Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

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FOR YOU! Hollywood Glamour with Westmore Make-up! Perc Westmore, Make-up Artist at Warner Bros., and Priscilla Lane, now starring in the Warner Bros, picture, "The Roaring Twenties." The Westmores, make-up directors and beauty experts of 4 great Hollywood film companies, now offer you the very cosmetics they use to make up Hollywood stars— Westmore Color-filtered Cosmetics, flattering in all lights ... no aging gray tones! 25C in variety stores. Big economy 50tf size in drug stores. Get Perc Westmore' s Make-up Guide with Measuring Wheel which enables you to determine your own face type. Tells you exactly how to make up for your type . . . for more glamour! 25 tf wherever Westmore Cosmetics are sold. If the store near you hasn't it, send 25^ and your name and address to: The House of Westmore, Inc., Dept. C-12, 730 Fifth Avenue, New York City. ^JfESTMORE* j HOLLYWOOD 51 BUYS A CLASS or CLUB PIN! O A V/ / ~ nJ.„mtIy (i]ver p|a,ed, :olors, club name or school Icllcn and year. Also Heeling silver and gold plate pin*. Rings sterling silver. Also in lO-Kl. gold. Write today for free 1940 catalog. Shoving over 300 .marl designs. BASTIAN BROS. CO. Dept. 61, Rochester, N.Y. OR YOUR WIFE CANTON PAJAMA SUIT $A85 2 Post Paid Special Introductory Prloe! These lovely new Oriental Jinken Satin l';i i> ma Suits are the smartest of garment! for lounging, sl<< ping, I I' make ideal ( brim m a a ^i f t s.. ( ome in ' ii ii Black Satin with trim m < Chinese Red, Al o Red with White; Royal Blue Satin wiih Goldtrim. All band-embroidered in silk floral dc-ii^ns Helt to match, Please state size wanted, SEND NO MONET ■Hoped <'iii ..i trad check, tamp . currency or MH.hi-, ordei mi '■>' tnonej bach guarantee. DOROTHY BOYD ART STUDIO 294 Art Center Hldft., San l-'ranciacn, Calii. Write for catalog (Jriental Articles from S2 to SSO [Sells regularly for$S) from Bing Crosby's "The Star Maker" go through the Kyser process. And the process is perfect. Let's Trade a Diamond; Thrill of a New Romance (Bluebird 10363) Freddy Martin. Let's trade some of these ragged bands in for some more like Freddy Martin. Some Like It Swing It's Me Again; Southern Exposure (Victor 26331) Bob Zurke. Bob Crosby's erstwhile madwag of the keyboards, branches out with his own band and its more Dixieland than Crosby. Hoy! Hoy!; Just For a Thrill (Blue bird 10375) Bob Chester. First wax made by this new swing band now on a tour of Hitz hotels in Texas, Ohio, Minnesota, and Illinois. Bears watching. You and Your Love; Moonlight Serenade (Brunswick 8448) Gene Krupa. Excellent moderate swing enhanced by Irene Day's chirping. I Want the Waiter; That's All Brother (Decca 2628) Ella Fitzgerald. You'll all want dusky Ella and the waiter in a tune that promises to cop the looney lyrics prize of 1939. Stay Up Stan; Cherokee (Bluebird 10373) Charlie Barnet. Boom! A swing tribute to WNEW's record-breaker Stan Shaw sincerely sung by Judy Ellington. The True Story of Mary Marlin (Continued from page 41) Finally Jane rose slowly from her chair. It was finished! Her eyes wandered across the street to a rustic sign. "Milan Dress Shop." She turned again to her typewriter. Milan? . . . Marlin? . . . Slowly she wrote. . . . "The Story of Mary Marlin." For a moment she held the completed manuscript in her hand, and then dropped it in the opened trunk at her side. With this gesture a strange weariness came over her. She stretched out across the bed and slept. . . . But once more taking up her work, she continued to find comfort in writing. She wrote poetry, prose, random thoughts, stories, and as each was completed she would put it away in her trunk, to be resurrected . . . she didn't know. But with this new found means of easing her loneliness she forged ahead with her singing. Once again eyes lighted up with pleasure as she sang. Once again she neared her goal. She was to make her debut at Monte Carlo in the fall. IT came suddenly, that telegram, sud' denly and without explanation. She must "come home at once!" Four words to shatter six long years of hard work. Just that simple was Jane's chance for success snatched from her, the word, "finis," written to her hopes and dreams. Catching the first boat, Jane returned to find her father had filed bankruptcy papers. He was penniless, broken in health and spirit, his fortune gone. Jane suddenly realized the burden to be on her shoulders. She joined the swelling army of job seekers, who, in that year of 1932, were willing to do anything for a chance to live. Finally she found work, work with her hands that sent her home each evening so tired she could only fall into a deep sleep. Yet she continued to hope, to plan for something better. Vainly she tried to get established in music, but the depression had closed that field for unknowns too. It seemed hopeless until one day, riding to work on the bus she suddenly remembered. "The Story of Mary Marlin!" She would rewrite it into a radio script. The fact that she knew nothing of writing for radio, that the odds were a thousand to one against her, these things never daunted her. Her only instructor was her ear. By the hour she'd sit and listen to radio programs, solving the mystery of sound effects and other broadcasting technicalities by simple logic. Her office hours were from six at night, when she returned home from 68 working all day, until twelve or one o'clock in the morning; not one night, but every night. Weeks, months of writing and rewriting, of disappointments and rejections, and finally, that day, never to bti forgotten. Her daughter, now a senior in high school, was studying at the dining room table as Jane lifted the phone and called the radio department of Lord and Thomas Agency. "This is Jane Crusinberry," she said. "I submitted a script, the 'Story of Mary Marlin' . . ." "Oh, yes, we've just finished reading it." "Was . . .?" Jane held her breath. "Was it any good?" "Well," the voice on the other end of the wire chuckled, "if you want to know how good, it is, we're putting it on the network as soon as we get a cast rehearsed. Drop in tomorrow and we'll draw up a contract." Slowly Jane hung up the receiver, and a funny lump came to her throat. It was over, all the years of searching, emptiness, hardships and heartaches. Tomorrow was a new day, a new meaning. All that she had lived, her laughter and tears, success and failure, would go into "The Story of Mary Marlin," to bring joy and pleasure and courage to others. That was what she'd been searching for, and had never found: a chance to give, give something to the world. And at that moment her daughter, looking up from her work, came over and took her hand. "Why, mother," she said softly, "you're crying." There's really just a little more to this story. I mean, it belongs, sort of making everything perfect all around. It happened just a few weeks ago when a page boy at the National Broadcasting studios looked up from his desk to see a very old lady standing before him. "Can I help you?" he asked. "Yes," she answered, "I want to meet the author of the 'Story of Mary Marlin.' " "Well, she's pretty busy. Do you know her?" The old lady smiled. "No," she said, "but I've come all the way from California to meet her. You see, that's my favorite radio program, and I want to tell her how much it has meant to me, how much it's inspired me, the happiness it has brought." The page boy lifted the receiver of the office phone. "I'll see if she's in. Your name, please?" The elderly lady answered slowly, "My name is Carrie Jacobs Bond." RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR