Evening star., 1932-10-21

because he had talked much about
trusting without knowing the truth
about trusting himself.
All right The first man. A man
| who chewed gum vigorously and
i mouthed the words brutally, jerkily.
NO" David Owen said for Dick NO
Jimmy, you try It,"
And again, the word was No" And
still again. And again. The words had
| been written for one man, written bet
| ter than Dick Mason knew-written so
well that nobody else in the world but
that one man ought to say them. And
| perhaps Owen guessed this truth. Per-
| haps he knew much more understood
much more than he let Dick realize.
For he said suddenly. very casually.
| Dick"
"Yes. Dave?"
That's a hard part to cast"
| T know"
TT calls for more than most radio
| actors can give Because most of them
can't feel what you're trying to say"
| "Yes?"
why don't you play it yourself?"
"Me?" Dick tried to laugh, but did
| 1t badly. Me? Why"
Go on. Read it once. Let me listen,
[ Dick"
BIT Why not? Even saying the
, words would help. Even hearing him.
self say them as Judy should have
heard him might ease the pain little.
| All right.
"I'li try it, Dave. But only because
! there's so little time It's not my fault
The client held up everything until the
last possible minute. Just let us know
this afternoon. and wants to be on the
! air at $50 tonight. Crazy, and 1 told
him so. But ne insisted. Seems he
took a chance and signed up tenta-
lively for everything. but he couldn't
| give the go ahead until the directors
met this morning and o. KID what
he'd already done. So that was the
best could do. And"
| Never mind. Dick. Wen put it on
the air, and Wen put it on right. Even
part"
Facing the microphone. Dick found
ne wanted to close his eyes. Then he
| knew why Because. with his eyes
closed, he could see Judy Allison. Be-
cause he knew the words so well that
he needed to look at the script only
! once or twice, because the words were
| so true that they could be said over
and over, and they would never grow
old. Il don't want you to leave me. Not
now. Not ever. There's such g. little
ought to be centuries. When We ought
never to die"
Something crashed loudly. He start
| ed, stared. 1t was only the door lead
ing into the studio.
You'll do. Dick" Owen said, grin
ming You put more feeling into it
than you need to, really. Well let's go.
Well use you. Mrs. Denny. And Mr..
Hartford. And you. DicH. And, Irwin.
there's not much sound-effect stuff in
this. Here. Let's mark tile sound cues.
Ctto viii you get that other micro
! phone set up? All right. lets CO.
| Cues. Speeches. WORDS underscored.
| Words overscored. Microphones. The
dreary paraphernalia Of a business
Dick Mason had thought he loved more
| than anything else man could hope
to follow.
Now he knew better. Now he knew
that Judy Allison had taken every
thing from him when she went away,
when she made her pitiful little speech
| and ran away before he could find her
and stop her and hold her and tell her
the truth.
So Judy Allison rode east. Once she
read . magazine. The story she found
was love story. story about a man
and girl who were parted, who we're
reunited, who laughed. She closed the
magazine and went into the dining
| Car. She ordered without knowing
| what she had ordered, she ate without
knowing what she ate. She had never
travelled on a big train like this be-
fore, she had never eaten IN a dinner
| car before. But none Of it mattered.
Not the towns that passed mysteriously
| in N no yr-if hon
bags stamped with exotic labels from
all over the world. Not New York
straight ahead.
| What would she do in New York?
She didn't know. Something, anything,
Maybe she could find a Job teaching
music, or job playing the piano. Shed
try. If not that, then she could be a
waitress. Or sell candy. Or do some
thing. Anything.
But nothing that had to do with
radio Nothing that would make Judy
Allison voice again, to be heard, to
be listened to- to be believed.
Her watch had stopped.
| Can you give me the time?" she
asked the conductor, not really want
ing to know, only wanting to do some
| thing to fill a second of the time that
moved so slowly.
Ten fifteen" the conductor said.
That's 9:15 in Chicago"
Thank you" She set her watch.
stared out of the window, moving rest
lessely. finally decided to go back to
| the lounge car. Moving a little. walk
ing along the swaying train, reading a
magazine. listening to the radio-this
might help, this might dull the slow
steady ache in her heart
| So she went back to the lounge car
She heard on the radio dance music
from Chicago.
She thumbed through the pages of
magazine. She listened a little to
eager voices of people who passed back
and forth from the observation plat
form. She wondered about Dick Mason.
She might have wondered more if she
could have seen him at that moment.
If she could have seen him waiting
in the outer room for time to go on the
air. Not to announce, this time, but to
act. To say words that had meant
much, that now meant nothing, because
the girl who was to hear them some
time, somehow, was gone
Then David Owen signaled him.
Thine to go in"
"All right, Dave. Ready, Mrs.
Denny?"
Eyes, Dick"
They took their places. Dick, the
woman, the man, the sound man. the
director. They watched the panel
where the red light would show when
it was time to begin. The announcer
huddled over his script, reading busily,
learning the feel Of the opening words
Until the red light flashed. Until the
announcement began.