TV Radio Mirror (Jan - Jun 1957)

9153 — Basic fashion for a smart wardrobe — this shirtwaist dress is wonderful every season of the year. Printed Pattern in Misses' Sizes 1220; 3042. Size 16 takes 4^4 yards 39inch fabric; % yard contrast. State size. 35^ 9371 — ^Young, slim lines are especially flattering to the shorter, fuller figure. Half sizes 141/2-24 Va. Size leVa takes 4% yards 35-inch fabric. State size. 35^ 9077 — Just one yard of 35-inch fabric makes each of these pretty little serving styles! You're sure to want a colorful apron trio for yourself and for gifts. Pattern comes in Medium Size only, takes 1 yard 35-inch. 35<^ 9077 ONE SIZE MEDIUM €acA One 1faA<S. 35' 9371 14y2-24'/2 " Send thirty-five cents (in coin) for each pattern to: TV Radio Mirror, Pattern Department, P.O. Box 137, Old Chelsea Station, New York 11, New York. Add five cents for each pattern for first-class mailing. Be sure to specify pattern number and size. 72 AUister Street again, and for the first time since he'd become a star in television with The $64,000 Question. This time, he was going back as star of the most successful show in TV. With not only the gold key to all of San Francisco, but the magic key to almost every home in America. This time, he was going back in a shiny black limousine with a chatiffeur and a police escort, and bringing a beautiful bride to introduce to them all. ... "I spent the biggest part of my youth here," Hal was saying now, emotionally "I was raised with these people. The barber who used to cut my hair is still here." In some ways, the street seemed the same. Cops were escorting a frowsy-haired woman into a paddy wagon and taking her away — and creating almost no stir. This is not news here. Nor is a siren news. But Hal March is. The whole street turns out to welcome him. Shabby lace curtains part from windows of musty rooming houses, and heads poke forth, llie Chinese laundry man, the flower woman, the lady from the bakery, a^ veteran on crutches. Delicatessen merchants in white aprons flood the street. All nationalities, all ages— they come from nowhere, surrounding him.. It's "old home week" on McAllister Street. Leon Mendelson's boy has come home ... a star. The block echoes with shouts back and forth. "Remember me, Hal? . . . Hi, Hal. . . . There's Hal! . ._. Got time for a pastrami sandwich, Hal?" The delicatessen store is a "Launderette" now. "Shag rugs washed, dried and fluffed" there. No longer, his dad's prized home-churned sweet butter or corned beef. No longer there — the gentle-faced Santa Claus of the street. Hal's eyes moisten and he turns away. . . . "There's Dave's barber shop — and there's Dave!" he says, going to greet him. The old barber throws his arms around Hal's neck affectionately. "Hal you look thin. Your beautiful hair — you cut 'em off." To Hal's lovely wife, Candy, he's saying, "You got good husband— not a better boy in this world. I know." And, to one and all, Dave is saying, "H is like my own child. I'm so tickled to se him so far up. This boy, I knew he'< . make it. You haven't got another boy in Hollywood with such a great soul as this boy. To suffer, to struggle, was nothing for this boy." To Hal, his parting word is: "You got yourself a good fine stepladder. Now you stay up there." And in the crowd in the street, paying homage, too, is the merchant who put r knife in a yoimg boy's dream. "Today, Hal was saying quietly, "today, he says. 'He's my boy!' " They were wrong, any of those who doubted young Hal Mendelson. He was never about to wind up on McAllister Street. The music he could make was too happy — the dedication, too strong. No struggle was too great to get where he i wanted to go. "You don't know how you're going to do it. You just know you've got to try — or die. . . ." And, one rainy night, eighteen-year-old Hal Mendelson had braved it and hitched a ride to Hollywood to try. "It was raining cats and dogs that night Hal left," his mom weU recalls. "I felt terrible and I cried. He didn't have anything to do. He didn't have anywhere to go there. But it worked out fine, God bless him. That was the right road for him. . . ." But not before years of struggle. And true to life's irony, Hal Mendelson was to get his real start on the professional stage — not in Hollywood— but in a burlesque house on the other end of . . McAllister Street. (Part II— February issue.)