Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 June 1940 — Page 19

) Jerid hep , Ticket to Hollywood

By W. H. PEARS—

CHAPTER NIN .. HOLLYWOODLAND! There it was in great white letters on the side of a big hill overlooking the city. Francie, who had been watchful and silent -all day, {12 read the magic letters with a a pounding heart, }: _ “Reach out and grab a handful of stardust,” John Weston grinned. “John, don't be’ cynical,” Aunt Rat said. SE “Traffic’s just like Elspeth City on Saturday,” he grumbled.” . “Look, Pops,” Francie exclaimed, “there's the famous Tan Hat, where all the stars eat!” : Aunt Hat craned her neck, sighed, “My goodness!” : John Weston was enjoying their excitement. “Just be calm, children. You've plenty of time to take in the big show. There’s a nice little hotel off Hollywood Blvd. I'm giving you a whole week to gawk, then I'm going fishing.” Francie said, “Oh, Pops, that’s grand.” ; . He turned the car into a driveway lined with shaggy-boled Ppaims, drew up before a white stucco building. A bellboy hurried out for their baggage. Francie’s room overlooked a flagged courtyard with' a murmuring fountain. In the distance she could hear the heartbeat of the city. Only.the thought of the ticket marred her joy. »

” 2

- SHE STARTED out alone after breakfast. At Hollywood and Vine she asked an officer the way to 1 B. C. studios. She walked several blocks down the boulevard, and the building was just to her left. ‘Within, the spacious reception room was crowded with visitors. Uniformed page boys scurried about. Francie scanned faces. She went to the information desk and described Gukty. The young man grinned, shook his head. Would she like to take a tour while she waited? Francie said, “No, thank you.” She was tempted to leave. Outside there were sO many wonderful things to see. She couldnt spend all her time looking for Gusty. ‘She tried to interest herself in the big mural on the wall. It was no use. She turned blindly toward the door, bumping into a small, wiry man. He grunted, started to brush by her, stopped. : “Aggie!” he exclaimed, staring. “No, no, not Aggie. Too young. Don't tell me.” He removed his loudbanded straw hat, scratched his head. “I got it, honey! Little torch singer back in the sticks. My last ticket. Right?” “Mr. Moon,” lessly. “No other, honey. How you doing? Glad to see You. Like to have my kids show up. Say, wasn’t there a boy with you, plenty hot on the trumpet?” «He's in Hollywood, too,” Francie said. “Sorry, honey,” Mr. Koon frowned. “Couldn’t double you up if you was my own Kids. No, sir.” “Oh, I didn't mean that. I'm waiting here to give Gusty the ticket.” : “So? ‘Foolish of you, honey. It's dog eat dog in this racket. No _ sentiment. Go after the breaks; ‘that's, my advice. Let the boy friend hook after himself.” Francie had an idea. “My father and Aunt Hat are with me, Mr. Koon’ A wistful look came into her eyes. “We'd like to watch the broadcast.” «pretty late for tickets,” Koon frowned.” “But come up to my office. See what I can do. Might meet a star, too. Like that?” “Oh,” Francie breathed, “I'd love

it.”

Francie said breath-

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KOON’S BIG OFFICE was filled with people. “Sit here, honey,” he said in his rapid, staccato way. “7 buzz you in a few minutes.” breezed through a door marked “Private.” As the minutes dragged by she felt less and less important. The door behind her opened to admit a stocky young man of about 19. He wore a loud plaid sport coat and a maroon shirt open at the throat, Dark glasses covered his eyes. : Approaching the receptionist, he said, “Top o’ the morning, blondie. How's about telling Koony I'm here.” “Slow up, handsome,” the girl retorted. “Right now Koony wouldn't see Clark Gable.” “Stop kidding,” the young man said. He put his hand on the swinging gate. “I'm seeing Koony now.”

}

2 ” ” HE TOOK the empty chair next to Francie and lit a cigarette. From the .corner of her eye Francie saw s that he had lovely red-gold hair like Jerry Finney. She tried to appear disinterested, but she could feel the sudden hammer of her pulses. “Been waiting long?” he asked. Having been taught to beware of mashers, Francie made her voice properly cold: “Oh, not long.” “I'll ease you in ahead of these other yokels,” he said. “Koony ought to be shot keeping a beautiful creature like you waiting.” Francie didn’t know what to say. § She could feel hot color sweeping into her face. him, she said sedately, “That won't be necessary, thank you. Mr. Koon and I are old friends.” «Just like that,” he laughed, unabashedly twjsting around to get a better look at her. “Say, anyone. ever tell you youre darn photogenic?” 2 The word baffled Francie. “N-no.” “Well, you are. I don't mean any of this high-polish stuff like the make-up men dish out. You're ® fresh.” He bent so close that Francie could see the faint dust of freckles across his nose. “I'll bet you're not from Hollywood.” : Francie struggled internally. She had never been talked to like this before. “Okay, if you want it proper,” the young man said. “We'll make § Koony intreduce us.” He took her arm. “Come on.” ~ Dazedly Francie was pulled past the protesting receptionist into Mr, Koon’s office. Koon withdrew his head from a stack of papers, turned his scowl into a smile. ! The young man said, “We want to be introduced, Koony.” - ¢ “Sure, sure,” Koon chuckled, then » said to Prancie, “Fast work, honey.

’

This beautiful Irish lad is Jerry|

Finney.” . (To Be Continued)

names and characters in this

(All events, A story are wholly fictitious.)

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FUNNY SIDE UP FE Ee

“It helps my game « « o» I've been playing table

all winter!”

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HOLD EVERYTHING

|L_ Cor. 1540 BY NEA SERVICE. |

FLAPPER FANNY

7. M. REG. U. S. PA “She insist on standing out from the

crowd!”

By Sylvia

6-26

“I think he’s just about ready to propose. Last night he said I was extravagant and wore my skirts too short.”

THIS CURIOUS WORLD

By William Ferguson

COPR. 1940 BY NEA SERVICE. INC,

T.M. REG. VU. 8. PAT. OFF. ©

MICHIGAN

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J RWILLAMS, COPR. 1940 BY NEA SERVICE, INC. T. M. REG. u. 8. PAT. OFF.

BEEN BETTER 82%

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M. REG. U. §. PVD —By Blosser

~ I poNT KNOW WHAT

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—By Raeburn Van Buren

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