Variety radio directory (1938)

GOSSIP'S MARTYR (THE STORY)— Continued "And once," my informant went on, "a boy was supposed to be reading a magazine and you said to him, 'Make believe that you're reading a good, hot, peppy magazine!' " "I never said that!" I exclaimed furiously. "I just told him to read the magazine as though he were interested in it!" "Evidently they got a different report of your instructions. They even say that you described spicy pictures that the boy was supposed to see in the magazine. They also claim that you encouraged riotous parties after the rehearsals." I was speechless. To have innocent words and actions so twisted and degraded was unbelievable. Why should they have done that? Why were they so ready to believe evil of me? I got a hint of the truth in what my friend said next. "You should also know," and he said this with great embarrassment, "that you have spent many week-ends in — well — shall we say clandestine adventures? You were seen driving home with men in the early hours of Sunday mornings, and there will be some who testify that you were under the influence of liquor, and that your gentlemen companions were quite free with their hands. Of course you will understand that all this is not the sort of thing one would expect from an instructor to the young." "But don't they know that I often spend Saturdays and Sundays with the Tavern Players in Lynn?" "Maybe some do, but that would only make it worse. Hanging out with actors might mean carousing; in fact, to many here, it does." "But they're all fine people there." "Isabelle," my friend was very much distressed, "I hated to tell you all this. It's awful, nasty, unjustified. "But that is what you're up against, and you've got to know the truth to face it." "But why — why — should they think this of me? They've deliberately misconstrued everything I've done. They've accepted lies, vicious gossip, for truth! Why?" I was getting desperate. I already felt like these unfortunate women who, in old New England, were branded with an infamous letter. "Maybe they resented you because you were a bit unconventional. If you think back over your life here, perhaps you'll understand. Your likes have been different. They may always have thought you too bold." I tried to understand what he meant. And for a moment I did. The remarks, the insinuations, the looks — ever since I had been a child in school — they acquired a new meaning for me now. I could almost hear them saying, "Blonde hussy!" But this only flashed through my mind. The next moment I told myself that my friend must have obtained the wrong information. Perhaps he had listened to the gossip of some irresponsible person. I thanked him for what he tried to do for me, for his sympathy, and then went on to continue my investigation. I happened to see a newspaper. I was stunned. There was a story about me. I had been dismissed from my post because I had served cocktails to my pupils. Big headlines drew attention to this sensational tale. Everyone now seemed to have his eyes on me. I walked up the street. On a newsstand was a Boston paper. Here, too, was the same news. The cocktail serving school teacher! It was horrible. I met a girl friend. "Isabelle!" she cried, "Mrs. — " she named a woman I knew — "is saying the most awful things about you. She says it's high time folks knew what kind of girl you are — that you go about with a fast, immoral, drinking set." I suddenly recalled my relations with this woman. She had a son in my class who was always pampered by her. At the slightest sign of a cold he stayed away from school, and if he so much as sniffled, he was good for a week in bed. In some way this youth had talked himself into becoming an officer of my drama group. I accepted him, but when he continually stayed away from school, I told him that he would have to be more regular in his attendance, or he couldn't be an officer. "But I can't guarantee that I'll be in school every day," he said. "It's up to you!" I retorted. "You'll either have to improve your attendance or give up your office." Soon afterward, he was absent for a long time and we elected another boy in his place. His mother was very angry when she heard of this, and blamed me for not giving her son a fair chance. Now she was accusing me of immorality! Spite had helped along the rumors that had been sent out about me. 254