-outs of the movie industry and its starry inhabitants . . . and does a colorful, juicy job of reporting the latest about the greatest! I'M "DATED" FOR A GREAT TIME FRIDAY NIGHTS . . . starting with THE LONE RANGER and ending with the FIGHTS: The Lone Ranger The Fat Man This Is Your F.B.I. Ozzie and Harriet The Sheriff Harry Wismer 7:30 P.M. et 8:00 P.M. et 8:30 P.M. et 9:00 P.M. et 9:30 P.M. et 9:55 P.M. et Cavalcade of Sports 10:00 P.M. et ebon loosing 84 A dvertisement That's My Boy! {Continued from page 59) him then, "I want you to be anything and everything you want to be" So — singin' it was. I can tell you the furtherest thing from my mind, when I set out for America all those years ago, was the thought that I would someday become the mother of a famous singer. I was just plain Mary Grady then. I can remember as clear as if it were yesterday the day I landed in Boston with a brogue as thick as the grass of Carracastle. It makes me laugh to think back on what a wide-eyed young greenhorn I was. llfot so green, however, that I didn't 11 have my wits about me when I first got a glimpse of one Patrick McNulty! I met him while I was visiting some friends in New York. We got married in the spring of 1911. It was a real old-fashioned Irish wedding with all the trimmings. Singing and dancing. And me with my beloved accordion. I suppose it's a bit strange, a girl playing such a thing at her own wedding but we've always been such music lovers in our family. My own mother had a beautiful voice, and it's probably from her Dennis inherited his talent for singing. Even as a tiny lad, still in his crib, there was nothing that made Dennis so happy as to have me sit by and sing to him. He was a wonderful baby. Dennis had a special sense about animals and things. A stray turtle could spot him for a handout from six blocks away. He brought home pigeons, dogs, cats — everything you could think of. About the only other thing that absorbed Dennis as much as his menagerie was music and musical goings-on. We used to have a lot of fun in those days putting on family shows. And by family, I also mean the neighbors' children, too. Sometimes on week-ends there'd be as many as twenty-five young ones scrambling around our house. What a great time we used to have! We had miniature vaudeville right in our living room. Sometimes we'd persuade Dennis and his sister Marie to put on an act for a church social or a benefit. It wasn't as easy as you think. Dennis didn't mind putting on a show in the house, but to make a public appearance— ah, that was an Irishman of another color. I remember a couple of times when I literally had to push him out onto the stage. One time I had to promise him a corduroy suit that he'd been wanting. Although usually a soda or a candy bar would be bribe enough. Oh, that corduroy suit! One day early in September, when Dennis was only five, I had shipped off the two older children to their first'day of school. Then — I look around and no Dennis. And no corduroy suit. After two hours I really began to get uneasy. I was about to phone Patrick when up the walk as nonchalant as you please comes Dennis in his suit, flanked on both sides by Marie and John. "Dennis followed us to school," James explained solemnly. "And they got his name in a book in the office. We just brought him home for lunch." "You mean Dennis registered for school?" I asked incredulously. James said that was so. But after lunch Dennis didn't want to go back. Three weeks later a truant officer showed up. It took some explaining to convince the man that Dennis had been premature in his school registration. It was when he was seventeen that Dennis went to Ireland, to see the country and my mother and father whom he had never set eyes on before. He loved them. My mother, having such a fine voice and all, was so delighted that Dennis liked to sing. And my father loved the humor of the boy. Of course Dennis always did have the knack for mimicry. No one escaped it. Sometimes I'd think I'd hear the milkman, rush out with the money, and there would be Dennis having his joke. Then there was the time he sold that record of "Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair." The beginning of the beginning it was, for about this time Jack Benny was looking for a replacement for Kenny Baker. Just for the dickens of it, Dennis sent Mary Livingstone a recording of "Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair." The minute she heard it, she felt the voice was exactly what they were looking for. She and Jack were coming to New York in a few weeks and she wrote New York and she wrote Dennis that they wanted him to do an audition for them. The audition was a success — and the next thing I know, I'm packing his bags for California. When he first took me to meet Jack and Mary, I was trembling, so I thought my knees were made of molasses. But they soon scattered my fears away and were talking as though we had always known each other. After we were sure it looked like a permanent job for Dennis, I went East and collected the rest of the family. None of us have fallen into the ways of Hollywood glamor. We like to live as we always have — simply and together. We couldn't find a house big enough for our clan, so we bought a small apartment building. I have one tiny confession to make. And that is, I did have a hand in Dennis' marriage to Peggy Ahlmquist. I introduced them to each other. After that it was up to them. I think I knew what to expect when I saw Dennis' face light up when he was with her. The way it lit up the day he decided to make music his career instead of law. I was delighted when Dennis finally told me he was going to marry Peggy. She's the kind of girl you can't help loving. And now, as you know, Peggy and Dennis are the parents of a third Patrick McNulty. (That's Dennis' real name, though of course everybody thinks of him as Dennis Day.) An enchanting little fellow he is. Got a voice, too. Not much melody yet, but loud. We'll probably be sending him into the cellar to practise like his father used to. In fact Dennis has already mentioned such a possibility. "It was good enough for me," Dennis says, "and I want my son to have all the advantages I had." In a way I think Dennis was serious when he said that. About the advantages, I mean. The advantage of being in a home with lots of love. That's one thing we never took away from our children. No matter what mischief they got into, what problems they created, they knew we loved them and wanted them. And they, in turn, gave us their love and confidence: That's our success. We're happy.