We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
"I hear you sing," said the doctor. "I'll give you a dollar to come over to Lawrenceville tonight."
A friend with a rattletrap drove hira
over. He sang 0 Death, Where Is TJiy Sting. He sang M is for the million things you gave me, pulling all the tremola stops and dripping tears. "How'd you like a steady job?" asked the Doc.
"I average seven a week at Penney's," said _ the artist, turned business man.
"I'll give you ten."
Red burst in on his mother that night, exultant. "I'm in show business, mom."
She shook her. head. "You're a babv, son. You've got to go to school."
He talked her into letting him try it for the summer. In the fall he came back, wearing spats and a ninety-eight cent pair
SCOOP! EXCLUSIVE PICTURES
Mrs. Red Skelton, left, records words of advice to hubby on their latest addition, a recording machine. Below, the outside of the new Skelton home looks like a nice quiet place, buiRed's always thinking up ways to fix that — like composing his masterpiece without paper in typewriter and chewing his fingers, bottom.
Red Skelton, His Life and Love!
Continued, from page 33
"Routine, nothin' ! I gotta give it to her, we're poor."
"What do you do for fun?"
"Hang around the theater and sneak in when nobody's lookin'. Hey, there's a big show tonight, mister. Better go. Raymond Hitchcock in 'Hitchykoo.' Some day I'm gonna be a comic like him."
The stranger regarded him. "Would a buck take care of what you've got left there ?"
"Sure, I guess so — "
"Well, take this to your mother and be at the theater by seven thirty. I'll get you in."
As good as his word, the man was waiting out front. Next time Red saw him, he was on the stage, acknowledging applause. "Hey, that's the guy just got me in here — " His neighbor eyed him coldly. "Sure! He's a friend o' mine, but I don't know his name — "
"His name's Raymond Hitchcock and shut up."
That was one show Red could hardly sit through. As the curtain fell, he made for the stage door. "There's that pest again," snarled the doorman. "Get him out — "
"Not this time you don't," chirped Red. "I'm personally invited by the star an' how dya like it?"
Hitchcock showed him his first proscenium, his first dressing room, gave him his first lesson in stage positions, his first piece of professional advice. "If you really want to go on the stage, quit this town, or you'll wind up as the village halfwit."
To Red his words were as so many nuggets of gold, stored up and gloated over in the watches of the night. When the time came, he acted on them. He was spending the summer vacation of his twelfth year, knocking nails out of crates in J. C. Penney's basement. One day the manager appeared with a top-hatted stranger. "Dr. R. E. Lewis, Red, runs a medicine show, wants to talk to you."
60