The husky, caressing voice murmurs: "Hello, muffin, this is your lonesome gal. How are you tonight, baby? Your lonesome gal loves you better than anybody in the world, just remember that . . ." These fudgelike endearments, dripping from U.S. radios every weekday night, cause chest flutterings and glassy stares in cross-country truck-and-trailer rigs, diners, Army barracks and teen-age bedrooms from El Pasp to Boston.
The alluring voice belongs to a tall, slender woman who looks something like Rosalind Russell and wants to be known only as Lonesome Gal. She is not at...
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