Screenland Plus TV-Land (Jul 1959 - May 1960)

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Chasing The Blues Away continued fro care how well-adjusted and out-going a person is, you can't like everyone and not everyone is going to like you. You're bound to find you are more comfortable with some, people than with others." Connie has learned to find those potential friends by being approachable. "For me, this wasn't easy. I had plenty of friends in my home town, but out on tour I felt I had to be stand-offish with strangers. It is too easy to get talked about. People are quick to call a girl singer a tramp. Usually my mother was with me, and I automatically turned down any invitation which did not include her." For an entertainer, there's always a letdown after a show. When the evening holds nothing more than the prospect of going back to the hotel and having dinner alone, the blues can hit. They hit Connie near the end of her first Honolulu engagement. "After my performance I started to take off my makeup. Instead, I found myself simply staring into the mirror and thinking, "So this is glamour. So this is show business. Back home, girls I know are out on dates with boys they like. They're laughing. They're having fun. I'm all alone." There was a knock on her dressing-room door. A Hollywood actor who was in the troupe stuck his head in and asked, "How's about having dinner with me tonight, Connie?" Automatically, Connie replied, "Thank you, but I just couldn't." Her tears weren't very far from the surface. Instead of leaving, he stepped in and closed the door. "He really read me a lecture," Connie recalls. "He reminded me that we had worked together for a week and I should have some idea of what kind of person he was. He reminded me, too, that all men weren't wolves and that it was time that I learned to trust my own judgment. He said that if I insisted on building a wall around myself, not many people were going to take the trouble to try to get past it." Connie sums it up. "We went out to dinner; he took me swimming the next day, and I had a wonderful time during the rest of my stay. If he's East, or I'm on the Coast, we still see each other. We're friends. He made me see that if you want friends you have to be approachable." Many girls, Connie feels, block the way to friendship by being too quick to want to go steady. "A girl can spend all her time with one boy, and, if there's a break-up, she's all alone again. It's fun to have boy friends."' She cites her own friendship with Frankie Avalon and Neil Sedaka. "We're all too busy and too ambitious right now to get serious. But they entertain me at their homes and they visit mine. We sit around the piano and sing together and it's the greatest." Connie has her own version of that old m page 41 adage, "To have a friend is to be one." She says, "As well as being approachable, you have to pay attention to others. I've learned that people like to hear from me, even if I have nothing more to say than hello. Now, wherever I am, I keep that phone busy." Another of Connie's bits of wisdom has to do with having faith that your friends will think about you. She learned it, she says, "on what started out to be the loneliest birthday of my life." Connie had planned that her 20th birthday was to be a big, beautiful milestone. "I wanted to be home and have a party with a birthday cake and presents and all the trimmings." Accordingly, she asked her manager, George Scheck, to accept no bookings for that week. She yielded when the owner of Holiday Inn, near Pittsburgh, marked the upswing of her first popularity by offering her the highest fee that she had yet been quoted. December 12 came and so did loneliness. Connie says, "My mother was with me and Mr. Scheck was, too. I knew they would do something about my birthday, but it couldn't be the celebration I had wanted. I was so unhappy I wondered how I could ever finish that second show!" Engrossed in her own woe, she failed to notice that her mother, her manager and the club owners were as smug as a trio of canary-eating cats. "I came offstage and they didn't even let me get to the dressing-room. They took me around to a private dining room and threw open the doors. There was a cake, blazing with candles. And every entertainer then playing Pittsburgh was there. I had been the adoring fan for some of them, and I had thought they didn't even know I existed. Talk about a party! There couldn't have been a happier way for rne to bow out of my teens and feel that I had become a grown-up entertainer." This year, 800 students at the LaSalle High School in Philadelphia helper! Connie celebrate her birthday. "I was playing Sciolla's club in Philadelphia. My dressing-room was filled with flowers and I had four cakes. My father and brother drove in. Frankie Avalon's famil\ came to see me. Between shows, I went out to the high school. I expected to sing to the kids, but when they sang Happy Birthday to me, that was the real thrill. Again, I knew my friends had wanted to make me happy on my birthday." What Connie believes personally communicates publicly. She made a critical test of it during a recent show when she had to enter a crowded auditorium by the front door and walk down a long aisle to reach the stage. As soon as she stepped from the car. five policemen, chosen for their bulk and brawn, rushed to her side. Connie waved them away. A sergeant protested, "You can't do that. Those kids will tear you to pieces." Connie gave the cops a lesson in crowd psychology. "Of course they will if you gang up on me first. Did you ever see a kid who didn't try to break through a line?" She took the arm of a public relations man and sailed up the aisle, calling hello to the crowd as she went along. The kids kept their places. Even the girls yelled, 'Hi, Connie', and that's so unusual. The girls in most audiences haven't been very enthusiastic about girl singers. They're critical. They can tell when you're putting on airs and when you're being just yourself." "Be yourself," sums up Connie's philosophy about friendliness. "You don't have to scrabble around, over-eager, but you can't put yourself on a pedestal, either. Hit a happy medium and you'll have all the true friends that you want." END Coming Attractions continued from page 9 export to America as a bond servant. This plot, too, is foiled when a storm at sea produces rebel Peter Finch who helps James escape. But ashore, the lad is again faced with premature death when he's accused of assassinating a king's agent. By the time James and Finch are finished with these various Technicolored hazards it is a far more mature and battered heir who finally moves in as new lord of the house of Shaws. Marvelous adventures cloaked in much atmosphere set in bleak Scottish countryside. (Buena Vista.) Guns Of The Timberland ALL things considered, there's a darn sight more to being a lumberjack than breathing in fresh air and chopping down trees. Alan Ladd and partner Gilbert Roland find that opposition from the cattlemen and Jeanne Crain can be rather formidable. Afraid their water supply will be contaminated, Jeanne and henchman Lyle Bettger block the one road to prevent Ladd from getting logs to the mill. To retaliate, Roland, obviously not a smidgin as dependable as Ladd, does all sorts of nasty things. He almost kills a young orphan boy, Frankie Avalon. who follows Alan Ladd around like an eager puppv dog. before he's consumed by his own greed. In addition to a crackling good forest fire. Frankie, looking all of 13 or 14 in various tones of Technicolor, sings a couple of songs which should make this a big one for the Saturday matinee crowd. (Warner Bros.) end 67