|October 25 , 1934|
Cliffside, October 24 — The first lady at our house and I visited a gift shop on a recent day. There were hand-wrought pieces. Various importeds. Brass outfits. Fireside sets with artistic yatching silhouettes. Prices flirted with me as in animated cartoons. One price gave me that “come up sometime” look. At my back, a low-brow from across the railroad gave me the razzberry. The nice lady showed us around to this and that piece. There was one of those novelties—a tea wagon made from a barrel and garden plow handles. Lawsy me.
The Red Coat band at Romina Theatre Monday disappointed Howard Magness—they failed to play “Bang, Bang, Here Comes The British.” Overheard in the lobby: “This is the best show we have had yet.” That could be true and yet? I believe the management has never received justice in booking stage shows at the Romina. This show could certainly not be recommended. Forest City will turn out to the stage prologue and screen combination idea. We hope the management will get better service from future bookings. The good crowd there was pleasing.
My effort to play the piano would be repaid, I know, if the beautiful Fritz Kreisler work “Caprice Viennois” could be mastered. It, alone, induces me to make this endeavor in the future. But who would attempt such an undertaking: to teach me piano? With Henry Santrey's stage show (above average) was the lady who had posed for national cigarette advertising. She is an
|Lieut. Commander and Mrs. George Mills were through our village last week enroute to Moffett Field, California. Lieut. Commander Mills is the brother of Dr. John C. Mills, local pharmacist. Mills studied at Frederickshafen, Germany, over the summer season. They state that Europe is in a worse throe of depression than we have known. They were driving the southern route thru Texas and then to the California Naval Base where Lieut. Commander Mills will be stationed with the flight crew of the new, enormous dirigible Macon. It was good to meet them.
Notes: Is there a more beautiful melody of its type than, “My Moonlight Madonna?”—There is something about a desk. An assortment of papers flung there. A set of five books here. There is a Forest City Courier. And here at the corner a popular songs magazine. A flashlight. A shoe-horn. Meadows, fetch my shoe buttoner—Spud Crawford is off to Charlotte Monday for a six weeks business training—The side walk café mania, too, has reached Charlotte. At the Green Gables out Providence road, I notice it.—The Tavern, new Hotel Charlotte dining spot, is “too ducky,” someone remarks.
Might there be more pictures like the Franz Schubert story with Pat Paterson and Nils Asther (a great performance as the composer.) The picture is called “Love Time.” You will encourage your friends to see it. The acting of Nils Asther will mean something to him after this picture. Prediction: Look for Phillip Reed at the top right away.
“You undoubtedly attend many shows. Is it a weakness?” says a letter. Not a weakness, I think. Eight shows is the best I have done in one week.
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