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| October, 1949 Hi, gang! Six months ago my friends were worried about what was going to happen to me with the passing of radio. Now they’re worrying about how I can handle ten shows a week. I’ve never had it so good. I’ll be on the air more often than spot announcements-five nights a week on NBC plus five day-time shows per week for Mutual. I’ve become a get-rich-quick scheme for the U. S. Bureau of Internal Revenue overnight. My campaign into daytime radio is on the advice of a committee of friends, including one network president, one of the nation’s top advertising executives, one research expert and one cab driver who drove me three blocks and a little crazy during a recent trip to New York. They all agree that, with the maturity of television programming, radio will become ineffective as a nighttime force and that the greatest potential radio audience for advertisers will be the daytime listening group. In searching for a good daytime-type title for my show, all we’ve come up with so far is Be-Bop Can Be Beautiful, Scream For a Day and Frankie Faces Life. I guess we’ll just have to go back to Songs By Sinatra and take our chances. My bride, Nancy, has been fighting a four-year losing battle to get me to paint the garage door. This poor portal was the victim of a neighbor who was getting acquainted with the hydra-matic drive in his new car. That day, he met the car for the first time. Then the car met my garage door for the first time. When the introductions were over, the car needed a new fender and the door needed paint. Day after day Nancy implored me to bring home the necessary supplies. Day after day I forgot ’em. At long last, one evening while driving home I passed a store. A huge sign screamed “PAINTS.” I stopped the car and bought some. Inspired by my statement that nothing was too good for Nancy, the salesman sold me a wonderful variety of painting equipment. Arriving home, I proudly proclaimed, “There you are. The paints you wanted.” My little helpmate more or less patiently replied, “Yes, I wanted paints. But the kind of paints you put on garage doors. Not the kind you put on canvas.” Which explains why you’ll read an item to the effect that “Frank Sinatra has seriously taken up painting in oils.” It will also explain an item which appeared one day in one of the local real estate columns: “The Frank Sinatras have sold their Toluca Lake home and purchased one in Holmby Hills.” It seems that Nancy was driving through Holmby Hills one afternoon and fell in love with a beautiful, freshly-painted garage door. Names From My Autograph Book: If you think his nose is large, you should get a load of the size of his heart. Mr. Durante is a senior statesman of American comedy. Watching him work or working with him are equally delightful. At home, Jimmy is at his best. Whether he’s making sense or nonsense, he has that lovable quality of expression that makes him a universal favorite with the young and old. “The Nose” is a generous man. But never drop in at his place hoping for a snack. He eats all his meals out and deliberately keeps his icebox empty. He started this practice when he awoke to the fact that his home was rapidly being turned into a free-lunch or, as he put it “a very indelicate delicatessen.” But he is thoughtful about it. He. moved into a house exactly half way between Dave Chasen’s and Mike Romanoff’s fine restaurants. Yours, 
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