TV Guide (May 14, 1954)

appellation which made this Iowa- born actress squirm. So, quite suddenly, like the book¬ keeper who looked up from his row of numbers after 10 years with a firm and said, “What am I doing here? ” Georgiann decided to cease and de¬ sist from commercial spieling. No one knew it then, but—at 3:00 in the morning—a TV pitch girl had faded away. The boys along Madison Ave¬ nue had lost “Miss Johnny Mop” to a souffle and a sudden impulse. (Any¬ one who hasn’t seen Georgiann, as “Miss Johnny Mop,” cheerfully pre¬ side over a Johnny Mop advertise¬ ment, just isn’t paying attention to the commercials.) Since the demise of “Miss Johnny Mop”—who still pops up on film oc¬ casionally— Georgiann Johnson has made her move to the acting dodge pay off handsomely. Check the dos¬ sier on this 27-year-old charmer and you’ll see she’s played, among other roles in TV’s top dramas, a floozie, a conniving actress, a terrorized bride, a young Grandma Moses, a share cropper’s daughter and, of course, everyman’s ideal wife on Mr. Peep¬ ers. Meaty Scraps “I realize I look like the All- American girl,” says Georgi, “but I do my best in a meaty role. These parts that fade into the wallpaper aren’t for me. Even Marge (her Peepers role) is a meaty one. Tony Randall (Marge’s hubby) and I have some torrid domestic scraps every once in a while. Marge, you know, isn’t all sweetness and light. She’s really got quite a bit of character.” Georgiann’s show biz career reads like the plot line of the Broadway comedy, “My Sister Eileen.” With a suitable number of stars in her eyes, she ventured from Iowa into that scary jungle of success, New York. Being a budding Bernhardt, of course, meant living in the artists’ colony of Greenwich Village where, again like Eileen, she landed in a basement apartment with, unlike Ei¬ leen, two other actresses. Georgiann drew the couch to sleep on, and that, she says, is really the story of her life. (“I’ve drawn the living room couch regularly until last December, when I finally got my own apartment.”) A Village basement flat at $30 a month has about as much privacy as Macy’s window. Folks like to stoop and peek in, to see what species of beast resides below street level. This is all part of a young ac¬ tress’ New York hazing before hitting the big time. Su persaleswoman With nary a stage offer in sight, Georgiann got a job at the Lord and Taylor department store. “They thought I was a whiz. I sold $600 worth of raincoats my first day. Of course, it was storming outside and I don’t think I sold another one after that.” She then used her comeliness to better advantage: “I worked as a model for a wholesale house that was going broke. The only thing I did was sit around and do crossword puzzles. I still work them, but I’m awful. Tony (Randall) kids me. He’s always saying, ‘A Master’s degree and you can’t even spell a four letter word.’ ” (Georgiann does hold an M.A. degree —in “Oral Interpretation of Litera¬ ture.” Whatever that is.) After modeling, Georgiann, her starry eyes now focused on meal money, methodically contacted every ad agency in town to let them know she’d like a spin at doing commer¬ cials. It was a financial coup for the young lady. She did a “bettyfurness” for a slew of satisfied sponsors, in¬ cluding mopping up with Johnny Mop. The money was good, but for a gal who came out of Iowa to electrify NBC snagged Georgiann for some net-W work calendar art, for obvious reasons.^ 16