Evening Star Newspaper, March 10, 1935, Page 73

Volume 1, Number 3 RIENDS always referred to Margaret and Bob Weston as ‘‘the kids.” Margaret and Bob were two kids who had eloped from Kansas City and descended upon Broadway to wrest fame and fortune from the mother lode of the amuse- ment world. Six months later, after they had acted in several plays that hadn’t done so well, their total capital, and not a mean one, was one- third youth, one-third beauty, and one-third faith in themselves. When Margaret raised her head, she showed a chaste little face with melting blue eyes, and though her nose was a trifle saucy, her hair, just this side of golden, and her small ears gave her head an almost Madonna-like appearance. A ‘‘chaste dainty,” a famous painter for whom she had posed, for pay, had called her. Bob Weston strove hard to behave as the complete manly man. He thickened his voice when he spoke, and quite deliberately showed himself up so as not to appear as young as he really was. They adored each other. Their love was almost pathetic. When Margaret said some- thing to somebody, she always looked in the direction of Bob to see if he approved. Given the slightest chance, they would sit together and hold hands while their eyes talked the mysterious language for which words are such a poor substitute. Everyone loved them. Everyone tried to do something for them. But the poor kids were in hard luck. The plays in which they rehearsed, together and separately, came to untimely ends. God only knows how they survived that winter. Still, Margaret's party dress always looked as if it had been put on for the first time, and Bob looked as if he had just emerged from the hands of the perfect valet. And not a word of complaint. Their voices, of young people in love, filled the hearts of older people with the tinkling of bells. Their bodies exhaled the most pleasant natural perfume. All the senses were aware of the love the kids had for each other. At the end of that winter, the first one of their married life, they were on their last few dollars. One day, a girl friend of Margaret's spoke to her about a gypsy for- tune teller down on the east side. Margaret didn't believe in such truck, but when Bob had come home very despondent one even- ing to their room in a boarding house in the West Fifties, she let her friend take her down the fol- lowing moming to a cold cellar on Houston Street near the river, where a witch-like old woman, toothless and hairless, took one of her precious dollars to promise her great fortunes, but asked her to bring ten dollars if she wanted something done to hasten the processes of chance, A week later, as Bob was getting more and more despondent, Mar- garet pawned her one precious trinket, a brooch, for five dollars, took the money to the old gypsy woman and begged her, with tears in her eyes, to cast a good spell over the fortunes of her husband. The gypsy woman tucked the five dollars away, and proceeded to mumble something in her own tongue while she melted some beeswax over a little alcohol lamp and spat out ominously every time the flame flickered. Five minutes later, having made some signs over _the girl’s head, she gave her a piece of colored yarn, and told her to see that her husband wore it on his person whenever he went out of the house. . Margaret went home, more than a little ashamed of herself. She couldn’t tell Bob what she had done. He would have been terribly angry with her. In the morning, just as he was about to leave, she unobservedly wound the piece of yarn around the button of his coat sleeve. Bob was not at home when THIS WEEK - The MAGIC STRING Two Young Things had to Gamble with Their Happiness Before They (Could be Sure of It Read This Love Story by KONRAD BERCOVICI and ‘Decide how You would have Solved Their Problem Margaret returned that evening from a tour of theatrical agencies. They had been invited to an evening party with friends, and she wanted to be there on time. Such parties always saved them the cost of a dinner. Bob came home a little later than usual, but a first glance at him told Margaret that something good had happened. “Kid,” he cried, kissing her again and again. “Kid,” he screamed, yanking her to her feet and dancing her around, “we’re going to Hollywood!"" Hlustration by Howard Chandler Christy *‘When?"* Margaret managed to ask, for she had suddenly grown weak in the knees. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow,’" Bob sang, hopping about. Margaret grew limp. She hadn’t expected the gypsy charm to work so fast. Its efficiency frightened her. ““Margaret!’’ he cried, reaching for a glass of water, ‘‘what's the matter?”’ ‘‘Nothing. I guess I was just too happy.” It was only a small part, he explained, and the engagement was only for five weeks. But it was a crack at Hollywood. She too would be able, no doubt, to get something there. The journey to the coast was one long holiday. There were several movie notables on the train. By the time they had reached Holly- wood the kids were on such friendly terms with one lady star that she kissed Margaret goodbye on the station platform and ordered. her to call her up immediately. The tender separation was photographed and was in all the papers before the day was over. Hollywood took the Westons to its much photographed and maligned bosom. At the outset, Bob’s part was no more than a thimbleful, but it grew and grew as he re- hearsed, until it was fifth in importance in the play. “Kid, kid,” Bob cried, as he entered the room one evening, “I knew I could make it if given a chance. I already have a contract for the next picture.” Margaret fumbled to see whether the piece of yarn was still on his sleeve button. She was very happy for him. Yet . . . if he ever lost that piece of string! “Why don't you try and get something?”’ ( Continued on Page 15 ) Bob’s Mouth Fell. He Reeled, Shook Himself and Looked and Looked