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.
of striped pants. School was no use to him or he to it. Sitting over his books, he dreamed of the "Ziegfeld Follies" and rapped drum routines out on his teeth. Now and then his eve caught a name on the page before him— George Washington, maybe— and through his bemused vision would float an image of the father of his country, turning flipflops.
In the spring Red blew. He spent two years with the Doc. Of his weekly ten, he sent five dollars to his mother. He began setting laughs. The first time it happened Doc pinned his ears back. A crack of Red's had gone unappreciated by the audience. Eyeing them glumly, he produced his first ad lib. "I telT 'em." I don't explain 'em.'' They howled, but Doc gave him hell. "If they didn't laugh, it wasn't funny. Never
RED SKELTONS NEW HOME
Red Skel+on at home— or at sea. Red paddles his own canoe, right, in the foyer of his^home. Practising for his "Panama Hattie" role, no doubt. (Mrs. S. loves that.) Below, Red's invention (not patented) for reading the paper while mowing the lawn. Bottom, that's all the living room pieces they have — just like Red!
belittle your audience. Give them the respect due intelligent people, even if they do buy medicine at a dollar a bottle." Thats another piece of advice Red never forgot.
One day John Lawrence's tent show came to town. "Gee, there's an actor. Doc," sighed the wistful Red. 'Wears a derby hat in summer and a checkered suit.
Lawrence saw Red perform and offered him a job. "Doc," asked Red. "would you think I was ungrateful if I left you?"
"What did that rat offer you?
<lEi°rhtecn.
"It'll boil down to twelve. But if I offeyou twenty to stay — which I won't— <lont take it. You're not progressing here."
Nowadays Red says : "Every time I get stale, I go into a room and not to myself do I'talk, but I ask the old man what I'm doing that's wrong, and he usually tells me." The first time the studio gives him a month off, he's going to find the Doc's outfit and do a week's work for nothing.
He'd been with Lawrence five months when a minstrel show came to town. "No matinee todav." sighed the boss. "The minute thev walk down the street at 11 :45, we're dead ducks. The mob follows 'em right to the theater."
Red followed the mob. He happened to sit behind a skinny guy who happened to be Clarence A. Stout, author of O Death, Where Is Th\ Sting and manager of the show. Red had a swell time. Every gag they pulled, he'd pull the punch. The skinny guy turned round. "Look, let them do it — " "Think they're funny? I get more laughs in a minute than they get in an hour." (Red says he was conceited as hell till he met Edna).
"Yeah? Where do you get all these laughs ?" „ "Down the street at the Tent Show. "I'll be around tonight." "Do vou good."
The skinny guy strolled up to him after the show. "Well, you didn't get as many laughs as you said. — What do they give you here, coffee and cake?"
"But with molasses. Twenty a week."
"I'll give you fifteen."
"I'll take it."
A year and a half with the minstreR One day he stood in front of a circus ad. "Gee, I'd love to be a lion-tamer."
61