Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 209, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 January 1933 — Page 13

JAN. 10, 1033

spotlight.®

BFGIN HERE TODAY SHEILA SHAYNFV 1* whose parents serf aril-know si vaudeville actors I* in K'rw York looking lira lob She!.a is a clanrer In pltr o! the Jart that she has spent airno*" her entire life on the stage, her ambition is to marry and ha - e a home jit thor-e she hr seen In small towns In which she has plated On a few hours' notice she is hired to ♦ ak 'he place of DAISY GLEASON. *nother (iur.-rr who ha spenuied an tnk. She a .<••• to JOE PARIS' ofllce In Tin Pa i Are, to rehearse There she mee‘s IRKVOR LANE and DICK STANLEY, both rich. Lane no Sheila to dance at a party he it. ;:. 0 hit 'he refuse*. knowing the* as-era tin-, of eheatsm* and the perfoi nance that night she will be 100 tired. She goes to the theater and there me.' PHIL SHORT, an old acquaintance NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER SEVEN SHEILA was glad to see someone she knew —even an old sweetheart like Phil Short. A sweetheart , who. as a matter of fact, had dropped her suddenly without warning. Why had Phil stopped coming to sen her? Why had he stopped telephoning? Sheila never had known As nonchalantly as though nothing had happened, as though he had seen her only a few days before. Phil stood there. Well, nothing had happened, really. After what the most caustic observer would have called a rush, Phil simply had disappeared. Perhaps he had had a bad year, though now he seemed prosperous. Saxophonists are well paid even in ■ ofT smeasons. And Phil himself had once pointed out that it isn’t what nn actor earns, but what he saves that counts. Living had become j cheaper. In spite of the hearty greeting mid the nonchalant manner, Sheila saw almost at once that Phil wore a harassed look. Even with an old score to pay off, she felt sorry for him. “So you're taking Daisy’s place?” he was saying. “That’s fine, Sheila. I’ve often wondered what you were doing.” “Wasn’t the telephone working j down your way?” she asked, half vexed, half laughing, t “I—l couldn’t call you,” Phil began, Plainly he was embarrassed. “But that doesn’t mean I didn't think about you.” "Well, thoughts keep a person warm in the winter," was her response, the caustic phrase borrowed from Ma Lowell, Then Sheila relented. “Os course, I’ll have dinner with you. We can't be long, though.” “There's a little place near,” Phil explained. BUM DURING the dinner lie explained other things. Upon leaving Ma Lowell’s rooming house, said Phil, he nad married. Yes, married. His face clouded a trifle as he said the word, and it was evident that the marriage was not, for some reason, a happy one. He was vague about it. The girl's name was Mildred. she came from his home town somewhere near Dos Moines. Just now, with conditions as they were, Mildred was living with Phil's parents. Sheila gathered that the daughter-in-law—• strangely enough—had a more desirable place in the hearts of the Short family than did the son. “The folks think the world and all of Milly,” was the way Phil put it. The dinner was excellent, though hurried. Sheila ordered lightly, a-; Phil did also, for both had the performance to think of. The act would go on in three-quarters of hour. r The young man was friendly, agreeable. It was nice to see Phil again. In show business one couldn't always account for sudden departures, failures to explain, omitted farewells. By the time she reached the dressing room Sheila felt rather friendly toward her old admirer and a little sorry for Mildred. Though his attitude toward Sheila had been above reproach, there was no denying the fact that Phil was a flirt. Back in the dressing room, the “arty dancers,” as Lottie somewhat scornfully had dubbed them, had rent rued from a half hour's enerj| Retie posing, their scarfs trailing. ® their classic robes in pastel shades flossed about in confusion. They talked a great deal, completely Ignoring the others. The art dancers, billed as the “Classic Nine,” were not regular troupers. That is, they were not regularly booked, but instead were trying out anew number. It was soon clear that all of them were down on their luck, stretching! every penny as far as it would possibly go. Lottie confided to Sheila, busy ■ with her cosmetic pan, that the only good number in the “Classic Nine’s” act was a scarf dance! done by the two little blonds. Lottie was a blond, too. but there I *• was a difference. The two youthful dancers had hcney-eolored hair j which obviously grew that way without benefit of art or decoration. However, Lottie might feel, Sheila soon was aware that these girls were not trying to appear superior. They were not cheap, Sheila would have told you. The shabby little street suits which they were busily donning wore well cut and reminded Sheila of the clothes worn by the smartest “Follies" girls. Dark, plain, unostentatious and expensive. Not fluffy or loud as so many chorus . girls' costumes. Their hats were just hats—-diffi-cult to describe, but suave and sure of themselves. o a b SHEILA worked on at the dressing table. Lottie's specialty came first and then Sheila's— with a wait between while the band, elegant in evening clothes, performed. Her hair would do. though she j was sorry there had not been time ' for a shampoo and wave. Now that the exchequer was about to be re- 1 pi unshed, Sheila could afford that She lighted the tiny lamp melted the cosmetic in the little “frying pan” and beaded her lashes carefully. —Darkened her lids with blue

LLOPHAN E

; make-up, crimsoned her dps with ' generous strokes, dabbed rouge high on her cheek bones. Close at hand she looked grotesque, anything but intriguing. But beyond the footlights the patches of color would be subdued to a neutral flush, a hazy loveliness, glowing and sparkling with health. Next came her hose, carefully smoothed on, and her dancing slippers. A silken slip and then Daisy’s frilled gown, tight at the waist and billowing to her knees. If it had been fitted to Sheila it could not have been more suitable. She would wear it for the first number. Lottie, rather grand and aloof in a tiara and sweeping blue satin, watched as Sheila promenaded across the dressing room. “I’d take this other dress up a little more on the side,” Miss Kilcoyne suggested, turning from inspection of her own huge pink hair ribbon. Lottie agreed, catching needle and thread from her overnight bag. Sheila shuffled a few steps, winced, smiled, tapped energetically, warming up. The band was playing the first number. Lottie, clearing her throat, caught up a chiffon handkerchief the size of a lunch cloth and left hurriedly for the wings. The art dancers, still in their street clothes, returning two by two from dinner, eyed Sheila curiously and. had she but known it, enviously. “Nervous?” one of the honeycolored blonds asked, smiling. Sheila smiled, too, and shrugged. Os course she was nervous! But it was like the excited nervousness of a circus horse sniffing sawdust after a long vacation. Soon she would be out there in the glare of the footlights. Phil. Roscoe and the rest would be behind her. An audience, hostile or friendly, in front. A sea of faces swimming across her vision! a a a THE orchestra was bringing Lottie’s number to a close with a blare. Applause, not voluminous, but encouraging. There, Lottie was taking a bow r . And another! That was a mistake—forcing the bows that way. Sheila liked to be hustled back to the stage, hand in hand with the band leader, bowing shyly, backing out before the audience was willing to relinquish her. But to force applause was bad business. Presently the clapping became milder, merely a polite patter. Sheila stood in the wings. Roscoe waved his baton, Phil nodded and .the band crashed into melody. Two bars. Three bars. How did it go? Oh—this way! Shelia ran on. Now she was dancing! Dancing to a full house, too. Tum-ti-tum, ti-tum. “Don't fake that last turn there, baby!” She now here, now there, and rippled ishing tone, still hear his “ta-ta, ta-ta!” Sheila didn’t fake the turn. It. was glorious. Skimming like a bit of thistledown. Dancing on a breath of wind. Across the stage, then back again, this time progressing slowly. Hands crossing in front, head bent just a bit, feet flying. She had it down pat! Tum-tum ti-tum! Tum-tum ti-tum! Now a run up the stage, a few steps around Roscoe, who beamed as she skimmed past him, his baton Pi* king in approval. ‘ he darted toward him, whisked away coquetishly as Bill had taught her. The saxophone droned a few bars unaided and. -shielded by Roscoe’s bulk. Phil winked at her. Roscoe nodded smilingly. It was all in the act, of course, but Sheila knew he was pleased. Sheila, too, was pleased. This was like old times again. Darting, shuffling—suddenly the dance was ended. There was a tornado of applause and Sheila bowed quickly, disappearing. Then, waiting for Roscoc's hand, she reappeared. A bow. Roscoe beckoning her. She fluttered toward him on her toes, smiling, bowing. (To Be Continued) 7TBCDK Vmr •Y BRUC£ CATTON Never ask the end,” by Isabel Paterson, brings together in Paris three middle-aged Americans—two women and a man —nnd. through a description of what they say and do and think during a fortnight of intimacy, expresses a thoughtful criticism of America life. The job is done, so to speak, In a back-handed manner. The actual story is slight. Our three people I net, go driving, dine together, nourish a mild little triangular love affair, and presently they go their separate ways. It is in the way that the background, material, and spiritual, of each one is recreated during their meeting that we get our glimpse of the nation behind them. Their origins are middle western. One of the women, whose family moved to the far west when she was a child, can remember the actual frontier, the “emancipation of women." the crest of the industrial revolution—these things are part of their experience. These people are not especially fortunate. Looking back, they conclude that they have not had' much real happiness. They have muffed most of their chances. But they have, very strongly, the feeling that life remains an adventure. that they are lucky to live in present-day America, that things have been interesting for them. Mrs. Paterson has written a thoughtful and—though I hate the expression—a "civilized” novel. Published by Morrow at $2.50, it is the January choice of the Literary Guild.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

- YOU VOU SHOULDNiT^ >RECO-HOMAM ) 60 ' FOR ND THAT,. ( ' ANYTH ' N<3 . H’IN HOLD YOU 1 j j^-ROUGHER.THAN^ iIS NOTHING V £U AS GLNTLYJ®THUMB TW\DDUN6, •H-HOUSE BRAWL ( J ’RSTUNG? J S 1 Y KNOW, YOU'RE AN j AS I get in K old pitcher that LATTLN YOU OUT - : C I," J. SEB’/ICe, IHC. ’ l-lo ~ ,

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

Tjcn.TWS ISN'T L. Z\ Having kio your room = come ATTENTION) 0N...1 WAVE A / TO THE N,CE SET INCIDENT OP M y /,4 1 \ X STRANGEB M iIL i 1 / SEE WIM, •3- tLi ■— __ . lklr . c be good UNCLE HACCy ||l _Yw EMOU6W J TAKES ) FOR ME 'j on board |jrj^ ’SELKCEB.f" j

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

BV THE PAPERS, YOUR A THOSE CHORUS (QUITE RIGHT, MS BOvN wiGwuess, that tour parade was / girls was swell, but just listen to QUITE A SENSATION. VOU’RJE. THE J\ CAM'T HELP IT /iijijPi TTi ■' *’ THESE HEADLINES*. T LAUGHING STOCK O’ EUROPE. j-A IF FOLKS POUT V appreciate !Kl |p|tt VftUOEMONIUM! ylill HOT-CHA PRWCt SHOCKS POTAL PL AT BOV SNUBS - I , Z\\ 1 CHAtABeRMA\O ROMEO M6S AGAIN

SALESMAN SAM

TH’ ©vuu V© V TssT oFeNeo Th' sJore>i NUAiueo me'. { loanna A wtceT© see ©m ear.lT it*. luce. Soul / I f 1 * -' o' O ‘-'Cs 'V‘ “J

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

Kj, SAV,PttOEE66OP.~ IVO ,DO YOU E-NtD. C "'i p UOHEPJc'S DOOTS? I TVMtNVi OF AViYTVWNS t'L'bE. Or ViOT 1 1 ' L r _l' f GVk WbWNZ y! -i i—r" >/r v \ —J WW* IS j

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

sS*''/ 3 V Copyright. IV2. by E<J- £ r P.-c Burrough.,. Inc .; \,Ss//y ~ // tT Dutributed by United Feature Syndicate. Inc \ // r.

“Take your hand off that pistol!” commanded at last he had, found the right man. Now Tarzan, sharply. Olga's hand dropped. “Now would the death of his mate be partially avenged! come here!” As she obeyed, the ape-man hurled “What do you want of me?” demanded the Red. her weapon out the window. He saw Karzenoff’s “You are going to pay the price for what you did fear-whitened face and knew that in np' Waziri home.” replied Tarzan.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

"\NOVJ 1 . THIS IS JUST LIKE W NOW, GET YoUR STUFF UNPACKED A ROOM IN A SWSU. pS AND MAKE YOURSELF AT WOTEI YOU’D NEVER ) L HOME... LLL GO AND SEE ( KNOW THIS WAS J U ™AT MY SEAPLANE IS J ON A 80AT.... PUT ° N 80ARD ' .... ' ——.

CtH’ MISSUS IS OJE.U-, (sooo l l BUT Th’ doclorN i ©ope. ' -y. Touo her she should etecciset

—Bv Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

/\MIN\MEM FOLKS?\ / ONI. \{ I'm nE\T! \ f CIE AM. V Vs/rt,CA WAV j eTvPFV - V I 6EENI \/ A SPOT \ Did TA’ CAR I ©REAvK AWAV! I A wAiTim'n \ ON TvV FROM? / 1 Tv-AEQ'S CTAtF? j LosiE HER© VNINOER, V UE.TS SEE. J \P£OP\-E WEA*-V / TEn MIMOTcS! YORESE-LF! \ y\ conae o*n, w / v' l < £T\FFV- OCn'T A REG.u.S.PAT orr. ~THFL . ft i33 v hca semnet:

r AtsiO TPE9.E AR.E GOBS O’ SNAPPY A SATI t GOT SWELL) C THE EPVTORIALS SEEM N|s TAT SOl' PICTURES. THE tPEA SEEMS TU 6E TASTE. THERE To IMPLT THAT THAT TOUR HIGHNESS HAS THE 1 AINT A SNA?P'EH SHOULD TRAPE TOUR HIGHNESS/ TASTE OF A PEMENTEO JACKASS. J BUNCH A BONBONS To A ZOO FOR A FIRST / 50', ij \ EUROPE THAN V, CLASS MONRtV. rp JUST J \ WOT'S N THIS LIKE TO —AjV CASTLE. J f /OZS \ [ SEE 'EM

UJZLV.Y M\GVT SOH VESd \ THOUGHT A V.OT THAT VOD OV M THAT 60QT OF TH\MG AFLt — WHAT 6HAV.\_ M DAWV TLAVe \ HNYT. ALY. VOD. YWt ■L SAV AV\ YtG Kg HOMZ WrT^. TH\iyG OF A MOR.'E. _

Ivan Karzenoff began to bluster and threaten as Tarzan, locking the door and throwing away the key, said to the girl: "Keep out of the way.” Then he started across the room toward the burly Red. Like a cornered ray Karzenoff prepared

r 6EE, ITS A SWAYS THAT 1 WOSJDER WWAT THAT TA<5 and OSSIE AN all £ ' MN MEAWT WHEN WE Ns THE' UPDS COULDN’T Li. A ' D ,T YEAsJT vluokS ) l BE 601NK5 WITH '-C. ° USJCLE WAKRy • me... but ill ■ =■" I REG U S PAT OFF. V ( X ' ly/QVg) 1933 BY NLA SERVICE. INC U J

/AND IS SHE DOIN’AS Th’ IsHe/s TUtAPiN’ AT - DOC ADVISED? CLUSIOMS AND RDNNIN' ® UP BILES'. f // ( IN HER. Zy!! U oujn ujay- - $Z r \ f v , ; jjj|H j- I [|jt-i^' u. V°) 1 I ' I |gl 1931 BY Nr/> SERVICE INC

to fight for his life. Lowering his bull head he charged for the ape-man and in the center of the room the two clinched. A moment they stood locked and swaying until Tarzan succeeded in forcing h-y-nugoni* Then—

—By Williams

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

PAGE 13

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin