The Ogden Standard-Examiner from Ogden, Utah on October 3, 1971 · Page 92
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The Ogden Standard-Examiner from Ogden, Utah · Page 92

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Ogden, Utah
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Sunday, October 3, 1971
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Page 92
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Family Weekly Sewing Corner Picture Yourself In This Tailored Coat Dress /1% lift >-! V -All By Rosalyn Abrevaya A coat dress, perfect for a day in town or that special luncheon, is one to sew right now, when you can wear it with a light weight wrap. It buttons smartly on a slant, features contrast .bands and cuffs, short sleeves. Make it easily in a wool or a blend. Size 14 takes 3 yards of 44-inch fabric and % yards of contrast. Standard body measurements for size 14 are: Bust 36, Waist 27, Hips 38. A PRINTED PATTERN ; Send to: FAMILY WEEKLY PATTERNS, Dept. 5287 4500 N.W. 135th St., Miami, Ha. 33054 PLEASE PRINT Be sure to give zip code NAME STREET CITY STATE Send $1.00 plus 25 cents fo cash, check, or money orde (New sizing) F-800 State Size Make All Your Sewi These Companic D World's most practical c for perfect fit "Adjusto-Ma Adjustable 8 to 20. Order and 95< for shipping, n Check box to receive worl the 328-page "Complete B able hem gauge included— f with this coupon. #53501 7IP ' postage and handling; r. Sizes 10, 12, 14, 16 ng Easier with n Bargains ress form— check box tic Form" with Stand. P73G1. Enclose $8.98 d's finest sewing book, ook of Sewing." Valu- ree! Remit $5.95 extra Family Weekly, October 3, tun A Reader's Remembrance: The Day I Met Al Jolson During World War II he entertained in almost every corner of the globe. One of the places he performed was Belfast, Ireland. In (he summer of 1943 I was 13 years old and lived in Glengormley, a suburb of Belfast. In fact, it wasn't even classed as a suburb in those days-GIengormley was "out in the • country." And that year "out in the country" was a good place to be, for Goering's bombs had already flattened one third of Belfast in an effort to knock out its shipyards. To a 13-year-old boy,, though, Glengorm- ley had its drawbacks. Night life was nonexistent. There wasn't even a movie house. So each night we'd congregate at the crossroads outside Boyd's Fish & Chip Shop and hang around discussing the things that boys discuss. And this was where I saw him. Maggie Delaney was my "girl friend" in those days, and that Saturday was her 13th birthday. All week long I'd been saving my money to take her down to Boyd's and treat her fo a fish supper. With one Coke and two straws, the bill would come to nine pennies. That would leave me three pennies with which to impress Maggie Deianey. The Fish & Chip Shop was a smal! wooden shack that looked like it was ready to fall down-the walls weren't even plumb any more. That Saturday night the place was crowded as usual with young people; a great pall of smoke hung in the middle of the room, and the windows were fogged up with the grease of many years. When Maggie and I walked in, there seemed to be more excitement than usual. "Some Yankee soldier" was helping Mrs. Boyd with her Saturday-night rush. He wore an American Army uniform, and he looked a little old to be a soldier; he was bafd-headed, and he wasn't very tall (I was only 13, and I was taller myself). But he had the biggest, loudest voice I ever heard. "Take it easy, take it easy!" he boomed. "Okay. Who's next?" He rushed around everywhere-the army shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows-waiting on the tables, cleaning them off, taking away the dirty dishes. And he carried on a merry banter with everybody while he worked. "Y'know you kids are highly privileged, and you don't even know it!," he shouted. "You got the best singin' waiter in the world right here. I was singin' songs before any of you were born. 'Course you wouldn't know anything about that." He was right-we were all too young to have heard of him in those days. But the thought of this oid Yankee soldier helping Mrs. Boyd through her busy period and asking nothing in return-that impressed us. Someone from another table yelled: "Give us 'Galway Bay. 1 Bet you don't even know if!" He spun around in the middle of the floor, set (he dishes on the nearest table and sang the song right through from start fo finish. "That Yank's wasting his time in the army, (hat's for sure," nodded Maggie Delaney. Hu may be a Yank, we concluded, but his father was probably a Dublin man. He put the pennies in my shirt pocket, and I felt my face scorching. "Thanks alf the same, sonny," his voice boomed all over the Chip shop, "but I don't accept tips." After "Galway Bay" he raced through a couple of fast songs that we'd never heard before. It was difficult to make out the words, the way he charged through each song like a human tornado. And when he finished, holding that iong, high note with both arms spread wide, it felt like a hurricane had swept through the little shop, ripping up everything in its path. We sat there a few seconds-40 or 50 youngsters stunned into silence—then we burst into frantic applause, whistling and screaming for more. But he threw up his hands and said that that was enough. "It won't do to give you too much of a good (hing for free," he said. He was cleaning the tables again when we decided to leave, for Maggie Delaney had to be home-by 10. Trying to impress her, I fished the three pennies out of my pocket and left two of them on the table. We almost got away, but he spotted my pennies, wcaved through the tables like an eel and caught me by the arm. He put the pennies in my shirt pocket, and I felt my face scorching. "Thanks all the same, sonny," his voice boomed ali over the Chip shop, "but I don't accept tips. I'm Al Jolson, and I've more money than you ever saw." I took Maggie Delaney home, and as I walked back to my house, I wondered who Al Jolson was. When I got home, I asked my mother: "Ever hear of Al Jolson?" "Al Jolson!" she said. "Certainly! Seen him years ago in the movies." "He was down at Boyd's tonight serving at the tables," I told her. She looked up from her knitting, peering over the (op of her glasses. "Who was washin' the dishes?" she asked, "Bing Crosby?" -Tom Maxwell, Brooklyn, N.Y,

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