Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 70, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 August 1929 — Page 11

AUO 1. 1029.

OUT OUR WAY

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TALENT ' 7 £i/ ELLAAiOR EARLY O 1929 13* MA verv.ce kc

7 Hl' I! 1 ' HArrrM H ■" on • a-- . .. pia- in fn ; ~nr; ior - nil UFO FLYNN. poller .-"irt • • i-m • ■ Th- pis •< a- -rittrn in ry.ri'i. v hit' Moll- • * recuperating fton in l- rflpru nt ■< bull r i rrcel'cd at t|ir iiaiidP of Dope Dsn. R dope fiend. Moll- it rl?tro because shf belle-es <hr piav 1 trul- good. But she Is rir-r-r to sUo because her sweetheart, .i u K WFLLS. ha insisted upon brnnk- : •< menl Jack beliesrs • -1..,; , iieaded for a -p-ctacular -arrer. and he refuses so stand in her Din i Harbor some such no- •. herself for the consents—while pi r ■.-■•ips ’eeuiv lo th breaking of then engagement. * Nor lie i; read” to sho’ her pia--so th (eiebratrd producer. C.eorge Durbin. *ho has oremiced to see her in his fCe-> York off lee NOW (.O ON WITH TUI 'TORY CHAPTER XX ONCE Molly interviewed George Durbin. And .-he knew him for ? slight, boyish, mild-mannered man. whose simplicity belied his greatness. There was nothing about, The famous producer to frighten a girl. But now she was horribly nervous. It was one thing to internew. a man. and quite another ;o approach him with a play. Molly felt ns though she were being outrageously preposterous. He would be nice to her. she was sure of that. Hr was that kind of a man. But wouldn't he think her perfectly ridiculous, daring to think she had written a play worthy of his production? George Durbin had never put on a flop. And here she was—presuming to march in on him in his own private office. b:g as life, with a play under her arm! Molly dressed three times that morning. She wanted lo look as old as possible. Old and sophisticated, she decided. If she looked young and innocent-appearing. Mr. Durbin might be prejudiced against her from the beginning. She discarded a youthful taillcur of beige, and wore instead an ensembic of black crepe. She covered her face and neck with sun-tan ■ ■■. . ci. ,-.nd rouged her lips with geranium paste. She shaded her - i-.u!! '■ tme pencil, and sprayed her-elf v.iih the most sophisticated of perfumes. Then she hung large baroque pearls from her ears, bought- a gardenia to match, and rolled her small black hat 'it was rM original Agnes' low on her forehead. She wore white buckskin glove -, and a short string of pearls, because rite had noticed that the really smartest women at Palm Peach, when dressed for the street, wore cither black and white or heme. And. of the two. beige, she decided, was rather youthful for a seriou -minded young playwright with iter wav to make. Mr Durbin received her with cer.tle courtesy. Ho had heard somethin. oi (he play, he said And he took the briet case from her, and cpmcci K himself. “11l glance through it. if you'd like. ’ he ottered, and took the manuscript to the antique Florentine table that served as desk. He turned the pages rapidly, and v hat he read seemed to absorb him. Molly sat in a high-backed Italian chair, with her feet swinging ofT the Moor, and felt very small. Nervously cln- pressed her hand tc her mouth, .rod the geranium rouge was m*ared on her .-mart white glove, he wondered if the blue shadows hat encircled her eyes were also oming off. e n a SUDDENLY Mr. Durbin looked '3 up and smiled It's good." he said. I'll take it. There are spots that are weak, laturally. But that's all right. I'll .get a play doctor at work or. it. Ml plays arc pretty well doctored 'cfore were ready to put them in rehearsal. Then they get a lot mere doctoring before the puglie gets a :ook at them. Do you want to drop around tomorrow, and I'll get in touch with Hewins—he's the chap w e call in for diagnosis. Say 11 o'clock. Will that be all right?" “Oh. Mr. Durbin! That's * wonderful. Perfectly wonderful!" Molly had forgotten the dignity of baroques and black crepe. “You really truly like it?" She demanded. You think it s honestly good?” • Well." The great man smiled kindly. I'll be perfectly sincere with you. Miss Burnham. It's a ■pretty good little play. That is. it has possibilities. Big possibilities. 1 should say. There's a vogue right now for newspaper plays. Crime plots and mystery stories are going

over big. So that it possesses all the virtues of being timely. It satisfies a popular demand. “But, most important of all. thcr's the personal advertising you have had. I'm not trying to discount the merits of your play. Miss Burnham. You've an extraordinary plot there and you've worked it out very well. But the dear public, as you undoubtedly know, arc hero worshipers. They like, particularly, to worship a woman. Remember how they turned out for Gertrude Erierle? And Amelia Earhart? "Well, they haven't forgotten that little shooting affair in Boston. Ask any man on the street, who Molly Burnham is. He'll tell you quickly enough. "But, the public is fickle. It doesn't, remember any one very long. Men and women have starved to death who once were favorites. That means that we must grab time by the forelock when we re banking on transient popularity. Not long ago Broadway went plumb crazy over a certain hero. Today nobody would cross the street to look at him. It’s always the same. Your name may mean something today, but it won't be worth a nickel in six months. “Asa matter of fact, you've been out of the papers for sonic time : now. It might 'oe a good idea to ! get a press agent:, and stir things j up a bit.” “Red Flynn could do that," dc- : dared Molly. "Yes. Red's good. He press agented me for one season." Mr. Durbin ! smiled reminiscently. "Used to want me to sit on top of fiagpoics. and wave flags. Dragged me out to Central park once, and had me risk mj life pretending to teach a hippopotamus to sing my old Hip-Hip-Hurrah song. The hippopotamus opened his mouth, and a camera man fainted. "Red's a great boy for stunts. He'll have you roller skating down Broadway to help Grover Whalen solve his traffic problems. Or maybe he'll , think up some back-to-nature stunt for you. Once he wanted me to go into the Maine woods, and live on berries and bark." Molly squirmed. “I couldn't do ■anything very exciting." she confessed. "because my parents are aw - fully old-fashioned, and they've had just about all they can stand already." * Oh. we won t ask you to do anything too bad," assured Mr. Dur,bin. “By the way. I don't think you’re a very good business woman. Miss Burnham. You haven't asked anything about royalties." “But anything you say is all right!" she exclaimed. “I'm so happy to have you produce my play, that nothing else counts." nun MR DURBIN smiled. “I'll have to be generous after that.'' he declared. Molly had no idea of splits or receipts. “I don't even know indifference between net and gross." she confided. "Anything will be quite all right. But could you give me the vaguest notion of how much actual money I may get out of it?" Mr. Durbin raised his eyebrows. “Well, there’s Ann Nichols." he said. “They say she's made a couple million. And then there arc ail the plays the flop—the countless, countless failures. There's no telling. Miss Burnham. Maybe you'll make some money. Perhaps a lot. And then again maybe you won t." “Well. I'm thrilled to death anyhow," she told him. Hysterically gay. she telephoned Jack from a booth in the lobby. “Oh. Jack! Jack! Mr. Durbin's going to take my play, isn't that wonderful!" But Jack's enthusiasm was tempered. “That's fine." he declared. How vc you been. Molly?" “Oh. great! I'm dying to sec you. I've so much to tell you. Gee. Jack. I'm about thrilled to death. Isn't it just too wonderful to be true." “I told you you’d make a career for yourself nc reminded hrr. "I guess you’re getting the breaks for both of us. honey." “Aren't thing going well with you?” “Not so hot." he told her. "Maybe my old girl will give me a job around the theater." "Dent joke that way." she protested. “You know. Jack Wells,

—By Williams

that you're going to design some great, library, or something and be famous like Bullfinch and Stanford White. Listen. Jack. I'm hungry. Let's have luncheon together, and I'll tell yon about Mr. Durbin and Delphine Darrows." There w as a second’s silence. Then hesitatingly, Jack said. “I'm awfully sorry. Molly. I'm going out to Westchester this afternoon." "You don't "ant- to take me?'' she cried. “I didn't say that." ‘ No. but you mean it. You know perfectly well you could see me ts you wanted to. Why. Jack, it's been weeks and weeks." 'I know. But we made an agreement before you went, away. Molly. There's no good seeing each other, honey." “All right. I won t ever telephone you again. Jack. I won't bother you any more " “Now. Molly! Don't be like that," he besought. “Maybe you'll conic to the opening night of my play?" she inquired politely. “Why. of course. I will. I'll send you flowers,” he promised. “I—l’ll send you tickets," she gulped. “D—down in f-front." She wondered why she wanted to cr\. Jack was simply being hateful. Os course, he could take her to luncheon if he wanted. He needn't have been afraid she's make love to him. Just, as if they couldn't be friends, even if he didn't want to Ibe sweethearts! She hung up the 1 receiver abruptly, and swallowed an unaccountable lump in her throat. “I'm going to be famous! she vowed. “And have my name up in electric lights." The amazing effrontery of youth! The sweet, mad impulse of Molly. n tt n NOW. may'oe it was luck. And maybe, as some critics say. she has the spark of genius. It doesn't, after all. make much difference. The important thing is the way the public has acclaimed “The Death of Delphine Darrows.” Probably you read of that spectacular first night. And you know: how it’s been packing them in ever since. You’ve read what the reviewers have to say. A good many of you have seen the play. Before the summer is over, millions more will have thrilled to it—for they arc filming it now for the talking movies. The fame of Molly has swept from coast to coast. There are five companies on the road now. And the original cast is opening in London in the fall. Do you remember reading of the opening night, and how they called on Molly for a speech? Her mother and father were sitting down front with Jack. He had met them at the station, after Molly sent him word that she did not want to see any of them until after the final curtain. i To Rc Continued)

TARZAN OF THE APES

1 " 1 " • . A.. J T Inlr/i

During that first year. Grcystoke was .-cvcral times attacked by the great apes. But he never again ventured outside without both rifle and revolvers. He had strengthened the cabin and fitted locks to the door, so he had little fear of the huge beasts now continually infesting the vicinity.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS 11

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

” -- - - a COKE ANO 1 ——— j ys TIME TO CO TO THE TQAtN J

In his leisure Grcystoke read, often aloud, to his wife from the store of books he had brought. Among these were many for little children. Also he wrote in iris diary recording the details of their strange life and this book he kept, locked in a little metal box. It was written in French.

—Bv Martin

A year from the day her little son was born. Lady Greystoke passed quietly away in the night. Her end ivas peaceful and the horror of the situation came to him very slowly—the fearful responsibility that had developed upon him with the care of his still nursing infant son.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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The last entry in his diary was made the morning following her death and there he recites the sad details in a matter-of-fact way that adds to the pathos, sorrow and hopelessness of this cruel blow: “My little son is crying for nourishment —O, Alice, Alice—what shall I do?"

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

And as Lord Grcystoke wrote me last words his hand was destined ever to pen. he dropped his head wearily into his arms upon the table. For a long time no sound broke the deathlike stillness of the jungle save the piteous wailings of the tiny, hungry man-child. Then came the apes.

PAGE 11

—By Ahern

By Blosser

-—By Crane

—By Small

-By Taylor