Tour Thirteen
“Did you say _faded_ or _fainted_?” asked Judy. “People don’t faint away
unless they’re ill. You feel all right, don’t you?”
“Just a little trembly,” Clarissa confessed. “I’m excited, I guess—”
“There’s nothing to be excited about,” Pauline told her. “I’ve taken
this tour before. You just see behind the scenes in the different
studios. It’s a little dull, really.”
Apparently Clarissa did not think so.
“Dull? How can you say that? If we see ourselves on television—”
A voice from a loudspeaker interrupted.
“Tour Thirteen leaves in five minutes.”
“That must be us!” exclaimed Judy.
About a dozen people were waiting at the top of a short flight of
stairs. Some of them were watching TV as they waited. Judy and her
friends joined them. The set had been tuned to one of the local
channels.
“It’s Teen Time Party!” exclaimed Pauline. “Wouldn’t you like to be
there dancing?”
“They’re high school students, aren’t they?” asked Judy.
“Most of them, I guess. There are probably a few professionals among
them,” Pauline added. “This one, for instance.”
A lovely, golden-haired girl and her partner were caught by the camera
in a close-up. The announcer turned to the audience and said, “Isn’t her
hair beautiful? You, too, can be a beautiful golden blonde. Shampoo
glamorous new beauty into your hair with golden hair wash.”
“I use it. Why don’t you try it?” asked the girl on the television
screen.
In a moment she was dancing again, mixing with the other teenagers as if
she were one of them. She wasn’t a star. Judy had never seen her on
television before.
“This,” she was thinking, “is all Irene would have to say. ‘_I use it._’
Three little words, but they’re not true. Irene doesn’t use it. Maybe
she should. Her hair is dull and drab. Why am I thinking that?” Judy
asked herself. “It’s _my_ hair that’s dull and drab.”
“Yours?” Florence asked. Judy had not realized she was speaking her
thoughts aloud. Florence went on, “That’s funny, Judy. You wouldn’t want
your hair any brighter than it is.”
“No,” Judy admitted, “I guess I wouldn’t. I always thought it was too
bright before. I don’t know why I said that.”
“I do,” Clarissa spoke up. “You read my thoughts. I was just thinking my
hair is dull. I could be beautiful if I didn’t have this drab, dull
hair. It was lighter when I was small. It was really golden then. But
all at once it began to get darker. I changed in other ways, too. Mother
says I must be a changeling—”
“Changelings aren’t real,” Pauline stopped her. “They’re what witches
were supposed to leave when they snatched real children.”
“There’s a witch in Sleeping Beauty,” Flo put in. “Irene says her dance
is the best thing in the whole show. This tour is nothing compared to
what we’ll see tonight, but it will kill time until seven o’clock.”
“You mean six-thirty,” Judy corrected her. “We have to be at the studio
half an hour before the show begins, and I would like to be there even
earlier than that so Irene can explain things. There’s so much I don’t
know.”
The guide, overhearing Judy’s remark, smiled and said, “So you’re going
to visit the Golden Girl show?”
“It’s treason,” Pauline whispered. “Irene’s show is on another channel.
So is Teen Time Party. One of the tourists must have turned it on.”
It was off now. In its place a gay crowd of young people were singing
the praises of a popular cigarette.
“That’s one of our accounts,” Flo said proudly.
“It’s wasted on me. I don’t smoke,” laughed Judy as the tour moved on to
a large room lined with pictures of television stars appearing on the
big network. People were pointing and exclaiming, each one seeming to
have his own favorite.
“Irene’s picture should be up there,” Flo remarked, “but she wouldn’t do
commercials, no, she wouldn’t do commercials, no, she _wouldn’t_ do
commercials—”
“Please, Flo, don’t make fun of Irene,” begged Judy. “She’s only
standing up for what she believes is the right thing.”
“How right is it to throw away money you could be making?” Flo
countered. “Judy, you must talk her into accepting this offer. Tell her
you think it’s right.”
“I’m not sure what I think. If she really used golden hair wash then she
wouldn’t have to say anything that wasn’t true, would she? I think I’ll
buy a bottle and ask her to try it,” Judy decided.
“Should I try it, too? Brown is a dull color,” Flo began, but was
interrupted. The guide, a brown-haired girl herself, stepped to the head
of the line and announced that the tour was about to begin. The group
followed her to an elevator that whisked them up to one of the smaller
studios. They had just missed the show Irene had mentioned.
“Would you like to watch a set being dismantled? There aren’t any live
shows being televised at present,” the guide said as she ushered the
group to a row of seats behind what she told them was soundproof glass.
A small television set that she called a monitor was at the left of the
seats. In front of it, on the other side of the glass, the studio floor
was alive with activity. Cameras and microphones were being pushed out
of the way. The walls of what had been an indoor scene were rolled back
and replaced by a huge weather map. The weather girl would be the next
person to use this studio.
“Will we see her?” asked Judy.
This was a program she and Peter often watched at their home in Dry
Brook Hollow. She thought of watching Irene, and the wish to see her
dearest friend on television became so strong she could think of nothing
else except, “She should use golden hair wash.”
“Judy! We’re going to the control room now.”
Judy came out of her trance to realize that Pauline was speaking to her.
She was the last one on the line that wended its way toward the
glass-enclosed control room where the engineers sat before rows of
monitor screens awaiting word from the director.
“He says ‘take one’ or ‘take two,’ and in a split second the picture he
wants is on the screen,” the guide explained. “When a live show is on
the air, the cameras are working all the time.”
“What about the lights?” asked one of the strangers taking the tour.
“Lighting a show is an engineering feat in itself.” And the guide went
on to explain the flashing red and green lights as well as the other
technical equipment being handled by the crew on duty in the control
room. On the wall above their heads were clocks that told what time it
was all over the world.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” everyone agreed.
A wall chart farther down the corridor explained the inside story of
color television. It was complete with push buttons and flashing lights.
The men taking the tour were especially interested. Pauline said she
recognized one of them.
“I recognize him, too,” Florence agreed. “He works for our agency. It’s
funny he didn’t speak to me.”
“He’s too interested in what the guide is telling him to speak to
anybody,” Judy observed.
The man was interested. He was young with straight brown hair that kept
falling over his forehead as he leaned forward to examine this or that
gadget. The guide was giving him most of her attention.
“When do we see ourselves on TV?” Clarissa whispered.
“Patience,” Pauline told her. “We’re coming to that. We stand in front
of a camera, and the guide interviews us, but I think we go up to the
sound-effects room first.”
“That’s radio, isn’t it? I watched the sound-effects man once on a radio
broadcast,” Judy remembered. “It was right here in Radio City, but I had
a mystery to solve and didn’t take the whole tour.”
The others asked her about the mystery, and she began to tell them about
what happened before she and Peter Dobbs were married. “Irene had a
radio show then. It was the summer before little Judy was born. Honey
was just out of art school. Peter and I drove to New York to bring her
home.”
“Who is Honey?” asked Clarissa.
For the second time that day Judy explained that Peter’s sister had been
in their thoughts when they pretended at the table in the restaurant.
“We called her a phantom just for fun. And then you came and sat in her
chair,” Judy continued. “It did seem a little weird. You’re like Honey
in many ways. You’re taller, of course, and your hair is darker—”
“It won’t be much longer,” declared Clarissa. “I’m going to buy a bottle
of that golden hair wash with some of the money you girls lent me. Then
I’ll be beautiful.”
“You _are_ beautiful,” Flo insisted. “Didn’t I say so, girls? There’s
nothing wrong with the color of your hair.”
“It’s drab. It’s dull.”
“Oh, stop it, Clarissa!” cried Judy. “We lent you that money for your
fare home, not to waste on shampoo.”
“It won’t be wasted. You’ll see.”
“What will your folks say?” asked Pauline. “You’re the daughter of a
country minister, aren’t you? People will talk—”
“Let them! I won’t care if I’m beautiful.”
“You’re impossible!” Flo exclaimed. “How old are you, anyway? You ought
to be at home going to school.”
Clarissa wouldn’t tell her age. She wouldn’t tell anything more about
herself or her plans. Judy was looking forward to the TV interviews. The
guide might ask Clarissa some leading questions.