He wrote it down. “All right. Be here next Saturday, Sheldon. Six o’clock. You’ll be broadcasting from the studio on a remote from WGN.”
Whatever that meant. “Right.”
I hurried home to break the news to my parents and my brother, Richard. They were excited. There was one more thing I had to tell them. “I’m using a different name.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Schechtel is not a show business name. From now on, I’m Sidney Sheldon.”
They looked at one another and then shrugged. “Okay.”
I had difficulty sleeping for the next few nights. I knew that this finally was the beginning. I was going to win this contest. Paul Ash would give me a contract to travel around the country with him. Sidney Sheldon would travel around the country with him.
When Saturday reluctantly dragged its way onto the calendar, I returned to the Chicago Theatre and was ushered into a small broadcast studio, with several other young contestants. There was a comedian, a singer, a female pianist, and an accordion player.
The director said to me, “Sheldon—”
I felt a little thrill. It was the first time anyone had spoken my new name. “Yes, sir?”
“When I point to you, you’ll step up to the microphone and start the show. You’ll say, ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Paul Ash Amateur Contest. This is your announcer, Sidney Sheldon. We’re going to give you an exciting show, so stay tuned!’ Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Fifteen minutes later, the director looked up at the studio clock on the wall and raised his arm. “Quiet, everyone.” He began counting. He pointed to me and I was ready for show business. I had never been calmer in my life because I knew that this was the beginning of a wonderful career. And I was going to start under my new show business name.
With great composure, I stepped up to the microphone, took a deep breath, and said, in my best announcer’s voice, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Paul Ash Amateur Contest. This is your announcer—Sidney Schechtel.”
CHAPTER 6
I recovered enough to introduce the other contestants. The show went well. The accordion player executed a foot-stomping tune, followed by the comedian, who did his bit like a seasoned pro. The singer sang beautifully. Nothing went wrong until the last contestant, the female pianist, was introduced. As soon as I announced her, she panicked, started to cry, and hurriedly fled from the room, leaving us with three minutes of empty air. I knew I had to fill it. I was the announcer.
I stepped back up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, we all start out as amateurs in life, but as we go on, we grow and become professionals.” I got so caught up in my own words that I kept talking until finally the director signaled for me to shut up.
We went off the air. I knew that I had saved the show and they would be grateful for that. Perhaps they would offer me a job as—
The director came up to me. “What the hell’s the matter with you, whatever your name is?” he yelled. “You went over by fifteen seconds.”
My radio career was ended.
Paul Ash did not invite me to travel around the country with him, but there was one interesting fallout from the Paul Ash Contest. Otto, Natalie, Richard, Seymour, Eddie, Howard, and Steve all changed their last names to “Sheldon.” The only remaining “Schechtel” was Uncle Harry.
Early in May, my cousin Seymour stunned us all by announcing that he was getting married.
Seymour was only nineteen, but it seemed to me that he had been an adult for most of his life.
I had met his bride-to-be, Sydney Singer, when I lived in Denver. Sydney was a young, attractive secretary who had worked in Harry’s brokerage office, where Seymour met her. I found her to be warm and intelligent, with a nice sense of humor.
The wedding was simple, with just the members of the family there. When the ceremony was over, I congratulated Seymour. “She’s a terrific girl,” I told him. “Hang on to her.”