pregnancy among them that there was a rumor that when volunteers went in for their
physical examination, the doctors pressed their stomachs with a tiny rubber stamp. The
girls tried to read the words but were unable to do so. Finally one of them hit upon the
idea of getting a magnifying glass. The words read: “When you can read this with the
naked eye, report to me.”
Now as she sat lunching with Bill Fraser, she said, “I want to work. I want to do
something to help.”
He studied her a moment, then nodded. “I may know just the thing for you,
Catherine. The Government’s trying to sell War Bonds. I think you could help coordinate
it.”
Two weeks later Catherine went to work organizing the sale of War Bonds by
celebrities. It had sounded ridiculously easy in concept, but the execution of it was
something else again. She found the stars to be like children, eager and excited about
helping the war effort, but difficult to pin down about specific dates. Their schedules had
to be constantly juggled. Often it was not their fault, because pictures were delayed or
schedules ran over. Catherine found herself commuting from Washington to Hollywood
and New York. She got used to leaving on an hour’s notice, packing enough clothes to last
the length of each trip. She met dozens of celebrities.
“Did you really meet Cary Grant?” her secretary asked her when she returned from a
trip to Hollywood.
“We had lunch together.”
“Is he as charming as they say?”
“If he could package it,” Catherine declared, “he’d be the richest man in the world.”
It happened so gradually that Catherine was almost unaware of it. It had been six
months earlier, when Bill Fraser told her about a problem that Wallace Turner was having
with one of the advertising accounts that Catherine used to handle. Catherine had laid out
a new campaign using a humorous approach, and the client had been very pleased. A few
weeks later Bill had asked Catherine to help on another account, and before she realized it
she was spending more than half her time with the advertising agency. She was in charge
of half a dozen accounts, all of them doing well. Fraser had given her a large salary and a
percentage. At noon on the day before Christmas Fraser came into her office. The rest of
the staff had gone home, and Catherine was finishing up some last minute work.
“Having fun?” he asked.
“It’s a living,” she smiled and added warmly, “and a generous one. Thanks, Bill.”
“Don’t thank me. You’ve earned every penny of it—and then some. It’s the ‘then
some’ I want to talk to you about. I’m offering you a partnership.”
She looked at him in surprise. “A partnership?”
“Half the new accounts we got in the last six months are because of you.” He sat