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^j^^y^ MOTHER in the Series of Hollywood' s True Love Stories, Which
Proves that a
Qood Fire Can Burn up Lots of Things —
Including a
QirVs Past
"I've got a surprise, a bootleg movie," cried Lucille La Varr to the crowd. And beautiful Julie Crandall, her agonized eyes on the man she loved, turned white and still, facing ruin
Avenue started trekking to Harlem. As he passed AI's table I heard Al say, "Robbing cradles now, eh, Mike? Where'd you get her?" And he nodded toward Julie.
"That big-mouthed Flora saved her from the river or the gas jet and brought her here. She's too frail for this game. She'll crack."
Al smiled in a way that made me want to slug him. "Send her over to me, Mike, when the show's over."
A few minutes later Julie came over to AI's table.
"Mike said you wanted to see me," she said in a dull, listless voice.
"Sure, girlie. Sit down. All washed up, eh?"
"Yeah."
"Tried to kill yourself, didn't you?" "Yeah." Julie seemed not to take the least interest in the man at her side. Her eyes were veiled by her long
for April 1931
lashes as she languidly traced the red checks on the table cloth.
"You're too pretty for this dump. Why don't you get out? Need the dough?"
"What do you think?" she said in a firm husky voice that one day would thrill millions of fans.
"I think you've got what the public wants," Al said, peering at her with his snake eyes. "How would vou like to make some easy money — say five hundred dollars? With half a grand you could put some good food into that body, buy yourself some swell clothes, and crash the gate into the front row of any chorus in this town. How about it, girlie?"
"I'm through with show business," she said dull v. "I've fought and struggled to get some place. But it's no use. I'm sunk, see? All I want is to get out of this city — to the country — where the air is fresh — and the trees are green — and I can start life all over again." She broke off suddenly and laughed harshly. "I didn't mean to tell you that. It's none of your business."
"O.K., baby," Al said. "It's all right with me if you don't want to be Ziegfeld's next star. But five hundred dollars will get you back to the cornfields or cotton patches or wherever you aim to go, faster than the pickings in this honky tonk." He shifted his chair closer to hers. "Now listen. I'm an exporter. Here's my card. In this narrowminded, bigoted country there is no appreciation of Art, so I make motion pictures for foreign release. See? Come to my studio tomorrow at ten. Until then — "
He drained his highball, gave her what might be called a smile, and left.
I had been listening in on that whole conversation. I hated to see that poor starved kid get caught in the coils of Al Shoeman. But what could I do? I didn't have any money but I had a lot of good advice — which nobodv wanted, including Julie Crandall. I usually minded mv own business except when it was newspaper business, but on my way to the door I stopped for a second at Julie's table.
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