Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

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RM-9 205 East 42nd Street New York, New York 60 happened — the telephone would ring, and Linda would answer it. At the sound of her voice there was always a sudden click at the other end of the wire. Three times. Too often to be only an accident. . . . Then suddenly, one morning, everything was all right again. Steve had gone down to get the milk and morning papers, and the moment he came back into the apartment, Linda knew His face had a strange look — as though joy and terror were all mixed up inside of him. Silently he held a letter toward Linda. It was from the New York Symphony Society. Linda turned it slowly over in her hand, then gave it back to Steve. "Aren't you going to open it — see what it says?" "I'm afraid to. Linda." Steve's voice was husky. "You might as well." Linda tried to fight down both the joy and terror she had caught from Steve. "Give it to me," she said. STEVE handed the letter back to her Again Linda turned it in her hand. "Well, go on, open it. You're so brave." "1 don't care what it says," Linda said carefully. "If it's bad newswell, it's unimportant." Steve nodded agreement. Slowly Linda tore the flap of the envelope open. For a moment she stared at the papers in her hands. "Darling, there's a check in here,' she whispered. "A what?" "A check . . for five hundred dollars." Steve looked at her, not understanding. "For what?" "Five hundred dollars." Linda held the check out to him. "Made out by the New York Symphony Society to Stephen Harper." "I'd better sit down," Steve said suddenly. He sank into a chair. Linda pressed the check into his hands, then knelt beside him. Her eyes moved down the page of the letter quickly. "Listen to this letter, Steve!" "I'm listening." Linda cleared her throat. "Dear Mr. Harper," she read, "Mr. Ivan Jacoby has recommended that an » option be taken on your work, tentatively entitled, for the purposes of the record, 'City Park at Night.' We are very happy to say that this recommendation meets with the approval of the Board, and it is our hope that a performance of your work will be given at an early date. Mr. Jacoby has several suggestions to make about your work, and would appreciate you getting in touch with him concerning it at your earliest convenience. Enclosed is a check for five hundred dollars entitling the Society to first performance rights of your composition. Sincerely, S. W. Halsey, Secretary of the New York Symphony Society." Now that it had happened, they could hardly believe it. Five hundred dollars . . . First performance rights . . To Linda, it was as though a magic wand had been waved over them and Steve was famous already. Her Steve! She had been so right! She would have to write the news back home, to her father who had scoffed at this possibility, to her mother and sister, Holly, who would rejoice with her. She laid her cheek against Steve's. "So it happened — " "It happened because of you, darling. Because of your belief and faith and love. I love you, Linda." For a long time they just sat there, clinging to each other, alone and apart from the whole world. But gradually things began to take their normal shape. Steve made the necessary telephone call to Mr. Jacoby and arranged for an appointment on the following evening. Linda wrote a long letter to her family, a letter in which she poured out all her feeling of triumph in Steve's success. It was so difficult to realize that it was just such a short time before when she and Steve had been married— when their whole future lay before them, coming to New York, watching Steve work over that Symphony day after day — and now their future was here! SHE stood at the window to watch Steve cross the park on his way to keep his appointment with Mr. Jacoby. Her Steve! She knew that Mr. Jacoby was a great man, that he would recognize in Steve the same force and talent that she had seen in him. Humming fragments of Steve's melodies, she busied herself about the apartment. But with every moment her impatience grew. She tried to visualize Steve talking to Mr. Jacoby. Steve would play the piano, play from his own score. She could almost hear Mr. Jacoby's words of praise for the Symphony It was to be played by £)oaa H"e(Xo lo^ MILO BOULTON — your host on We, the People, every Sunday evening on CBS. Although Milo was born in Covington, Ohio, he thinks of Denver, Colorado, as his home town because his -family moved there when he was very small. He went to the University of Colorado, and after graduation worked as a plumbing salesman, clerked in a department store, drove a milk truck, served as night mechanic in a garage, and was even a bill collector. After that he decided to be an actor, and was in different stock companies for eight years before he reached Broadway. A good part in "The Petrified Forest" led to radio work, and he's been behind the microphone ever since then. He is married and lives on Long Island. RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROB