Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 99, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 September 1930 — Page 9

SEPT. 3, .1930,

OUT OUR WAY

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- ERNEST lJ

BEGIN HERE TODAY DAN RORIMER. former New York ! newspaper man and now a. free lance writer in Hollvwood. Is In love with | ANNE WINTER, who. beginning as an extra, has progressed rapidly and Is ; under contract, to Grand united, one of : ihe largest, studios. Dan formerly was under contract as ; scenario writer at Continental Pictures, i but he now Is free, because of a studio executive whose methods irritated and disgusted the sensitive and stubborn Rorimer. PAUL COLLIER, who writes a daily movie column for a string of papers, shares Dan's apartment, with him He has great, faith In Dan's ability, despite the Tatter's lack of success as a free lance. Dan has become discouraged over this, and over what he considers his rather hopeless regard for Anne Winter, whose every step upward seems to remove her all the farther from him. Anne lives with two other girls. MONA MORRISON and EVA HARLEY. Mona and Eva are extras, but Mona works only occasionally and Eva. but rarclv. She is bitter over this, and over a tragic love experience. While in New York Dan had written a play for the legitimate stage. His agent, unable to sell it. iinallv sends it back to him at a time when he is disappointed because of, the rejection of his latest screen story. Anne Winter is enthusiastic, over his play So is Collier. Both of th?m think It would make a great picture. Collier tells Dan how to go about selling It. and Dan follows his advice. He sees the scenario editor at Grand United, asks for the use of a typewriter . and, while there, turns out a screen treatment of his plav, PHILLIPS, the scenario editor, agrees to read It that night. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE WHEN Dan and Paul returned from dinner that evening the girl at. the telephone switchboard downstairs informed them that j there had been a call for Mr. Rori- j mer. "From Miss Anne Winter. She left word for you to call her. Mr. Rorlmer. as soon as you came in. Shall I put the call through for you?” Dan nodded. “If you will please. We’re going right up.” Anne said, as soon as she heard . his vioce: “Eva’s gone, Dan.” The import of her words was slow in reaching him- "You mean , . "I mean Eva has left, yes.” Mona, Anne said, had gone downtown, that afternoon, and when she got back to the bungalow Eva was gone and there was a note from her. “Poor Eva.” There was a hint of tears in Anne's voice. “I’m sorry, Anne.” And he was; he had always felt sorry for Eva Harley; and never more so than now; and yet he thought that Eva, in leaving Hollywood, had done a wise thing. He told Anne so. “Oh, I know it,” she said sorrowfully. “I know it, but ” And Dan interrupted her to ask where Eva had gone. "Did she go back to New Orleans?” "Yes.” She told him then about the pitiful little note that Eva had written and left for them—all the , more pitiful because Eva had tried to write so bravely. “And she said”—Anne spoke with a. catch in her voice—“she ' said that it wasn’t good-by really. Jjecause she could see us in pictures, and hear us talk. I feel very bro-, ken-hearted. Dan.” “I know it. It’s pretty tough, Anne. But you’ll have to try not to feel badly.’* And he asked how Mona had taken it. “I guess it hits Mona pretty hard, doesn't it?” “Terribly.” When she had hung up he told Paul Collier what had happened. “It’s a rotten shame,” Collier said, but he, too, agreed that Eva had done ■wisely. “It would be a good thing.” he said earnestly, “if a few thousand more of them packed up and went home: they’d save themselves a lot of grief. Paul declared that sometimes when he got to thinking of the extras he felt very blue. “Positively - I know a few’, and I’ll swear I don’t see how they get along. And there are lots of them worse off than Eva Harley: Eva at least had a couple of friends %he could count on." • HE sat/down then to his typewriter and began to write, and after a while he laid what lie had written in front of Dan and asked - him to read it. - It was a “column” about the Hollywood extras, a moving little story about an army that was foredoomed - to failure. Dan. when he had read it. nodded * approvingly and declared it wak a pretty piece df writing. Paul, he __ thought, ought to try his hand at “sob stuff” more often. “You’re crazy not to. This is the *. best column you’ve turned out in week*. - - Paul took it and began to ’read -.copy” on It. Some day, he prophesied m he brandished his pencil. somebody would dig up a real story - m Holt:,-wood “It's here. all right.” “If you weren't so lazy." Dan told him unfeelingly, “you’d write it Z yourself ” Paul irritated him noraetimes.

Dan thought he was a little too satisfied with things as they were, and that he ought to make more use of is ability. He forever was thinking of a story that he ought to write, but he never got around to it; or, as in the case of the book he had started on, his enthusiasm soon died. He turned back to his magazine then, but he made a sorry job of getting anything out of it, because his thoughts persisted in dwelling on the interview he had had with Phillips. Phillips at that every moment might be reading his manuscript, and Dan wondered uneasily what the man’s verdict would, be. Now that the thing w T as out of his hands, he could think of several places where he might have improved it; but that always w r as the way. ■ ■ It had been like that when he jvas writing news stories and fic'tion; once the stuff was irrevocably in prints, faults became apparent to which he had been blind when it was not too late to remedy. He threw his magazine down and got up and strolled aimlessly through the apartment. Paul glanced at him once or twice and then tinned back to his typewriting; but presently he announced with a great deal of noise that he Was knocking off for the night. “What’s bothering you, my boy?” . And he added with a broad grin that he could guess. ‘Let’s get out of here for a while. Grab your hat.” a a a DAN spent the following forenoon writing letters, a task for which he had no taste, but he wanted to be at home in the event of a telephone call from Grand United. He wTote a long-overdue letter to Ziggy Young. Ziggy was clamorous for news of himself and Anne Winter; and Ziggy said that his mother down in Tulsa, who was very fond of Anne, had wanted to know what kind of person Dan Rorimer was. "And if you don’t write pretty soon,” read Ziggy’s threat, “I’ll tell her. Furthermore, I’ve still got that telegram you sent me just before j’ou first called on little Anne —and those neckties you sent me are just about worn out. They must have been pretty cheap.” In reply Dan wrote that the ties I had been sent as a mark of gratitude; he’d send none as a bribe* and Ziggy might -as well get his blackmailing ideas out of his head. “And those ties cost $6 apiece, which is more than you pay for a | hat, you little red-headed squirt.” He wrote a letter to his parents ,in Knoxville, inclosing a snapshot ! of himself standing beneath a palm | tree. Paul had taken it. And there | was another letter to a former pal I in Detroit—long ones, all of them. But when lunch time rolled ! around there had been no phone call 1 from Grand United. I “Maybe he didn’t read it after all,” Dan thought, departing for | lunch. “Maybe something turned up.” Paul, though, had told him that if Phillips promised to read it immediately and give, him a verdict, he would do that very thing. “They don’t usually do things that way; I’ve known of storito to lie around for months before the studio could make up its mind to say yes or no. But Phillips can get action—and I tell you they're looking for a story for Lester Moore.” In midaftemoon there was a call; ! a girl at the Grand United—Phillips’ | secretary—informed him that the j scenario chief was very busy and j was not around at present, but he had Instructed her to inform Rorij mer that he had read the play and was reconunending it enthusiastically for production. “He told me especially not to forget the word •enthusiastically.’ > I tried to reach you once before, but no one answered.” “That's great news,” Dan said, trying to speak calmly. “Please tell ; Mr. Phil Hips that I appreciate his kindness very much.” I “I’ll do that, and we ll get in j touch with you as soon as we know what the decision is.” There was nothing to do, then, but wait, but it was something to | know that Phillips was for it. \ ! “Just how important is Philllips, anyway?” Dan asked Collier. “He’s got a big job; his word goes a long way,” Paul said “But it’s the production department that's hardboiled.' Getting by them is sometimes a different matter But you don’t need to worry,” he added

—By Williams

positively. “They’re not dizzy enougl. to pass that up.” “No?” Dan was skeptical. “You don’t know how dizzy a production department can be. I’ve had experience with one. Plenty,”, he i added with bitter emphasis. a u a BUT Paul said he wasn’t dealing with Continental now, “This is a real outfit.” Anne was curious to know what had happened. She called him up the following day and they went out that evening and danced. It was the first time in many weeks that he had danced with her, and he reminded her of this. ‘Who’s been taking you around?” And Anne laughed gaily. “Oh, not many people.” “Plenty, I’ll bet.” He knew that she had been going out a good deal of late. She was not very busy these days, doing very little more than reporting daily to the studio. He accused her of forgetting him. “You know better,” she said lightly. “Yeah? Don’t tell me. I know a tiling or two about some of the handsome boy friends. What chance has a hack writer got against these young screen idols?” Anne said, “You’re not a hack writer.” “Well, what am I?” “For one thing, you're very obstinate and—little-boyish.” She gazed at him thoughtfully across the little table where they sat and shook her head. “Dan, you ought to believe in yourself more. Sometimes I think you just don’t care what happens.” “Oh, yes, I do.” ‘Then stop calling yourself a hack writer. You know very well that, a hack writer couldn't write a play like yours.” “Well, nobody bought it.” He grinned. *• “Oh, you're too unreasonable to argue with,’ she said impatiently. “You’re hopeless.” “Bull-headed, eh?’ and at her despairing head shake he became serious once more explained that the play really meant more to him than she thought. “It’s come to mean too much, Anne. If it isn’t accepted I think I’ll—l’ll cut my throat or something. That’s the way I feel about it now.” Anne watched him light a cigaret, watched him with a wistful little smile trembling on her lips as he blew out the match and dropped it in the ash tray. She' said, as he lifted his eyes, “They’ll accept it, Dan.” “If they do,” he said, “I’ll sure celebrate. His blue eyes twinkled again. “And 111 begin to sieeep regularly again.” If it was accepted, he was thinking, he’d have a suggestion to make to Grand United. But Anne need rot know about that until later. (To Be Continued) Grandmother of 48 ’ MONTICELLO, Ind.. Sept. 3.—A new son in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Lee is the. forty-eighth grandchild of Mrs. Louise Andrews living south cf herg.

TARZAN AND THE JEWELS OF OPAR

The ape-man tifrned back along the trail, deciding to return and search the Arabs’ village once mere. Scarcely had he taken to the trees than a tall, black warrior, moving at i dogged trot, passed toward the east. It was Mugambi searching for his mistress. Pausing, he examined the body of the. dead lion An expression of wonderment crossed his features: Tarzan had removed his arrows, but to Mugambi the proof of death, was as strong as though they stuck in the carcass.

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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The black looked furtively about him. The lion’s body was still warm, and from this fact he reasoned that the killer was close at hand, yet no sign of living man appeared Mugambi shook his head and continued along the trail, but with redoubled caution. All day he traveled, stopping occasionally to call aloud the single word,""Lady.” in the hope that at least she might hear and respond; but in his loyal demotion brought him to disaster.

'—^Martin

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* From the northeast for several months, Abdul Mourak, ig command of a detachment of Abyssinian soldiers, had been vainly searching for the Arab raider, Achmet Zek, who, six months previously, had affronted the majesty of Abyssinia's emperor by a slave raid within that monarch’s boundaries. And now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for a noonday rest upon the very day and along the same trail that both Warper and Mugambi were following .toward the east.

OURBOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

It was shortly a/ter the soldiers had dismounted that the Belgian, unaware of their presence, rode his tired mount almost into their midst before he discovered them. Instantly he was surrounded, and a volley of questions hurled at him as he was pulled from his horse and led Into the presence of the commander. Falling back upon his European nationality, werper assured Abdul Morak that he was a Frenchman, hunting In Africa, hifi safari killed by bandits or scattered,

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~—By Aherrl

—By Blossec

—By Crana

—By Small

—By Cowan