The Wilmington morning star., 1940-06-03
Man bout

By George Tucker

to perfect yer country" ran the
sales cry of a ballyhoo man out
side an 9th avenue shooting gal
lery. "You gotta loin to shoot
straight now. Don't wait till we're
invaded. Step right up and take
any rifle yer choose. Twenty
fl cents is all it costs-twenty-fi
cents for fifteen shots"
This man had on a ~turtleneck
sweater, sleeves cut off at the ell
bow. He seemed familiar, and
there were numerous comic strip
characters tattooed on his arms.
Finally placed him. He used
TO be with a carnival up in the
Bronx. Only then, he wasn't bal
lyhooing shooting galleries. He was
ballyhooing physical culture les
sons that were given by an ex
wrestler with the show. "Loin ter
perfect yer goil," was the way his
sales chatter a then. Build up
yer muscles and loin to perfect
yer goil."
Queenie died last night, and
that was sad news to the gang
around the old Driperoo. Queenie
was a trained flea, the belle of
the big top and a star in any flea
circus. They don't know what hap
pened to her. She just rolled over
on her back, and died.
That's the third headliner I've
lost in a week." grumbled James
Carnard, better known to his in
Inmates as Bedrock" IF I didn't
know these boys pretty well, I'd
think somebody was slipping a lit
tie feapowder into the feed" Jam
es Carnard is a puzzled man to-
day.
1t was more like old home week
than a theatrical event when the
48th street Music Hall, which fea-
lures a program of old-time films,
was opened. The crowd in attend
ance listed a very great many
names that enjoyed top billing
back yonder in the days of the
early silents. You looked around
and you saw Marguerite CLARK
shaking hands with Beverly Bayne.
You looked again and you saw
Viola Dana laughing and talking
with Phyllis Haver. No matter how
hard you looked you did not see
Mary Pickford or Gloria Swanson
they got caught in the rain at
the fair and had to telephone to
say they would not be able to
make it. But you saw many others
who are still active on the stage
or in the films. In all, there must
have been two hundred people
whose name at one time or another
merited front page attention-Ed
Wynn, Walter Huston, Bella Blau,
Peggy French, Taylor Holmes,
Madge Evans, Vivian Vance, Con.
rad Veidt, Dolly Haas, Lila Lee
(remember?) and scores of others.
They played charades. They put
on an acting" contest, with the
audience participating. They stag
ed a country store rattle and a
balloon blowing contest. The rea-
son? A benefit performance for the
relief Of Europe's war torn civil
ians.
Harry Oshrin is the owner of
Tobacco Road" and Jake Wilk
is the man who buys stories for
Warner Bros. Although they look
nothing alike, for some reason !
cannot tell them apart. Perhaps
it is because the first time l met
them they were on a train. We
spent days on that train. Since
then l invariably call Harry Jake,
and vice versa.
The other night in the lobby of
a theater Jake came in and l in
troduced him to a round of
friends. After the handshaking was
over 1 nudged him and said, We'll.
I got it right this time. didn't
l."
Well" said he, ''confdentially,
no, but in these days when a man
cant be sure who his friends are
I'm glad to be called anything"
And yet, I'd have sworn it was
Jake.