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.
Dorothy is not, in the strict Holly¬ wood sense, a career actress. A tall, rather willowy girl who can be made to look deceptively short, she came to Hollywood 10 years ago from her native Kansas City, all fired up to be a great dramatic actress. Almost before she knew it, however, she found herself in the real-estate busi¬ ness, buying up a dilapidated duplex (Los Angeles version of the two- family house), refurbishing it and renting it. She now owns several such, is a licensed real-estate salesman and is currently thinking of tossing in her lot with one of Hollywood’s bigger and better-known realtors. Somewhere along the way, however, she did wangle a year’s contract at Paramount, where she appeared as a show girl in ‘Road to Rio.’ That was followed by an M-G-M contract (she was a show girl in several musicals) and she just recently fin¬ ished still another stint as a show girl in Ethel Merman’s, “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” at Fox. Several years ago she put in two months as a Las Vegas show girl at the Flamingo Hotel, where she quickly earned the name of The Girl with the Golden Arm. “In Las Vegas,” she explains, “you just naturally gam¬ ble whether you’re a gambler or not. So I stood around the tables with my little nickels and dimes and all of a sudden found myself on a winning streak. I just couldn’t lose. People kept making side bets on me and sev¬ eral of them made far more money on my luck than I did, myself.” Two years later, in Houston, Dor¬ othy was stopped by a man. “I know you,” he said. “You’re The Girl with the Golden Arm out at Vegas.” “What a reputation,” she blinks, “for Friday’s girl!” Dorothy’s husband, Rudy Diaz, was for five years a member of the nar¬ cotics squad of the Los Angeles Police Department. “He’s on felony now,” she explains, “for the narcotics men get to be too well known to the dope peddlers. He was pretty well-known, too, for his name was used twice on. Dragnet —long before I was on it. Being married to a real cop and engaged to a fictional one, however, still hasn’t been enough to indoctri¬ nate Dorothy on the subject of how to be one. She once talked her hus¬ band into taking her along on a case. He was posing as a dope buyer and was to meet a peddler outside a the¬ ater. “Whatever you do,” he warned her, “don’t call me Rudy. These boys know that name. To this guy tonight I’m Joe. Don’t forget it.” Naturally, she forgot it. The peddler took off with a vast show of speed. “Rudy didn’t speak to me for three days,” Dorothy says. “And I never did have the courage to tell Jack Webb about it. He’d probably figure an idiot girl like me had no business being involved with Joe Friday.”