The Key West Citizen Newspaper, August 6, 1952, Page 8

Page 8 Wednesday, August 6, 1992 BARNEY GOOGLE AND SNUFFY SMITH BEAUTY SALONS, SHOPS, GLITTER AND GLAMOUR AND--OH, DEAR! (D GLADLY CHANGE PLACES WITH YOU ANY: TIME, CRICKET-- BUT GLADLY THE KEY WEST CITIZEN HEAVENS, NO!! Aun’ CITY LIEE TO ME IS JUST ne ONE MAD MERRY-GO-ROUND OF NIGHT CLUBS AND THEATRE PARTIES-- "LL JUST VERK IT UP AN’ TAKE IT OUT IN THE YARD AND BEAT IT- ETTA, ARE You )( GOING TO THE BEAUTY CONTEST TONIGHT ? HERES WC we casHeo Our BONUS TOETTA- \CHECK.”— EVERYTHING'S THE CAREER / ON ME,KIOS.” THE CRAZY K RANCHO HATS GONNA > WIN US TH PENNANTS. SO HOWS THIS FOR AN IDEA 2... ’ By Fred Lasswell DO ME A TERRIFIC FAvor ? I'M ENTERED IN IT2— DAD WILL HELL'S HORSEMAN = Chapter Two ‘HE shears paused in mid-air. “So,” he said, and it was more of a sigh. “That’s a bad thing for a man to want to do, son.” “T know, Ben. But sometimes a man can do rotten things and blot out blood ties. He killed my mother. Oh, not directly, but it would have been better; for she went through hell until pain final- ly gave her peace. She married him right after the Civil War, not knowing he was a killing looter and deserter. I was born the fol- lowing year. She followed him for a while, but within a couple of years he deserted her and went west, leaving us in Kansas City. I was too young to know any nee about him, but it’s strange how a man can grow to uate a name. I hated him until,I went west to Mortana and started punching cows. I hated him until I had to “kill a man and slip out to small, out-o-the-way ranches and keep my name hidden under one they tagged on me—Montana. I—” “It’s tagged on you now, all right, son,” came the grim voice of the trader. “Since that fight you’ve become a legend.” “It doesn’t matter,” the man known as Montana said. “I’m hit- ting south into Arizona Territory around Tucson when I ‘finish. Down there I can get a new start under my own name. But not be- fore, I settle accounts with the man who was my father.” It became silent in the room after that, except for the snip of the shears. Carson cut the hair two inches on top, brought out a bottle of castor oil and slicked it down a bit, and trimmed some more. He cut the beard and finally a face emerged. It was a surpris- ingly young face and yet it was old. Thornton got up. He went over, surveyed himself in a mirror. “You'll want some_ clothes. Them’s pretty ragged, Brand.” “Clothes. The best you've got, Ben. I'll take the train out to- night, flag stopping it. I'm selling you that bay.” le’s worth a hundred and I'll not lose any money,” Ben Carson interrupted. “There’s always some rider coming through who wants a good hoss in a hurry and has the money to pay—say, how’d you come in anyhow?” Thornton turned on him, sur- prised. “Why, I just rode in.” Carson went over to a window on the north side of the building. He peered out, slantwise across BY WILLIAM HOPSON Montana thumbed shot after shot at the bushwackers, the street. “Brand, come here,” he said in a low voice. Thornton went over and looked through the window, following Ben’s pointing finger. Two horses stood at the saloon’s rail where there had been no horses before. “All winter long it’s been goir on like that," Ben Carson sai turning. “Strangers slipping in. Oh, they weren’t fooling me in the least. Black Jack never found out what I did with you that night, but he figgered you’d show up some day.” “When did they come in?” “Three, four days ago. One said as how he was an old friend of Joe Barrant, one of my traders who left last week. Knew him down in Arizona or New Mexico or some such place. Well, I haj pened to know that Joe is strictly a northern man who's never been south. He hates the place.” “I dreaded to have =~ show up, son,”. he admitted. “I knew they were here and I didn’t dare try pisces up that way to warn you. ut the night you killed those five owlhoots in Buckner’s Place you became a marked man.’ ‘Thornton said, “What time is the train due?” : “About ten tonight, if it’s on pine You can flag her down all right.” rand Thornton spent almost an hour in Ben Carson’s store. When he was through he stood viewing himself in the small hand mirror on the wall, while Ben, with obvious pride, held a candle, The shave and haircut had done wondtrs, but where Carson got the black alpaca coat. wool d | UP }] pants, and the shirt and boots, he would never imagine. Not when they fit like these did) Thornton placed his riding clothes and other meager belongings into a new warbag that had a handle. All ex- cept the guns. The coat now hid them completely except for the bulge of the cartridge belts at the hips, and for this, Thornton was glad. He could slip out of town and nobody would be the wiser. He went out to get his saddle, The horse Ben would keep and make a profit from it. Carson came out with him, and both looked across the street. “The horses are gone,” Carson said. “ His voice held a queer note. It was dry; and Thornton knew that for once in his life the trader was worried. “I shouldn't have come. Ben, t_back inside.” “Maybe—” “Get back inside,” Thornton repeated in a low voice. ie CAME. The roar of a Win- chester. He caught the move- ment down there back of a cabin two hundred yards away in the falling dusk and he imagined, in acl Seconds, that a voice inside of him was saying: It’s crazy; they never saw you before, an ve they're down there two hun- red yards away. They were afraid to come into the store. They were afraid to wait across the street, because of a man named Montana .. . the same man who was at Buckner’s Crossing. ... , He fell, dropping flat and roll- ing over. Over and over toward the porch. It caused the to wheel crazily and somewl] caught sight of Ben Carson leaping toward it. How Carson [ea the gun Montana never quite ew. But when the bay leaped, stun, by a passing slug, the man id thumbed twelve pistol distance, but not too long for the 40-65 re- riaeege that Ben Carson had jerked irom its boot before the bay got stung. Then both men were rune ning across the porch and into the store. “Just let ‘em try it now!” grunte ed the trader. “I got plenty of shells back there grul galore. ge idn’t have come,” Brand Thorntop said once more. “What are A a0 me to do now, Ben?” “Close up shop and take a little tradi trip tonight, -after I see you off on the train. Woukin’t be surprised if I don’t run into you 's way.” j (To be continued) a HOLLYWOOD NOTES By BOB THOMAS HOLLYWOOD (® — To para- phrase the well-known song, Janet Blair is in love with a wonderful show. This show is a little number called ‘South Pacific,” and Miss bounds. She has devoted two years movies and other phases of her well-rounded career. show, although there were times when I felt like it. Sometimes I’ve had colds and could do little more than talk the songs. But I’ve al- ways felt better after having gone on. “It’s a show that gives you a life, because you realize what en- joyment people get from it. I’ve always felt that they would be dis- appointed if they saw an under- study, so I’ve never missed a cur- tain. Three understudies have al- ready quit in disgust because I’m so healthy.” Blair’s affection for it knows no | af her life to it, neglecting the | “T’ve done 919 performances, as | of last night,” she told me over a | late lunch. “I’ve never missed a and picture deals coming up for me, as well as Broadway shows. But I love playing Nellis Forbush, and the salary is excellent. So I think I’ll keep doing it until some- thing I réally like comes along.” By BOB THOMAS ; Show business, here comes Hutton and O’Curran, unlimited. mount contract for the first time in 12 years, and she’s busting out | with plans for her future. When Hutton is enthused about some- ; thing, there’s not much more you can do but sit back and listen, | Which I did. “Yep, I am washed up with Para- mount after 12 years,” she began. “Man, I never felt better in my life. 1 could have stayed on until next January when my contrect ended up. But the studio has al- ways ‘played fair with me, and I | wanted to play fair with them. | I didn’t intend to make any more | pictures there, and I'd rather have my freedom than have them pay me ($5,000 a week) for doing noth- ing. “But the one thing I insisted ;on was that Charlie (O’Curran, dance director and her husband) |'get his release, too. We’ve got | great plans for our own company; | everything we do will be done to- Janet is a strong-minded girl | gether. Gosh, he’s terrific! He did whenever her career is concerned. | a great job on my palace act for Her former boss, Harry Cohn of | New York, and he'll direct all my Columbia Studios, found that out. | pictures. We're a package deal. She spent .seven years on the lot, and the head man wanted her to sign on again. “I was making $100 when 1 played in ‘My Sister Eileen,”” she recalled. ‘‘By the end of the con. tract, I was making $750. But the money wasn’t the reason why I didn’t want to sign again. Cohn offered me $2,500 a week. That sounded good, but the first pictdre | I was to make was ‘The Swords- man’ with Larry Parks. I was play- ing a princess, the same kind of role I had done over and over again. “I tried to tell them I wasn't the princess type. I was a little boy. But they couldn't see it that way, so I decided to try my luck elsewhere.” Branching out independently, she did a season of summer stock (her only stage experience before “South Pacific.”) She was one of the first film personalities to ap- pear on television. Then she teamed with the Blackburn twins in a highly successful night club and theater act. From there, she signed on 2s Ens. Nellie Forbush So far, there's no end in sight. She could end up an admiral “When I came to the end of my first contract, Rodgers and Hammerstein laughlingly sugge: ed that I sign on for 20 years,” she said. “I told them my' body could do it, but my hair couldn’t.” = shampoos her hair onstage in every performance. “Actually, 1 don’t know when 1T'll leave the show,” she added. “There are a number of television “Have we got plans! We're going to spend two months late this sum- | mer in England, where I'll play the Palladium. Then we'll return to | make the life of Sophie Tucker. | 1 own the story, and Columbia and Warners are knocking themselves out to have us do it for them. We'll retain 50 per cent of the | profits, of course. *“Then there's television. That's the big*field now. I’m getting into it right away, and Charlie will di- rect my films. They'll be half-hour shows and will go on once every | four or eight weeks or something like that. “And whenever we don't have something to do, I'll go out and play four weeks of personals. Four weeks is enough to provide a good income for a year. Ob, we'll be busy, all right.” Betty had much to say about her split with Paramount, which surprised the movie town. She re- marked that it was the result of a long series of disagreements over scripts. “It all started when Buddy De- Sylva got sick and left the pro-} duction job at Paramount,” she re- | lated. “He knew my talents and | understood what kind of things I | should do. After he left, I started | doing scripts that I knew weren't | good for me. ‘Dream Girl’ almost | ruined me. | “T've been in show business since | I was 3, and I know what a good script is. So I started turning down | the scripts I didn’t like, and 1} must say that my judgment has} j been vindicated. Every script 1) | was for DeMille The Veterans Corner Here are authoritative answers HOLLYWOOD i — Look out, | from the Veterans Administra- tion to three questions of interest Betty Hutton is free of her Para- | * former servicemen: Q. I'm an honorably dischayg- ed World War'II veteran in- terested in getting a GI business joan to open a neighborhood bakery. What are the down pay- ment requirements? A. GI business loans are not subject to Federal restrictions. You and your local lender will have to work out between you the amount and terms of the loan he will make to you, Q. I just received a dividend credit notice from VA notifying me that my NSLI 1952 dividend is being placed on deposit to my credit. What will happen to that money? A. The Jaw requires that such dividends be used to pay prem- iums which are due and not otherwise paid. Should the diva- dends not be required for this ‘purpose, you may instruct VA to pay the money to you in cash or to use it to prepay future prem- iums. Or it may be left with VA where it will draw interest. Q. I have just been discharged from the Army after a-year in Korea. A leg wound I received while on patrol is beginning to give me trouble. Will the VA give me outpatient treatment? A. Yes, post-Korean veterans who need outpatient treatment for service-connected disabilities may receive needed treatenent from VA. In many Instances, e prima-facia finding of service- connected is granted post-Karean veterans for the purposes of. out- patient treatment pending de- termination as to whether the disabilities are service-connected. Apply for outpatient treatment at your nearest VA office, (Veterans living in ‘fonroe County who wish further infor- mation about their Ienefitg should contact the VA Office af Room 218, Federal Bidg., Key West, Fla.) —_—_— refused has been shelved, “Meanwhile, I've done only three pictures in five years! and one of those was on loanout to MGM for ‘Annie Get Your Gur? and ene I had, lots an@ lots of offers from other com but I couldn't take them. Now can.” WEED SOMETHING