Shirley May was looking for glory, perhaps even a Hollywood contract, but last week she was seasick. On the Dutch luxury liner Nieuw Amsterdam, eastbound, a steward with a tempting tray knocked at her stateroom door. "Come back later, much later," moaned Shirley May. "How I wish I could get off this ship and swim the rest of the way!"
For a mermaid whose picture had blossomed in almost every paper in the U.S., it was very humiliating.
Nights Are for Sleeping. At 16, Shirley May France is too young to remember the 1920s, but she was making U.S. oldsters remember mah-jongg and...