Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

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with such determination, she got what she wanted. Mr. Bard not only listened to her sing, but when she had finished, offered to give her lessons without cost. With her fine voice she progressed rapidly, and her teacher, wishing to give her every opportunity, invited his friend Carrie Jacobs Bond to hear her sing. Little Jane sang her best that day. She knew of Carrie Jacobs Bond, not only of her influence in the singing world, but also of her life and character. She knew all the years of sadness, trials, and defeats which Carrie Jacobs Bond had faced in the early years of her life, and ever an admirer of courage in others, Jane's childish heart yearned for her approval and friendship. PERHAPS the elderly Mrs. Bond sensed this liking, realized this wide eyed little girl with the beautiful voice idolized her from the first moment she met her. For few people ever received the interest which Mrs. Bond showered on little fifteen-year-old Jane Crusinberry. Within the short course of one year, Jane became the most promising singer in the conservatory. At sixteen Jane was tasting the sweetness of success, the glamour of fame, and the promise of even greater heights to be attained. She must go to Europe and study. She was to sail in the spring. But the spring came to Jane's heart in the middle of winter. It came in the presence of a tall Galahad, with a reporter's pencil in one hand, and a wedding ring in the other. It was Cupid, and Jane realteed the timeworn lesson: that before she was a singer, she was a woman, a woman in love. She knew, too, what marriage would mean; the end of everything, career, Europe, fame, but most of all, the friendship of the one woman closest to her heart, Carrie Jacobs Bond. Mrs. Bond, sad to see her talented little friend throwing away her future, pleaded with her. "Jane," she said, "you must give up this idea of marriage. You are too young. The whole world is at your feet, yours for the taking. You can't throw it over now." Her eyes filled with tears as she placed her hand on Mrs. Bond's arm. "Can't you understand?" she pleaded. "I understand," Mrs. Bond said, "that you must choose between him and me, between this young man who offers you little, and all your friends who have done so much for you, and who will do even more." Jane only looked fixedly out the window through misty eyes, and in her silence she gave her answer. Carrie Jacobs Bond, proud, disappointed, rose from her chair and walked slowly to the door. Jane had made her choice. But those first years were happy ones. It was a new life for them both, filled with laughter and love and good times. Even those early misunderstandings were forgotten when the baby came. A warm, rosy faced little girl that would somehow make everything worth its price. But in time, the newness of this, too, wore off. They both came to the realization they had settled down to the humdrum business of living. For Jane it meant sending her daughter off to school, housework, worrying about what to have for dinner, an occasional bridge party, each day so much like the one before. To him it meant the office, hard work all day, and home each evening, remembering all the good times he used to have with the "gang," to worry about bills, and to realize that all this was at the price of his freedom. This indeed was the real test of love, and when these two young people met it, their love failed the test. Theirs had lost its glamour when it lost its newness, and when they realized this, it meant unhappiness for them both. It meant suspicions, separations, another effort to make a go of it, another failure. Jane Crusinberry, the author of "The Story of Mary Marlin." So one day Jane found herself standing on the courthouse steps, a divorce in one hand, her little daughter held firmly in the other, and a strange emptiness in her heart. She looked back over the years to gayer times, to applause, bright lights and success. She knew what she must do. She must take up where she had left off, begin again, seven years later. Only this time, she must do it without the guidance of Carrie Jacobs Bond. She needed money, but her father smiled away her fears. Certainly he could send her to Europe! And first class too. Why stocks were sky high, every one was making money. And a few weeks later, little realizing the economic precipice on which the world and her father were trembling, Jane sailed for France, alone, in a strange country, to begin anew. The years that followed were filled with hard work, disappointments, and loneliness. One rainy afternoon in Milan, after a grueling day at the conservatory Jane trudged wearily toward the barren little skylight room which was home. The rain was coming down in torrents, the gutters were gurgling little rivulets, and the day, dark and dismal, was akin to Jane's soul. If there were only some one to talk to, to whom she could unburden the emptiness in her heart, some one to understand what she wanted in life, and had never found. A driving urge to express herself pounded within her, an overwhelming urge to . . . Suddenly she stopped. There in a gayly lighted window, full of books and stationery, was the answer! A battered old typewriter! She would write it all down! Impatiently she hurried through the door. A FEW minutes later, clutching her heavy package under one arm Jane hurried out the door, almost ran through the rain-drenched streets to her room. And a few minutes later, seated by the window, the rain beating a ceaseless tattoo on the skylight, she began to write. Outside, lights flicked on. and music-loving Italians scurried through the rain and darkness to the theater, or their favorite opera. But upstairs in a barren room, a battered old typewriter clicked tunefully on. On through the night, through the eerie gray of dawn, the burdened soul of Jane Crusinberry found solace in the rattle of an ancient machine, found a strange comfort in writing, writing, page after page. (Continued on page 68) Only the dramatic life of its author can explain why Mary Marlin is so real DECEMBER. 1939 41