Judge — May 27, 1922 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Once in a Lifetime By E.izaBETH BASKERVILLE PPORTUNITY knocked and, O without further consideration, Stella May executed a neat back- flip and waved to the upturned faces in the street below her. Now, Stella had grown up ina trav- eling circus under the careful training of her clown father and baretack mother, who had taught her their stunts, and told her that some day a wonderful opportunity was sure to come her way. That was in the good old days before the movies had usurped the place of the thrilling circus tents. The rosy dream had faded somewhat in the long hours when luxurious ladies solicited her opinion across the notion counter as to the merits of various hairpins to suit each individ- ual phrenology. At last, however, the chance had come. How remote such a thing was from the thoughts of the poor little girl as she stepped lightly from the train to the elevated platform at Forty- second street and Sixth avenue. It was a Saturday noon, and the first hint of spring was evident at every turn. Flower venders proved irre- sistible to staid New Yorkers who prided themselves on never buying on the street. The crowds surged on in the sunshine, unconsciously marching like an army in time to the mechanical tune of a hurdy-gurdy. And then it happened. .. . A false step, and Stella May hung suspended by the fragile bustle effect on her best dress . . . hung out over the city’s busiest street, as if ready to This was one of those moments that ages one! Looking down on the expectant, ILLustRATED By CHARLES BaSKERVILLE breathless crowd, our heroine realized that her dream had come true, though perhaps not quite the way she had planned it. If she had only worn those precious spangled panties that used to be her mother’s!’ This and many similar thoughts flashed rapidly through her mind as she gingerly ex- tricated her frock and swung herself from the splintered, protruding plank that had saved her to a lower beam of the elevated structure. Still the mob paused, traffic became congested, then stopped completely, intent upon the small girlish figure that balanced and went through a series of tricks with all the ease of the born trapeze artist. With a final swing and gracious kissing of hands, the perform- ance came to an end. Storms of ap- plause greeted the finale, and many people waited about to catch any samples that might be sprinkled down, for surely this must be an advertise- ment! But one there was who knew, and he stepped from the handsomely ap- pointed motor in which he had watched the feat, and shouldered his way through the crowd to the base of the iron support where Stella May was descending. Some one whispered: “Gee, there goes B. W. Sniffsit, the big movie producer!” This, dear reader, is the story of Allets Yam, whose perilous pursuits on the silver screen thrill millions of hearts all over the world. Try re-ar- ranging the letters of her girlhood name and see if you can guess how she made up such a lovely stage name. This will prove an interesting game for the whole family to play some evening. S S AN 13 \I i \\ \ y \