Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

Fate's Bad Boy (Continued from page 31) wanted him to become an inventor. Father was always inventing things himself. There was always something new in the wind, some toy, some contraption Father was trying out. First it had been automobiles — sputtering, crazy-looking buggies that stood steaming and chugging in front of the house. Then a collapsible picnic set that earned him a couple of million dollars. Dad had not invented anything new for six long years. There had been only travel — restless wandering, hairbrained schemes, speculation. Three months ago he had begun to sicken. And now — it was done — gone with the fading stream of an ambulance siren into the Sunday afternoon. He had literally no one to turn to — this tall, overgrown child of twelve, with a man's experience of the world. There was a fortune waiting for him — his mother's fortune, heritage of a wealthy coal-mining family. But he could not touch it until he was 25. His father's fortune was quite gone. There was nothing but the hotel — now shabby and run-down. Haunted by loneliness and a sense of the past, Orson decided to go there. It burned down — to the ground — a few days before he arrived. I I IS mother's estate had provided a n guardian for him, Dr. Maurice Bernstein, of Chicago. Dr. Bernstein took pity on the sensitive, temperamental boy, and sent him to a school for boys out in Woodstock, Illinois. He hated it at first. The strict regime, the athletics, the lack of excitement, the childish simplicity of the other boys. He was not a part of this new world. He had never kicked a football or held a baseball bat in his hand. He was good in English, and he could spout Shakespeare by the yard — but a playing field held strange terror for him. Oddly enough, though, the athletic instructor never laughed at his awkwardness. He was a quiet-spoken man named Roger Hill. When Orson made a mistake, he'd speak kindly to him. They soon became good friends. Hill seemed to see in him talents and potentialities no one had ever noticed before. "The drama club is doing Julius Caesar this year, Orson," he said one day, as they walked back from the hockey field. "Why don't you try out for a part?" "I've never acted in a play in my life." Orson blushed to the roots of his hair. "I'm too big and clumsy." "That's nothing," Hill encouraged him. "Size never matters to an actor. Besides — the Romans were big men. Try for Caesar — or Mark Anthony." "But they're the leading roles!" Orson cried. "Of course. But it doesn't do any harm to try, does it?" So Roger Hill kindly, persuasively, talked to the lonely boy. And before the year was out, Orson was the star of "Julius Caesar," playing Cassius and Mark Anthony both, in the same show. Hill encouraged him to work at painting too. On those mad travels with his father all over the world, Orson had dabbled a little at the art — mostly because his dad had said (Continued on page 56) NOVEMBER, 1939 Mzerts aft OJWlfr ?n6 / tfAdne&zaw, We were playing "tell-the-truth" at our Wednesday club meeting. It was Joan's turn and they asked her whose wash line had the worst case of tattletale gray in town. The next minute, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me. Joan was pointing straight at me! y/^£m^7— I swore I'd never forgive her— but the very next day Joan dashed over with a peace offering. She said she hated to hurt my feelings, but it was time somebody told me to quit using lazy soaps that don't take all the dirt out of clothes. She said her washes looked messier than mine till she discovered Fels-Naptha Soap— and she gave me some to try. uAam^uia^, 27 Well, the club met at my house a few weeks later— and am I glad I tried Fels-Naptha! I'll tell the world there's nothing like its grand combination of richer golden soap and gentle 7iaptha for getting clothes honestly clean! My linens and things looked so gorgeously white, the girls were simply dazzled! You bet it's Fels-Naptha and me for life— and no more tattle-tale gray! COPR. 1939, FELS a Co. BANISH "TATTLE-TALE GRAY" WITH FELS-NAPTHA SOAP! TUNE IN HOBBY LOBBY every Sunday evening. See local paper for time and station. 53