That was a long time ago, years have passed. I purchased a man's suit "for my brother" and tucked my hair under a man's hat. Without makeup and with a pipe I looked rather like a man, enough so that we obtained a marriage license next day and were married by a half blind, half deaf old judge in a neighboring village. I gave my occupa- tion as "female impersonator!" We engaged the "bridal suite" at a re- sort hotel, phoned our agent to cancel our two remaining bookings of that series, and retired to our rooms. My lovely bride wore a chaste white gown, her long blonde hair hung down to her waist. She stood before the fireplace waiting for me. I wore a jet black gown, floating around me in a misty cloud, my auburn hair falling free in the firelight. We embraced tenderly, kissed again and again and arm in arm walked to the enormous bed. Two girls in a dream-world of love. Man (??) and wife, never to part!

Vaudeville had had it's day, bookings were infrequent and hard to find in theaters, prohibition had passed and many night clubs, large and small were operating across the country. These called for an inti- mate act, directed at a smaller audience. Sister acts were not popular, so I became the "straight man" of our new comedy team! Connie be- came the "Dumb Blonde," we were an immediate success. I became a sophisticated "Auntie" type, the situations we developed were numer- ous and hilarious. We moved into the circuit of the better clubs, even- tually into radio and became internationally famous. We were now permanently in New York, we could have the children we both longed for. Four lovely daughters arrived in planned succession. Connie wished to retire, so I had to start a new career-the Love-lorn column in a leading daily newspaper, now syndicated in papers across the country. That is where I am today. If you have any problems, write Dear Jessica!

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Topless ladies don't wear topless bathing suits . . .

Earl Wilson

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