Comeback

The signal oil program, the chrysler, that chrysol, is your signal for the signal oil program, the chrysler. I am the chrysler. And I know many things, or I walk by night.

I know many trained tales, hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Yes, friends, it's time for the Signal Oil program, the Whisper, rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Post program in radio history.

And Signal gasoline is tops too, tops in quality. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And Signal is the famous go farther, gasoline. So, look for the Signal Circle sign in yellow and black that identifies friendly dealer-owned signal stations from Canada to Mexico.

And now the Christopher Strange story. Come back. Even on Fifth Avenue he was a distinguished looking figure. Fifth handsome man in his mid-fifty. His clothes were a little outdated perhaps, though few would notice that.

And as he crawled along, kinlisted, swinging his sticks. There were curious glances and whispers in his waist. Wasn't that John Maynard the old Macnay idol they'd say? Not quite sure. Of course, they knew him better on Broadway.

Stopped and spoke to him on his good days. Pretended not to see him on the other ones, when his eyes were bloodshot and his gate unsteady. For then he was out for a touch, looking for a dollar or two for the bottle that turned the dreary present back to the day when John Maynard, if not the king of Broadway, was