rendered by native Mexicans who sang in "Ramona." Another act was in a famous old café in San Francisco, The Poodle Dog. It was christened "A Fool and a Girl." The fool was an innocent youth from Kentucky, but the girl, being from San Francisco, was more piquant.
We'd been signed for the fall, and we felt we'd done pretty well by the first summer. I'd learned to relish the funny little black raspberries and not to be afraid of thunderstorms—they were not so uncertain as earthquakes.
And now rehearsals are called for Mr. Dixon's "The One Woman." They lasted some weeks before we took to the road and opened in Norfolk, Virginia, where we drew our first salaries, seventy-five for him and thirty-five for her. Nice, it was, and we hoped it would be a long season.
