Modern Screen 1949-02 Vol. 38, No. 3

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ph. Brother!’’=Bob Crosby Unmasks B p Ha ued ie rai Tae ae it

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SA Your loveliness is Doubly Safe Veto gives you Double Protection? Jo Ofte, ... Veto guards your loveliness night and day—safely protects your clothes and you. For Veto not only neutralizes perspiration odor, it checks per- spiration, too! Yes, Veto gives you Double Protection! And Veto disappears instantly to protect you from the moment you apply it! é So ... Always creamy and smooth, Veto is lovely to use and keeps you lovely. And Veto is gentle, safe for normal skin, safe for clothes. Doubly Safe! Veto alone contains Duratex, Colgate’s exclusive ingredient to make Veto safer. Let Veto give your loveliness double protection! Veto lasts and lasts from bath to bath? FEBRUARY, 194% modern screen th pind aya stories T-GOT! MY MAING oscar cao ie 0S ne eae by Diana Lynn 24 THREE LOVES THAT THRILLED THE WORLD (Temple-Agar; Gable-Lombard; Grableé-James) ire cow seer) oc oar. aco a a ec ree by Hedda Hopper 28 “OH, BROTHER!” (Bing Crosby).......... SRE NS ees ae orem by Bob Crosby 30 PROBLEM CHILD (Esther Williams) .00..0000.0000.cccccccceteesceeeeveveeeeees by Bula Williams 32 SOMETHING NOT FOR THE BOYS (Jean Peters’ Pajama Party ) ; : by Reba and Bonnie Churchill 34 SHE DID IT BEFORE AND SHE CAN DO IT AGAIN! (Deanna Durbin) by Erskine Johnson 38 THE GIRL HE CAN'T FORGET (Cary Grant).....0.0.0.0c.0..:. by Sheilah Graham 40 LUCKY IN LOVE! (Jeanne Crain)... by Mary McSkimming 42 THE WOMAN NOBODY KNOWS (Jennifer Jones)..................0...... by Jack Wade 44 MEXICAN ESCAPADE (Rita Hayworth) .....000000.0000ccceeeeeeeee by Maxine Smith 46 HOUSE OF THE ONE-EYED GIRAFFE (Bob Hope))..............:.00:. by Viola Moore 48 SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY (Ingrid Bergman)..............0.-.:ccccceee by Earl Wilson 52 HOLLYWOOD'S CRUELEST HOAXES ....0.0000.0.0ccccceeettteeee by Carl Schroeder 54 IS IT TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT MONTY? (Montgomery Clift) by Cameron Shipp 58 features TOZOUR: READERS si ccccc uses titeestn sarsees tute fe coe otc tae au Sede at oat es ee Se 4 LOUELLA PARSONS’ GOOD NEWS. oo..c.....cccctcccccccccceeccceccccsceceeencecsesenencuesecnseceesserseerietess 6 EDITORIAL: “The Case for the People’ (Bob Mitchum ).... ead PICTURE OF THE MONTH: “The Snake Pit’ .......0.ccccccceececcsceseeceeeteereseuteteeeeteeeees 60 departments MOVIES RE VIEWS oie orn tee ene et eee by Christopher Kane 16 FASHION. 222530) JEN es navcieaie: Sart pane a its ce eee by Constance Bartel 65 »soveltvsasaaases oabaeeor eee ene 75 anaes stan 22/5 MUSIC:3] Sweetiand Hotes. ect ee by Leonard Feather 78 BEAUTY: “Don’t Sit on Your Hands! ooo... cece by Carole Carter 92 FAN FARE 94 THE BANS, ofc ae ee by Shirley Frohlich 115 ALSO SHOWING (Films Previously Reviewed ) 116 ON THE COVER: Esther Williams Color Portrait by Nikolas Muray WADE H. NICHOLS, editor WILLIAM HARTLEY, managing editor TOM CARLILE, western manager WILLIAM JEFFERS, story editor ROMA BURTON, western editor SHIRLEY FROHLICH, associate editor VIOLA MOORE, associate editor FLORENCE EPSTEIN, CaS Cci ote eaitcn BOB BEERMAN, staff photographer GLORIA LAMPERT, assistant editor BERT PARRY, staff photographer FERNANDO TEXIDOR, art director CHRISTOPHER KANE, movie reviewer BILL WEINBERGER, art editor CONSTANCE BARTEL, fashion editor BEVERLY OTT, associate fan club director MAXINE FIRESTONE, assistant fashion editor IRENE TURNER, research editor POSTMASTER: Please send notice on Form 3578 and copies returned under Label Form\3579 to 261 Fifth Avenue, New York 16, New York Vol. 38, No. 3, February, 1949. Copyright, 1949, the Dell Publishing Co., Inc., 261 Fifth Ave., New York. Published monthly. Printed in U. S. A. Published simultaneously in the Dominion of Canada. International copyright secured under the provisions of the Revised Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works. Office of publication at Washington and South Aves., Dunellen, N. J. Chicago Advertising office, 360 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago 1, Illinois. George T. Delacorte, Jr., President; Helen Meyer, Vice-Presid- dent; Albert P. Delacorte, Vice-President. Single copy price, 15¢ in U.S. and Canada. Subscriptions in U.S.A. and Canada $1.80 a year; elsewhere $2.80 a year. Entered as second class matter Sept. 18, 1930, at the post office Dunellen, N. J., under Act of March 3, 1879. The publishers accept no responsibility for the return of unsolicited material. Names of characters used in semi-fictional matter are fictitious. If the name of any living person is used it is purely a coincidence. Trademark No. 301778.

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THE MOST UNUSUAL WESTER Echnicofor The thrilling story of three desperados who kept a promise to a woman! EVER MADE! ) ww starring WARD BOND - MAE MARSH ~ JANE DARWELL - BEN JOHNSON a Winner of five Academy Awards, director John Ford who thrilled America with ‘ Stagecoach” and "Fort Apache” has directed another mem- orable picture! Screen Play by LAURENCE STALLINGS and FRANK S. NUGENT « From the story by PETER B. KYNE Produced by ARGOSY PICTURES CORPORATION + A METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER PICTURE

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Lipstick you love has the “New Look” too! NEW, LONGER LIPSTICK Feel like a make-up artist. Look like a society deb! So easy to use this softer, smoother, more flat- tering lipstick in its new, long glamour case of mock- gold metal. Try it today just to see how divinely shaped your lips can be! IF BOB. CROSBY had known what he was getting into that first day he might have used his zweibach ration to buy back the birth certificate. Being alive was problem enough; being a kid brother was almost too much. First time he fell into the swimming hole it was Bing who pushed him. First time he snored it was big brother who cured him with a blow on the head. Bing had a twelve year advantage which he carefully preserved. It still hasn’t got away from him. For further proof of this read “Oh, Brother!” on page 30. Bob wrote it with a smile—and a snicker. You see, Bing may have the lettuce and the golf score—but Bob has a daughter. And how many Crosbys can make that statement ? BOB HOPE, who is at least a friend of the clan, can make that statement twice. Linda and Nora are his girls’ names. Along with Tony and Kelly they make up the Hope brood. They all laugh at his jokes and sometimes they help write the script. For this devotion the two older kids get a dollar a week. The babies can’t count so they settle for love. There’s plenty to go around in the Hope house—as you will discover if you turn to page 48 of this issue. MAYBE WE OUGHT to call this our Valentine edition. . . . We’re a pretty calloused crew, but once in a while something turns our stony hearts to water. Something, this month, is Hedda Hopper’s story, ‘““Three Loves That Thrilled the World.’ Remember the Gable-Lombard romance? Its sudden, tragic ending never blotted out the memory of their life together. . . . You’ve been reading about Shirley Temple in M. S. ever since she was knee-high. Now, on page 28, you can shed a tear with us for the little girl who grew up so soon— . but so beautifully—and met John Agar. . . . Then there’s Betty Grable and Harry James. They don’t say very much about their marriage—but Hedda does. It’s solid. It’s terrific. It’s ... well, see for yourself... . TALKING ABOUT LOVE—and who isn’t? One of our editors has fallen. For three years she directed the fan club department with single-hearted devotion. For an equal number of years she graced MopERN SCREEN with her talented and lovely presence. Now, Shirley Frohlich, Associate Editor, is leaving us to marry a lawyer from Detroit. Daily commuters from that point to New York are practically unheard of—which is why Shirley is buying a one-way ticket. At any rate, she is Mr. Downes’ (the charmer’s) gain. We, on the other hand, were robbed, and can only sigh au revoir—with many tears and more best wishes. .. .

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ie 4 . wonderf picture! with REGINALD GARDINER ARI EEN WHELAN LUCILE WATSON - GENE LOCKHART - LLOYD GOUGH : ° PORTER HALL = RICHARD GAINES - TAYLOR HOLMES - CHILL WILLS Directed by ROBERT B. SINCLAIR * Produced by FRED KOHLMAR * Screen Play by Jay Dratler « From a Story by William R. Lipman and Frederick Stephani

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Danny Kaye's take-off on Kay Thompson, with Jack Benny, Jack Carson, Van John- Shirley Temple and John Agar were among those pres- son and George Burns as the Williams Brothers, was such a sensation at the Press ent at the Kay Thompson-Williams Bros. opening at the Photographers’ Ball last month, it was repeated at the Friar's Club Annual Dinner. Beverly Wilshire's Mayfair Room—a gala eve for all. Mt The lady herself—Kay Thompson—arrives at a party in her honor, with Jack Benny, Peter Lawford squired a new girl, Molly Dunn, to the Ben Gage and Esther Williams. The shindig, given by Arnold Kirkeby at his Kirkeby party, one of big events of the season. Host's show-place in Bel-Air, was attended by 300, who sat down to orchid-laden table. home was designed by the man who built Hoover Dam!

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It's been a month of jivin’ jitters, if you ask amusing—some sad—some sensational. But : if you believe in horoscopes, you must be- | } Rory Calhoun and his new wife, Lita Baron, caught Kay's routine, too. The lieve that the “sign” of utter confusion has act, called the most novel and funniest in years, originated in Hollywood been reigning over our town lately. To give a year ago, created a major stir. Recently, it's been on a nation-wide tour. you a rough idea: Dan Dailey, usually a most sensible young man, gets his feelings hurt because his studio will not give him permission to appear in the Friar’s Frolic show—and ups and disappears for three days. Even his wife did not know where he was. I might never have received the “tip” that he was pouting it out in Texas if it hadn't been that a cook in a Seligman, Arizona, all- } night restaurant, was a movie fan and a i reader of my column. } He called me long-distance to tell me that | he had been talking with Dan, who had k stopped for a cup of coffee in his nitery. j “It was Dailey, all right,’ said William Os- deck—that’s my pal’s name. He was sure off Hollywood! When I told him I was a disappointed baritone with movie ambitions, it he said: ‘You're far better off where you are, \ in a restaurant washing dishes. Acting is a | | | me! Some of the Hollywood antics have been thankless job.’ ”’ If his “mysterious disappearance” had not worried his wife so much, I would really have I to look on Dan’s antics as highly amusing. i Just another case of an actor getting ‘‘tired of j it all’ and thinking he is abused. Well, it happens to the best of ‘em. This boy comes y from a long line of troupers and you couldn't > ‘ ; : : ae Tee ge te drive him out of this business with a crowbar. But all’s well that ends well, and Dan's | | Among other guests at the party for Kay and her Williams boys were Mike { Romanoff, Iris Bynum, Clark Gable and Cesar Romero. Iris is now No. | on Gable's date list. The two were the most photographed couple there.. little delinquency ended with him right back where he belongs—hoofing and emoting in You're My Everything on the 20th Century- Fox lot. “I

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During this “age of ro- mance” don’t let perspiration problems spoil your fun. Don’t be half-safe—be Arrid-safe! Use Arrid to be sure. Get Arrid now at your favorite drug counter — only 39¢ plus tax. LOUELLA PARSONS' GOOD NEWS The second surprise of the month was when one of his old girl friends actually gave Clark Gable the cold shoulder and the go-by. I never thought I'd live to see the day. The daring blonde who iced a shoulder in the direction of “The King” is Virginia Grey, once a big moment in Gable’s romantic life. Perhaps she grew tired of being referred to as “the girl Gable always goes back to”— because here is what happened: Clark saw Virginia getting out of her car before a store in the Valley and rushed up to shake hands. The lady looked right through him! But Gable apparently is not taking it too much to heart. The lady in his life at present is Iris Bynum. They have been doing the night clubs together and she is a fun girl who makes him laugh. Virginia, I might add, has also found an- other romance. She is being seen everywhere with Richard Quine, ex-husband of Susan Peters—and they appear very happy in one another's company. - * * * Robert Walker continues to be the sad story of the Hollywood month. I have criticised him in the past for his remarks about the press, for the break-up of his marriage to lovely little Barbara Ford, and for not pulling himself together. But, with many others, I am now beginning to know that Walker is a sick boy—not one to be railed against. There was nothing funny in his arrest on a ‘“‘drunk-and-disorderly” charge while in the company of Pat Dane. The things he said—the flippant attitude he assumed—should be forgotten because he was not himself. He is not himself. I happen to know his studio is going to give him every opportunity to snap out of the nervous state he is in. Right now he is Judy Garland and her sister Jimmie were talking over old times, when snapped at the studio. She'll be starred with Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra and Betty Garrett in Lovely To Look At, remake of Roberta. undergoing the “rest” treatment. But official patience is being sorely tried—and before anyone else can help him, Walker must make up his mind to help himself. * * * The final screwy situation is the marital status of the Errol Flynns. I just talked with Nora and she tells me: “I love Errol very much—I'm still madly in love with him. But he has been ill and seemed to want to be by himself. It got to the point where life under the same roof be- came difficult for us. But when he comes back from his European trip—who knows? Everything may be all right again.” Meanwhile, Errol kept saying right up to the time of his departure he wanted Nora to go to Europe with him—wanted her to come home—and even sent her a key to their house just in case she had lost hers. But in spite of these interesting high-jinxes he certainly doesn't look to me like aq man carrying a torch. Anyway, it doesn’t show on him. Nora is easily one of the best-looking gals in town and is having a fine time at parties dancing with most of the eligible bachelors with the gaiety of a deb with a full date-book. At the Kay Thompson opening at the Beverly ' Wilshire (more about that gala shindig anon ) she was a sensation in her pale blue, back- less evening gown, with her fair skin and red hair. Peter Lawford danced every dance he could get with her when other smitten gents weren't cutting in. * * * Now for that brilliant “first night’ of the incomparable Kay Thompson and the four Williams Brothers. This act would “draw” in a wigwam—but believe me that swanky new Mayfair Room at the Beverly Wilshire is no tent! I wish the people who claim the movie

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FATHER VS. The Same Wo Lovely Phyllis Calvert Do post-war morals allow this titian-haired beauty to accept a man’s kisses while her lips still quiver with those of his only son? Sensational Wanda Hendrix “Tonight | saw my best friend in the arms of my brother, the woman to whom my father has given his love!” “You might at least have the grace not to make love to her in my own home!” Take your own true love fo see A Paramount Picture Starring PHYLLIS CALVERT _ MELVYN DOUGLAS with WANDA HENDRIX - PHILIP FRIEND BINNIE BARNES Produced by VAL LEWTON Directed by COMPTON BENNETT Screenplay by Theodore Strauss and Josef Mischel Adaptation by Arthur Kober + Based on a Novel by Yolanda Foldes

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10 FREE/ ALDENS NEW 1949 FASHION DIGEST 172 GLAMOUR-FILLED PAGES Get Fashion’s newest Spring triumphs now! Be first to wear the loveliest, the smartest! Yours!.. FREE! Aldens thrilling Spring show- ing of today’s most alluring styles—certain to make fashion history coast to coast! Be first to wear the newest, the most breathtakingly lovely fashions . .. discover a new enchanting you... radiant, confident, heart-teasingly de- sirable! Mail the coupon today—get your FREE copy of Aldens 60th Anniversary Fashion Digest. See style excitement to make you catch your breath. Everything for a giamorous wardrobe for teen, junior, miss or lovely lady, at the lowest prices in America! Fashions to wear from sun to starlight—the most adorable plaids and stripes, suave pastels, bewitching navies, sophisticated blacks in cottons, romantic taffetas, crepes, failles .. . even glamour ginghams and pique- jced calicos—news in buttons and bows, peg- skirts, tier-skirts, billowing skirts, peplums, tunics, tiny nipped-in waists. Fashions for your home and all your family, too!Aldens guarantees every price lowest, guarantees your complete satisfaction or your money back! Don’t delay— mail the coupon now for your Free Aldens Fashion Digest! Make our 60th year your thriftiest year! EST. 1889 7 lena SEND FOR YOUR FREE COPY NOW! ALDENS Dept. 604, Chicago 7, Illinois Please rush free copy of your Fashion Digest. PRINT Name PRINT Address or RFD Post Office State LOUELLA PARSONS’ GOOD NEWS L stars are dodging night spots could have seen the turn-out for Kay. Such stay-at-homes as the Ronald Colmans and the Fred Astaires were at ringside seats and apparently having the times of their lives. When the above-mentioned Nora Eddington Flynn whirled by, Ronnie Colman leaned over to me and whispered, “Who is that per- fectly beautiful girl?’ Just goes to show you —not all movie people know each other. A duet attracting attention were Merle Oberon and Greg Bautzer—but don't get too excited about that. Both Merle and Greg were the guests of the Jennings Langs and I still say the head girl in his life is Joan Crawford. She was not there because her doctor has ordered her to rest after she suf- fered a spell of nervous exhaustion. Clark Gable with his current heart, Iris Bynum, was laughing and laughing at the witty things she said to him. That girl cer- tainly knows how to keep a date amused— that’s one way to get ‘em, girls. The Jack Bennys, Gracie Allen and George Burns, The Charles Vidors, Claudette Col- bert and Dr. Pressman, the Bill Goetzes and the Van Johnsons were all at one big table— a field day for the photogs. Oh, just about everybody was there. L. B. Mayer visited friends at different tables and June Allyson and Dick Powell step out regularly these days, and finally squelched separation rumors by being seen everywhere together. Dick is a probable co-star for Claudette Colbert in Love Is Big Business. Roy Rogers, with Bill Boyd and Gabby Hayes, organized gigantic Western show which was held November 28th at Olympic Auditorium. Proceeds will establish museum for relics of greatest movie cowboys. eS I also saw the Dick Powells, the Johnny Greens, Ann Miller, Spike Jones, Shirley Temple with John Agar and the Rod Camerons. Ginger Rogers looked ‘orfully” pretty in a black-and-white print—a really beautiful dress. And there was a time when people used to say Ginger didn’t know how to dress! She and Jackie Briggs were with the Arthur Freeds and their table was next to that of Bebe Daniels, Wynn Rocamora, Mervyn Le Roy and yours truly. * * = And speaking of Kay Thompson—I could think only of the song “I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls,’ when I walked into the lavish, flower-decked home of Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Kirkeby for the party they gave in honor of Kay. This house—which Kirkeby, who is a wealthy hotel magnate, bought from a man named Atkinson—is fabulous. After spending three million dollars on it, Atkinson and his wife separated. It is probably the most lux- urious house in America—and I am not ex- cepting the homes of the millionaires in the East. J Three hundred guests were invited for dinner and sat at tables decked with orchids. Gardenia hung trees gave the effect of a movie setting, and not a real party. Curiously enough, there were very few of 7 | | 4

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y Made by the makers of DR. WEST'S MIRACLE-TUFT 50¢ Ye Man under blanket and behind feathers is Bing himself. The Groaner was named Chief Thundervoice by Squamish Tribe in Vancouver. the younger set present. I saw Peter Law- ford by himself. Clark Gable and Iris Bynum were at a table together, with Anita Colby several miles away at another table. The Jean Hersholts, old friends of the Kirkebys, were early arrivals. Diana Lynn was there with the man of her heart, John Lindsay. She is such a happy girl these days that it’s a pleasure to look at her. I couldn't possibly see all the people who were there, it was such a crowd. But it must have seemed like a Cinderella story come true to Kay Thompson, who started as Judy Garland’s coach and friend at M-G-M. Everybody is delighted over Kay's success, as it hasn't changed her one bit. It was very funny when Kay got up to ‘sing at her opening—we all thought it was Danny Kaye. He had given such a good imi- tation of her at the Photographers Ball. * * * I rounded up the men this month and asked them what they particularly did not like in femme habits and traits—and came up with some interesting tips. (Next month—I'll ask the girls.) But read and heed: Alan Ladd: ‘Sue's girl friends who get her on the telephone just as I walk in the door at night and keep yacking for an hour or so.” Guy Madison: “Girls who keep pulling at their skirts—or grabbing at their shoulders, continually pulling up straps. These con- tinual-motion girls give me the jeebies.” Farley Granger: “A date who continually talks about the date she had the night before along the lines of ‘I said to him and he said to me.’ Cesar Romero: “Those ‘cute’ kids who spray you with a little whiff of their perfume, or borrow your handkerchief when their lip- stick smears, or fix your tie. But the worst of all—losing half their makeup on your lapels when dancing.” Burt Lancaster: “Loud and conspicuous laughers. The ‘Ha-Ha’ guffawers in cafés or drawing rooms make the shivers go down my spine.” Peter Lawford: “The girl you take to a cocktail party—and then never see for the rest of the evening because she’s off huddling LOUELLA PARSONS’ > GOOD NEWS : Pat O'Brien, a guest on MODERN SCREEN's radio show, Movie Matinée, tries a Boy With Green Hair wig on the m.c., Red Benson. with her girl pals or trying to promote some other guy.” (Pete! Could that happen to you? ) © * * * Judy Garland’s mother telephoned to say that all those stories that Judy started as a baby to earn money to carry her family along are ridiculous. Judy’s father was a prosperous theater-owner in Grand Rapids and she told me that whenever Judy did ap- pear in vaudeville as a child, it was in one of her father’s theaters. “I get so burned up,” Mrs. Garland said, “when people say, that Judy has had to sup- port the family since she was in her cradle. She had a perfectly normal and happy child- hood.” ; * * * These bachelors certainly know how to give - parties. Cesar Romero decided to “house- warm” the new apartment he has built for himself over the garage of the home he built * for his parents, and it was also a welcome to his sister-in-law and his brother, Ed. The whole town turned out, for Cesar is ex- tremely popular. I particularly noticed Mrs. Gary Cooper, dressed to the teeth at cocktail time, in an evening gown. I stopped to talk to Loretta Young and Rosa- lind Russell—those two gay gals who had been an eyeful at the Photographers Ball when they dressed exactly alike as the Toni Twins. Those two pals may be dignified ladies on the screen, but they sure have their fun in private life. I’m so fond of both of them. I went on to dinner with them, their husbands and Johnny Miles, young Warner actor. After the party, Claudette Colbert and the Jack Bennys decided they wanted Chinese food, so they went off looking for a chow mein parlor. Reginald Gardiner, who has been entertain- ing his 81-year-old mother, brought her to Cesar's fun party. Reggie said that because of the waterfront strike, his mother had to sail back to England after being only a week in Hollywood. At 81, she made the trip on a Dutch freighter which took her over 30 days! Bebe Daniels and Ben Lyon, who have left

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When the Bride brings along her three kids.. aad the Groom’s_ , Ye Lo. ex-fiancee plays chaperone with RITA JOHNSON - HATTIE McDANIEL- CHILL WILLS - screenplay by DANE LUSSIER Based on the novel by Homer Croy - Directed by CLAUDE BINYON - Produced by JOHN BECK and Z. WAYNE GRIFFIN MPAAPT ALICE TLIAT ATLIED DON’T MISS THAT OTHER Utara TUCTI Q ernalionad.

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WEW/ ECONOMY SIZE Bee fll SE Always use COLGATE DENTAL CREAM after you eat and before every date LOUELLA PARSONS' GOOD NEWS after he to make their home in England again, were surrounded by a host of friends regretting their departure from Hollywood. Anne Baxter joined the party late—she’s very interested in politics and had been making a speech. Maybelle Webb came without her son, Clifton, and was soon the center of attraction. I teased her because she passed on to me the news that Mrs. Ed Gardner was expecting a baby. She meant, I am sure, Mrs. Reginald Gardiner. * * * Personal Opinions: Paulette Goddard is not exactly my favorite screen personality—but I must say she knows how to make a good impression and get favorable publicity for herself. She created a lot of good-will in Mexico City and shared honors with the Presi- dent’s wife at a recent national charity event. .. . I’m sorry to say I cannot say the same complimentary things about another star—a girl I like very much—who was in Mexico at the same time. All I can say about her trip is, she should have “stood” at home! . . . Whichever way you happen to feel about the Robert Mitchum case, you must give him credit for his behavior recently. He has been very much out of the spotlight, and when he and Mrs. Mitchum do venture out for dinner they sit very inconspicuously in the background. I have noticed that many actors who did not know Mitchum particularly well before his trouble, frequently go up and speak to him and his wife. . . . Judy Garland is rapidly becoming the most popular ‘‘guest”’ on top radio programs. Her personality comes through beautifully—which is not true of all big movie stars. . . . Jennifer Jones and David Selznick will be married in Europe— or I miss my guess. . . . James Mason is definitely trying to “soften up.” I believe he is sincerely sorry for the way he popped off about Hollywood before he ever came here. He and his wife have become close friends with the Glenn Fords and J think he would like to meet more people and be invited to in- teresting parties. * * a It may interest Lew Ayres—and you—to know that he was just about head man in my Mopern SCREEN fan mail this month. His per- formance in Johnny Belinda created a lot of ‘i 4 \ Patricia Kathryn Johnston, born October 7, here makes her camera debut. Kathryn and Johnnie were reported reconciled cancelled his road tour and returned home. interest and many fans are asking about him again. Yes, I believe that his romance with Jane Wyman is serious. At one time, I think, they may even have been planning marriage when her divorce from Ronnie Reagan is final. How- ever, now I am not so sure they are. There is a girl who operates an art store in Hollywood who has been a close friend of his for a long time, and it is no secret that they still have dates. Frankly, I’m not going to try to out-guess Lew on his possible matrimonial plans. He's the strong, like-to-be-alone type who may never marry again. * * * First, Deanna Durbin telephoned me the exciting news that she is going to Europe to make a picture for the great Italian director, Alexandrini—and then she dropped by my house to give me more details. I am so glad to see Deanna looking happy — and bubbling and herself again. Let's face it—the last two years have not been good for her. Her career- at Universal-International, the studio where she was once queen-bee, hit an unexplainable snag and that can't be laid to "temperament’’ on her part, either. She's been a good girl for a long time—but some- times it just happens that the right story can't be found for a star. (Editor's Note: For the story of Deanna’s career troubles, see page 38.) “I feel like the turning point in my bad luck has come,” Deanna told me, her eyes spar- kling. She looked so chic in a smart black street dress with one of those close-fitting hats with a jeweled buckle. “Alexandrini is the director who made the wonderful Italian picture Furia,” Deanna went on, “and I am so excited over making a movie for him. I'll play an American girl studying for opera in Rome, so I won't have to worry too much about speaking the language. Naturally, I understand and speak it a little from studying music.” As for her private life—I think Deanna is no longer undecided. It is my opinion that she will soon sue for divorce from Felix Jackson—probably before she goes away in January. * * * That's all for now. See you next month!

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16 Dee Dee Dillwood (Joan ponraie persuades Marvin Payne (Jimmy Stewart) and his partner Bullets (Eddie Albert) to take her from New York to California on their cargo plane—along with a chimpanzee. f So they all set out for California on the plane. All kinds of complica- tions ensue, including a forced landing, a mix-up with an embezzler, the loss of the plane and, natch, the dawning of a fine romance. MOVIE REVIEWS hy Cath Lt You see, she's fleeing the guy she's just married. In New York, she'd escaped her bridal suite and then had- talked Marvin into letting her spend the night in fis quarters. YOU. GOTTA STAY HAPPY You'd know the Saturday Evening Post ran this first, even if nobody told you. It stands right up for home and mother, and it explains that money can't make a body content. Jimmy Stewart, a serious-minded veteran, and his pal, Eddie Albert, a veteran with hardly any mind whatever, have a two-plane airline when we meet them. They carry freight—not passengers—until the day they get stuck with Joan Fontaine. She's a very rich girl who's been talked into marrying a very rich boy (Willard Parker) but whose heart isn’t in it. After the ceremony—or at least after she and her new husband reach their hotel room—Joan starts running. She runs into Jimmy’s room, he thinks she’s -in terrible trouble, and lets her stay overnight, and the next day she fasttalks herself into a hitch to California on the Stewart-Albert plane. Nobody knows she’s rich, which makes it okay for a manly soul like Jimmy to fall in love with her. ’ Before the trip is over, the plane has several more passengers—all illegal, since a freight plane has no passenger permit—including an obnoxious honey-mooning Southern couple (Marcy McGuire and Arthur Walsh), and a sorrowful embezzler (Porter Hall). In the freight department, there’s a chimpanzee, and a dead body. It’s a remarkable trip, all right. The plane’s forced down in Oklahoma, on the farm of Percy Kilbride, the truth about everyone aboard is made known, the em- bezzler starts home to give back the money, and Jimmy turns on Joan with loathing. ("A fella wants to support his own wife...” ). He . hates her right up until the day she buys him a Constellation (airplane) and then love conquers all. You could be crude and insist that love won't buy any constellations, but the picture's still pretty cute. Except for that honey-mooning baby-talking young couple. They made me sick.—Univ.

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Yes, 2 Thrilling Books—ANNIE JORDAN and THE WEB OF DAYS—Yours for only 3c when you join the Dollar Book Club! Mail Coupon Below! The Red-Headed Cinderella Who Made a Boom-Town Her Boudoir! She Climbed from the Bottom of Skid Row to the Peak of Gold Coast Society— Only to Slide Down Again in Her Search for Happiness! T thirteen, Annie Jordan was dancing for coins on % the tables of a sailors’ cafe. At fifteen, she knew the first heart- break of love, and at sixteen, her mother bullied her into a mar- tiage she didn’t want. Even Cin- ¥ derella of the fairytale had a far | easier lot! By the time Annie had quit the sordid environment of her girlhood, she knew what she wanted and knew how to get it without the benefit of ondg godmothers or magic wands! Then her Prince Charming ap- peared. Hugh Deming, young and handsome heir of Seattle’s oldest and most prominent family, fell madly in love with her, and Annie’s dream of happiness was complete . . . Until the night of his abrupt farewell, with his parting words: “I love you, Annie. No matter what happens—I love only you.” From then on, through fortune and disaster, Annie and Hugh lived the consequences of that night! Both Annie Jordan AND the best- selling novel The Web of Days are yours for just a 3-cent stamp if you join the Dollar Book Club now! The ONLY Book Club That Brings You Best-Sellers for iust 1 WN? other book club brings you popu- lar current books by famous au- thors for only $1.00 each. You save 60 to 75 per cent from regular retail prices! Yet membership in the Dollar Book Club re- quires no dues of any kind. You do not even have to take a book every month; the purchase of as few as six books a year fulfills your membership requirement. In fact, for conveni- ence, members prefer to have their books shipped and pay for them every other month. More Than 700,000 Families Buy Books This Money-Saving Way! Think of it! With book manufacturing costs at an all-time high; with most popular current fiction selling for $2.75 and $3.00 in the publish- ers’ editions at retail, the Dollar Book Club con- tinues to bring its members the cream of the books for only $1.00 each! And in attractive, full-size library editions, bound in a format ex- clusive for members! Start Enjoying Membership Now Upon receipt of the attached coupon with a 3 cent stamp, you will be sent the TWO best- sellers, “Annie Jordan” and ‘“The Web of Days.” You will also receive as your first selection for $100 your choice of any of these four best sellers: ©@ the Golden Hawk by Frank Yerby. Here’s even more color, sweep and excitement than The Foxes of Harrow—the tale of a bold buccaneer and the wild-cat beauty he tamed! © Light in the Sky by Agatha Young. In the dramatic setting of Ohio’s roaring blast furnaces of 1870 a titan of industry and his beautiful, ruthless daughter fight for power. e@ The Queen’s Physician by Edgar Maass. What did the bewitching queen really want—the Doc- tor’s cure .. . or the Doctor? Here is true history as lively as Forever Amber! e Asylum for the Queen by Mildred Jordan. Love and adventure in the American wilderness of 1796, where, amid silks and satins, snobbery and intrigue, lived the last remnants of Marie Antoinette’s pleasure-loving court. VERY other month you will receive the Club’s descriptive folder called The Bul- letin. The Bulletin describes the forthcoming two months’ book selections. It also reviews about ten additional titles (in the original publishers’ editions selling at retail for $2.50 or more) available to members at only $1.00 each. You may purchase either or both of the two new selections fer $1.00 each, or neither. In any case, you may purchase any of the other titles offered for $1.00 each. . SEND NO MONEY Mail Coupon — Get 2 Books for 3c! When you see Annie Jordan—and Web of Days— which you get for 3 cents—and your first $1.00 selection; when you consider these are typical values you receive for $1.00, you will be more than happy to have joined the Club. Doubleday One Dollar Book Club, Garden City, N. Y. YOURS FOR and ALSO yours: Edna Lee’s WEB OF DAYS A Heroine “Seductive as Scarlett— Ambitious as Amber!'—Phila. Inq. wretr determined Hester to be mis- tress of Seven Chimneys, even if it meant risking the deadly rivalry of a beautiful ex-slave—even if it meant turn- ing from the man she loved to become the wife of another man? This best- seller—PLUS Annie Jordan—yours for a 3c stamp if you join the Dollar Book Club now! Mail This Coupon DOUBLEDAY ONE DOLLAR BOOK CLUB Dept. 2DMG, Garden City, New York Please enroll me as a Dollar Book Club mem- ber and send me at once ‘‘Annie Jordan’”’ and ‘‘The Web of Days’’—BOTH for the enclosed 3c stamp. Also send me as my first selection for $1.00 the book I have checked below: L] Queen’s Physician L Light in the Sky L] Asylum for the Queen [] The Golden Hawk With these books will come my first issue of the free descriptive folder called ‘‘The Bulletin” telling about the two new forthcoming one- dollar bargain book selections and several addi- tional bargains which are offered at $1.00* each to members only. I have the privilege of notifying you in advance if I do not wish either of the following months’ selec- tions and whether or not I wish to purchase any of the other bargains at the Special Club price of $1.00 each. The purchase of books is entirely voluntary on my part. I do not have to accept a book every month —only six during each year that I remain a member. I pay nothing except $1.00 for each selection received plus a few cents shipping cost. Mr. Mts or reraevehono(svatsTexsiciarslcvelt rclarenerciomikevaiie ictal Miss PLEASE PRINT Address ..... aiuletevelelsvolotelolsloiaishtintetalalelevelcletele City, Zone & State..... Heh ekekeleveveiciolevelsinielelisitsyetciey sic ssece If under 21, Occupation srarctscralctaverctelalenerecers Age, please.... *Same Price in Canada: 105 Bond St., Toronto 2

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Bob Pins set the smartest hair-do’s stronger grip—won’t slip out Your hair is short and to the point this season. The new brief styles are easy on the eyes —easy to set, yourself, with DeLong Bob Pins. DeLong Bob Pins, with their new rounded ends, slide in easily, stay in indefinitely. Get DeLong Bob Pins on the famous blue card. The Short Halo— created by Helen Hunt, famous Hollywood hair stylist. Make 3 rows of pin curls. Work clockwise from left part toward face. Pull hair slightly forward as you pin. Brush out hair upward, away from face. Let ends fall forward. Brush back hair upward. You're always “set” Curl Setting Pins * Hair Pins * Safety Pins Hooks and Eyes * Snaps * Pins Took and Eye Tapes * Sanitary Belts with DeLong JOAN OF ARC In New York City, a whole theatre was re-built to house this movie, and press agents went around claiming it was the event of the century. Maybe it is. At any rate, there aren't two and a half hours of comparable pageantry anywhere this side of Cecil De Mille. The Joan of Arc story, told against beautiful Technicolored backgrounds, played out by a huge cast, and complete with exciting music, is bound to impress you. The story is basically Maxwell Anderson’s Joan of Lor- raine, adapted for the screen. Joan (Ingrid Bergman), a@ young peasant girl, is told by heavenly voices that God has chosen her for a tremendous task. She is to lead the armies of France to victory, even though England now occupies most of that stricken country, and the prospect of the tide’s turn- ing seems remote. Joan is also informed that she must crown the Dauphin (Jose Ferrer ) King of France, despite the fact that the playboy-heir to the throne doesn’t seem to be the best candidate for such high office. Nat- urally, Joan runs into trouble with officials, but gradually, people come to believe in her, they speak of an old prediction which tells how France will be saved by a maid from Lor- rdine, and in the end Joan goes off to lead get ‘em for you. Remember, THE NUMBERS |, I Got My Man by Diana Lynn... Three Loves That Thrilled the World (Temple-Aégar, Gable- Lombard, Grable- James) by Hedda Hopper . “Oh, Brother!” (Bing Crosby) ‘Bp IBOpmCrospyane oe eee Problem Child (Esther Williams) pee ee ee (J Something Not For The Boys (Jeank Beters)) ete were eo oO She Did It Before And She Gan Do It Again (Deanna Durbin) ..0 The Girl He Can’t Forget (Cary MI aGeley 1Gsaactaoo sooo: aban My address is FREE SUBSCRIPTIONS! We love Ava Gardner twelve months a year, but March is our month to have her on the cover of MODERN SCREEN. We're really more interested in the people you love, though, and that's why we're offering a three-month subscription to the lucky first 500 who send back the questionnaire below. Just tell us whom you'd like to see between the covers of MODERN SCREEN, and by golly, we'll try and March, April, QUESTIONNAIRE What stories and features. did you enjoy most in our FEBRUARY issue? 2, and 3 AT THE RIGHT OF YOUR Ist, 2nd, and 3rd CHOICES. What 3 FEMALE stars would you like to read about in future issues? List them, 3), Mt @ikclAe GN jeMEeEREMNCEa son. ce eonacane ADDRESS THIS TO: POLL DEPT., MODERN SCREEN, BOX 125, MURRAY HILL STATION, NEW YORK 16, N. Y. her soldiers to triumph. As you probably re- member, she’s eventually betrayed by the very king she’s worked to have crowned. He signs a truce with the English, refusing to allow Joan to finish the work she’s begun (the work of driving the invaders from French soil) and when she’s captured in an enemy ambush, he even refuses to ransom her. A French bishop (Francis Sullivan) in the pay of England, wishing to destroy Joan as a symbol (he knows how the French people idolize her) brings her to trial as a heretic, and she’s burned at the stake, in due course. Miss Bergman does well with Joan; you have the feeling that she’s very young, and ter- tibly afraid to die, and because of these things her pain, and her faith, are particu- larly moving. All the acting in the picture is good, and as far as I’m concerned, J. Carrol Naish, John Emery and George Colouris can take extra bows.—RKO WHEN MY BABY SMILES AT ME Bert Lahr brought the corny old play called Burlesque back to Broadway a couple of years ago, and nobody who saw him do it there (or on tour) will ever forget it. He made the baggy-pants, easy-going, hard- drinking character of Skid Johnson his own. and May issues, absolutely free!! WRITE Lucky In Love! (Jeanne Crain) .. [| The Woman Nobody Knows (Jennifer Jones) ...... .:... O Mexican Escapade (Rita Hee WOLEH) Ree ee ae House of the One-Eyed Giraffe @BobeHope) ie hee eee O Sentimental Journey (Ingrid Bergman) 2-8 a ee O Hollywood’s Cruelest Hoaxes eae ial Is It True What They Say About Monty? (Montgomery Clift). -. Pictvre Of The Month (The Snake Pit)..... Louella Parsons’ Good News.... .[]

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a aah 3 AOS # ee ! ay £ Oh, lovely Blonde! My voice | raise, Your tender, golden charms to praise. 4 | fs! When | am soiled beyond belief, | en Your perfume heralds prompt relief. Rr Oe ean Aaa ae | vs : a Beneath your swift and gentle care, | cei | shun all washday wear and tear. & =. And when with me you've had your way, gg | jee I'm cleansed of ‘Tattle-Tale-ish’ Gray. All substitutes | now decline, Dear Blondie, be my Valentine! GOLDEN BAR OR GOLDEN CHIPS ee Fels-Naptha Soap BANISHES “TATTLE-TALE GRAY” ed When My Baby Smiles At Me: Burlesque comic Dan Dailey needs wife Betty Grable's help. For this reason, Dan Dailey was handed a particularly tough assignment when Fox cast him as Skid in the movie version of Bur- lesque. Dailey doesn't suffer too much by comparison, and you can’t say more than that of any man. Story’s about a burlesque comic married to a burlesque queen (in this case, Betty Grable) and working in a traveling burlesque troupe headed by a fel- low called Lefty (Jimmy Gleason). The comic’s talents are big-time, and when pro- ducer Sam Harris offers him a Broadway job, he heads for New York, after promising the little woman he'll lay off the bottle and ignore the blondes. Well, he’s strong on resolution, but New York is full of speakeasys and beauti- ful women, and by the time wifey’s free to leave the tank show and come join husband, husband’s managed to cut a rug or two. Wife gets mad, and departs to marry a wealthy rancher. Husband starts down the Wife comes back and saves him. It isn’t much, yet it manages to be enough. Bert Lahr’s disintegrating Skid was a more pathetic figure than Dailey’s (Dailey seems a little young and healthy to break your heart over) but on every other count, the movie tops the play. Betty Grable’s good as the faithful, grieving wife; June Havoc and Jack Oakie are more than good as a couple of burlesque performers, Richard Arlen plays Betty's wealthy rancher, and there's lots of road to ruin. singing and dancing and Prohibition atmos- phere.—20th-Fox YELLOW SKY Gregory Peck leads a band of men who've been so successfully uprooted by the Civil War they aren't ready to put their guns away, once the North-South struggle is over. Robbery seems easier than working. More exciting, too. The gang (including Richard Widmark, John Russell, Robert Arthur, Charles Kemper, Henry Morgan and Bob Adler—or, rather, Dude,” “Lengthy,” “Bull Run,” ‘“Wal- tus,’ “Half Pint,” and “Jed’’) holds up its first bank, and then heads across the burn- ing Arizona desert. Suicidal, but what else can they do? The U. S. Cavalry is waiting for them if they turn back. Some days

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Yellow Sky: realize Gregory Peck is really on her side. Anne Baxter doesn't seem to later, crazy with thirst, they arrive at the ghost town of Yellow Sky. There's water there. There's also a girl (Anne Baxter) and her old Grandpa (James Barton) in the other- Anne’s so hostile the gang figures something interesting’s going on, and sure enough, snooping reveals that Anne and Gramps have gold! $100,000 worth! They discovered it, they dug for it, they have it hidden. The gang's all for killing them, and dividing the loot, but Peck makes a deal. They'll split 50-50, half for his boys, ‘half for the rightful ownérs. The owners’ lives to be thrown in as a bonus. The noise begins when Widmark announces to Peck that he and the other fellows don’t see any reason for kicking back to Anne and Grampa. Peck holds out for honor (among thieves, at that) and nearly gets himself shot to bits. He battles his whole former entourage, and emerges triumphant, rich, and married to Anne. She makes him go give back the money from the first bank he robbed, and there’s the picture, tied up as pretty as you please. It’s so Western—plenty of drawling, walking bow-legged and shooting from the hip—and Fox thinks it’s as terrific as The Ox-Bow Incident. 20th-Fox wise empty community. ever Podner, it ain’t.— EVERY GIRL SHOULD BE MARRIED It is the contention of salesgirl Anabel Sims (Betsy Drake) that women have it terrible. Can they go up to a fellow and say, ‘‘What big brown eyes you have, what are you doing Saturday night?” No. That's what. No. They have to sit around and wait for some shmoe to ask them, and they never get the Shmoe they want. Anabel’s out to change things. She’s got her cap set for Dr. Madison Brown (Cary Grant), a baby specialist, and she chases around to his club, his barber shop, his gymnasium, his office, collecting information about him. What he likes to eat . . . what his favorite flowers are. . . how many girl friends he’s had, and why none of them hooked him. Naturally, the doctor becomes aware of Anabel in due time; he can't help himself. He thinks she’s an amusing—and irritating—kid, and he tells Queaters a problem? Not for NG... lim a safety-first girl with Mum Smart girl, not to let lovely snug-fitting wool become is a trap for underarm odor. You stay nice to be near iY because your charm stays safe with Mum! Even in winter, there’s a heat wave under your arms. Odor can form without any noticeable moisture. And remember—a bath only washes away past perspiration, but Mum guards against future underarm odor. Mum Mum Mum safer for charm safer for skin safer for clothes STE sf Bp we A “exerens cee Uy : n RETUND op : P tonne taad by > 4 Good Housekeeping Ly, ~ Or. AN 0 <A) AS apvenristD WS Product of Bristol-Myers Mum checks perspiration odor, protects your daintiness all day or all evening. Because Mum contains no harsh or irri- tating ingredients. Snow-white Mum is gentle—harmless to skin. No damaging ingredients in Mum to rot or discolor fine fabrics. Economical Mum doesn’t dry out in the jar. Quick, easy to use, even after you’re dressed.

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Every Girl Should Be Married: Cary Grant finally succumbs to tactics of Betsy Drake. her so. Anabel attempts to make him jealous by pretending that Roger Sanford (Franchot Tone) who owns the department store where she works, wants to marry her. Cary asks why she doesn’t leap at the chance, which isn't the exact effect she’s working for. San- ford, incidentally, turns out to be a terrible wolf, and he’s only too pleased to pretend he loves Anabel, until she clouts him over the head with a shovel, after he gets over- friendly. Anabel gets her man, in the end, though her tactics are purely harrowing, and anybody but kind old Cary Grant would have called the cops on her. Cary’s wonderful in this picture—charming’s still the word; as for Betsy Drake, she romps through her scenes terribly wide-eyed and eager-voiced, and the characterization of Anabel comes If you think that sort of girl you'll love Miss Drake; otherwise, she can get on your Diana Lynn’s excellent as Anabel’s fellow salesgirl and close friend, and Eddie Albert has a small chore which he works out more than smoothly.—RKO close to caricature. is cute, nerves. SO DEAR TO MY HEART So Dear To My Heart is sweet, and simple, and everything that’s good. If you’ve got a quiet hour or so, and you feel like being charmed, here's the ticket. The story’s concerned with a small boy named Jimmy Kincaid (Bobby Driscoll) who lives on a farm in Indiana with his grandmother (Beulah Bondi ). he settles for a tiny black lamb which has been pushed aside by its mother. Jerry brings the lamb up, bottle-feeding it, making a pet of it. Together, the boy and the lamb run in the woods, and when Danny (that’s He longs to own a race horse, but the lamb) gets into trouble (he’s always breaking through screen doors), Jerry almost bursts making excuses for him. Jerry wants to earn enough money so he can take Danny to the County Fair, and win a blue ribbon, and he works toward this goal feverishly. Of such small, bright threads the picture is woven. There’s a frightening scene where Jerry and his friend Tildy (Luana Patten) wander off into the deep forest, searching 22 for a bee tree; there’s a nostalgic scene where Granny and Uncle Hiram (Burl Ives) sing folk songs in front of the fire; there are funny scenes, and tender scenes, and here and there a Walt Disney cartoon sequence. The cartoon sequences are both cunning and very moral, designed to influence children along righteous paths. They feature songs called, "It's Whatcha Do With Whatcha Got,’ and “Stick-To-It-Ivity,'" which gives you some idea. Whether you were a country kid or a city kid, you'll enjoy this one-—RKO LET’S LIVE A LITTLE Robert Cummings, playing a young adver- tising executive named Duke Crawford, is lousy with troubles. The kind of troubles other guys wish they had. It seems that beautiful women simply can’t resist him. Take Michele Bennett (Anna Sten) the beauty- preparations queen. Her creams and salves are worth a million dollars a year to Duke’s agency, but she won't sign a contract unless he marries her. As-far as Duke’s concerned, Michele’s charms have grown a trifle faded, but she’s still got the power to drive him crazy, so to speak. He begs his boss to be given a job where he can deal with a man. The head of the agency, a kind old char- acter, sends Duke to see a psychiatrist, a Dr. Loring. This doctor’s written a book, and Duke's to plan the publicity campaign. Yeah, you guessed it; the doc turns out to be Hedy Lamarr. Now there’s double trouble. Dr. Loring’s as irresistible to men as Duke is vice versa. He elects to be her patient. She cures him of his complex (he hears bells ringing where there are no bells) by kiss- ing him in the moonlight. Cures him!—she practically electrocutes him. But when he discovers she’s just using him as a guinea Pig, he decides to marry Michele Bennett. A million dollars is better than none, as the saying goes. Now—will Hedy realize she’s in love with Duke in time to stop the wedding? Will Duke sock that Dr. Field (Robert Shayne ) who's been chasing Hedy? Will the adver- tising agency go bankrupt? You'll find out. Over the years, Robert Cummings has de- veloped from an animated stick of wood into a most charming and accomplished actor, Hedy’s lovely as ever, and the laughs are numerous.—Univ. Let's Live A Little: Robert Cummings gets to be a patient of psychiatrist Hedy Lamarr. THE LUCKY STIFF It's possible that all murder mysteries are this confused, and I just don’t see enough of them. Anyhow, I doff my hat—heck, I doff my whole head—to The Lucky Stiff. It had me so mixed up I’m still not sure who done it. Who done what? Why, the four murders. A shady operator named Childers (Charles Meredith), who owns the . Casino Club, gets rubbed out first. Then the man that was hired to eliminate Childers, a thug known as Malloy, is shot when he’s preparing to tell who hired him—but that’s enough of that. There are about six plots running wild here. Claire (Dorothy Lamour), with whom lawyer John J. Malone (Brian Donlevy) is enchanted. Every night, he goes to the Casino Club where she’s appearing, and he sits and moons at her. What he doesn’t know is that she’s the girl friend of Childers (the first corpse, if you remember) though she really loves Britt (Warner Anderson ), Childers’ right-hand man. One concerns a singer, Anna Marie St. To make everything adorable, Britt loves — Mrs. Childers, and she cares for him too. Incidentally, since nobody (but the district attorney and Malone) knows about Malloy (the thug who really killed Childers) the gen- eral public and all the newspapers believe that Anna Marie went to the electric chair for killing Childers, and every time she ap- pears, people run away screaming about ghosts. Fortunately, the louse who's behind all the murdering, is also behind the “‘pro- tection racket” in town, and since that’s what Malone’s out to break up when we first meet him, he kills two birds with one stone. Everything else in the picture’s already been killed. The most pleasing feature of The Lucky Stiff is Claire Trevor's playing of Malone's faithful secretary. She does a really wonderful job. “Cute,” I regret, is the word for it. I wish there were a better one.—U.A. THE KISSING BANDIT Here’s Frank Sinatra as Ricardo, a boy from Boston (that’s the United States) who travels all the way to California (that’s still a possession of the Spanish crown) in order to join his late father’s old partner, Chico. Chico’s been having bad times as an inn- (Continued on page 116) The Kissing Bandit: Frank Sinatra thinks he has to be bold and reckless, but he's shy.

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Diana Lynn and 30-year-old architect John Lindsay, shortly before their marriage. / Diana Lynn became Mrs. John Lindsay on | December 18th. When you read this, she and | | Johnny will have just returned from their | | honeymoon in Bermuda.—THE Epirors. @ Everything was fine. I had a career, a per- | fectly swell apartment, and excellent*health. I ) was a very contented girl—and one of the things I wasn’t at all interested in was marriage in a | vine-covered cottage. Well, that was last spring. Now, much to my surprise, I find myself looking for a house, iI | a church to be married in, and the time to have | a final fitting on my wedding gown. I The great change began one warm June eve- 1 e ning. Stu and Angie Martin, my date—a casual one—and some other friends were at the Mo- ; cambo. After a while, we decided to go to Stu and Angie’s to finish the evening. Enter John Lindsay—whom up to then I’d 5 is I'd been sitting ? never met. He'd been working late and, as pretty all my. life—with- he’d done many times before, he happened | to stop by Stu and Angie’s. out aman. But Naturally, I thought he was awfully attrac- tive. (Who can blame me?) after all, what could any Then, two months later—on August 17th, to be exact—Teddy Stauffer, whom I’d met in Mexico, took me to a party at L’Aiglon. I was wearing a plaster cast clear up to here on my arm. Id broken it while I was at La Jolla meant—everything! appearing in a play. (Had I fractured myself = going all-out for my Art? Not exactly—I’d slipped in the bathroom!) It was my first pub- lic appearance after the (Continued on page 85) man mean to me? Mr. Lindsay, I soon discovered,

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Qn. oun. litter ts Sob Wotelum the case for the people Dear Robert Mitchum: Just about the time this issue of MopERN SCREEN will appear, your trial on narcotics charges is scheduled to begin. No matter what the trial’s outcome may be, there’s one thing about your case that should make you and every American feel mighty proud. That thing is the great, good heart the American public has once again shown it possesses. When you were arrested, charged with the possession of marijuana, it seemed to many that your career was hopelessly smashed, no matter how innocent you might eventually be proved to be. Even you, in your first confusion and despair over the damaging appearances, were reported to have said, ‘““This is the bitter end.” But the pessimists and grave-diggers had reckoned without the simple, garden-variety kindness of people everywhere in this good land. You, the studios, the magazines, newspapers -and radio stations were swamped with expressions of good-will which said, in effect: “All right, maybe the guy has made a personal mistake. We'll see. And if he zs found guilty, he'll pay the penalty. So why kick a man when he’s down? He’s still a darned good actor and we still want to see him on the screen.” : The greatest glory of the tradition in which America was founded is its tolerant concern with every man and woman as an individual, entitled to fair play and a “break.” The expression of that concern in your case, Bob Mitchum, is a clear and valid proof that the national tradition is still tremendously strong and alive. Maybe Americans are overly sentimental. Maybe it’s best to be cold and cynical in a world that so often seems _ ruled by brutal selfishness and double-dealing. But—maybe not. This turbulent globe would be in a desperate mess indeed if the American people didn’t have their strong streak of “sentimentality.” Tyranny would long ago have been firmly in the saddle everywhere. Sentimentality? There’s a far better word for it—a golden word that, in its true, Biblical meaning, is.the keynote of all our moral values. That word is Charity. Lo Daan EDITOR

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Shirley could have. had her choice of foreign titles, playboys or millionaires. But all she wanted was love—and found it in John Agar.

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t ™ Once I happened to ask a friend of mine named Irving Berlin, what the secret was for writing hit tunes. 5 “Tt’s really very simple, Hedda,” he smiled. ““Tt’s just saying the same old story, ‘I love you,’ over and over again to new music.” I’ve always thought you could say pretty much the same thing about the movies. The year-in, year-out fundamental stuff of Hollywood make-believe is love, love, love. And—as where does it not?-—the same potent force prevails in movieland’s off-screen life. Yes, indeed! There are plenty of times I can think of when “I love you” wasn’t just a line in a shooting script. So, as Valentine’s Day approaches, let me tell you what I know about three great loves, .all made in Hollywood, that thrilled the world—and still thrill it. One is the love of a Hollywood king for his queen; : another’s the story-book romance of a ‘golden-haired movie princess for her prince charming; and the other is just a quiet, deep passion quite as plain as John loves Mary. Among my romantic souvenirs, the love stories of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, of Shirley Temple and her handsome John Agar, and of Betty Grable’ and her head man, Harry James, rate just as highly for real romance as do those big league love affairs of Beatrice and Dante, of Heloise and Abelard and— yep—of Wally and Edward. Shirley Temple has had the world, and ou ireta) Hollywood, at her feet all her life. Even as a mere moppet, Shirley accepted all this adulation and affection heaped on her curly head without losing it—or her heart, either. And that heart was (Continued on page 111) Hedda Hypper These are the love stories of three Hollywood couples— the stories of er deep and quiet passions which no earthly thing could ever mar... Te of the most ene) Se are SRE plain peo- The marriage of Carole Lombard and Clark Gable was per- ple in Hollywood are Betty Grable and Harry James. Betty fect till its sudden tragic ending. Gable and the woman says simply, Harry and | couldn't live without each other now. he loved were as vital a pair as could be found anywhere.

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When I was a kid, he treated me rough. Now I’m a big boy, and he doesn’t treat me at all. But strangely enough, I like the guy—even if this does sound like flattery—which it is. Bing rehearsing With me and my band—which can't compete with his—his has 37 pieces and four acres of Trotter.

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“aca % m@ I first met Bing Crosby when I was one day old. At the time, I was the one with the receding hair line. Furthermore, I was asleep at the time, my handsome head on my mother’s ‘shoulder, looking for all the world like a blessed event. There has been some question about that in family circles, but Bing was highly interested in me at the time. Mother says there was a strange light in his eyes when he came into the room. He looked at her intensely and demanded, “What is it?” “Just what you wanted,’ Kate ees replied gently, “a boy!” “Auh!” Bing exclaimed. “Tt had better be!” Then he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The significance of this moment was something that was to dawn on me later. It seems that for 12 long years Bing had been the baby of the family. Only the baby of a family can understand that statement. Now J was the patsy—and if I’d known what that meant I might have used my zweibach ration to buy back the birth certificate. It’s not that I have anything against Bing, or vice-versa. It’s just that the life of the baby brother in any family most of the time is just plain hell. We lived in a big brown frame house. The oldest children had their choice of bedrooms. That left Bing with the sleeping porch when there were no more bedrooms. It also stuck him with me. When I could get along without diapers they moved me out to the sleeping porch. I thought that was fine. He thought it was awful. Weekdays he had to teach me how to tie my shoe laces. Sundays he saw to it that I genuflected properly at Mass. At night when I’d wake up and stagger around in my sleep headed for the bathroom he had to make sure I wasn’t going to fall downstairs. Thinking it over, I can hardly blame him for assuming these duties with all the gracious charm of a hungry bear. He snored. So did I. When I was awake and he was snoring, there was nothing I could do about it. When he was awake and I was snoring I got hit in the head with a pillow. Tiny Tim never had it so bad. I was too small to be kicked around much, there being 12 years difference in our ages. So I was an ever-present nuisance, spending all of my time trying to get into the act. I was bright, though. I found out soon enough that if I didn’t get to the table on time, that gang (Continued on page 103)

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By BULA WILLIAMS eR TON i.

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My Esther was like any other girl. “Mommy, the boys didn't dance with me." "The girls don't like me.” ... There was no problem we didn't solve around the kitchen table. Esther Williams at 13. She still seeks advice from her mother, who helped her so with teen-age problems. Below: With her parents and relatives at a recent birthday party. Shore 2) Smcaiae , Wes Bula Williams says: “My combined life’s work, major interest, hobby and profession has been young people’s problems.” A staff-member of The American Institute of Family Relations as a counsellor and lecturer, she has earned her qualifications through the first-hand experience of raising five children of her own. This modest, down-to-earth account of how, with humor and understanding, she helped her daughter Esther over the rough spots of growing up will, we feel, strike an instant chord with millions of readers. —TuHE EpiTors @ The minute I saw Esther’s face I knew something was wrong. A cloud shadowed the usual sunshine of her smile; she was too quiet when she came in the house. Esther was in junior high school then and about 14. She’d just returned from a holiday to the mountains with a crowd of her boy and girl friends. “Hello, honey,” I greeted her. “Have a good time?” “No, Mommie,” she blurted. “I had a miserable time.” I wasn’t surprised. -Her expression had telegraphed that news. ‘‘Well, what’s the matter?” “Qh,” said Esther in a hurt and baffled voice “the boys didn’t dance with me. And the girls were snippy. Nobody liked me. They left me out in the cold. . . . Mommie, what’s the matter with me?” “Not much,” I told her. “But we’ve got a problem on our hands, haven’t we? Let’s see what we’re going to do about it... .” So many people who see Esther Williams’ smiling, sunny face on the screen write me and say, “How lucky you are, Mrs. Williams, to have a girl so obviously ‘happy and well-adjusted. What a blessing to have had no problems with your delightful daughter.” No problems? We had them practically every day in our home, where Esther grew up. Every child is a problem child. (And I had five children.) Life, it’s been said, is just one darned thing after another, which is to say just one problem on the heels of the one before. Problems are the fibres of life itself and solving them is living. Esther’s problem at that point was friends—and that’s a pretty important problem at 14. She needed help. We sat down at the kitchen table to talk. Our problem was not to be grieved and gloomed over—it was to be solved. And as usual, the minute we delved into (Continued on page 77)

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ee — hing for the boys Recipe: Take six gabby gals and rapidly add food Warm well before a fire and beat with pillows. That’s the way Jean Peters cooks up / a slumber party. hy nebo, ane own, churvelill - ane iociieamdnannas + il, atria rate: 5 cxnmene. ilaiaeiitinetianctaci tetas : rt a : : oe ‘ile: aia ena ek 1 ems Ce Gai ali date lll ammnaiBincaiets as Mie Ghia nare. a eoeeeee aby ee ite ee (| Gam ete es | =<. pee ER AR ere a Es = oe ie ati dena : — a | peered -_ 2S = —_ “ = = -s (satan. aul oa - = se a es ee = —- ees = = ee YN \ ‘ \ \ Aa {/ For ye A PVR \\ : yc. Smee wa oa : Fs No female party is complete without comparing lipstick and nailpolish After polishing off hot dogs, gang turned to home-made popcorn, jobs. Reba and Bonnie watched with amazement as Kathy used a marshmallows and candied apples. (See the simple recipes for new shade on each toe. "So | can tell them apart," she averred. all these delectables in our Fan Fare department on page 94.) t

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ite a CERES aerate eReTRET Jean Peters and Colleen Townsend, with her hair in rag curlers, @ The night was cool. The pajamas flashy. The gossip sparkling. The hostess Jean Peters. Perfect ingredients for a slumber party. Jean has a sense of humor like an electric shock. It always startles you. Surround her with her girlfriends from 20th Century-Fox, like Betty Lynn, Colleen Townsend, Vanessa. Brown and Kathleen Hughes—well, anything can. happen and, as the old line has it, usually does. We had heard rumors. There was that other time Jean had hostessed a pajama party... She was attending Ohio State. It was one of those crisp fall days—just made for football. The leaves were turning burnt-gold and small gusts of wind would bring them shiv- ering down to the sidewalk. Jean and some of her dorm sisters were coming back to Baker Hall from the game. “This,” she declared snapping a dry leaf under her foot, ‘‘is the ideal time to huddle before a fire and have a slumber party.” munched on jelly apples and had a long talk (mostly about men). By the time they’d reached the hall, Jean had convincea the others. All except one girl. She never joined in on such undignified fun. And certainly couldn’t be bothered that night, since she had a date. Jean sat on the bed watching her get ready. Then an interesting idea suddenly popped into her head. What would happen to that dull, dignified creature if... ? There was no use Jean’s just sitting there when she knew she was going to do it anyhow. The girl was a little late for her date. Two hours in fact. Seems someone had pushed her, fully clothed, into the shower. But that had been three years, a 20th Century contract, and two pictures ago. Jean, we reminded ourselves, must have changed since then. . However, we hadn’t reckoned with Betty, Colleen, Vanessa and Kathy. Although these girls have different back- grounds—one lived in Vienna, (Continued on next page)

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Slumber party guests did their own cooking. Colleen blackened marshmallows and Vanessa OS ee Girls gathered on living room floor to watch Betty Lynn's fortune-telling exploits. She predicted great careers and stardom for all, after first finding served up her frankfurters well-done-to-a-crisp. out that Jean already had earned a good role in 12 O’Clock High. (Continued from page 35) another toured the wartime CBI circuit, while the others came to Hollywood via Broad- way or college—they all, we soon learned, share an identical urge. Behind those cherubic faces smolder the sardonic brains of practical jokers. The evening began quietly enough at Jean’s Westwood home. We were all in the den preparing a picnic-fashion snack. Vanessa and Kathy brought in the food from the kitchen. Betty did her utmost to get a blaze going in the fireplace, while Jean spread a tablecloth on the floor. You'd never find another tablecloth like it. It’s strictly a Peters original. “I only like to sew dramatic things,” Jean confessed. We noted the red flannel spread edged in leopard skin—and nodded in rather dazed agreement. Then Jean told us about something else she’d designed— a white brocade evening gown with a train. It was elegant. She wore it to the opening of the Opera. Only trouble was, she hadn’t decided to make it until two days before opening night. “My eyes were so tired from stitching I couldn’t even see the singers. I hope they couldn’t see me either, because the basting started to unravel after intermission—and not only that, the train of my gown soon resembled the fore- court of Grauman’s Chinese—dotted with footprints. That little number certainly wasn’t anything to have worn in that mob scene. If I’m going to design things, I do wish I wouldn’t always do it on the spur of the moment.” “That’s the way I do things too,” volunteered Coke Townsend, who by this time was decorating the wienies with cheese and bacon. “I won’t sew anything for months, ‘then I'll see an exciting design—and out comes the Singer and some material I’ve been Saving.” By this time Betty triumphantly had the fire crackling and Kathy was filling the plates with potato salad. There was a lazy-Susan revolving tray in the center of the room, just an arm’s reach away from everyone, laden with pickles and olives and nuts and marshmallows. We took turns roasting the hot dogs and popping the pop- corn. Vanessa was exiled to the corner when she charcoaled the corn and set the popper on fire. (Continued on page 74)

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ied them all in down. refused to hit the sack. Pillow later This attack took place when Colleen burst and bur s Vanessa and hair-brushing chores. king her screen debut in Road House. is ma Is tripled up on tooth- so gir The Fan) discussed decoration of her new hill-top home, "The Eagle ‘UUHWNEREE Deny SETTEAY Peak,” with Betty and Kathy, who Time for bed, (soon in

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she did it before and HE CAN DO ITAGAIN! ee m A _thirteen-year-old girl with soft brown hair and blue eyes lifted up her voice and, with confident ease, sang one of the most difficult of operatic arias. As she finished, the Hollywood celebrities at the old Trocadero rocked the chandeliers with applause. And almost before the echoes had stopped vibrating, a producer had signed the little girl—Deanna Durbin—to a contract with M-G-M. Six months later they dropped her option. In those six months the girl with the clear, lovely voice appeared in “one short subject with a promising youngster named Judy Garland. -Then they let her go. They didn’t believe she had a future. That was 13 years ago. Since then, Deanna Durbin has gained international fame, has twice been married: and has become a mother. With her voice matured into a really glorious instrument of song; with her acting ability developed into wide range and depth; with great physical beauty, charm, and the driving ambition of the true artist, Deanna Durbin should be twice the success she was when she was half her present age. And yet—Deanna Durbin’s screen career is swiftly fading. It’s a crime—and a totally unnecessary crime— that this should have come to pass. And I believe with all my heart that she can come back to the top again, in exactly the way she reached it before. Let’s go back and see just how that crime occurred. You've heard Deanna sing many times. And each song she sang gave you a thrill. But you couldn’t have known the true significance of each of those songs to the girl who sang them. You couldn’t have known the story behind them, the happiness, the heartache, the thrill or disappointment shadowing each melody or set of lyrics. No, you couldn’t have known, because Deanna showed to the world only the things she wanted the world to see. Locked inside her were the things that ate her heart out or made it almost burst with joy. Those are the things (Continued on page 87) what happened to Deanna? euly yoobordy Newspapers and magazines told of Deanna’s fabulous rise to fame, praising her for her one-woman contribution to the success of Universal. NICE GIRL—“One of the screen’s most interesting stories of the year and a Picture that’s guaranteed to please all.” \ —Oklahoma City theater manager in- Motion Picture Herald, April 1941 IT's A DATE—“Once again we scored heavily with Deanna, as has been the case with several of her other pictures. All of her pictures are so refreshing, it is difficult for one to fail to enjoy them.” —WN. J. theater manager, Motion : Picture Herald, Jan. 1941 ... and later “Each of Deanna’s pictures meant another mnillion in the thirsty tills of old Universal.” —N.Y. Sunday Mirror, Nov. 7, 1943 “Before she was 16 her pictures were solely responsible for pulling a major studio, Universal, out of the ‘red’ and - into the pink of success.” —N. Y. Journal-American, Nov. 3, 1946 : “Deanna Durbin, Top Salaried Woman, Draws $310,738.” _ —headline, N.Y. World Telegram, Jan. 8, 1947 it Tidy... Theater managers and critics complain about Durbin pictures. They still like Deanna, but protest poor material, weak casting, dullness SOMETHING IN THE WIND—“It is one of the dullest, most boring screen plays to come out of Hollywood . —N. Y. Herald-Tribune, Aug. 1947 . . . Used on midweek to fair business. Miss Durbin has lost much of her popularity, but she still has a great voice.” —California theater manager in Motion Picture Herald, Feb. 1948 . . . We certainly took a beating on this feature .. . Durbin is a dead duck as far as we are concerned.” —Canadian theater manager in-Motion Picture Herald, Nov. 1948 UP IN CENTRAL PARK—. dullest shows on record . Picture is utterly without charm, a stiff and static bore.” ‘—N. Y. Herald-Tribune, May, 1948 ... they just do not go for Deanna as they did years ago... .” —Vermont theater manager Motion Picture Herald, Nov. 1948 . one of the

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She was always blonde and beautiful— that girl of Cary's dreams—she was Virginia; she was Barbara; she was Betty . . . but now she's th Ctr. girl he can't forget Cary was still an unestablished actor in '32 when he married Virginia Cherrill. Tem- peramental differences separated them.

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| At one time, Phyllis Brooks seemed to be Cary had little in common with his ex-wife Barbara Grant's sole interest, but Phyllis invited Hutton. She hated Hollywood; he loved it. She en- publicity so Cary stepped out of her life. joyed Society; he disliked it. Divorce followed. @ Cary Grant has been in love with the same girl all his life. She is beautiful, blonde, tall and slender. Not always, but usually her name begins with a B. She is Betsy Drake, Betty Hensel, Barbara Hutton, Phyllis Brooks and Virginia Cherrill. Sometimes Cary marries this girl he loves. But whether he marries her or not, the history of each romance is always the same: It lasts a long time, it ends in disillusion- - ment—and he never forgets her. Will his present passion for Betsy Drake be just another repetition of the old pattern, or will she prove the answer to Cary’s desperate prayer for a permanent mate? To play prophet with Cary’s very cautious heart, we have to break down Cary the man, Cary the lover, and the women he has loved and why. To start at the end. Miss Drake, blonde, tall and willowy, is 24 years old. Cary is 44. She is younger than any of his former dream girls. But they have been inseparable almost from the moment when Merle Oberon introduced them to each other on the Queen Elizabeth bound for New York in the summer of 1947. From the beginning, Betsy has known how to handle Cary. She is simple, with no chi-chi about her at all. Her best attribute, as far as Cary is concerned, is that she knows how to be pleasantly discreet to inquiring reporters. Several women have lost Mr. Grant because they thought they had him hooked, and said so. _ Phyllis Brooks, for example. The blonde beauty, who for many months had seemed to be Cary’s main interest, Latest and possibly the most permanent of Cary's loves is Betsy Drake. The two have been almost in- separable since their first meeting in ‘47. decided to tell a waiting world that she was engaged to him. She was so sure of him, she ordered some lovely antique furniture for the home she believed they would shortly share together. Came the dawn!* Cary, embar- rassed by the publicity, begged to be excused. And found himself stuck with bills for furniture for the home he now wouldn’t need. Miss Drake, even when she was with Cary in Palm Springs and Germany and London with no other excuse for being there except that she loved Cary, always looked pleasantly blank when asked, “Are you getting married?”’ All she’d say was “That’s something we haven’t discussed.” Unless she plays her cards wrong at the twelfth hour, it . looks very much as if Miss Drake will be the third Mrs. Cary Grant—indeed, she may already have achieved that status by the time you read this story. The good-hearted Cary is happiest when helping begin- ners make good in Hollywood. He was positively radiant while boosting beginner Betsy to the top of the Hollywood working world as his co-star in Every Girl Should Be Mar- ried. In this picture Betsy plays a girl who wages a success- ful campaign to win Cary for a husband. Her strategy isn’t half as clever, and is a thousand times more obvious than what happened in real life. Because in real life, Betsy wasn’t even sure she wanted to marry Cary. And for a man of his cautious disposition, where females are con- cerned, that attitude was the best come-on of all. This is how Betsy bagged the gentleman who many con- sider to be the most attractive male (Continued on page 98) Betty Hensel cut short her serious-look- ing romance with Cary when he seemed to be falling for his leading lady.

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Family portrait on the - Brinkmans’ third anniversary. Jr.'s almost two; baby's coming. Three years? It might have been yesterday .. . Jeanne and Paul and the marriage VOWS . . Three years? It might have been forever— the way their love : goes on... BY MARY McSKIMMING Kvel A year ago in MODERN SCREEN—in January, 1948— we published “Anniversary Story,’ by Jeanne Crain. In it, Jeanne looked back on her first two years as Mrs. Paul Brinkman. And now, on the occasion of Jeanne’s and Paul’s third anniversary, we herewith bring you right up to date on what surely must be one of the happiest marriages ever made in heaven.—THE EDITORS. m@ They stood together in the crowd before the big, gaily-lighted toyshop window, its seams almost bursting with the activity of its Christmas clowns and gnomes and dancing bears. She was so pretty, even for Hollywood—and yet she could have been a girl looking in a Christmas window in Sioux City or Duluth or Kokomo. The woolly greatcoat made her look tiny and its warm purple brought out the smouldering lights in her auburn hair, banded with a soft lavender scarf that got lost somewhere in the curls. He stood close behind her, with one arm protectingly around her shoulder. “Look, Paul!” she exclaimed, pointing to the big white tree with its thousands of -tiny white candles, “The angel on the top—isn’t she beautiful?” “T’ll say she is,” he (Continued on page 109) ree ee

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saintly role in Song of Bernadette made Jennifer a great star, led the public to imagine her as Gn angelic girl in real life, too. s sultry, fiery half-breed in Duel in the Sun was so convincing that the legend of her true personality was given a new twist. sensitive, warm, delicately-shaded per- formance in Portrait of Jennie (with Joe Cot- ten). will gain her fresh plaudits—and myths .. . Hollywood still puzzles over Jenniter Jones. Is she an ice-cream angel, a Madam X, a | é fragile flower—or | someone entirely different, someone nobody knows? \" By JACK WADE Woman nobody knows | il m Not long ago, a friend of Jennifer Jones’ | dropped in for a visit and thought she missed something somewhere in the house. Pretty soon she ' knew what. She’d been all through the place and yet hadn’t spied the gold “Oscar” Jennifer won for her first starring picture, The Song of Bernadette. She asked her where it was. “I don’t know,” said Jennifer. The friend almost keeled over. “You don’t know where it 7s?” she repeated in amazement. = “Your greatest trophy? Your most precious possession?” “No,” said Jennifer weakly. “But it must be somewhere around. It'll turn up,” she promised. Before she left, the friend had another request. She s asked Jennifer for a picture to take home to. her little girl. Again she got a dismayed, apologetic look and a disappointing reply. “J—I haven’t any,” she said. “I’m sorry.” “Vou mean you're a screen star and you haven’t a picture of yourself in the house?” “No,” confessed Jennifer. “But,” she brightened, “I'll get you one at the studio.” (Continued on page 82)

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This is the letter that threw Mexican reporters off the trail. the press waited at the : Del Prado, Rita and the Ali Khan checked into another hotel. While RITA HAYWORTH October 27, 1948 Antonio Perez Manager Hotel Nel Prado Mexico, D. F. Mexico Dear Mr. Perez: This is in confirm-tion of a phone call I made to vour hotel this morning, sskinz thet you reserve one suite (sitting room end be@roon) and two additional sinrles, These are to be held in Miss Hayvworth's name, and we shall arrive in Mexico City Monday morning, November lat. We resnactfully reoauest that this matter be kent confidential. é Will you also raserve for Miss three tickets for the next corrida - sombra, and near the barrera, i guess. ith meny thanks to you, Sincerely, Secretary 459 N. Doheny Drive Beverly Hills, Calif. exican It was one titanic battle of wits lee Rita Hayworth and Prince Ali Khan engaged in that : all-out struggle for privacy against the ingenious Mexican press! BY MAXINE SMITH escapade

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The spectacular story of Rita Hayworth and Prince Ali Khan began some months ago in France and was first reported im detail in MOvERN SCREEN’s ,December, 1948, issue. Con- tinuing its eye-witness reports, MS now adds another chapter covering incidents in Mexico. As this issue went to press, Rita and Ali had junketed briefly to Cuba and were en route to Hollywood—and perhaps to new adventures——THE EpIrTors. @ Mexico Ciry—A heavy blue haze and “an air of expectancy” hung over Mexico City’s Municipal Airport. It was just before nine on a Monday morning early in November. A horde. of reporters and photographers, anxiously licking their pencils and counting their flash bulbs, awaited the arrival of the Pan American World Airways plane from Los Angeles. A few minutes later the big silver transport dropped through the overhang, disturbing the haze and churning the air of expectancy to a pitch of hysteria as the gentlemen of the press, roaring hoarsely and holding hats, charged toward their quarry. The rolling stairway was pushed through the mob as the plane snorted to a halt. The door was opened—and Rita Hayworth, looking perfectly exhausted, stepped out. Dozens of camera bulbs flashed . . . and flashed again . . . and again. ~ But—but where was the chief object of this lens-hunting? Where was Prince Ali Khan, reported to have been coming to Mexico with Rita? Obviously, none of the men near her could be the Prince, son of the world’s richest man, the Aga Khan of India. There wasn’t a turban in sight as the passengers made their way to the main building to go through the routines of immigration and customs inspection. The officials, recognizing the celebrated Hollywood super- star, gallantly called her name first, and swiftly put her through the procedures. ; “Ah,” thought the press cunningly, “xow we'll soon know which one is the Prince—surely his name will be called next.” But the crafty fellows were disappointed. As Rita waited outside the large customs enclosure, nervously lighting ciga- rettes, passenger after passenger entered the barrier—and still the Prince was not called. Finally Rita, impatient at the delay, beckoned to one of the oficiales and, in her fluent Spanish, asked a favor. Could a gentleman refuse her? At once Prince Ali Khan was called. The reporters at last got a good, identifying look at the Prince. But it was only a look. For, outside the barrier, they were _ too far away to ask questions.. Not, as it turned out, that it would have done them any good to have been right at Ali’s elbow throughout the inspection. When it was over and Rita and the Prince strode rapidly to their waiting limousine, the reporters, running after them, received nothing but silence. As the pair drove off, the frus- trated newsmen had scored a zero. . To its bitter fury, the press was destined to wind up with exactly that score. In a titanic battle of wits—and occasionally of more direct weapons—the famous (Continued on page 95) After evading newsmen for days, Rita consented to a | ! press conference. It was a flop, for Rita showed up without Ali Khan, ignored all “personal'' questions, ié~ Bs B, Rita and Ali were photographed separately upon their arrival in Havana from Mexico City. Throughout the vacation jaunt, the pair refused to pose together. | ia ee : | mech aa =

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In the living room, lined with book-shelves, the children are allowed to rummage through bound copies of Bob's radio programs. Note tiny tot's chair set up for the evening's television show. £ SEN The ase 3 ; east F : The Hope house abounds in cozy spots, like the combination bar and billiard room. Above, with Dolores as an audience, Bob struggles to beat son Tony. Hope's trophies decorate the walls. 48 ™@ The Bob Hope home is a house where children are regarded as all-important. You know this as soon as you enter the driveway. On the high white gates, a sign reads CHILDREN AT Pray. (Beneath it ther ’s one which says belligerently, poG aT LARGE. This added thought is not to scare the tradesmen—it’s merely to warn them to look carefully so they won’t run over the lazy hound who is usually asleep in the very center of the driveway.) And reposing casually on an upstairs window-sill will be, like as not, baby Kelly’s one-eyed toy giraffe. The house is a white brick-and-wood “California Colonial.” It nestles in a scene of peace and beauty among giant walnut and pepper trees. Its bow windows gaze across rolling lawns—lawns that are strewn pleas- antly with children’s painted swings, playpens, and merry-go-round. And that’s the way the house is on the inside, too. A stately Georgian staircase looks down benignly upon the small boy who is racing a red truck across the gleaming floor. Tony Hope, aged eight, gives the truck a mighty push, and shouts to his sister in the living-room. “Catch it, Linda! I’m sending you something.” A little girl with silver bands on her teeth, and flying blonde hair, crouches on her knees, and reaches out to catch the truck as it whizzes by. Carefully, she re- moves a small house plant and sends the truck back across the hall.. Dolores Hope puts down her knitting, and watches as her daughter replaces the plant on the coffee table. If she caught her breath when her precious plant went zipping down the hall, Linda would never know. Though Dolores Joves her collection of fine china and delicate antiques, there is no “hands off” sign in the Hope home. -Eight years ago, the Hope estate was an abandoned walnut grove. At that time Bob and Dolores lived in a small house in North Hollywood with their baby, Linda. The successful young comedian and his gentle, dark-haired wife often took long walks down the country lanes, bordered with hibiscus and flaming olean- ders. As they walked, they planned their future and shared their dreams about (Continued on page 51) iouse of the:

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one-eyed giraffe Tony, Linda, Kelly, Dolores, Nora and Bob in “'the nook," favorite family gathering ptace. The kids come first in the Bob Hopes’ fun-filled home . . . painted swings and pepper trees to climb and lots of room for growing... BY VIOLA MOORE

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ce used to " b's an ideal father. Two-year-old Nora

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House of the one-eyed giraffe The star of The Pale- face finds built-in shelves and drawers are handy for quick packing jobs. (Continued from page 48) Linda. A dozen times they walked past the sloping lot with the walnut trees, then one day Dolores said: “Let’s go in.” Hand-in-hand, like children entering a secret garden, the Hopes pushed open-the creaking wooden gate, and went in. Immediately, they fell in love with the towering trees, and the feeling of peace and seclusion. They wandered all over the three acres, and as they started to leave, Dolores stum- bled against an old well, almost hidden by moss and weeds. “There must have been a house here at one time,” she said, excitedly. “Bob—there should be a house -here now! What a lovely place to bring up children! So much ground. So many trees to climb.” In her mind’s eye Dolores could see Linda a few years hence, her blonde hair flying as she clung to: the ropes of her swing, and pointed toward the tree-tops with her tiny feet. The Hopes sat down on the edge of the over-grown well, and began to talk about their future home. Bob took a green twig, and began to scratch a design on the damp earth. “Now, here’s where we could put the house... .” And Dolores, her cheeks flushed, her Irish blue eyes two. torches of excitement, added, “We'll leave that pepper tree right where it is, even if we build the house around it.” They bought the lot and, shortly after, architect Bob Finkelstein got to work and drew up plans for the rambling structure that now houses Mr. and Mrs. Hope and their brood of four. Out of those plans has grown the house you see today. As you drive up to the house, and park opposite the flower- bordered entrance, the front door is opened by Tony—for this is the maid’s day off—and a moment later you’re stand- ing by the high-backed settee in the hall, looking directly into the spacious living-room. Sunlight and clear colors are reflected in the hunting-print draperies that frame the bow windows, and are picked up in the Grandma Moses landscape on the opposite wall. You are likely to exclaim with delight over a majolica lamp in tones of blue—and then notice baby Kelly’s red celluloid duck peering behind it. As you sit on the deep, print-covered couch, you’re likely to rise in nervous haste. (Continued on page 91) The Pennsylvania Dutch breakfast room, a riot of colors, was converted from a butler's pantry. Cupboard (left) is hand- painted in rich reds and blues. The kids love to lunch here. Got e Le het ip ae. 2 Dining room walls are green and cream. Host and hostess chairs give real comfort! When the Hopes dine en famille _ ‘G The backyard is a pleasant place at the close of day. On the flagstone patio, Bob catches up with the day's events, listening to each child in turn—or to all of them at once!

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SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY... her in Paris, Ingrid ly Fonl Lo Lo PU thought; in famous New York columnist Sweden, they'd jeer. But this journey that | began with fear ended in happy tears. SCREEN JOAN VISITS THE TOWER OF ROUEN, in France, where the real Joan was imprisoned and from which she was later taken to her fiery death. Ingrid was deeply moved by her visit to this historic shrine. Right: A prison scene from Joan of Arc, in which Joan prays for deliverance from her tormentors.

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One of Ingrid’s favorite directors is Alfred Hitchcock (above). She went to England to appear in Hitchcock's Under Capricorn. ™@ Ingrid Bergman has solemnly confessed to me that a few months ago she was shaking in her famous flat-heeled shoes. “JT was scared to death when I went to visit France because they’d written me nasty open letters telling me they didn’t want me to play Joan of Arc,’ the Sweet Swede told me. “And I also was afraid to go back home to Sweden. I hadn’t been back for nine years. They were pretty. mad at me there for trying to become an American citizen. I read things in the Swedish papers about that and I thought, ‘Oh, oh, they’re sharpening-their knives.’ ” : It’s hard to imagine the tall, red-cheeked, competent Ingrid being trembly about anything. But it became thoroughly believable now as I sat with her in her 36th floor suite at the Hampshire House in New York City. She had the windows open, and the icy blasts of winter came through, chillmg me but thrilling her. Yes, Ingrid certainly left me cold; not from her personality, but from her open window. I had arrived punctually at 11 a.m. to see her. In seven years, I’d interviewed her seven times. Going to this one, 2 I recalled the first, back in 1940, when she had cagily out- maneuvered my photographer who was trying, at my sug- gestion, to get her to pose for some “leg art.” “No-0-0-0,”’ she had said, charmingly but firmly. “I want my face to be the most important!” Who could say this hasn’t worked? Strong men around my Broadway beat have whispered to me when their Beau- tiful Wives weren’t listening that they believe she has more sex appeal than anybody else on the screen—and without the lifted skirt. (Remember that, girls!) I remembered an interview in 1944, also, when she told me she roamed the streets and went to theaters in New York unrecognized. Her face wasn’t yet well known. Sailors tried to pick her up, just like any other girl. “Why didn’t the French want you to play Joan of Arc,” I asked her now. “T could understand their feelings,” ‘she said. “Joan was French and Catholic. I was Swedish and Lutheran. And the movie was to be made in (Continued on page 105) J ‘ 53

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54 Joan Crawford, mother of four adopted children (here with Christine) was once the victim of a cruel adop- tion hoax. ~ Flowers were tossed into. Hedy Lamarr's car during a war bond tour—bits of. glass were hid- dén in one bouquet. When he was a child star; there were absurd rumors that Mickey Rooney was a midget. They said the same of Shirley Temple! 7 Spreading vicious rumors . . . writing threatening letters even making cowardly personal attacks . the hoaxers work relentlessly as they seek to make the stars their victims. BY CARL SCHROEDER m@ Hedy Lamarr had never had such a day in her life. She was on a war bond tour, and the people in New Jersey had welcomed her like a queen. If ever she appreciated her adopted land it was now as an official car in which she rode pushed slowly through the mob of workers at a war factory, just outside of Trenton, New Jersey. As the lane of human bodies opened ahead, the car inched its way toward the speaker’s platform that had been erected in the factory yard. “Roll your window down, Hedy,” someone shouted. : Automatically, she obeyed the suggestion. Someone tossed in a bouquet of flowers. She smiled and waved. She saw a dark, swarthy man, standing with another huge bouquet of roses. He grinned at her and threw his tribute. It struck Hedy squarely in the face. She winced in pain and in an instant a trickle of blood streamed from a cut near her forehead. With a cry, she covered her face and the man beside her indignantly examined the flowers—red roses in which were tightly wrapped bits of glass and stones. Moments later, tears in her eyes, she took the microphone before the thousands who had welcomed her. She told what had happened, and an angry murmur swept over the vast audience. Hedy Lamarr broke a bond selling record that day—the day her career might have been seriously harmed. — She wasn’t badly hurt physically. But inwardly, she was agonized by the . cruel, unexpected event—and she will never again face a huge audience without considerable protection. What was this thing that happened? The dictionary describes it as a “hoax— a deception (Continued on page 57)

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a = -a wD = fe) Dm od > oO ao) Lu c ° AD ) ie +~ ie) o o c ie} o Pag o aS = hoaxes ild tales of stars' ‘'disabilit inven 1S lest crue | A favorite pastime of hoaxers | | | | | |

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hollywood's cruelest hoaxes Ida Lupino and her husband Collier Young narrowly avoided serious injury one day as a bullet, fired from t an unknown gun, came crashing through their window. | | ist a SP ay eee] While Gene was in the air force, Ina Mae ‘Vic Mature and his mother were the Home of Loretta Young and husband Tom Lewis.was intended victims of a crank who wrote recently robbed of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry. Autry, was awakened one day by a caller who that she was the mother of Vic's child. | The crime was executed by "servants" of former owners. swore he had just tdeniified Gene's body. Hooxers capitalize on-the fact that rumors spread like Van Johnson was forced to call the police wild-fire. Even Clark Gable's best friend once believed when pestered by a youth hanging ee the him to be dead, because it was repeated, so ‘often. house who insisted that Van had sent for him.

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v Hawn ae cee Crosby would have more lives than a cat, if hoaxes were true. At least once a year there are reports from ‘'eye-witnesses’ to his death. ~ for mockery or mischief.” And why had it happened? Either to. discredit Hedy’s efforts or merely for sadistic reasons that only a psychiatrist could ~ explain. The truth was never discovered through investigation because the man could not be found, but there were rumors of talk about “that foreigner . who tries to tell us Americans what to do.” In any event, extra precautions were immediately taken thereafter to prevent similar occurrences with other stars. | But no amount of protection will ever keep Hollywood favorites from the cruel scheming of the hoax artist, a vicious breed of human being who strikes without warning. Sometimes he is caught; more often he escapes to perpetrate once again a foul attack. j Consider the mysterious thing that happened to the Gene Autrys. In 1944, Gene was in the service—somewhere in Texas, his wife Ina Mae believed. As it would the wife of any: other flier in the service, the sound of a telephone ringing at three in the morning was oeouen to strike a-note of alarm in her heart. Sleepily, one morning just before dawn, Ina Mae answered the telephone’s frightening summons. The head of .a Los Angeles news service bureau talked to her in anxious, consoling tone. “Y’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Autry,” he said, “but . -we’ve just had a report that Gene was killed an hour ago in an automobile accident just outside Sedalia, Missouri.” Stunned, Mrs. Autry hung up the phone. In a matter of hours an airplane carried her to the little town. Here she entered a morgue to view the remains. The man was not Gene Autry! Imagine, if -you can, the horror of the news. Then imagine what sort of human being would bother to perpetrate such a hoax. It was not “just an accident,” or the telephoning of an unconfirmed news item by an inexperienced reporter. No, Gene had been definitely identified by a man who swore he knew him personally. Where was he?’ Who was he? Nobody knew, or knew the purpose of his cruel plot. In this case there could be no hope of extracting money from the Autrys. After the first hysteria was over, both Gene and his wife agreed that someone ~ who fancied himself an enemy had done this thing. And who could hate the popular movie cowboy? Well, a number of people. Tt might have been such a man as another hoax artist who once encountered Gene in Madison Square Garden. “You fancy cowboy in the white hat!” he sneered. “Why don’t you go out and really ride a bronc instead of parading around for ten minutes. Huh, I’ve got a moon to knock that beautiful: sombrero off your head—and kick your teeth in.’ Gene stood the tirade for a few minutes. Then he knocked the offender down with a hard right hand. The next’ morning he was served with papers in a lawsuit for $10,000 on an assault and battery charge. Gene won his case, but he had been the victim of another type of hoax artist—the sort who schemes for big money. There is hardly a star in Hollywood who has not at one ‘time or maw been the target for a hoax artist. Most recently, two nationwide news services were called upon to verify a sudden report that Brian Donlevy was dead. Brian had been ‘in the hospital, struck down by the flu. Two telephone calls were made, one purporting to come from the. hospital and another from a doctor. Two days later, Donlevy was out of the hospital and. back working in a picture, the most serious thing happening to him having been that he had had a tooth knocked out in a movie fight. The hoaxer who specializes in reporting’ movie star deaths is perhaps the most malevolent, for his victims are the friends and families of those against whom he strikes. And for some strange reason (Continued on page 100) 57

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THE SEARCH, a drama of Europe's orphans, RED RIVER, with Joann THE HEIRESS, with Olivia de Havilland introduced Monty to the public, brought films to be shown. Howard Hawks, his boss, has since been (not yet released) is Monty's first roman- extravagant praise from fans and critics. deluged with requests from’ other producers to borrow him. tic role. Insiders report he's sensational. Montgomery Clift has appeared in only two films—The Search and Red River—but already the fans are calling him the most | exciting screen figure since Gregory Peck. At the same time, there have been reports from Hollywood that he’s uncooperative and conceited, that he’s ruining his career at the | z outset by being difficult to get along | i | with. Any truth to this? Well, here’s a i candid portrait of a candid—and highly i interesting—personality THE EDITORS. | ™@ The battered alarm clock chattered its sudden signal as jarringly as a riveting machine.. | The long, dark young man in the Murphy bed jack-knifed to a sitting position, blinked his | green eyes, regarded the clock morosely, rubbed his stubble of dark whiskers, turned /\ the clock off, and with enormous will-power put his feet on the floor. It was 6 a.m., an hour at which some thousands of other young | * wage-earners arose from their Murphies in their one-room apartments; gulped their coffee; kicked at the starters of their eight-year-old, third-hand automobiles, and set off for work. The young man we have in mind, a fellow named Montgomery Clift, gulped coffee at a drug store; chugged across Hollywood Boulevard, which looks dreary at 6 a.m.; turned “ North; bumped over to Melrose; parked his car in a gas station; saluted the cop at the gate, and entered Paramount Studio. | There, not many minutes later, he put | BY CAMERON SHIPP his arms around Olivia de Havilland and kissed her soundly and expertly, a well-paid chore which inspired a nod of praise from taciturn | William Wyler, director of The Heiress. At the end of his day’s work, which consisted chiefly of kissing Miss de Havilland many more times in close-ups, long-shots (Continued on page 107)

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They say he doesn’t know how to behave like a star-—Swimming pools don’t interest him and he’d rather be free than famous— Hollywood can’t quite figure this phenomenal Monty Clift.

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m@ The Snake Pit is a film of which the motion picture industry may feel proud. It is a great social document that will inevitably lead to reforms in a shameful area of American life; it is highly educational in a field about which the general public knows little; it is technically brilliant; and from beginning to end it is absorbing, dramatic entertainment. Based on the novel by Mary Jane Ward, The Snake Pit tells the story of one woman’s experiences in a typical state mental hospital. In so doing, it manages to give a sharp and dreadful picture of the conditions and atmos- phere of the entire institution—the many types of mental cases there incarcerated; the techniques used in attempts to cure them; the tragic neglect and incomplete treat- ments which result from the disgraceful fact that, in the wealthiest nation on earth, there simply aren’t enough doctors and nurses in this typical establishment to cope with the terrible overcrowding. The main character, played with magnificent range and depth by Olivia de Havilland, is Virginia Cunningham, a nervous breakdown case. You follow her progress as she goes part way along the road back to mental health, relapses, goes forward again. Gradually, as her husband (Mark Stevens) tells what he knows of her history and the psychiatrist (Leo Genn) delves deep into her back- ground through the use of hypnotic narcosynthesis and electric shock treatments, you learn the causes of: her breakdown. Finally, as these dark and buried reasons are made clear to Virginia herself, she is cured. Anatole Litvak has directed The Snake Pit with masterly judgment and skill and the acting, down to the smallest role, seems flawlessly realistic. Under the leadership of Darryl Zanuck, 20th Century-Fox has produced a courageous amd unforgettable work of art. On these pages, we give you the story in pictures. ; : ; ‘ ‘ re y : 5 > . . . “4 R @ ae ” = 4 ae ~e ag Pon A Wolke ws b- LONG AGO, THE INSANE WERE THROWN IN PITS OF SNAKES TO i ” Pig et “f i 1. As The Snake Pit begins, Virginia Cunningham (Olivia de Havilland) finds herself an inmate in a mental hospital. Bewildered, suspicious and fearful, she can't recall her husband

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SNAKE PIT'' FEELS THAT THIS HAS BEEN DONE TO HER. TO SHOCK THEM INTO SANITY.. VIRGINIA (OLIVIA de HAVILLAND) ), tells her husband, Robert Cun- 3. One day she tled trom him without explanation. Six months later, he re-met her in New York. She wouldn't explain her disappearance. ningham (Mark Stevens) that her case history is slight. So Robert tells what he can. He relates how he first met and dated her in Chicago. They were wed and soon after, on May !2th, she attempted suicide. a — 2. Psychiatrist Mark Kik (Leo Genn continued on next page

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id ~~ anil | aaa Gi ) ue: 4. After that, Robert brought her to the hospital. ... Now Dr. Kik 5. She recognizes him now. In the dining room, the hospital chiet uses electric shock treatment on her. This helps, but she recalls says Virginia should be staff-examined with view to her release in little, flares up at mention of May I2th. Robert comes to see her Robert's custody. Dr. Kik objects, is reminded of overcrowding. 7. She blames herself for his death. Kik reassures her, then requests 8. When she comes out of it days later, she blames Kik for sending her more time to cure her sense of guilt, is refused. She takes a staff for examination prematurely. But Robert admits to her Kik was over- examination, during it cracks up violently and bites hospital chief. ruled at his request. So she tells Kik she now no longer blames him. 10. When he asks her to return the doll to save trouble, she denounces 11. Her mother insisted she get the doll back and her father sided him for behaving like her father in taking the nurse's side. Then she ~ with her mother. Virginia then wished him ill. He died, she blamed tells him of the doll her mother gave her as a child, which she traded. _ herself. She's relieved when Kik explains he was incurably ill anyhow.

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6. Then, under narcosynthesis (use of hypnotic drug), Virginia tells Kik she lett Robert in Chicago for date with admirer Gordon. When he proposed, she felt ill so he turned car back, was killed in crash. 9. Kik tells her that her realization that she wasn't ready for an examination is a good sign, has her sent to Ward One, from which inmates go home. Here she's accused of stealing a doll, taken to Kik. ¢ 12. But as a result of a run-in with a nurse, Virginia relapses, is placed with extreme cases. Here she feels comparatively sane. Then, after Kik makes clear to her what led to her breakdown, she's cured. 4 Snake pit ™@ They didn’t have to twist Olivia de Havilland’s arm to get her to play Virginia in The Snake Pit. While the novel was still in galley proofs in May, 1945, director Anatole Litvak read it, excitedly sent it to Olivia, and she immediately decided that Vir- ginia was the role for her. “It gives me,” she said, “the greatest dramatic opportunity I’ve ever had.” Scenarists Frank Partos and Millen Brand began work on the script in September, 1946. Their first important step was to build up a detailed case his- tory for the unhappy heroine—the novel presented very little background material on her. When they got through, they had 123 pages. This they took East and had it gone over by three prominent psychi- atrists. The doctors carefully checked every phase of it, made a few strengthening suggestions and, when these were incorporated, agreed that the case was completely authentic. In preparation for their roles;-Olivia, Leo Genn— the fine British actor who plays the kindly psychia- trist—and Mark Stevens—who plays Virginia’s hus- band—all made repeated observatory visits to a number of state mental hospitals. (One of these institutions, while modern in every way in so far as buildings and equipment were concerned, had one doctor for every 400 patients.) When the shooting script was finally done, Olivia described it, with firm enthusiasm if shaky grammar, as being “the most perfect I’ve ever worked from.” It seems safe to predict that The Snake Pit will be a strong contender for 1948 Academy Award honors in every department for which it is eligible. Among these, the most obvious possibility is that Olivia de Havilland will add another Oscar to the one she earned in 1940 for her work in To Each His Own— even though she'll be up against some very tough competition supplied by Jane Wyman, Barbara Stanwyck and Irene Dunne. Olivia, until she came through so deservedly in 1940, had just barely missed an Oscar twice before— in the supporting role of Melanie in Gone With the Wind (1938) when Hattie McDaniel, in the same picture, beat her out; and as the star of Hold Back the Dawn (1940), when her sister, Joan Fontaine, triumphed in Suspicion. During the filming of The Snake Pit, rumors sprang up that Olivia and her husband, novelist Marcus Goodrich, were on the verge of divorce. Neighbors reported hearing terrible screams coming from the Goodrich establishment. The screaming, however, was in no wise connected with the domestic relationship, which has from the beginning been lov- ingly serene. It was just Olivia rehearsing for the narcosynthesis sequence in the film. But it’s understandable that the neighbors thought Olivia was in earnest. You should hear her in the picture. THE END

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aes Ae Bd 8 a LL , oy _ 4 iJ we >» Ff ARO* Syrup makes these break- fast, lunch and dinner treats down- right good. KARO glorifies their appe- tizing appearance . . . emphasizes their delicious flavor. KARO, Blue Label, blends superbly with fruits and spices ... gives the Up- side Down Cake and Cinnamon Rolls a delicious glaze. KARO, Red Label, pomts up the delicate flavor of the Orange Rolls. To convenient “ready mixes”, or your own recipes for quick breads and rolls, KARO adds extra nourishment. the KARo kin _ Set etayauaat ie atl 2 eaue ( | AKE a Combine first three ingredients of Cinnamon Roll recipe in 9x9x2¥2-inch pan and arrange 20 each drained, stewed prune and apricot halves. Use 1 package prepared cake mix according to pack- age directions; pour over syrup-fruit mix- ture. Bake in moderate oven (375° F.) 45 to 50 minutes. Let cool in pan about 2 minutes; then invert on serving plate. Serve warm, plain or with whipped cream, *#KARO is a registered trade - mark of Corn Products Refining Co., z Repeae a New York, N.Y. © C.P.R.Go., 1949 Ya cup KARO Syrup, Blue Label 2 tablespoons melted butter or margarine eee, V4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed 1 package hot yeast roll mix 2 tablespoons melted butter or margarine 2 tablespoons sugar 2 teaspoons cinnamon Combine first three ingredients in large skillet. Prepare hot yeast roll mix according to package directions. When dough has /,, risen, roll into rectangle Ys inch thick. Spread with mixture of melted butter, -/— sugar and cinnamon. Roll as for jelly roll; | /= cut into 12 slices. Place, cut side up, on top j =| _ of syrup mixture. Cover and let rise until \ | double in bulk. Bake in moderate oven ‘ \ (375°F.) about 35 to 40 minutes. Invert pan immediately. Serve hot. Combine % cup KARO Syrup, Red Label, Y cup sugar and 2 tablespoons butter or mar- garine; divide equally into 12 greased muffin or cup- cake pans. Mix together lightly 3% cup milk and 3 cups prepared biscuit mix; roll into rectangle Ys inch thick. Spread with filling made with 2 tablespoons each melted butter, and sugar, and 2 teaspoons grated orange rind. Roll as for jelly roll; cut into 12 slices. Place each slice, cut side up, in muffin or cup-cake pans. Bake in moderate oven (375° F.) about 30 to 35 minutes. Remove from pans hi, iv immediately. Serve hot. ™ KARO is ovailable in 11/,,5 & 10 Ib. sizes. | | | @ It’s not only what you wear—it’s what you wear with it. That’s our theme for this issue. Our accent is on accessories, the plusses that add up to a successful costume. Take a good look at any best-dressed girl you know—especially a girl who looks like a million on a budget—and you'll find she gets her effects with the etceteras of fashion —Jjewelry, bags, belts, gloves, scarves. Look hard at a girl in a glamorous get-up, || and she may turn out to be wearing nothing more elaborate than a simple sweater and skirt—or the plainest of basic dresses . . . plus. The knockout effect comes from the right accessories, used in the right way. To illustrate, on the opposite page Janet Leigh wears a sweater and skirt, pls—and see what happens! On page 66 we give jewelry top billing; on page 68 we add™ belts and gloves to blouses and skirts. And on page 70 we introduce a really fabulous accessory—fancy stockings which | will turn any dress into a gala production. | f accessories add plus to fashion connie bartel, fashion editor | janet leigh adds pearls to red, white and blue @ Janet Leigh, whom we can’t wait to see as “Meg” in MGM’s forth- coming “Little Women,’ shows what can be done with a. sweater and skirt—plus accessories. To her blue and white sweater and plain blue skirt—she adds the new crinkled baroque pearls, deli- cate pearl bracelets, a pearl-handled umbrella, and a bright red belt. Result—drama. The cotton knit sweater comes | also with kelly, red, brown or green stripes; also in pink with brown stripes, maize with grey stripes. Sweater by Alberic—$2.98. At Abraham & Straus, Brooklyn Woodward -& Lothrop, Washington Nancy’s, Hollywood Jewelry by Coro; belt by Criterion © Umbrella from Uncle Sam’s Um- brella Shop, N. Y. C. Other store information, page 73.

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i Oger creen | ~~ ' : ‘.. ashions

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@ Take it from three who know— nothing stretches your wardrobe like a collection of tops and skirts—plus accessories! Especially when the accessories include the very newest in jewelry—as shown here. Please take a second look at these bracelets, necklaces and pins; they’re all trend-setters, they’re all being worn by every fashion model and fashion editor in New York this very minute! blouse: New idea! Collar-and-tie blouse in washable crepe. The blouse is green; the red tie runs under the collar and can be removed if you switch to a scarf. Also red, brown, black. By Vicki Lynn. $3.98. plus: Double-eagle pin with rhinestones; gold-tipped bobby pin for the hair; a jeweled locket bracelet which opens to show pictures of your three favorite people. (The kangaroo pocket skirt in gabardine is by Junior Miss of Calif. $7.95.) sweater: Striped cotton boucle in navy and white. Also green, grey, red, brown stripes, others. By Alberic. $3.98. plus: Pearls that go the oyster one better—they’re crinkled. Baroque pearl necklace; bracelet of baroque pearls strung on fine gold chain; pearl heart bar-pins; pearl drop earrings. shirt: Cuffed cardigan in knitted cotton, in dreamy shades of pistachio green, almond, brown, berry red, others. By Garland. $4.98. plus: The newest in necklaces—pearls and colored beads spaced by tiny gold beads; wide leather cummerbund to give the new high-waisted Empire look. JEWELRY BY CORO. GLOVES BY ARIS. CUMMERBUND BY CRITERION. GOLD BOBBY PIN BY BEN HUR.

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$2.98 By Jr. Miss a modern screen fashion ao} _ fel 3 Q » 4 CS 5 o wd dF "Sb — B= | q = E o E 3S Q bo pins and fresh white ples, The blouse: a real find | Gold, green, brown, grey. By Cornibert. The skirt; smart narrow Green, red, pink, aqua, grey, black, brown, navy, gold, beige, winter white. of California. $7.95 For where to buy, See page 73. @ The plus: scatter _ in washable printed rayon.

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@ The plus: leather belt and gloves, fob pin, nifty crooked handle umbrella. The blouse: combed cotton with flat turtle neck. Lots of colors. By Shepherd. $1.98 The skirt: buttoned to hem, side pocket, in rayon Dundee suiting. Rose, blue, brown, navy or black.. By Koret of California. $5.95 For where to buy, see page 73. .a modern screen fashion 69

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1. Crowns on your ankles. Stockings by Bryan. About $4.95 at Bonwit Teller, N. Y. Andrew Geller Shoes 2. Lace instep and clock by McCallum. About 3. Initials to your order. Stockings -by #! $3.50 at Bonwit Teller, N. Y. Shoes by Evins Bryan. About $3.75. Bonwit Teller, N.Y)}! Now you ence aoe jewels on your ankles, lace on your toes

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\Strictly in the what-will-they- think-of-next department—here are | jeweled stockings, of all things! | A designer named Ellen Troy—a \red headed Viennese with a very ooh-la-la accent, decided one day ) that if you wear jewels on the ears, fingers, wrists and around the neck |—-why slight the feet? - So she set to work hand painting, embroider- ing and eventually sprinkling rhine- / stones on stockings—and now look! If you have champagne taste— there are stockings with a cham- pagne glass—plus rhinestone bub- bles! Getting married? There are _ stockings with wedding bells. Or if | laine watch! | you’re musical—how about nylons with a painted scale and rhinestone | notes? Also among the fantasies— | crowns (photo 1), four leaf clovers, rosebuds, hearts, and even a chate- You can also have your own initials (photo 3)—or your college flag . . . to be made up to your individual order. All of these | designs are patented, the stock- ings themselves are nylon—and yes, of course you can wash them. As for lace, the McCallum people have come up with a glamorous design that covers your instep and extends in a long graceful clock ‘(photo 2)—and Gotham offers an elegant lace medallion, studded with jet (photo 4). Naturally, these stockings are not intended to be worn with your tweed suit. But when you’re dress- ing for a big night—and your mood is pure abandon—these are for you! 4. Lace insert studded with jet beads. By Gotham. About $15, Gotham Shops. MARION HUTTON, STARRING IN THE UNITED ARTISTS’ FILM “LOVE HAPPY” @ Marion Hurton Taught me afore Lesson I never used to be popular... ‘Til one lucky night I turned a page and read: “ “Men are romantics at heart’, says Marion Hutton. ‘They like a girl to be so-o feminine . . . to have the softest, pampered-looking hands.’ Marion advises: “Use Jergens Lotion on your hands—I do.’ ” Right then, I started using Jergens too! Not long after I started going out! First with Paul, then Cy, now I’ve got several beaux. Men really do choose the girl with the softest, loveliest hands! See how much soffer your hands can be with today’s richer Jergens Lotion! Because it’s a liquid, Jergens quickly furnishes the softening moisture thirsty skin needs. Yet never leaves that sticky feeling. Still only 10¢ to $1.00 plus tax. a Hollywood Stars Use Jergens Lotion 7 to 1 Over Any Other Hand Care Contains generous samples of Jergens Lotion, Powder, Face Cream and Dryad Deodorant. Send 10¢ to cover handling and postage to The Andrew Jergens Co., SUBHe / Box 6, Dept.50A, Cincinnati 14, Ohio. GG Sorry, offer good in U.S.A. only, expires Dec. 31, 1949.

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e it you wear a — HALF SIZE @ Here’s a date dress with three tiers to throw soft flattery toward your face—and make your skirt look very slim by contrast. Sizes 14% to 20%. In grey, navy, powder blue, rosé or aqua romaine crepe. -By Rite-Fit. About $8. Carson, Pirie Scott, Chicago. Other stores on page 73. 72 a modern screen fashion

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WHERE YOU CAN BUY MODERN SCREEN FASHIONS (Prices may. vary throughout country) | Striped sweater worn by Janet Leigh in the full-color photograph (page 65) Brooklyn, N. Y.—Abraham & Straus, 420 Fulton St., Sweaters, 3rd fl. Hollywood, Calif. —Nancy’s, 6366 Holly: wood Blvd. Washington, D. C—Woodward & Loth- - rop, 10th & G Sts., Sportswear, 3rd fl., Main Bldg. Collar-and-tie blouse (page 66) Baltimore, Md.—The May Co., Howard & Lexington Sts., Downstairs Brooklyn, N. Y.—Loeser’s, 484 Fulton St., '. Blouse Dept., Downstairs Chicago, Ill —Carson, Pirie Scott & Co., State, Madison and Monroe Sts., East Rm. Sportswear, Downstairs Kangaroo pocket skirt (page 66) ‘ Atlanta, Ga—Franklin Simon, 640 Peach- tree St., NE. Buffalo, N. Y.—The William Hengerer Co., 465 Main St., 4th fl. New York, N. Y.—Franklin Simon, 5th Ave. & 37th St., Jr. Assembly Shop, 6th fi. Striped cotton boucle sweater (page 66) New York, N. Y.—Stern’s, 41 West 42nd St., Jr. Sportswear Dept., 3rd_ fi. Syracuse, N. Y.—The Addis Co., 449 S. Salina St., Neckwear Dept., Main fl. Cuffed knitted cardigan shirt (page 67) Los Angeles, Calif.—Broadway Dept. Store, Broadway & 4th Sts., “Nine Sev- enteen Shop,” 4th fi. New York, N. Y.—Oppenheim Collins, 33 W. 34th St., Main fi. Philadelphia, Pa—Strawbridge & Clo- thier, Market & 8th Sts., Misses Sep- arates, 3rd fi. Printed rayon blouse (page 68) Boston, Mass.—The Gilchrist Co., 417 Washington St., Blouses, Street fl. Chicago, Ill—Carson, Pirie Scott & Co., State, Madison & Monroe Sts., East Rm. Sportswear, Downstairs New York, N. Y.—Macy’s, Herald Square, Blouses, Main fi. Narrow skirt with hip pockets (page 68) Buffalo, N. Y—The William Hengerer Co., 465 Main St., 4th fi. Louisville, Ky.—H. P. Selman Co., 4th & Walnut Sts., 2nd fi. New York, N. Y.—Franklin Simon, 5th Ave. & 37th St., Jr. Assembly Shop, 6th fi. Cotton turtle neck sweater (page 69) .New York, N. Y.—Arnold Constable, 5th Ave. & 40th St., Main fi. Pittsburgh, Pa—Frank & Seder, 5th Ave. & Smithfield St., 2nd fi. Button-to-hem skirt (page 69) New York, N. Y.—Saks-34th, 34th St. & Broadway, Sports Dept., 3rd fi. San Francisco, Calif —Macy’s San Fran- cisco, Stockton & O’Farrell Sts., 2nd fi. Washington, D. C_—The Hecht Co., 7th & F Sts., Sport Shop, 3rd fl. Half size, tiered bodice dress (page 72) . Boston, Mass.—Conrad & Co., 19 Winter St., Dress Dept., Downstairs Chicago, Tl —Carson, Pirie Scott & Co., State, Madison & Monroe Sts., East Rm., "Downstairs New York, N. Y.—Wanamaker’s, Broad- way & 9th St. - San Francisco, Calif—Macy’s San Fran- cisco, Stockton & O’Farrell Sts., 2nd fl. HOW TO ORDER MODERN SCREEN FASHIONS 1. Buy in person from stores listed. 2. Order by mail from stores listed. 3. Write Connie Bartel, Moprern ScrEEN, Box 125, Murray Hill Station, New York 16, N. Y., for store in your vicinity. STARDUST, INC. Empire State Bldg. N.Y. 1 LOOK FOR GENUINE Stardust SL GUARANTEED * wf OR 1 VEAR * eeu yy oY Made from rich acetate rayon crepe that wears and washes like a dream. Banishes twisting, sagging or riding up. Double bodice top, sturdy seams. $933 Stardust Beauty Contest winner. Enter our 1949 contest now. YOU may be the lucky winner of $500 first prize plus a modeling and television career under Harry Conover management, or 27 other awards! Just send recent non-returnable photo with height, weight, bust, waist and hip measurements before May 1, 1949. Decisions of famous | beauty judges are final. Mail entry to P. O. Box 65, Murray Hill Station, New York FAME AND FORTUNE CAN BE YOURS... Pictured is lovely Cindy Lou Bayes, last IPS, UNDIES, GIRDLES, GARTER BELTS, BRAS & BLOUSES AML plu = a eS = a ~~ AAS |W Two blocks of sterling inlaid at back of bowls and handles of most used spoons and forks make this silverplate finer, different... stay lovelier longer. Fifty- two piece set $68.50 with chest, also 76- piece service for twelve at $99.95. (No Federal Tax.) All patterns made in the U.S.A. wee cen seers ee eecess,, the gil in the i Asta dl| AL] L Bfa.. A new, patented design prin- ciple—scientifically made to fit and mold individually —flatters 7, | as no other bra. ° > PRINCESS =| STERLING INLAND”; "RNESS | | a0 SILVERPLATE LADY At leading stores. YOUTH era ens oe ofiu7rs BEAUTIS FOUNDATIONS MFG. CORP. Copyright 1949; The International Siver Co., Holmes & Edwards Division, 358 Fifth Ave., New York 1, N.Y. Meriden, Conn. Sold in Canada by: The T. Eston Co., Ltd. Reg. U. S. Pat. Off.

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74 Just Whistle... When your young buckaroo upsets the ashstand on your freshly cleaned rug... don’t scream. Run for your new Bissell Sweeper . . And whistle! Bissell Carpet Sweep- ers now have “Bisco-matic’’* Brush Action for the easiest clean-ups ever ! You don’t have to press down at all. This miracle brush adjusts itself automatically to every rug nap, thick or thin... Even cleans under low furniture, with the handle held flat! Save your vac- uum for periodic cleaning . . . use a new ‘‘Bisco-matic’’ Bissell® for quick everyday clean-ups. It pays! Illustrated: The “Vanity” at $8.45. Other models from $6.45. All with "Bisco-matic’’ Brush Action, easy "Flip-O” Empty, and “Sta-up” Handle. Bissell Sweepers The Bissell Carpet Sweeper Co. Grand Rapids 2, Michigan *Reg. U.S. Pat. Off. Bissell’s pat- ented full spring controlled brush ee a te SOMETHING NOT FOR THE BOYS (Continued from page 36) There was also French pastry decorating the board. Everyone was looking for- ward to it. When it was passed, however, it wasn’t touched. For riding on a wave of whipped cream and grated chocolate atop an éclair was a large green fly. Every time a girl glanced longingly at the pastry, the fly would check her appetite. When Jean was ready for dessert, how- ever, she picked up the aforementioned éclair and deftly removed the insect—a novelty-store fly on a six-inch pin. ~ This action was the signal for things to start happening. From here on the eve- ning was filled with surprises. There was cold cream smeared on door knobs, vanity drawers put in upside-down, and gold- fish paddling in the bath tub. crystal-gazing . .. During the party’s saner moments, Betty Lynn decided to tell everyone’s fortune. Crystal-gazing was a familiar routine for Betty. She had done it, just for fun, when she lived at Rehearsal Hall in New York. This is where girls who work on the stage, or aspire to, live. - “All I did was to tell one girl’s fortune,” sighed Betty, “then how the news spread. “Yd always end my predicting with— ‘You'll be sent to Hollywood and have such a terrific screen test that they'll give you a contract immediately’.” “I wish you’d told me that,’ spoke up Kathleen Hughes. , woud have saved me some awful worry.” Kathy is the newest starlet to be added to ae 20th Century roster. Her uncle is F. Hugh Herbert who wrote Sitting Pretty. “Til never forget the morning of my test,” Kathy went on. “I had a cold with the usual horrible accompaniments—red nose and bleary eyes. I’d always been told that the camera exaggerated any defects in your appearance, so I shud- dered. Besides, I was hoarse as a crow.’ Somehow she made it to the studio. The makeup department got her ready for the test. She didn’t look so bad after all. Then she went to the test sound stage. “There wasn’t a soul in sight. I was a half-hour early. So for 30 minutes I paced back and forth like an expectant father. cameras, an amazing thing happened. My knees stopped knocking and my laryn- gitis vanished.” So Kathy was given a role immediately, ~—in Road House. Then her face landed on the cutting-room fleor except for one short scene. But her part in Mother Is a Freshman doesn’t suffer the same fate. When you have a gathering of girls in one place—we were all in the living room —how can the conversation possibly stay off the subject of—Men? After dissecting every available bach- elor in Hollywood, from Dean Stockwell to Monty Woolley, Jean showed us a book a gay friend had sent her. The title was: “How to Pick a Mate.” Every girl wanted to read it, at the same time, and for the same reason. (During the fleeting seconds we saw it, we learned that San Diego, Calif., was the best place to find a husband.) Then the book was snatched from one pair of eager hands to another. Colleen hurled it, football fashion, to Jean. She ran for the bedroom, and the girls pursued. Someone threw a pillow. One pillow led to another. Be- fore long the room was filled with flying feathers and loud squeals. Then fol- When I did step in front of the lowed utter exhaustion. Everyone would have loved to aver collapsed on the bed. But there were j seven of us and only two twin beds Betty Lynn helped solve the problem a by taking a blanket and curling up in a/| corner. “T don’t mind at-all,” she’ said. “I can remember times overseas when a bed like this would have been heaven.” Betty toured the China-Burma-India cir- cuit for seven months. She and a guitarist were designated by the Army as a special unit. They’d go to the out-of-the-way stations usually overlooked. Lose ye “Tell us about your most exciting ex- | perience over there,’ we asked her. “T guess that was during the siege on Mandalay,’ Betty answered. supposed to entertain 40 soldiers who were stationed near the front. The monsoon “We were , was on and the roads were like swamps. | We’d been bumping along in our jeep for | hours and still no sight of the camp.” They were lost. They stopped the jeep | when they spied some natives crossing a || little footbridge. One of them came over. He was wear- ing GI shoes. He was a member of an OSS outfit and informed them they were behind enemy lines. If they’d gone two miles farther down that road they’d have driven into an encampment of 350 Jap soldiers. “When I discovered how close we were ~ to being captured, every freckle faded | from my face. I think we broke some kind of a speed record getting out of there.” With Betty bunked on the floor, there | was still the matter of fitting six girls | in two twin beds. We drew straws. Vanessa and we drew the short ones. So it was the deck for us. No sooner had everyone settled .down for the night than there came a cry from Colleen: “I’m hungry!” “Well, just get un-hungry,” said Jean. “We've already emptied the icebox!” “Aren’t there any tasty tidbits in your vanity drawer?” kidded Coke. miss peters’ prank... This turned out to be an allusion to an- other Peters’ prank. There was a “no cooking in your room” ruling at Ohio State. mate managed to smuggle in a hotplate, pickles and four marinated herring. Just as they were devouring a feast fit for a king, there was a knock on the door. The pickles and hotplate went into the bottom vanity drawer with several sweat- I But one night Jean and her room- ~ ers hastily thrown on top for reasons of , security. The herring were put on the window sill The door was opened. Room inspected. Window raised. But-the herring weren’t discovered—since as the supervisor pushed open the window, they slipped off. the sill into the front yard. We kept talking and laughing into the wee small hours. The last thing we re- membered was Colleen telling about work- ing in a malt.shop. Something about giv- ing friends extra scoops of ice cream... putting it on the cuff .. . being fired... Soon everything became quiet. You could hear the water dripping in the kitchen. We sleepily wondered what Jean would say in the morning when she found that the night before someone had filled the sink with hot water and then had added six packages of gelatin? Who’d do a thing like that? Guess our THE Enp halos are getting rusty.

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| ey i ee pn 6 5 new faces PATRICIA NEAL was dis- covered by Eugene O'Neill while audi- tioning for a part im his play, Moon for the Misbegotten. She didwt get the part, but six months later she read for Lillian Beach and was cast for the Broadway production of Another Part of the Forest. Pat was born im Kentucky, January 20, 1926, and started taking dramatic lessons when she was 12. She made her debut m John Loves Mary with Ronald Reagan for Warners and is now at work in The Foun- tainhead. Pat’s 5’ 8” tall and has hazel eyes and blonde hair. oe VANESSA BROWN, 771 ad- “ dition to being a short Story writer, aid a senior at U. C. L. A. is also a full-fledged actress. She was born in Vienna, March 24, 1928, and made her acting debut in Paris, Eabbing m “Ep voice of a little girl in Prisoner of Shark Island. Jn Chicago with the Watch on the Rhine company, Vanessa was invited to become a quiz kid, and re- maimed one for 2 years. 20th Century-Fox signed her to a contract and she’s appeared m Margie, The Late George Apley, and will soon be m The Fan. She’s got chestnut har and blue eyes, and collects stamps. TERRY MOORE had a friend who thought she'd be good in mov- zes, and sent Terry's picture to a casting magazine. (She was eleven at the time.) Her photo was pub- . lished and that was the eginning of both her radio and movie careers. Terry was born in Los Angeles, January 7, 1929, went to Glendale High School and took part in such radio shows as Dr. Christian and A Date With Judy. She played Ingrid Bergman as a girl in Gaslight, avd Return of October is her first grown-up role. Terry is 5’ 2” tall, and has blue eyes and blonde hair. GORDON MACRAE came to Hollywood via radio and light opera stock company. He made his professional debut at the age of 12 on the radio, and later Spent several years on the stage, a few sea- sons in summer stock, and made couztless recordings. He was born m N. J., March 12, 1921, and discovered in the NBC studios in New York by Horace Heidt. He’s married to Sheila Stephens and they have three children. Gordon’s 5’ 11’ tall and weighs 175 Ibs. YVow’ll be seeing him soon in Warner’s Silver Lining. Tonight ! Show him how much lovelier your hair can look... after a uste-Creme Shampoo NOT A SOAP! NOT A LIQUID! BUT KAY DAUMIT'S RICH LATHERING CREAM SHAMPOO WITH LANOLIN for Soft, Shimmering Glamorous Hair 4-oz. jar $1; smaller jars aud tubes, 49~ and 254, No other shampoo gives you the same magical secret-blend lather plus kindly LANOLIN ... for true hair beauty. Tonight he can SEE new sheen in your hair, FEEL its caressable softness, THRILL to its glorious natural beauty. Yes, tonight, if you use Lustre-Creme Shampoo today! Only Lustre-Creme has Kay Daumit’s magie blend of secret ingredients plus gentle lanolin. This glamoriz- ing shampoo lathers in hardest water. Leaves hair fragrantly clean, shining, free of loose dandruff and so soft, so manageable! Famous hairdressers use and recommend it for shimmering beauty in all ‘“‘hair-dos” and permanents. Beauty-wise women made it America’s favorite cream shampoo. Try Lustre-Creme! The man in your life— and you—will love the loveliness results in your hai Kay Daumit, Inc., 919 N. Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois

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fi ¢ Only one soap gives your skin this exciting Bouquet You’re doubly desirable, fragrantly appealing ... with this lingering fragrance men love! Would you capture the top spot in his heart ? The road to romance may well begin. . . with your daily bath with Cashmere Bouquet Soap! For its haunting, N bewitching fragrance is the fragrance men love— it comes only from a secret wedding of rare perfumes far more costly than you would NN expect to find in any soap. Popular girls for 80 years have followed this simple, successful routine. Bathe every day with Cashmere Bouquet ; Soap. Use it for your A complexion, too! Cashmere BouQuet ‘Cashmere \ Bouquet Sie aeatly shi aie stl jy LAr, ANAL Love ( your letters... FOR THE DEFENSE Dear Editor: With Hollywood’s mor- al reputation at its lowest ebb and with the recent scandals and tragedies blazing across the front pages of the nation’s newspapers, now is the time for Hollywood to begin defending it- Seliueaparne And who can do more to- ward this end than the movie maga- zines? Let’s see more features on the worthwhile Hollywood personalities ! Ann McCullough, Victoria, Texas. (Fee.ing it can do no less to earn its readers’ respect, MOoOpDERN SCREEN shows Hollywood’s people and situa- tions as they are—not as anyone might wish they were. This makes more significant a recent survey of our own 1948 issues. The survey in- dicated that of all stars covered, only about one in 37 was involved in any- thing “scandalous.” Of course, since scandals are always news and ordi- nary respectability often iswt, the actual preponderance of “worth- while’ stars is even greater —Ed.) WE'VE GOT IT! Dear Editor: Movie magazines al- ways have the same people, with new clothes and different stories about them. How about more newcomers? F. Freeburg, Niagara Falls, N: Y. (The New Faces column—see page 75 —is now a regular department, and newcomers are featured more prom- inently as soon as readers indicate in- terest in them. This month, for ex- ample, Moprern ScreEN introduces Montgomery Clift on pages 58-59 in response to truly great demand.— Ed.) DOUBLE LIFE Dear Editor: In your December is- sue, you said that Michael North got his first role in The Unsus pected. Pre- viously, he had made several films under the name of Ted North. William Lappin, Montreal, Can. FASHION NOTE FROM PORTUGAL Dear Editor: I must confess that Tyrone Power’s statement on Por- tuguese bathing suits in the Septem- ber MS is not at all exaggerated. The other day a girl came to the beach in a modern bathing suit, but was forced to leave because although the suit was one-piece, it had no skirt ! Ditta Wolfrum, Porto, Portugal (Ditta refers to Linda Christian’s story about their preparations for a vacation in Portugal. Ty warned her: “Our regular bathing suits will never do. Men have to wear suits with attached tops, and women must wear one-piece suits with short skirts.’ Linda telegraphed her mother in Mexico and, by return mail, received a black woolen suit with lace trimmings and hip-pockets, Paris fashion, 1924!—Ed.) a a A So

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PROBLEM CHILD (Continued from page 33) “Dinetiy H wd smil e wi ns | and analyzed it, Esther was fascinated. It | was like a game, a challenge. It was “epiassen ters some) SEX Olfers from Hollywood ! boys liked her, but not in a boy-girl way. And she wasn’t interested in boys as the opposite sex. They were no mystery to her. She’d played with her older brother, David, and his pals around the house all her life. Esther was a tomboy and an | athlete herself. She wasn’t boy-struck. Romantic notions were late in dawning. She didn’t stand in the hall corners at | school flirting and giggling. She didn’t use feminine wiles, dress up, try to be pretty. In fact, she didn’t give a hoot how she looked. Out popped a clue right there. } “Janet says she’s not going to be friends with me any longer,” Esther confided. “Why not?” “She says I look too sloppy.” Another followed: A “truth” session at her school girls’ club had produced sim- ilar critical brickbats. We talked as two | girls, not necessarily mother and daughter, | and light began to dawn: Esther’s boy | problem was a problem only because of | | | | | the girls’ attitudes. They were boy-crazy well ahead of her and they didn’t want to go around with a girl who wasn’t attractive to boys. Esther was excited at the dis- covery, not depressed. “Tiet’s see what we can do to fix that,” I suggested. It wasn’t so difficult. A look in the mir- ror at the unbrushed hair, wrinkled skirt and scuffed shoes that Tomboy Williams had never given a thought to—and she knew the solution. Esther saw to it that from then on she was neat as a pin, trim and attractive. Dorothy Hart, Universal - International Starlet, blazed onto the Hollywood scene as the winner of a country-wide beauty contest. Then she spurned the | prize—a movie contract—to become a cover girl. : \ After Dorothy’s winning smile appeared on the covers of eight leading magazines in rapid succession, the movies beckoned again. This time Dorothy couldn’t { say “‘no’’ to all six tempting offers she received. She | is on the threshold of stardom now . . . and taking } care to keep the sparkle in her famous smile. “‘It’s a ; Pepsodent Smile,’ Dorothy says, “I know from ex- perience, Pepsodent brightens my teeth best !”’ j full steam ahead... The shock to the girl who always loved everyone and thought everyone loved her was spur enough to action. Her popular- ity zoomed; she went everywhere, she was elected to everything. She soon was buz- zing about in a dozen school activities— the Tri-Y, the Knights and Ladies. She was vice-president of the student body (the first girl elected, by the way). She turned into a new person to meet the new phase of her developing girlhood. In fact, she became so popular that another prob- lem popped up. Pretty soon Esther was disciplined for talking in the halls to the crowds around her. They put her in a room by herself—and that day half the school moved in with her! = If you're going to be of any help to e e your children, or to anyone, you have to gain their confidence. That recalls a funny ec Sml eC a Wins story which might show how free Esther | | felt about talking things over with us. < Scene from Dorothy Hart’s latest picture, THE COUNTESS OF MONTE CRISTO, a Universal-International Release. | ( ae euoenes one of her peous one night, e e 1 “You know, I tell my mother everything t f that happens to me.” He jerked back in 1S € Cpso en mi ‘S e | horror. “You tell. her everything?” A “Yep,” repeated Esther, “everything.” , “Golly,” gasped the boy friend, driving Dorothy Hart knows it. And people all over her quickly home. I’m afraid that scared America agree — the smile that wins is the Pepso- him away, because he didn’t come around dent Smile! Pepsodent removes the film that | much after that! ; makes teeth look dull—uncovers new bright- | Actually, there were few startling con- ness in smiles! i | fessions Esther had to make to me. I have 3 1] never worried about her in my life, not Wins 3 to 1 over any other tooth paste even when she had emotional troubles— Families from coast to coast compared delicious | though most of the time we didn’t let ; : | ocobisie ausenees dnc Barbi sree. New Pepsodent with the tooth paste they were { | _ Most parents face, sooner or later, the pet- using. By an average of 3 to 1, they said Pep- | ting problem, for instance. sodent tastes better, makes breath cleaner and | And I'll have to tell a story on her here, teeth brighter than any other tooth paste they | about the first time she let a boy kiss her tried. For the safety of your smile use Pepsodent —although it wasn’t exactly a time: it was twice a day —see your dentist twice a year! ANOTHER FINE LEVER BROTHERS PRODUCT more like a campaign. Esther worked out 77

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aS oe BSS ee 78 sweet and hot by leonard feather ** Highly Recommended * Recommended No Stars: Average FROM THE MOVIES A SONG IS BORN—''Giants of Jazz’ (Capitol). This colossal collection includes the Benny Goodman bop version of ‘Stealing Ap- ples'' which we two-starred here a couple of months back. The other sides are Muskrat Ramble'' by Mel Powell and an all-star Dixieland group; ‘Redskin Rhum- ba" by Charlie Barnet's band; ‘'Daddy- O"' by the Paige Cavanaugh Trio with Jeri Sullivan, singing it just the way she voice- doubled for Virginia Mayo on the sound track of the picture; and finally, a double- sided all star jam session on “A Song Was Born," similar to the scene in the film, with the Golden Gate Quartet, Jeri Sullivan, the Brazilians, Messrs. Goodman, Barnet, Powell, T. Dorsey and Louis Arm- strong. It's the best musical album ever issued in connection with a movie—and as if that weren't enough reason to buy it, all royalties go to the Damon Runyon Fund. Don't miss it! KISSING BANDIT— Senorita’ by Frank Sinatra* (Columbia), Jack Smith (Capitol), Dennis album** Day (Victor). “If | Steal a Kiss" by Andy Russell* (Capitol), Frank Sinatra (Co- lumbia), Vaughn Monroe (Victor). "What's Wrong With Me™ by Vaughn Monroe (Victor), Patti Page* (Mercury). "Siesta'’ by the Sportsmen (Capitol). LUXURY LINER— ‘Con Maracas’ by Jose Mor- and* (Victor). ONE SUNDAY AFTERNOON —' Girls Were Made to Take Care of Boys’ by Jo Stafford and Gordon MacRae* (Capitol). PALEFACE—Still more ‘Buttons and Bows,’ by Bob Hope* (Capitol), Evelyn Knight* (Decca), the Dinning Sisters (Capitol). REACHING FOR THE STARS — ‘The Morning Glory Road" by Ray McKinley* (Victor), John Laurenz (Mercury). SO DEAR TO MY HEART— Lovender Blue (Dilly Dilly)’ by Vera Lynn (London), Sammy Kaye (Victor). “It's Whatcha Do With Whatcha Got'' by Johnnie Johnston* (MGM). JAZZ (HOT AND COOL!) LOUIS ARMSTRONG — ‘Please Stop Playing Those Blues''** (Victor). DIZZY GILLESPIE— Algo Bueno" (Victor), "'l Can't Get Started''* (reissue on Co- lumbia). BENNY GOODMAN— Varsity Drag'’* (Capitol). STAN HASSELGARD—''|'|| Never Be The Same''* (Capitol) WOODY HERMAN — ' Basie's Basement''* (Coral). CHUBBY JACKSON — ‘Lemon Drop''** (Rain- bow). GENE KRUPA— How High The Moon’ (Co- lumbia). DODO MARMAROSA — ‘Trade Winds" (alias "You Go To My Head'')** (Dial). CHARLIE PARKER— Embraceable You'’* (Dial), “Barbados''* (Savoy). ED SAFRANSKI—''Turmoil’'* (Atlantic). CHARLIE VENTURA—'|'m Forever Blowing Bub- bles''* (National). It's a field-month for jazz! Almost all the above are worth a spin, with Dodo's superb piano work a high spot. Nice "‘bop-vocal-with-horns'' ideas on the Jack- son and Ventura sides. Ben Webster plays tenor sax with Woody Herman. The Sa- franski item features seven men out of the Stan Kenton band. her first defense scheme all by herself, but Mother got daily bulletins. This boy had taken her to a school dance and at our door said he wanted to kiss her good-night. Esther stalled. “Why?” she asked. “For heaven’s sake!” exclaimed her es- cort, “what do you mean—‘why?’ ” “T don’t know why you want to, that’s ~ all.” “I don’t either. . . . Gosh—I just do.” “Wouldn’t it be awfully silly,” reasoned Esther, “to do something you don’t know why you want to do?” The boy was pretty baffled at that, but he made another date anyway and, of course, tried again. This time Esther’s de- laying tactics expanded the idea that had worked before. She told him, “Think it over for a week—and if you can tell me one good reason why I should let you kiss me, why, I will.” He was back again with a reason that boiled down to, “I’d like to.” “Not good enough,” Esther decided.: Esther finally gave in—she knew it was inevitable—the week after that. But by then I’m not sure the ardent suitor thought a good-night peck was worth all the long- distance debate. Still, I knew a problem had come up in Esther’s life, one of the most important ones, in fact, that-an adolescent girl faces: To pet or not to pet? If I do, will the boys like me better, or worse? If I don’t, will they call me a “lemon,” will they stop asking me out, will I be unpopular? At teen-age time, both girls and boys are pressed with a hundred haunting fears. At that trying time of a youngster’s life, the herd instinct is very strong. There’s a desperate desire to do as the rest of the age group is doing. There’s a great long- ing to be accepted by your contemporaries. If you know you're with the crowd, you're confident and happy. But the age-group’s verdict is what counts. I decided to get it on the petting problem. One afternoon, Esther, her brother Da- vid, and four or five schoolmates flocked into our house for an after-school snack. It was always open house at our house, and where there’s an easy welcome, there will always be young people. They came out in the kitchen and I found a chance in the conversation to ask, “Tell me, does a girl have to pet to get dates? I’m curious, and you boys know. Give me the low- down.” “No,” they scoffed, “not if she has what it takes.” “What’s that?” I wanted to know. “You've got to look attractive and you’ve got to be fun,” answered a boy. The-others nodded. “Sure, those are the girls we like best.” I said, “Do they have to be the prettiest girls?” The boys answered, “No, but they have to look right—their hair has to be neat and their clothes clean and in style, but not too fancy.” There was Esther’s—and her girl friends’ —answer, straight from the horse’s mouth, where it convinced. After that, Esther and the girls at her school studied the petting problem, talked it over among themselves, knowing where they stood. They even started making rules, rather than risk get- ting themselves involved in what they recognized as a serious problem. Five minutes parked in a car was the limit when they came home from a date. It was HEsther’s idea too, to start the boys thinking and talking on interesting sub- jects. “Tell me about clouds,” she’d ask her date on the way home, “what do you know about them?” If the boy didn’t have wise masculine information handy, he’d study up so he could next time—and he loved it. Esther knew and so did her girl friends soon that being an audience is supremely flattering to the other sex—and j it kept their minds on safe grounds for) the girls. I’ve always believed in thinking with’ your children instead of against them, if! you wish to help. A parent who is a dic-| tator is a very poor parent. It’s a parent’s| role to say: “I'm a friend. I’ve lived longer’ than you. Now, here is everything I've learned. Please use it.” But never, “Do| it because I say so,” or “because it’s best | for you.” That’s a sure way to force them | to do just the opposite. Forbidden fruits have been the sweetest since Adam and Eve and always will be. We always followed rules of frank dis- cussion and reason in our house. We never had a taboo. Taboos are “thou shalt nots,” and that’s negative, and nothing good comes of that. Because of this, alcohol was never a problem in our home. Dad kept a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard and every Williams child knew where it was. If they wanted to taste it, they could. If they did, they didn’t like it and that was that. But there was no mystery. The first time Esther was offered a flask by a wild youngster at a dance I’m afraid he was terribly let down by her reaction. “Daddy has some at home if I want it,” she told him. All our children look back on our sim- ple little home as the greatest home in the world. They were all practically grown before they considered that there existed finer, wealthier, more comfortable homes. And when they did, they didn’t like them half so well as their own. simple rules .. . Why? Because their home was their business, their project, their responsibility. They were “in on the act” as Jimmy Durante says, and every minute. They weren't just kids eating and sleeping there, being bossed around and dying to get away. Our place was always a welcome- matted clubhouse for the Williams kids and their friends. The big front room was always available for parties, fun, games, events. The only rules about it were (1) See if somebody else has plans to use it first and (2) Clean it up when the fun’s over. (I was never the type to be a slave for my children—I don’t approve of it!) The kitchen was where our family gath- ered. It had a long table which was the family dining spot and council table, too. I think every home should have a table like that—especially when I think of the family problems that were taken up, ana- lyzed, and solved enthusiastically around it, with every member tossing in his two cents’ worth. Democracy, like so many things, begins at home. Everyone in our house was an active member of the ways and means and the rules committee, too. I saw I Remember Mama with Esther recently. Halfway through that humor- ously touching picture she squeezed my arm excitedly. “Why, Mommie,” she said, “that’s us—that was our family!” And it was. And Esther remembers it as warmly and humanly as the author who wrote that play. All of us do. - There was the time, for instance, when June wanted a class sweater. It cost four dollars. ‘To some families that was the same as forty cents; to us it was more like 40 dollars. But all the other girls had them. We discussed it at the table, all of us. We decided that June would feel out of things if she didn’t have one too. She should buy one—but how? The idea spread from Esther, and was vigorously seconded by the other children: we'll each give up something we want and that will pay for the sweater. They thought: We can sacrifice; our time will come later. Right now it’s very important to June. Another time David joined the Boy Scouts when things were going hard fi-

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The added color does not rub off between shampoos, but washes out easily. More than 60 million packages have been bought by America’s loveliest women to bring out lustre or to add color to their hair. 5 RINSES, 25¢—2 RINSES, 10¢. SEE COLOR CHART AT COSMETIC COUNTERS IN DRUG OR DIME STORES penne ASTHEN git a Ve fone ACTRE 80 | tions. ar nancially with our family. The night he joined, Esther, aged ten, piped up at the dinner table, “Give David the biggest piece of meat. He needs strength for all those hikes and things he'll be taking.” We were not exactly poverty-stricken when Esther was_a girl, but we did have to make every penny count. Dad and I raised a family of five children on what many families spend on one. Esther has told before now how, once when times - were very lean, I fed our family on a sack of beans for almost a month. That was extreme. Most times we managed enough nourishing, well-balanced food—and the same ample helpings of psychologically im- portant fare. If that meant a neat blouse and skirt to look like the other school girls, Dad and I found a way to get it (and the length must be to one-eighth of an inch what they were wearing!). If our kids hadn’t come up with a self-sacrifice idea to make June’s class sweater possible, I’d have found a way to get it because it was a psychological necessity. But I wouldn’t have worried my mind a minute if it had been a grand new eve- ning dress she pined for, or a closet full of fancy skirts or shoes. still satisfied .. . Until she had graduated from high school Esther never suspected that other girls had better clothes or a better home than she had. When it dawned on her that others did, she wouldn’t have traded if she could. And she still wouldn't, in spite of the expensive set-ups she sees all around her as a screen star. Dad and I still live in the modest little house where Esther was born and raised. When Ben Gage, now Esther’s husband, first took her out she brought him right here, saying, “You’d better meet my fam- ily and see what you think of us.” While I chatted with Ben, Esther fell asleep on the sofa. That’s how secure, unruffled and completely at home she felt. I never saw Esther resent a “made-over” dress, and for a long time those were about the only dresses she had. On the contrary, each hand-me-down was a terrific thrill and a challenging problem. I had three girls to clothe and also, luckily, a good friend who came by with a box of her clothes every now and then. To Esther such occasions were like Christmas. In- stead of being furious at the second-hand idea—as some girls are—HEsther was as ex- cited as if the packet was a band-box with a Fifth Avenue label. Her happy reaction was, “Now, what can we do with this one? ... Oh, I know!” and off the whole household would be in a whirl of altera- She gets the same glee today out of passing on her own clothes to her nieces, Bula, 14, and Judy, 11. The most important thing of all, I be- lieve, is to give children the conviction that a beneficent, loving Power is always around to protect them, love and guide them; that they can turn to Him any time for their needs. When you live by that secure faith it’s pretty hard not to face life with courage, cheer and happiness. Esther grew up with this feeling: “In me is a connection with every good thing. There is no limit to what I can do if I draw on this Power within me.” Her sim- ple little prayer of faith was the well- known one that goes, “God is my help in every need, God does my every hunger feed.” Her favorite hymn was “God Will Take Care of You,’ which most children sing in Sunday School. She believed then and still does every word of the comforting lines, When one Joy He takes, He puts another in its place So we may always see The smiling of His face... That doesn’t mean that all is sugar and spice and everything nice. But that faith does assure a constructive, happy, relaxed and undefeated approach to every prob- lem, and as I said, problems are the warp || and woof of life. When Esther won the national freestyle) swimming championship, she relied on that’ faith and incidentally, I had a char ‘e] to face another problem with her, although’ she was 3,000 miles away. I knew it was} a major event in her life. I knew there was the danger of tenseness, of tying up, of letting a scare psychology ride in on | the importance of the big moment in her) lifelong ambitions. And I knew, from } Esther’s home training, what would free | her for her best effort. I wrote her a long letter which she read the night before the final race, lying in her | cot, sleepless. letter from home, telling her family news, | sending our love, wishing we were there to back her up as always. Most of it was just a chatty | But also I re- | peated the simple, direct faith she had | known since childhood, and later she told me she read and re-read those lines before | she dozed off to wake up confident and | strong, drawing on that Power she believes | in to force her through to victory. I had written simply, “You don’t have || to win if you don’t want to. But if you do | you can, if you draw on the Power within | you. .. . And remember that God will be } a with success as well as with failure. . . \| Sometimes I feel that ’m not much use to my own children any more. Particu- | larly do I feel that I don’t know Esther’s — movie world, that I’m out of touch with her problems.- I tell myself the help I am to Esther Williams is what I gave her when | she was a little girl. Then the front door bursts open as it did the other afternoon and there’s that | same little girl, maybe a few years older, with a slight cloud dimming the sunshine. “Wiommie, I’ve got a problem. and-such has happened, such- and-such is wrong... “That’s too bad, honey. But is it really so bad? Now, let’s see what we can do about it. We're sitting at the kitchen table before we know it, the same kitchen table that’s served so well all these years. Such- | And the } years are rolled back and I’m meeting a | problem with Esther, and watching her } leave at last, happy and radiant again. Then I realize that once a mother, you're a mother for keeps. It’s a lifetime job, a privileged, important one. And to me it’s the happiest job in the world. THE Enp | SAW IT HAPPEN Recently, while shopping in one of the New York stores, I came across a collection of smart suits. I didn’t have much time, but I wanted to buy one. A woman standing nearby asked if she might help me select a suit. I was very grateful. While helping me, the woman spoke ensually and humorously and I thought I'd never enjoyed shopping more. The suit was finally chosen and my charm- ing helper left. Later, while walking in the street I passed a theater and saw a very familiar face on the bill- board. Suddenly I realized that my shopping assistant had been none other than Marsha Hunt! Lilyan Brounstein Brooklyn, New York

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THE WOMAN NOBODY KNOWS (Continued from page 44) A star who’s worked with Jennifer Jones in most of her best movies shakes his head in wonder every now and then. “I can’t understand how you ever decided to be an actress,” he tells her. “You haven’t any more ego than an Easter bunny!” Another calls her “the most un-Holly- wood star in Hollywood.” “Either that,” sighs this friend, “or she’s the stingiest one with her talent—she won’t put on an act for a minute, away from the camera!” Jennifer Jones has been around Holly- wood seven years but she can’t get ac- climatized to the Hollywood treatment— to glamor, fuss and fanfares. Partly it’s because she’s painfully shy, partly it’s be- cause she’s been cautiously alert ever since she hit Hollywood’s golden shores not to suecumb to the tinseléd fripperies—and partly it’s because she’s constitutionally inclined to sell herself short. jones legend... When Jennifer recently finished Rough Sketch at Columbia, she found herself, to her great surprise, a darling of the first “foreign”—or non-Selznick—camera crew she’d worked with for a long time. For their part, they were a little amazed at Miss Jones, whom they’d suspected of being on the grand side, temperamental and even “difficult.” You see, they'd tum- bled for the Unapproachable Jones leg- end. And then they found themselves being hailed by their first names and joked with, by a gal who seemed ready to handle any situation that came up, like a pretty good sport. So when the last scene was shot, it was pretty clear to Larry Germain, her hairdresser—who takes care of many set situations for Jennifer—that the star was going to be asked to auto- graph a lot of pictures. He hinted this to Jennifer, knowing that she wouldn’t have even a snapshot around anywhere. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “Maybe you’d better have the studio send some over. Six ought to be plenty.” “Six won't last six minutes,” he said. “But only two people have asked me,” said J. Jones innocently. Larry brought over four dozen just the same. They all went in a couple of hours—as he knew they would. The biggest fright-object in Jennifer Jones’ life is the canvas star-chair with JENNIFER JONES stenciled pretentiously on the back—a type of caste mark which most screen stars dearly love. Long ago Jen- nifer’s crews have noted that the minute they slide it up politely where she’s standing, she finds an excuse to get the heck out of that vicinity. ... The elab- orate movie-star dressing cottage she in- herited on the Selznick lot is musty most of the time from disuse; her trailer on the set, like those of other actors, is what she uses. . . . She hustles a 1941 Ford to and from studio—and to show how much fancy autos mean in her life, the speed- ometer, after seven years, reads 19,000 miles. She gives chewing gum a pearly beating. She’s a slave to radio disc jockeys: . . . She never has any money in her purse and her dream project—of all things—is to pack-back into the high Sierras with her boys, guideless, on a campfire-and-sleeping-bag safari. All these scattered but true- items seem as out of place tacked onto the generally accepted picture of Jennifer Jones, as spangles on a nun. All are completely out of keeping with the elegant portrait of Jennifer which Hollywood has cherished ever since she played the virgin of Lourdes in Bernadette. Nothing—not even the red-hot role she played in Duel in the Sun—seems warm enough to melt away the solid idea that Miss Jennifer Jones in person is some kind of a cross between an ice-cream angel and a mystery Madame X. And nothing could be crazier. That such ’way-off-base ideas exist about Jennifer is, of course, largely her own fault—because of the way she looks, and the way she acts. The first she can’t help, and since she’s smart, probably wouldn’t anyway. As for the second— well, she gets tongue-tied talking about herself, so she doesn’t. “Nothing happens to me, I’m horribly uninteresting—what can I say?” she tosses in anguish at studio press agents approaching with a reporter in tow. So she’s regarded as an odd body, and more myths bob up about her bru- nette head than balloons at a county fair —which are always a pleasure to pop. For one thing, because of her super- feminine facade, Jennifer Jones impresses most people who don’t know her, as a soft, sweet, gardenia petal of a girl. An anx- ious, elderly admirer wrote her recently advising iron-pills. “You look anemic, my dear,” she cautioned, “and you must keep strong to stand your strenuous career.” Jennifer’s about as anemic as a Kansas City top sirloin. Ss fer lo owe reader The 1948-49 edition of MopDERN SCREEN’S exclusive “‘Super-Star Information Chart” is something no real fan should be without. It’s a 32-page pocket encyclopedia on over 500 of your favorite stars—complete with birthdates, hobbies, real names, recent pictures, and inside facts. To obtain your copy, send 10c in coin, plus a self-addressed, stamped (3c), standard 4” x 9” envelope to Service Department, MopERN SCREEN, P. O. Box 125, Murray Hill Station, New York 16, N. Y. Send soon! In practically every picture she’s made lately, she’s had to handle a job husky | enough to strain the sinews of a serial queen. She dug a tunnel with pick and shovel for days in Rough Sketch, and got rolled around by a tidal wave near Boston for Portrait of Jennie. Before that, she climbed a flinty Arizona cliff in Duel in the Sun, scorning knee pads, the stand- ard protection for softies. (Even cowboy stars use ’em all the time.) She reaped a mess of cuts and scratches all over her body from tip to toe in that adven- ture, but didn’t lay off an hour from her work, although the rocky mesa location was not designed for the lah-de-dah Hol- lywood lady ‘she’s supposed to be. ‘ On the screen, Jennifer seems some- | what small and delicate. Actually, she’s tall and lean. She’s five-seven in her ‘stocking feet and tips the scales at 118. | This makes her a slender, streamlined | vision in a bathing suit—which, incident- ally, she never wears for publicity stills, but strictly for getting through the water, swiftly and often. She walks fast, with a getalong like a determined deer. She eats like a hungry horse—and anything, but mostly meat, potatoes and greens. She drinks milk like a prize baby, never touches coffee, puffs cigarettes only when the script says to, takes a drink on only particularly festive occasions. She doesn’t bother herself with any health regime, diet, or massage to keep her figure because —surprise again—she has a terrific talent for sports, especially horseback riding and tennis. Jennifer has been taking tennis lessons ever since she hit Hollywood years , back and by now she’s a potential whiz. portrait of jennie... There are so many easy mistakes to make about the girl nobody seems to know, that the only way to add Jennifer Jones up is to break her down. Out of the little pieces you get a portrait of Jennifer that you never dreamed existed. Mrs. Phyllis Isley Walker prefers her professional name, Jennifer Jones, in both public and private life and her favorite nickname is what she usually gets—“Jen- nie.” Only recently she learned exactly what it means. On the Rough Sketch set, on the final day, John Garfield presented a lady burro to Director John Huston for his San Fernando Valley ranch. He ex- plained to John that it was really a two- for-one present because the donkey was definitely headed for a blessed event. “What’s her name?” asked Huston. -““‘Jennie, I guess,’ replied Garfield. “That’s what they always call these crit- ters when theyre expecting.” To Jenny Jones, who was listening, that was news and a little disconcerting. “From now on,” she stated emphatically, but with a twinkle in her eye, “everybody around here calls me ‘Jennifer—with a capital ‘J’!” The house in Brentwood where Jennifer lives with her two boys, Michael and Bobby, is a medium-sized, French-style- place with an ocean view which she bought just before she went East to make Portrait of Jennie, Until then, she’d camped in apartments but never thought them fit to raise her kids in. The whole upstairs of her new place is turned over to the boys who, being only 11 months apart, look like twins—although Mike, seven, the younger, is taller than his eight- year-old big brother, Bob. Kermit, their nurse, takes care of their goings-on and Jennifer has developed what she calls “a deaf ear” in their direction. She can read,

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84 study her lines, entertain guests, paint, or take a nap, unruffled and undisturbed, even if they’re chopping the rafters in two. Some people swear she hasn’t a nerve in her body. Jennifer is very much of a home girl. When she does doll up and go dancing it’s practically always to those castles of gourd-and-off-beat rhythm, Mocambo and Ciro’s—she loves to rhumba. But she’s strictly a Saturday-night girl—so all other evenings are devoted to her home, her friends and her kids, or her relations, who visit her frequently from Dallas. Every- one is in on the act, whatever it may be. Last Hallowe’en, Jennifer threw a spook party for the boys at home which she planned, organized and ran, herself! Sev- enteen friends of Mike’s and Bobby’s showed up in weird costume. (The boys go to military school and are popular young extroverts with packs of pals.) As anyone knows, keeping 17 young packages of dynamite in a Hallowe’en mood from tearing a joint to pieces is quite a job. Jennifer handled it smoothly, organizing the apple-bobbing, donkey-tail pinning and such juvenile goings-on with the easy impartiality of a gridiron referee, so that every one had a good time and compar- atively few vases were shattered or rugs wrecked. That night Joe, her houseman, dolled up as a ghoul and met the kids at the door; Veada, her personal maid, pinch- hit as a gypsy fortune-teller done up in Romany rags; and Jenny’s dad, who was visiting, tended the soft-cider bar. When Jennifer entertains her own friends, it’s always with small dinner par- ties, followed by such prosaic parlor sports as “The Game” (charades), ask-me-an- other quiz sessions, and scattered chatter.. Among her intimates are Lenore Cotten, Anita Colby and Valli, Selznick’s new Italian star. Jennifer’s favorite at-home perch is the corner of one of her big divans with her feet curled up under her. She loves to hug fireplaces, of which there are three in her house. Jennifer doesn’t use makeup of any kind, except lipstick, even in pictures. Her hair’s its own honest dark brown, naturally wavy and currently clipped to the shortest bob in Hollywood, the long- est strands being éxactly one inch and a half. She hates hats, but looks best in berets. Perhaps her big brown eyes and her white pluperfect teeth are the most striking features when you meet her face to face. Her long hands come next. She wears no rings—her only jewelry pets are earrings. She can’t resist buying perfume and has hundreds of tiny flacons all over her room. Jennifer’s personal tidiness, however, hasn’t cramped her easy-going style on the set. There’s no touch-me-not air around her. She wallowed for days in wet clay for some graveyard digging scenes in Rough Sketch and in one where she strikes a buried coffin with her shovel, the minute she hit it, it flopped open and a greenish decomposed hand (sponge rub- ber) bounced out. The props had rigged it to scare her. She screamed obligingly, so the next take a grisly skull shot out at her. At that point Jennifer decided it was time to get even with some cut-ups of her own. So she placed black plaster on her teeth—and when John Huston wanted a particularly sweet smile, she let him have the toothless-hag variety. When Jennifer laughs, she laughs clear from the soles of her feet and her face turns red. When she’s angry, she just trembles and keeps her lips buttoned—but that’s rare, for normally she’s extremely good-natured. Her boss, David Selznick, has never had a temperamental tizzy from her all the time she’s been his star. Whatever he picks out in the script de- partment she knows is right and she likes it. How her aloof reputation ever got started is a mystery, too, because her sets are always open and the only times she ducks out from the gang are to eat her lunch (which she brings from home) and to take a short nap. Her one working weakness—hbesides tel- ephonitis—is the fact that clocks and cal- endars mean nothing in her life. She loves to sleep late, and she’s unpunctual. The only time she’s ever been known to be anywhere exactly on the dot was dur- ing the war when she signed up for Nurses’ Aid under her own real name (she worked 12 months before anyone in Hollywood found out) and had to travel 12 miles crosstown to the General Hospi- tal four days a week. Matter of fact, Jennifer is restless as a sparrow and has to keep busy at some- MODERN SCREEN 2 O Z - ALI- "Oh dear, | see we re going to be Gene Autry for the next couple of weeks.” thing all day long. The wardrobe, hair- 7 dressing and makeup departments at Selz- nick’s have tried in vain for years to make her sit still like a good girl. Any sound stage portrait of Jennifer Jones would be meaningless without a needlepoint frame | and a radio set, both of which she uses to . occupy her ears and her fingers from the . minute she parks her Ford in the morn- |. ing until she climbs in to drive home. She © whips needlepoint stitches between scenes, and often in them. At home she has chair backs, stool covers, picture frames and all sorts of things she’s stitched herself. As for the radio, Jennifer is tuned in from dawn to dusk. She packs along a portable on locations and has a plug-in | for her dressing room. As much as she loves to listen to a radio, though, she can’t act for it. A mike strikes terror to her heart and she’s been on the air only twice. Both times were pure torture. When she gets worked up about anything—a radio program, an acting job or a personal ap- pearance—she sprouts a saddle of sweat beads across her nose. distress signal... That private distress signal is prone also to pop out on Jennifer when she sees herself on the screen, because she’s hyper- critical about her own acting and fiercely bent on improving it. Jennifer took her “straw hat” La Jolla stage job last sum- mer terribly seriously, studied and re- hearsed hard at home with everything she had and put it over neatly. It was her first footlights appearance. Her first cur- tain call, holding hands with the cast and hearing real applause volley her way, was, she admitted, as great a thrill as winning her Oscar. The old Broadway stage hang- over from her student days hasn’t left Jenny as yet; in fact, after her next three pictures are made—Madame Bovary at MGM, and two films in England, Gone To Earth and Tess of the dUrbervilles—she has definite plans to do a Broadway play. Meanwhile, myths will doubtless keep piling merrily up in Hollywood about Jennifer Jones, because, like Old Man River, the lady “don’t say nothin’ . . . she just keeps rolling along.” It’s always an irresistible temptation in a curious com- munity like Hollywood to make anything from a plaster saint to a devil’s hand- maiden out of any character who keeps a close mouth and minds her own busi- ness. Maybe by now you've gathered that Jennifer Jones fits somewhere com- fortably in between. If any doubt exists about that—last year when Jenny was back in Boston daring death and disfiguration on those rugged lighthouse rocks, she rested nightly in one of Beantown’s most elegant inns. One midnight she sat up with a start and stared into the darkness with a terri- fied expression that wasn’t acting. Some- thing was making a horrible sound in her room. Jennie snatched her robe, ripped open the door and tore in panic down the hall to where Dorothy Whalen, her stand-in, slept. “Dottie,” she cried, pounding the door frantically, “let me in! Quick—let me in!” Dorothy wasn’t sure whether the men from Mars had landed or the hotel was on fire, but she leaped out and swung open the door. The pale vision of Jen- nifer Jones in cold terror confronted her. “I’m staying here the rest of the night,” Jennifer gasped. “I’m not going back to that room.” “Of course not,” soothed Dottie. “You stay right here, you poor child. But what in the world happened?” “Something’s in there,” whispered Jen- nifer, round-eyed. “Something awful.” “A burglar?” Dorothy gasped. “Or—?” “Worse than that,” chattered Jennifer Jones. “A mouse!” THE ENpD

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l | GOT MY MAN (Continued from page 24) catastrophe, so everyone came up cluck- ing and exclaiming. Among the voices I heard that of John Lindsay. Later that evening, he and I had our- selves to ourselves. He said—finally— “Could you possibly go out with me sometime?” “We-el,” I said, “I’m a pretty busy girl, but—we-el, sometime, maybe. How about tomorrow night?” (Later I was to learn it had taken him two years to get up enough “courage” to ask me for a date!) Since I had a radio show scheduled at National Broadcasting the next night, we planned for him to pick me up there. Right on the dot of nine, I met him and we entered his car. I expected him to ask where I’d like to go, but instead he said apologetically, “Do you mind very much if we stop by a job I’m doing? I have to check on something.” So down Vine Street we went to Melrose where Vine becomes Rossmore, a street of lovely apartments and exclusive hotels. Then I found myself stumbling among steel girders, cement-mixers and all the other equipment necessary to a hotel under construction! Me, with my broken arm in a east! A veritable clinging vine, I wan- dered around with him, listening to him explain what the hotel was going to be like, why he had done this, why he had done that, and where he had had to make “compromises.” I learned during the course of that little jaunt that he’d had his own business as an architect for two years now, and before that had designed sets at MGM. After he was satisfied that the nails, or whatever the heck it was, had been deliv- ered safe and sound for next day’s work, we went to the Gala for awhile. music and soft lights .. . The Gala is a small café on the Sunset Strip with soft lights and the most terrific music in the world. Here I was on home ground. They were playing some of the music from On the Town. I said—rather condescendingly, I’m afraid—“Do you know the lyrics of ‘Lucky To Be Me’?” You see, I knew every word. And he knew not only the lyrics to that song, but all the others in the show as well! During the next hour, it turned out his knowledge of lyrics in general was practically encyclopedic. From there we went to the Mocambo. Johnny cut my meat for me and all but fed me. My broken arm, remember. Nor could we dance because of that injured wing. So we talked and talked and talked. And very pleasant it was, too. I found out that he prefers modern architecture, although he does design some modernized period structures. We dis- covered we both like ballet—which pleased me particularly, because so few men I’ve met have any real appreciation of it. I learned that he’s terribly interested in modern art, that we both like Shakespeare and Thomas Wolfe ... that we’re both crazy about fireplaces .. . that we think Fred Allen is the funniest man alive ... that we both love the theater... . Then came the blow. It developed that he has to be practically dragged to the movies—to any movie! And all this time Yd been under the delusion that Mr. Lindsay was sort of fascinated by my dra- matic talent. It had been my album of piano records that had caught his fancy— and the only movie he’d seen me in was Ruthless! At last, we simply had to leave before r----— SEND NO MONEY * WE SEND ON APPROVAL ----, ees = === = = = = = ———-——- SNES RRR er Vii MAIS WA AAVIN 7. Symphony x Gay as a song, this lush Rayon Gabardine featuring today’s newest moulded shoulders. Sleeves are full and easy...accented with bands of flashing color... buttons are self covered. Colors: Winter White, Kelly, Aqua, Beige, Gray, Black ...all with contrasting trim. 10.98 5. 2-Piece Beauty xx You'll steal the scene in this beauty with the new back interest. Fine Rayon Gabardine with contrasting color Faile collar and covered buttons. Pencil slim skirt with side slits and zipper closing. Colors: Black, Kelly, Aqua, Winter White, Beige, Gray. 6. Sharp as a Dart xr Features a theme of contrasting 12.98 saddle-stitched darts for trim—chorused by the smart cuffs and new long smooth look. Exquisitely tailored in Rayon Gabardine. You'll be delighted at how expensive it looks. Colors: Winter White, Kelly, Aqua, Beige, Gray, Black. 10.98 BONNIE GAYE, Inc., Dept. 305 1051 South LaBrea, Los Angeles 35, California Please send me the following dresses. I'll pay postman the total amount indicated plus C.O.D. postage with the understanding I may return any or all the dresses in 10 days for full refund if not satisfied. STYLE SIZE Ist COLOR CHOICE 2nd COLOR CHOICE Name Address City Zone [eg a= a State AO eee ee Junior SIZES 9-11-13 15-17 Regular SIZES 10-12-14 16-18-20 i Large SIZES 38-40-42 44-46-48 | SEES Asn pene CE Re Sea ais 85

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we were closed up in the joint. Once again came the great care in getting me into the car and then out of it at the door of my apartment. ; There it was that Johnny made what I call a really classic remark. He said: “Tf you ever want to go to a concert or a play sometime, call me.” I laughed gaily, but mentally my eye- brows shot up to there. I said to myself, “Well, Lynn, you’ve gone over with him like a lead balloon.” But in the days that followed, flowers and telephone calls came from him. I went out with him, but my casual dates with others continued. Then Johnny began to drop by every day to suggest if I didn’t have a date, maybe I’d go out with him. Then, evidently, he began to notice the flowers which occasionally adorned my apartment from other men whom I dated. For one day he sent me this huge bouquet of flowers with a note which read, “Any- thing he can do, I can do better.” Other men continued to send flowers and each day Johnny’s bouquet grew larger and larger, each with that same note. I had to borrow vases from my mother, my tenants and almost any casual passer- by. When my apartment began to look like a florist’s shop at Easter, there didn’t seem to be anything else to do but go steady. After all, a girl shouldn’t smother to death! All this may sound as if it took a long time happening. Actually, it was only a month after I met him that it just didn’t seem logical that we should have dates with others. parental approval... When my parents met him. they adored him at the drop of a smile. Then he con- fessed to my mother that he’d talked to her by telephone two years before. While you may have read something of that else- where, you don’t know the whole story. Determined to meet me, he’d somehow wangled my telephone number. So then he telephoned the house. When mother answered, he said, “Mrs. Lynn (he knew so little about me that he didn’t realize Lynn is my professional name), through some error, a letter for your daughter was sent to my address. If you care to give me your address, I'll be glad to forward it.” Mother fell for this diabolical scheme and, with the address at last, Johnny got one of his friends to drive with him through Viewpark where we lived then. The streets wind around so, it’s easy to get lost. After a few bad guesses, they located our house. When they arrived, the friend asked, “What are you going to do now?” “Tll be darned if I know,” Johnny re- plied—and drove away without doing any- thing! When he told me about it, I said, “Oh, Johnny! Why didn’t you just come to the door? Then we wouldn’t have wasted two whole years!” Seriously I can’t regret these past two two years. I know that during them I’ve grown up a lot. I’ve learned to hang up my clothes myself, to shop more wisely, to attend to the details of a home myself. I’m much better prepared for marriage. Tm terribly fond of Johnny’s grand- parents (they’re his family, since both his parents are dead). They’re the youngest- seeming grandparents I’ve ever met. His grandmother is lovely and charming. His grandfather is a handsome, older edition of Johnny. We see a lot of them. We went with them to the annual picnic of former residents of their old home, Winona, Minnesota, and had a wonderful time. I know Johnny had learned as much of the ways of happiness, consideration and solid , character from them as from anyone he’ll 86 ever know. They’re a shining example for any young couple planning marriage. Johnny’s an awfully thoughtful person. There was the time he brought my mother, as well as me, a present on my birthday. And there are the times he brings me presents for no particular occasion at all. And he’s so considerate of me when I come home from the studio, harassed and ner- vous—as all performers are at times. And if ’m an hour late for an appointment with him, he understands it’s because some pro- duction problem made the delay unavoid- able. After the engagement, our evenings were full of plans—as are those of all young couples talking their way toward marriage. Thursday nights, Johnny was always late, because those nights he attends classes in Advanced Structural Engineering. Al- though he’s a graduate of the University of Southern California and a licensed archi- tect doing very well, he’ll continue to study all his life, ’m sure. (And that’s fine with me. I’m sure Ill never stop studying to improve myself!) On a recent Sunday, we planned. to go to Palm Springs—and he came by to cook breakfast for me before we went. He’s a wonderful cook. He chopped up all kinds a gardner of beauty... aqvqa... on the march cover of modern screen on sale february 7 of good things, put them in a fluffy omelet —and then we really breakfasted! By this time, we were talking of when we could be married. I’ve always said that as soon as I announced my engage- ment, I’d want to be married soon after. Johnny agreed with me in this. But there were others we had to consider. Johnny had a lot of clients who were concerned with getting their buildings finished. I was working in Hal Wallis’ Bitter Victory—and working every day. I knew that wouldn’t be finished before De- cember 1. After due consultations with others—during which we assumed as casual an air as possible, so’s not to let them know what we were up to—we arrived at a date which would give us a couple of weeks free for a honeymoon. Having established the great day, we made the announcement almost right away. (Another wonderful example of Johnny’s thoughtfulness is the fact that without telling me, he went alone and spent two hours with my parents the day the an- nouncement was to be made.) With the engagement announced, Johnny had his first real taste of what my career will demand of him. We’d discussed the probable problems seriously weeks before. 2 | He’s proud of what I’ve accomplished so | far—as I am of what he’s done. He had no yen to keep me from continuing to act. our engagement, the demands set in. Johnny was kind of amused by it all, though he groaned, “Why does the studio have to call you every five minutes to ask you to come over for more pictures!” Our first public appearance as an en- gaged couple was at the fabulous Kirkeby party at their beautiful Bel Air home. When the photographers swarmed down on our table, Johnny moved out of range, on the theory that they were interested only in the celebrities at the table. He was amazed to discover we were the magnet at the moment and that they were most definitely interested in him. He still hasn’t recovered from the shock of the number of photographs we were asked to pose for! But as I say, with the announcement of } | } | wild calendar... As this is written, my calendar is so crowded. In a few minutes, I must go for a fitting of my wedding gown. Although my trousseau is simple, it consists of every- thing from a jersey skirt and stole I bought at a department store for $22.95, to a rather extravagant blonde velvet bath- ing suit. (I couldn’t resist it!) I just had to have Edith Head, who has designed all my important clothes since I was 13 years old, do my wedding gown and one really out-of-this-world evening gown. And of course I had to have my pal Don Loper, do my “going-away” suit. Since my wedding gown isn’t designed with the camera in mind, photos may not show some of the details I love. So let me tell you about the yummy outfit.. Over the ankle-length white satin gown will be this foamy skirt made of four layers of white tulle. Down the back of the dress will be two white satin panels encrusted with lilies of the valley, bouvardia and white lilacs sprinkled with seed pearls. The cuffs on the push-up sleeves ard the collar on the high neck will be encrusted with pearls. Elegant, hey? Rex, the hat de- signer, is using the same flowers—also sprinkled with pearls—for the bonnet, from which the white tulle veil will fall. Even my satin slippers will have—that’s right— a few pearls on ’em. Right now, 1 know Janie Withers Moss will be my bridesmaid. Johnny doesn’t know yet who'll be his attendant. We don’t know whether we'll have a double- ring ceremony or a single-ring one. We don’t know exactly where or what time of day we're being married because it seems everyone in this marrying town has booked all the churches for weddings on that day. We know my parents are giving a wedding reception for us at Wynn Rocamora’s house because their apartment is too small to accommodate the 200 guests we’ve invited. We know we're going to New York and on to Bermuda for a two-and-a-half-week honeymoon. But we don’t know yet where we'll live when we return. Yet, there’s a lot we haven’t settled defi- nitely yet. But we do know we're going to be married in a church, with only a few guests present—because I’ve played a lot of scenes in my life and I don’t want one for my wedding. You who have written to congratulate me—will you please take another little moment and pray with me that Heaven will guard our happiness? I love Johnny. : That’s how I feel about this young man who drew up in a car beside my date and me, the night we happened to drop by to see Stu and Angie Martin. P.S.—We’ve just found a church—Healy Chavel on the University of California Campus. I knew I'd get to college some day! THE END |

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SHE CAN DO IT AGAIN (Continued from page 39) you should know now, the better to un- derstand the little girl of yesterday and the beautiful Durbin in full bloom of womanhood today. Look into the story of any famous wom- an and somewhere you'll find a man. There have been a number of men in Deanna’s life. The first two came with her first big picture. They were Joe Pas- ternak, the producer, and Henry Koster, the director. They were signed by Uni- versal at the same time the studio took young Deanna to its bosom following the dropping of her option by MGM. They created a world of music, gayety and laughter and set Deanna down in the middle of it to sing. The picture was Three Smart. Girls. The song she sang was “Someone to Care for Me.” The picture was released and the world discovered the little girl, raised her on its shoulders and boosted her up on the ped- estal of stardom in one sudden whoosh! Her next was One Hundred Men And A Girl, and in that picture she sang “It’s Raining Sunbeams.” It really was. At 14, she was a star. At 14, she was paying off the mortgage at Universal, and sun- beams—especially in the bookkeeping de- partment—were falling all around. (They say that in those days Universal had a portrait of Deanna directly over the big safe at the studio, and each time he put money in the safe, the treasurer of the studio bowed three times to the likeness of the little girl.) riding high... Deanna grew a little, filled out a little, became sweeter and more beautiful, then starred in Mad About Music, in which she sang “I Love To Whistle” while riding a bicycle through the scenes of the picture. She was riding high, and she was learning. Her voice strengthened, her acting im- proved and she added to her vast follow- ing through the Pasternak-Koster pictures, That Certain Age, singing “Be A Good Scout,” and Three Smart Girls Grow Up, in which one of her songs was “Invitation To The Dance.” Deanna was at “That Cer- tain Age” herself, for time had taken her into adolescence; she was growing up and receiving invitations to dances on her own. The world didn’t know it at the time, because her publicity was always about the little girl who hardly knew boys ex- isted, but she had met one—Vaughn Paul. That boy was an assistant director on _her pictures, and the invisible magnet of love was drawing them together. Her next picture was First Love. A provoca- tive title to consider in the light of her dates with this boy of her choice. Then Deanna bubbled her way through Its A Date, Spring Parade and Nice Girl. Her audiences bubbled with her, ecstatic- ally, and the first two men in her life, Joe Pasternak and Henry Koster, stood back and smiled at the third man who had entered her life to become her first love—and, in the spring of 1941, her husband. : Then, suddenly, the music changed. A cloud drifted across the sun out Universal way. The Pasternak-Koster-Durbin com- bination was broken up. Joe Pasternak had been lured away by MGM and De- anna found herself loose on a sea of con- fusion. : : Instead of being an easy flow of melody and song, the rhythm of her life tight- ened, became strained and frantic. A new, strange pall of uncertainty surrounded her. Universal’s heads huddled together in | NOW over One Permanent Cost ‘15...the TONI only °2 If you aim to be “Queen of his Heart” this Valentine’s Day . .. Toni can help you look the part! Because having a Toni Home Permanent is almost like having naturally-curly hair! Lovely -to-look -at waves and soft-to-touch curls! But before trying Toni you'll want to know: Will TONI work on my hair? Of course. Toni waves any kind of hair that will take a permanent, including gray, dyed, bleached or baby-fine hair. Must I be clever with my hands? Not at all. If you can roll your hair up on curlers, you can give yourself a Toni. It’s so surprisingly easy that each month another two million women use Toni. Why is TONI preferred by most women? Because Toni Waving Lotion is not a harsh, hurry-up salon type. Instead it’s marvelously mild. It just coaxes your hair into soft waves and curls. That’s why your Toni wave looks more natural even on the first day. 2 million women How long will my TONI last? Your lovely Toni wave is guaranteed to last just as long as a $15 beauty shop permanent . . . or your money back. How much will 1 save with TONI? The Toni Kit with re-usable plastic curlers costs $2. For a second Toni all you need is the Toni Refill Kit. It costs just $1. Which twin has the TONI? Talented, teen-age Kathlene and Helene Crescente live in Ridgewood, N. J. Kath- lene, the twin on theright, has the Toni.She says: “I never knew a permanent could look so natural right from the start!” COMMENDED PARENTS’ MAGAZINE a month use Toni a 87

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NAME ADDRESS ZONE STATE THIS OFFER GOOD ONLY IN U.S. A. vain efforts to find a new brand of “ack to fit their grown-up “golden girl.” | They tried her out in It Started With Eve, and the very title had a portent for- eign to the public’s conception of a “dar- ling Deanna.” They tried her in The Amazing Mrs. Holliday, but you turned thumbs down at the box-office and the headaches at the studio increased as De- anna’s heartaches drove her to divorce. Officially, the record reads, “Deanna Durbin and Vaughn Paul, married April 18, 1941—divorced December 14, 1943.” But records can be very cold. They don’t © tell the story, just the results. It was while Vaughn and Deanna were married that Pasternak had turned loose the guiding reins on Deanna’s pictures. Then the studio discovered that their star had temperament. But wasn’t the temper- ament justified? Her pictures in the new theme failed to hold the audiences. She fought alone for better stories, the proper setting for a voice grown strong and mature, with perfect operatic timbre. She needed “someone to care” for her more than ever now. She needed the mature equivalent to the Pasternak production of | Three Smart Girls and Mad About Music. She wasn’t getting it, and she walked off the sets with her nose as high as her top notes on the scale. But her heart wasn’t high—it was breaking. The emotional strain was too great for the marriage. Vaughn Paul watched her on the set all day, knew all the things she was going through and could do nothing about it. Their evening conversations were a part of the same discouraging pattern. The studio answered her temperamental outbursts with suspension and let her stew. Maybe they were justified, maybe they weren’t. But when it destroyed her mar- riage, I had every sympathy for Deanna. a sentimental memory... Maybe that was sentiment on my part. I still remembered the little girl who had made everybody happy with her songs... and had paid off the studio mortgage. But about the time she divorced Vaughn Paul, the studio lifted her suspension and she went back to work. Was there a con- nection between the two? Hollywood whispered that one trouble lay in the fact that Vaughn had wanted to direct her pictures himself. But there are always a lot of ugly rumors in Hollywood. For a nice town, it still harbors its share of viciousness. When she went back to work, they gave her a new producer named Felix Jackson. His was the job of effecting the change from Deanna-the-girl to Deanna-the- grownup in six easy productions, wooing the audience into going along with her to the new status. In two short years, Jackson made the change—but wooing the audience was an- other thing. His first move was toward comedy. He cast Deanna opposite Franchot Tone in His Butler’s Sister. It was a good picture and it got a good hand all around. Everybody, including Jackson, took a deep breath and tried again. They knew it was an uphill climb, but Deanna was back in the harness, working like a Trojan, and Jackson was also de- serving A for Effort. : Her next was Christmas Holiday. The sophisticated Deanna, whom audiences met in Christmas Holiday, was a rash and shocking departure from the girl they knew ... and wanted. Someone had turned their sweet-voiced angel into a sultry woman ‘of the world—and they didn’t like sith es If you've ever tried to walk in the sand of a desert, you'll have a fair idea of Deanna’s trials of these last few years. She is a sincere, hard-working girl who gives every ounce of concentration to her chosen

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ae 3 ‘profession, and every ounce of energy to each performance. To give to this degree, month in and month out, striving to reach a pinnacle of success she has once known, yet gaining only meager results is a _ heartbreaking strain. But through it all, the fourth man in her life was fighting at her side. Jackson was an older man, 20 years older, but work brought them together and, for a second time, love came to Deanna. It was a mature love, born of a mutual admir- ation between them. About the time she was making Because Of Him, the preacher tied the knot. The next song symbolic of her life was “Tt’s Dream Time” in the picture I'll Be Yours. It was the last picture which Felix Jackson produced starring his bride. Can two careers survive in one home? You’ve heard the question asked a million times, and you have your own examples, both in and out of Hollywood, to prove that they can. } Things went well in the Jackson house- hold through the birth of Deanna’s baby daughter, Jessica Louise, which kept Deanna away from the studio for a while. But when she went back to work again, there was a new producer on her pictures. The first song she had to sing was “Happy Go Lucky and Free”—but she wasn’t. The picture in which that song occurred was Something In The Wind—and there was. Were those titles ominous? Or was it just coincidental that these titles came along about the time Deanna and Felix Jackson came to the parting of the ways? Again she had met and married a man with whom she worked at the studio. Again there had been trouble with her pictures, confusion in her life, both at work and at home. Now, once more, a man was leaving her life. gone forever? ... Leaving it? Well, not quite. Jackson and Deanna have separated. (At this writing.) He is in New York writing a play which he hopes to produce. There has been no divorce, and some say that there won’t be, that they'll reconcile. I hope such will be the case with Felix and Deanna. The fifth man in Deanna’s life came along to the accompaniment of another song, “Carousel In The Park,” from the screen version of the Broadway musical, Up In Central Park. He was Vincent Price. The song about the Carousel certainly fitted Deanna about the time she went into that picture. She was on a “merry-go- round” (which is another term for Carousel), and no doubt about it. While a nurse took care of little Jessica, Deanna was seen here and there with Vincent Price. She laughed when asked if it was romance. He was just her leading man in the picture they were making. She said she got tired of sitting home alone, he got tired of sitting home alone, so they went out and sat together, and danced and dined together, and had a lot of fun together, as anyone could plainly see, if they were watching. And what’s wrong with that? There have been other men. But Deanna has taken none of them seriously. ’ However, what she takes very seriously indeed, is the fact that as yet, with all her years of striving, she has been unable to get back up on top of the heap. When she was an adolescent kid singing pretty songs in a beautiful voice, riding bicycles, swimming, sailing, and running carefree through her pictures, she was rated one of the 10 top money-makers in Hollywood. Now, even though she has twice the acting experience and all those extra years of daily voice training (she sticks to her lessons and practices every day), Deanna no longer has the box-office pull of her kid days. Her latest picture is Kor the skin that doesnt like heavy foundation Flatter and protect your skin with a gentler, more natural foundation cream! A light. greaseless base that holds powder marvelously .. . yet never lets your face feel “coated”! A Sheerer Powder Base! Greaseless! No oily coating .. . No “made-up” look This softer, greaseless powder base lets you look like yourself and feel like yourself! No greasy, smothered feeling! Before powdering, just smooth on a touch of Pond’s Vanishing Cream. It disappears immediately, leaying only a protective, éransparent film. Suits every skin tone. Best of all, Pond’s Vanishing Cream takes powder beautifully and holds it! )} Ro oS. - 48 Glamour Mask for before make-up 4 “Re-styles” your face in 1-Minute! When you want your complexion to look its radiant best, give it a delightful beauty pick-up with Pond’s Vanishing Cream, smoothed on for a 1-Minute Mask. Just cover face, except eyes, with a lavish cloak of the cream. After one minute, tissue off clean. ‘‘Keratolytic’”’ action of Pond’s Vanishing Cream loosens clinging dirt and dead skin flakes. Dissolves them off! Your skin looks clearer, softer—even lighter. Make-up goes on smoothly, stays fresh all evening! Mis Muncy a Put I0Y5, “When I want to look perfect—that’s the moment for a 1-Minute Mask! In one minute— my complexion looks fresher, brighter. Make-up goes on evenly—and stays!” 89

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‘Soaping’ dulls hair Halo glorifies it! Y Not a soap, not a cream— cannot leave dulling film! Y Quickly, effectively removes dandruff from both hair and scalp! Y Gives fragrant, soft-water lather Yes, ‘‘soaping”’ your hair with even finest liquid or cream shampoos hides its natural lustre with dulling soap film even in hardest water! ¥ Leaves hair lustrously soft, easy JV Halo—not a soap, not a cream to manage—with —contains no sticky oils, nothing to hide your hair’s natural lustre with dulling film. Made with a new patented ingredient, Halo brings out glossy, shimmering highlights the very first time you use it! Its delightfully fragrant lather rinses away quickly, completely in any kind of water—needs no lemon or vinegar rinse. For hair that’s naturally colorful, lustrously soft, easy to manage—use Halo Shampoo! At any drug or cosmetic counter. colorful natural highlights! LL / > || SX swan f WITT, ( Halo reveals the hidden beauty of your hair! For The Love Of Mary—and it’s laying a horrible egg at this moment. Yes, Deanna’s screen career is swiftly fading. And the reason is that no one has found the right combination since Joe Pasternak and Henry Koster put Deanna on top. Well, those two did it before—and they could do it again! They know Deanna better than anyone else in the industry. They have the firm hands which could control Deanna’s temperament. If given the chance, it’s a cinch they could find that right combination again. I recently asked Deanna if she had talked to Joe Pasternak about doing a picture with him. “Oh, yes!” was her quick reply. ‘T see Joe quite often, and we've talked about it—but so far nothing has been done about it.” Then she added—rather wistfully, I thought—“Frankly, I’'d love doing a pic- ture with Joe again. He’s wonderful. . As she said that, with a dreamy quality in her throaty voice, I could see once again the little girl with the brown hair and blue eyes. I knew, then, that I was hoping in the right direction. But Universal seems to be about to give up hope on Deanna. Her contract runs out in September of 1949. It’s now common knowledge it probably won’t be renewed. italy in the spring... Deanna is still full of plans. It’s just been announced that she'll be going to Italy next spring to make a picture with Gos- fredo Alessandrini, one of the top Italian directors. The story will concern an Amer- ican girl studying grand opera. Some ex- traordinarily fine films have been coming out of Italy of late and perhaps Deanna’s will be another. If so—well, this might be the lady’s salvation. And she’s told friends she’d like to go to New York and star in a musical. That has worked for others; it might be the ticket for Deanna. Betty Grable went back to New York, took a leading role in Du- barry Was A Lady, and returned to Holly- wood an entirely new sensation. When I asked Deanna about going to Broadway, she said: “I haven’t made up my mind about it. I'd like to do a show on Broadway, but I haven't read any scripts as yet. I would enjoy the contact with a live audience. I'm sure it would improve both my acting and singing technique. .. . But if I went to New York to do a musical, I’d first want a period of months to train for the stage—it’s so differ- ent from the screen.” (That’s characteristic of Deanna. She works hard to reach the highest point of perfection.) Maybe a Broadway musical would do great things for Deanna. Maybe the Italian film will put her once again in the top brackets of popularity. But to me, there’s another solution for Deanna’s problem: I want to hear one particular song from Deanna to round out the list of songs whose titles have reflected her story. . I want to walk onto a motion picture set of a big Technicolor production. There I want to see a tremendous musical in the making, with a huge orchestra at the back of the stage. Beside the camera, in the director’s chair, I want to see the waving arms and hear the knife-like voice of Henry Koster. Standing just behind Kos- ter’s chair, I want to see alert-eyed Joe Pasternak, producer. In the center of that tremendous stage, surrounded by a setting worthy of her talents, I want to see the charm, the grace and the natural beauty of Deanna Durbin. As the cameras start grinding to Koster’s shout of “this is a take!”’ I want to hear one beautiful voice, Deanna’s voice, sing- ing a song symbolic of this scene. And the title of the song could only be— “We're Back Together Again.” THE END |

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_as Kelly’s locomotive, stuck down the back, | gently nudges you. You admire the gorgeous hooked rugs | which stretch their mellow reds and greens | She points out the Hope initials worked into the corners, and remarks that Kelly took _is first steps on these rugs. Dolores loves “good” things, but also things which can be changed and adapted “to a growing family’s needs. “With four youngsters, our needs change constantly,” | she says. “For instance, right now we're living all over the house. Our bedrooms | are in utter confusion at the moment as | we work out plans to move the children | into one wing of the house. Bob and I | will have the center part to entertain our | friends, and the other side will be for { | i were made by a family at Redondo Beach. Bob’s offices.” Making a home for four youngsters when - the man of the house is dashing off on | cross-country tours every few weeks, and | sometimes every few days, is a task Dolores takes in stride. The average person may - think that living with funny-man Hope is } one long series of laughs. Dolores knows ' differently. Living with Hope is wonderful, she agrees, but catching him on the run ' to discuss household problems, tearing off ‘|| to the airport to say goodbye or to wel- ' come him home, and at the same time | keeping her household running with pre- | cision, is quite a chore. | | Bob has three secretaries and an assis- tant. Dolores has a secretary. She has, in - addition, a cook, houseman, upstairs maid, and children’s nurse to supervise. There are house plans to be studied, and small knees to be bandaged, along with the settling of school problems. Mrs. Hope does all this with a calm born of long experi- ence. She can now plan her dinner menu with Kelly on her knee, with Tony at her elbow talking on the telephone, and with Bob and his writers, discussing his radio show not five feet away. She manages just fine, but she plans a few changes.” “We're going to make a terrace outside the living room. At one end, part of the children’s section, we’re going to put in a tennis court—and at the other end, a swimming-pool.” ST eae ear MODERN SCREEN |, “You find ourstubs, Henry—t'll get the Manager." HOUSE OF THE ONE-EYED GIRAFFE (Continued from page 51) " from wall to wall. Dolores tells you they . -But before she does a Single thing to the living-room, Dolores will transform the small, formal music room into a larger playroom for the children. It will be part of the children’s wing. : “Tony and Linda have to have a room of their own to entertain their school friends. Bob and I believe that they can’t start too young in learning to assume the responsibilities of host and hostess. Learn- ing to mix with others is so important. We don’t want them to think they’re ‘different’ or ‘special’ because their father is a movie star. Yes, that problem has come up. For instance, at school the other day, Tony and Linda were asked for their autographs. When they came home and asked me what they should do about these requests, I suggested that they tell their friends: ‘Our Daddy is the important one. If you want his autograph, we'll get it for you. But there’s no real reason for you to want ours, is there?’ “The two older children are normal, bright-eyed kids who attend St. Charles School. They get an allowance of a dollar a week, and are expected to put half of that in the collection plate on Sundays. They have chores to do about the house, and they practice their piano and French les- sons two afternoons a week. salesman in the family .. . “Tony has started his first business ven- ture,’ Dolores confides. “He’s selling sub- scriptions to his school paper as part of a drive his school is putting on. I let him have my personal telephone list, and he’s very serious about calling my friends and putting on a sales campaign. Yesterday he called a wealthy widow, and told her with great earnestness that if she would only take a subscription from him she could save herself a whole dollar a year. Believe it or not, he sold her!” But sometimes it doesn’t quite work out that way. Tony called up his former nurse, a French girl whose English is still very shaky, and after inquiring about her health, he launched into his sales talk with a build-up about the Cleveland Indians. Did she know what the Indians were do- ing? Excited squawks from the other end of the line told him that Mam/’zelle had no interest in wild Indians. . Tony’s explana- tion fell cn deaf ears, and that was one occasion when he had “no sale.” Cozy spots for family chats abound in the Hope home. There’s the playroom, its shelves lined with Bob’s trophies and souvenirs, where Tony and his Dad can shoot a little pool. There’s the music room with its deep grey carpet and softly-shaded lamps. There’s the couch and wing chairs grouped about the television set in the living-room. But best of all, the Hopes like to gather in “the nook,” located to the right of the living-room. Here, under a pastel portrait of Linda and Tony with “Red Son,” their first dog, there’s a straw- berry-pink couch with room for the entire family. If things get a little crowded, and Bob’s arms are too full of Kelly and Nora to encompass Tony, the subscription sales- man will settle, for the top of the coffee table. From there, Tony figures, you get a better view of your audience. A command- ing position from which to say: “Dad, when are you coming over to school again? I told the fellows in my grade that maybe you’d come next week.” One night, Linda, smoothing her tiny sister’s dark curls, came out with the prize remark of the evening. (Continued on page 93) _ Gy f c DULL DAYS CAN BE GAY DAYS RELIEVES FUNCTIONAL PERIODIC PAIN CRAMPS - HEADACHE ~"BLUES™ 5 aELEveS gRAM? EASES HEADACHE CHASES “Bi yes. MOTHERS: 24-page book, “What Women Want to Know’, explains menstruation. Sent Free in plain wrapper. Write: Room 2603, Dept.C29, 1450 Broadway, New York 18, NV

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pare ar (Continued from page 91) “Daddy, when are you going to have Gregory Peck on your program? When is he going to say, ‘What’s Bob Hope got that I haven’t got?’ You say that about him every week, and I think it would be a good | gag if he came and said it about you.” Bob, jumping to his feet with a baby under each arm, said: “That’s a swell idea, we'll use it!” And he dashed off in search of Charlie Cooley, his assistant, to get it written in right away. Bob and Dolores decided to remodel the house while he was still working on The _ Paleface at Paramount. They have decided that one room will remain intact through the tearing-down process, and that is the Pennsylvania Dutch breakfast room. For- merly a butler’s pantry, the room is aglow with golden brown panelling, with cup- boards scrolled and painted with floral de- signs. The children have their meals here, with the exception of special occasions when they dine formally in the dining room. When this happens, two pink-and- blue high chairs, are brought into use for the little ones. Dolores is filled with plans for her brood. Notre Dame or Loyola University for Tony ... Marymount Finishing School for Linda. And the babies? “I haven’t thought much about the future for Kelly and Nora. I hope they'll stay little for quite a while yet.” She lifts olive-skinned Nora from her lap with one deft movement, as she reaches for Kelly. He has just planted his woolly deer on the Welsh dresser. Firmly, Dolores hands it back to him. the young rebel... Kelly is the rebel of the brood. He got his hands slapped the other day for hurling his toys from the sun-deck above the garage after he’d been warned three times not to do so. Dolores punished him lightly, evoking indignant wails from the culprit, and causing tiny Nora to rush forward and flmg her arms protectingly about her brother. These babies, not yet three, have a fanatic devotion for each other. The older childen are firm friends, too. They have plenty of play time together, though they’re expected to study for cer- tain set hours, and to take care of their own rooms. Before they leave for school each morning, they make their beds, and tidy their clothes closets. The rooms are cleaned thoroughly once a week, by the maid, but for the rest of the time, the children are responsible for keeping every- thing in apple-pie order. Bob Hope is the perfect father. Pande- monium breaks loose nightly when the master of the house comes home after his day’s toil. Quite often his toil comes with him. One evening he burst through the doorway flanked by two writers and three secretaries. Tony put down his truck and made a flying tackle for Bob’s knees. Linda grabbed his arm. Nora and Kelly fastened like clams around his ankles. “Hello, dear,” said Bob, over their heads, to Dolores. “Anything new, today?” “Nothing much,’ answered Mrs. Hope brightly. “Just that the carpenters are here, and would like a few words with you before they knock out the bedroom walls. And I want you to move the babies’ beds into our room and, oh, yes—there’s some- body on the phone calling you from New York—what would you like to do first?” Nora settled that problem. She held up a droopy doll, greyish in color. Its head hung sideways, and stuffing oozed from its neck. “Daddy fix it?” she asked hopefully. So he waved all other business aside while he sat on the stairway to cope with his younger daughter’s pressing problem. First and foremost, Bob’s a father. THE END METROPOLITAN OPERA STAR RISE STEVENS SAYS’ tor dream hands, “I give my hands the same beauty care I give my face— I CREAM them! That’s why it’s Pacquins for me,’’ says Try her meth ream your hands ~ od for just 3 days...a 12-second massage with non-sticky, non-greasy aeguins Hand Geam ...morning...night...whenever your skin needs softening @ Try this Pacquins hand massage... morning... night... any time your hands need soothing, softening. Your own love- lier hands will tell you why Pacquins is the favorite of so many stats. If hands are chapped, roughened, or dry, if housework leaves your hands scrub- MARION PUNCH, R. N., says: “Pacquins Hand Cream is a ‘must’ on my chart! With the dozens of scrubbings my hands submit to every day, nothing less cherishing than Pacquins could keep them socially ac- ceptable—soft, smooth, lovely. Pacquins was originally formulated for doctors and nurses.” Among the famous stars who use Pacquins are: GLADYS SWARTHOUT *« GERTRUDE LAWRENCE LYNN FONTANNE * VERA ZORINA * JOAN BENNETT ON SALE AT ALL COSMETIC COUNTERS IN U. S. AND CANADA ugly, smooth them ... soothe them... with Pacquins. There’s no waste, no spill- ing... no greasy after-film. Keep that jar of Pacquins within easy reach. For truly dream hands... follow opera star Risé Stevens’s advice: CREAM them regularly with Pacquins. wns creAM =

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94 Cone Designs Old Rugs, Clothing Save You up to V2 ft’s All So Easy! oe today for big Free Olson Rug Catalog (and Decorating Guide) that p.tells how your materials are ‘picked up at your door and 5 shipped at our expense to the 2 Olson Rug Factory, where... By the Olson Process we sterilize, shred, merge mate- rials of all kinds—reclaim val- | uablewools, etc., then bleach, picker, card, spin, redye ee ) and weave deep-textured fan gl New Reversible = BROADLOOM RUGS in sizes for all needs up to 16 ft. seamless, any length, in: Solid Colors Two-tones Ovals Tweeds Leaf Early American, Oriental Designs FACTORY you Our 75th Year! We guarantee to please, or pay for your material. Over 2 million customers. We do not sell thru » Stores or agents. . Write today for the ¥y beautiful 40 page #8) Olson Book of rugs, model rooms and decorating hints. Chicage New York S. Frisco Reversible Florals MAIL COUPON or 1¢ POSTAL Tai : SON RUG CO.,N-35,Chicase ‘ EE to: ! aed mail the Olson Catalog FR. r aocroriornesnesee WV AIE eonceennnerenerre™ I ee WADDRESS ar STATE...---+- Sey t weer on own. - © orc 1948 Loase see Said fan fare The boys missed a lot when Jean Peters asked them to stay home (see “Something Not For The Boys” on page 34). MODERN SCREEN’S Reba and Bonnie Churchill carried their best lounging togs over to Jean’s house and stayed to nibble on... franks in blanks @ Split frankfurter roll lengthwise and lay frankfurter on it. Top with a slice of cheese and bacon and place under broiler until well-browned. Of course, for a terrific effect you can add condiments such as catsup, mus- tard, relish, minced onion or hot sauce. This was favorite snack at Jean Peters’ party. apples on a stick (can be served cold if desired) Y, cup water 2 tablespoons butter 12 small apples 1 cup mild-flavored molasses 1 cup sugar 1 teaspoon cider vinegar Y, teaspoon salt @ Combine molasses, sugar, vinegar, salt and water. Cook slowly, stirring constantly to 270° F. (or when a small quantity dropped into cold water forms a hard ball). Remove from heat; add butter. Dip apples into syrup, covering entire surface. Place on waxed paper to cool. Insert wooden stick for holder. pop corn balls 114 cups molasses 7, cup corn syrup 1 tablespoon butter or fortified margarine VY, teaspoon baking soda 4 quarts corn, slightly salted Y, cup chopped peanuts, raisins or semi-sweet chocolate, optional @ Cook together molasses, corn syrup and shortening until small amount, - when dropped in cold water, becomes brittle. Stir in soda and pour over popped corn until each piece is coated. Add peanuts, raisins or semi-sweet chocolate bits, if desired. Shape into balls. Makes about 14 large balls. hot chocolate (can be served cold if desired) 1 tablespoon ground chocolate 2 teaspoons sugar (unsweetened) 3/, cup milk A dash of salt, allspice, cinnamon and 1 egg nutmeg @ Mix chocolate, sugar, salt and all spices with a little milk. (Enough milk to make a smooth paste). Stir in remaining milk, add egg, and beat thoroughiv and serve. For hot chocolate, heat milk. cocoa whipped cream VY, tablespoon salt 2 tablespoons cocoa 1 cup heavy cream 2 tablespoons sugar @ Mix together cocoa, sugar, and salt. Add cream gradually, stirring to keep mixture smooth. Chill one hour, then whip with rotary egg beater until mixture is stiff. Makes about two cups—delicious to top hot choco- late drinks.

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eo MEXICAN ESCAPADE (Continued from page 47) Vacationers were to defeat the panting newspapermen at every turn throughout their stay in Mexico City. (A fellow passenger reported that Ali had hidden in the men’s room of the plane until after the takeoff in Los Angeles, to avoid photographers, and that he and Rita had sat side by side throughout most of the trip and were “very lovey-dovey.”) While the skirmish was going on at the airport, I had been standing in the lobby of the big new Hotel Del Prado in down- town Mexico City, where Rita had re- served accommodations for “one suite and two single rooms.” With me was Frank Tremaine, manager of the Mexico City bureau of the United Press. We figured, at 9:45 a.m., that Rita and Ali would be showing up any minute. We waited. And waited. When they didn’t come, we began to get suspicious. Then the truth dawned on us. Rita had made reservations at the Del Prado in order to send the press to that hotel while she and her Prince pulled an “incognito” gag and quietly established themselves in another hotel! The Prince, Rita, and her “retinue” (which included her secretary, Miss Shifra Haran) were comfortably ensconced at the other hotel before anybody could snap a picture or attempt an interview. Naturally, the press tried to reach them by telephone. “Miss Hayworth is sleep- ing and cannot be disturbed,” was the an- swer the management gave to all calls up until 3 p.m. when Miss Haran finally started answering the ‘phone. the vigil... Reporters and photographers started camping out in the lobby of Rita’s hotel. They had a long wait because the couple didn’t come out. The manager blandly stated that “Ali Khan is not registered.” About four o’clock on Monday after- noon, a non-employee of the hotel was sauntering along the fourth floor corridor and saw porters carrying additional fur- niture into Suite 401. Standing in the doorway, directing the moving, was a beautiful blonde in a sky-blue housecoat. This man asked Miss Hayworth (whom he recognized), “Can you tell me some- thing about your future plans?” Rita blinked and snapped, “No, no, I can’t!”—and slammed the door in his face. She seemed disconcerted by this unex- pected contretemps. After that, there was one such situation after another, each more improbable than the last... . Monday night, Nov. 1—Rita and Prince Ali dined in the night club of their hotel. (No photos—no interviews!) Tuesday night, Nov. 2—Rita and Ali danced cheek-to-cheek and drank cham- pagne in Victor Sanchez’ night club, the Intime. (No photos—no interviews!) Wednesday, Nov. 3—Just before noon, Rita sneaked out of the hotel by way of the restaurant (which faces one street) and Prince Ali by way of the flower shop (which faces another street). Rita en- tered a dark red limousine and was whisked away into the traffic. Prince Ali stepped into a black limousine which awaited him at the curb outside the flower shop. He also was whisked away. Three blocks from the starting point, Prince Ali’s limousine halted alongside Rita’s, he got out of his car, entered hers, _and kissed her warmly on the cheek. Then they laughed gaily and ordered the chauf- feur to drive them to “the Pyramids” (the _ famous Aztec “Pyramid of the Sun” and “Pyramid of the Moon” at San Juan de ales ii no meat! The iron in Swift’s Strained Meats helped prevent anemia—so com- mon in early infancy. 100% meat—Swift’s Strained Meats provide lots of complete, high-quality proteins. Complete, because meat proteins supply all of the essential body-builders (amino acids). And baby must get all of them at the same time for the best and stur- diest growth. Meat gives baby natural B vitamins and iron to build good red blood. Sixkinds: beef, lamb, pork, veal, liver, heart —help baby acquirea taste for variety, form sound eating habits. Ready to heat and serve! EPR EP Ne SF Co) y COUNCILON: YY F4\ FOODS AND |S EA\ KUTRITION Jes % Ss @, S * meoicat «> Tests with Swift's Strained Meats show meat-fed babies in better physical condition Actual test feedings show babies thrive on Swift’s Strained Meats—specially pre- pared for earlier meat feeding.* Meat-fed babies were in better physical condition, more satisfied than babies who received *YourR VPocTror— zs best qualified to Say how early your baby should start Swift?s Strained Meats—ask him. Meats-Babies! . Sried BEEF sient . 3 BETES All nutritional statements made in this advertisement are accepted by the Council on Foods and Nutrition of the American Medical Association. ( PLENTY eGo SPECIAL) 5 ais DICED op ‘ MEATS for— CREEPERS TODDLERS KINDERGARTENERS— ( just learning (to tempt to chew) finicky appetites In fact--whole families are , wild about delicious Wilts Meats | SWI FT. .. foremost name in meats FOR JUNIOR ... Lest with (00% Mears tor abies | SWIFT & COMPANY, CHICAGO 9, ILLINOIS mY. ) (so nourishing! Six varieties)

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QO OOOO So AR Pi eno eRe E Teotihuacan, located about a half-hour’s drive from Mexico City). Wednesday night, Nov. 3—Rita and Ali made no public appearance. Thursday night, Nov. 4—While Rita and Ali were enjoying the intimate, low-light- ed atmosphere of the Intime, their hotel was crawling with photographers. Four- teen of them prowled the lobby, the bar, and the restaurant, and covered every en- trance and exit of the hotel. This time, they vowed, they’d get a picture of the elusive twosome. Meantime, at the Intime, only one pho- tographer was on the snoop. Juan Guz- man, known locally as “the lens boy who never misses,” had the field to himself. He focused—and was seized and tossed out of the place by strong-arm experts and threatened with the “personal protection” law—which I'll tell you about in a min- ute—if he succeeded in getting a picture of Rita and her Prince together. “Why?” yelled Guzman, backed by the towering indignation of his colleagues. “What’s this secrecy all about? They’ve been photographed together all over Europe. Why not in Mexico?” No answer was forthcoming. Later, no- body answered the telephone at Rita’s apartment and Ali was “not available.” personal protection... Now Il tell you about Mexico City’s six-months-old “personal protection law.” Up until six months ago, a number of shady characters, armed with cameras, roamed freely among the tables in Mex- ico City’s swankiest restaurants, bars and night clubs, snapping pictures at will. The “take” from these pictures was lush. These “photographers,” out for blackmail, spe-~ cialized in pictures of married men (or women) who’d gone out for an evening of fun with companions not their legal mates. The price for “silence,” plus the negative, was high. The lens lizards rolled in pesos. Then, Fernando Casas Aleman, Governor of the Distrito Federal (Federal District— like our District of Columbia) and cousin of President Miguel Aleman, issued a de- cree barring the taking of any and all pictures which were not sanctioned by those to be photographed. Knowing this, Rita and Ali hid behind this decree in perfect security. “But,” said the legitimate press pho- tographers, comforting each other’s in- - jured feelings, “this decree holds only in the Distrito Federal! to Acapulco!” Then, under pressure from the news- papers, the manager of Rita’s hotel gave in and somehow persuaded Rita to hold a press conference. He called the reporters and photographers to his private office at four o'clock Friday afternoon. Expect- ing to catch Rita and Ali together “under correct conditions”—with freedom to fire questions and flash bulbs—the reporters were all very excited. There was a half-hour wait. Rita came in—alone! As she sat nervously answering ques- tions—some of them, anyhow—Rita seemed every tired, with dark circles under her beautiful eyes. She wore a simple, me- dium-length, unadorned black dress and skyscraper-heeled black suede shoes. Her only jewelry was an oval-shaped gold me- dallion of Mexico’s patron saint, the Virgin of Guadalupe, rimmed with 11 sizable diamonds. “May I ask who gave you the medal- lion?” one reporter inquired. “Yes,” replied Rita with a smile. Wait until they go Finally, “My agent, Johnny Hyde.” Disappointment could actually be felt in the room. Here was the “Lady of the Royal Romance” without her Prince, not wearing even one of the fabled diamonds, 96 rubies, emeralds or sapphires of Prince Ali’s vast collection! This, thought the romantic press gang, was a definite let- down. To the direct question, “Are you plan- ning to marry Prince Ali Khan when your divorce from Orson Welles is final on No- vember 10th?” Rita replied, “That is my personal life and I have no statement to make.” From Hollywood, it had been reported that Rita and the Prince would be aboard the Pan-American plane bound for Miami on November 14th, but Rita wouldn’t talk of her plans—or say anything whatsoever that would give a line on her and Ali Khan. That night, after the press conference, Rita and Ali enjoyed a quiet dinner with wines at the fashionable Ambassadeurs restaurant on the Paseo dela Reforma, completely immune from the press boys, who didn’t know where they were. For three hours, the two held hands and ex- changed soft glances oblivious of the other diners—not one of whom had thought of bringing a camera. On Saturday night, Rita, elegantly and formally gowned and accompanied by her Prince in a faultlessly-tailored dark gray suit, entered the dining room of their hotel. Up popped photographer Victor de Palma, an old friend of Rita’s. They ex- changed saludos and Vic focused his camera. He flashed. He had his picture— the first and only picture obtained of Rita and Ali together in Mexico City. Nobody said a word. Prince Ali winked one eye—that was all. Out of nowhere appeared two detectives who grabbed Vic’s camera, opened it, exposed the film to the glare of a bright table lamp, and handed the camera back to Vic. “The gentleman doesn’t want his picture that’s ho “No matter how much money I make, I cannot buy the things taken for granted as part of any American’s way of life. Any restaurant, anywhere, will serve him a glass of water. He and his children can use any public lavatory in any state of the Union. In case of an emergency, any hospital will admit him. He can drop into any church for a word of prayer. Any free library is open for his use—and his children are welcome in any public school. “We can ride as he pleases in any form of public transportation. He stands an even chance, along with others of his background, training and experience, when he applies for a job. If he has any money, he can spend it wherever he pleases. He can get a room in any hotel in any city in the country. He can buy a meal in any restaurant. He can live in any section of the city he chooses which is within his financial means. “T can’t!” That’s frank and forthright talk—not from an impoverished member of the minority, but from a glamorous, $5,000- a-week actress—Lena Horne. It’s from her forthcoming autobiography, “In Person” (Boni and Gaer), and just a sample of its eye-opening and, we hope, mind-opening chapters. Irving Hoffman in The Hollywood Reporter taken,” they told De Palma in the under- statement of the year. Early the next morning I caught sev- eral of Mexico’s top photographers ready- ing their cameras at the biggest bullring in the world, the Plaza Mexico—where Rita and Ali just had to be together! The photographers had checked the number of the tickets which Rita had personally ordered and paid for. This time they wouldn’t miss—“with these telescopic lenses she won’t even see us!” They primed their cameras, crossed their fingers, and waited for the hands of their watches to point to 4 p.m.—the hour of the desfile de matadores (opening parade) of the Fiesta Brava. Came the hour. The matadores, pica- dores and ayudantes, in glittering gold- and-silver-embroidered trappings, filed into the gigantic Plaza to the tune of the spine-thrilling music of “La Virgen de la Macarena.” With field glasses, the press boys trained their eyes on the box in which Rita and Ali were due to be seated. In those seats were two bellboys from the hotel! the scene shifts... Checking -the airport, the newshounds’ worst fears were realized. Rita and Prince Ali had left for Acapulco, aboard a private plane, at 10:30 that morning. Now let’s go back two years or so to the summer of 1946. Rita was then still married to Orson Welles and they and their Lady From Shanghai company were on location in Acapulco, living in a hill- top hotel overlooking blue Acapulco Bay. Errol Flynn was in Acapulco, having put in at the tropical port en route to Europe aboard his yacht, Zaca. Errol’s presence in Acapulco was perfectly timed, since Welles needed a yacht for scenes for his picture. He made a deal with Flynn to rent the Zaca. And so Flynn and his crew remained. Now, the Zaca’s first mate was the blond Swiss, Teddy Stauffer, erstwhile manager of Mexico City’s Casanova night club (now closed), a musician-of-sorts and an in- timate of the international set. He had shipped on as a crew member of the Zaca on Flynn’s promise to take him to Europe —his first chance to visit Rome since the end of the war. Orson and Rita were fighting constantly all through the filming of Lady From Shanghai. Orson was going out night after night and leaving Rita alone at the hilltop hotel. Always by her side at the bar was Teddy Stauffer. His shoulder was a handy one to cry on—and Rita used it. Shortly after her return to Hollywood, Rita filed suit for divorce and Teddy Stauffer showed up in: the film capital. Rita sailed for Europe after her divorce was granted. Stauffer, it happened, was aboard the same ship. Somewhere along the line, after they hit Europe, Rita and Teddy became separated. Then, on the French Riviera, Rita found her long-lost Prince Ali Khan—whom she had met in Hollywood a number of years before. Ali took one look—and then was really lost. Well, Rita and Ali escaped from Mexico City to Acapuleo—and one of the most interesting things about this is that Teddy Stauffer nowadays is manager of the Hotel Casablanca, one of Acapulco’s leading hos- telries. ... Acapulco—Rita and Ali arrived in Aca- pulco on Sunday, November 7. They had made reservations at the Hotel Casa- blanca—and, pulling the same dodge as they did in Mexico City, they checked in at the Hotel de las Americas instead. In Acapulco, a famous American news magazine had made elaborate preparations to photograph the elusive couple. Cameras with telephoto lenses were concealed at-

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= a Ss SS ae a DP ST PELE TD | _Or did they? i) 4 numerous strategic points commanding views of places where, it was thought, Rita and Ali would be practically certain to appear together. But once again the photographers were thwarted. During their entire stay in Acapulco, Rita and the Prince sallied forth together only once, when they took off in a hired automobile. When this occurred, there were no hidden cameras set up in the proper spot—and the men from the news magazine didn’t dare to run up and snap away, since this, they feared, would cause their quarry to leave the city promptly, thus ruining the possibility of getting much more interesting shots later on with the concealed cameras. And why didn’t anybody. else manage to get pictures for the newspapers and maga- zines? The explanation is simple. Prince Ali had a standing offer of 1,000 pesos for the negative of any photo of him and Rita together. The press was offering 150 pesos. So it’s understandable that, if any were achieved, none was ever printed. Aside from that automobile outing, Rita made no public appearances, whatsoever, with Ali. He frequently went swimming, at the beach and in the hotel pool—but Rita seldom stirred from her suite and re- mained in bed daily until long after noon. Mexico City—Rita and Ali returned to the capital by car on Thursday, Novem- ber 18. They checked into the Hotel Del Prado under the names of Margaret Wells of Hollywood and Albert Cameron of Beverly Hills. Here they continued as they had in Acapulco, never venturing forth together until, on November 24, they left by plane for Havana. steamed-up press... A report on the Mexico City doings of Rita and Ali wouldn’t be complete without the inclusion of a few comments by the steamed-up press. Wrote Julio Sorel in the newspaper Novedades: “Rita said nothing when she arrived in Mexico. ... We send a bunch of black narcissi, Rita. . . . Welcome to Mexico ... woman who walks asleep .. . volcano covered with snow, with sun on its crest and beauty in the architecture of body!” And Clara Montes in Universal Grafico: “We remember, barely three years ago, when Rita attended a party in the Ameri- can Embassy, on the arm of the dynamic Orson Welles, then her husband. Now, they are separated by a half-world of distance and coldness, Orson in Rome, Rita in Mexico. And between them (is) the figure of Ali Khan... . - “With an Embassy as a background and Orson Welles .. . at her side, Rita seemed searcely touched with makeup, simply dressed. She was the most gentile and dis- tinguished woman in the gathering of Cistinguished women. The men envied Rita, and love seemed to surround their young heads like a halo. And now, Rita is here with us (again), but invisible to the press! “The hotel administration was besieged by reporters the day Rita arrived with her Prince. While the world shakes with such transcendental news as Chiang Kai- Shek’s defeat in China and the Presiden- tiai election in the United States, the press of Mexico City follows the trail of Rita and her Prince!” Yes, the press of Mexico City was. steamed up—and completely frustrated— by Rita and Prince Ali, who wanted a quiet holiday together, unmolested by the pryings of the outside world. Yes, Rita and Prince Ali won a great victory in their battle for privacy. - Tue Enp Aré you in the know? SE Which square dance step is he calling ? O Birdie in the Cage How about giving a square dance party? Scene: your home (playroom preferred!). Music: courtesy of folk dance discs or the crowd’s own vocal cords. First, learn the steps and calls —suchas “‘Birdie in the Cage”’ (see illus above). And don’t let difficult days How to cope with a cowlick ? OO Fight it OO Favor it OO Forget it Ornery critters —cowlicks. You can neither take ’em or leave ’em. But if you favor a cowlick by parting the hair directly into the center of that stubborn tuft—it behaves! There’s another smart plan you can favor, at certain times. That’s trying the 3 ab- sorbencies of Kotex—to find the one just right for you. Remember all 3 have an ex- clusive’ safety center, assuring you of extra protection with Regular, Junior or Super Kotex. Keeps you extra confident! 0 Address Partners OJ Dosey-do keep you “‘caged,”’ when Kotex can free you from discomfort. Made to stay soft while you wear it, Kotex gives softness that holds its shape. And see how freely your new, all- elastic Kotex Sanitary Belt lets you bend —because it’s adjustable; doesn’t bind! What “new note’ does this coat bring ? 1 Back interest OO A break for tall teens OD Another beauty ritual Each answer is correct. The coat shown has new “‘back interest’; styling that flatters “‘slamazons.”’ The new beauty ritual? Neck care! That collar-rubbing means extra scrub- bing and softening (with lotion) to save your neck. Back interest in dresses is often a matter of eye-catching trimming, rather than flare. So on “‘those”’ days, choose the napkin that prevents telltale outlines! With those special, flat pressed ends of Kotex, you're smooth—from any view! More women choose KOTEX than all other sanitary napkins 3 ABSORBENCIES- REGULAR, JUNIOR, SUPER

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What’s more, it’s easy on the system. Still only 10¢. When Your Child has a COLD ...be sure he keeps “regular”. When he needs a laxative, give him gentle Ex-Lax. It brings effective relief without upsetting him. When Nature forgets... remember EX-LAX THE CHOCOLATED LAXATIVE e THE GIRL HE CAN'T FORGET (Continued from page 41) star in Hollywood. When Cary first caught sight of her on the Queen Elizabeth he blinked and suddenly remembered he’d seen her on the London stage in Deep Are The Roots. Her performance in that play had impressed him, but, at the time, he hadn’t particularly wanted to meet her. However, seeing her on the boat at close quarters, and with moon rhyming with June, it was a different brew of witchery. So it was normal and natural that when the boat docked, they made a date to meet in Manhattan. Cary was due to report to Hollywood for the lead in Every Girl Should Be Married. His co-stars were to have been Jennifer Jones and Barbara Bel Geddes. But David Selznick, who owns Miss Jones, said she was available only on condition that the rest of the package also came from his stable of stars—which in- cludes Joseph Cotten, Shirley Temple, Guy Madison, Robert Mitchum and Alida Valli. Producer-director Don Hartman said, “I want Cary Grant, or nothing.” At which very strategic point Cary said, “And I want Betsy Drake or nothing.” It was no ro- mance, he was very careful to point out— just helping a good little performer. ho romance... And it was still “no romance,” from Betsy as well as Cary, all during the shoot- ing of the picture—even though they dined together every single night in Cary’s per- manent dressing room on the RKO lot, and lunched together every day. Sometimes, it was with the rest of the company for lunch, but it was always tete-a-tete for dinner. The reason they gave for the quiet dinners together was that they were studying the script. They found it superfluous to add that they were also studying each other. On the set, Cary spent more time in Betsy’s dressing room than in his own. And_ one time, when Betsy had to do a very emotional scene, Cary ordered everyone off the set. One wonderful thing Betsy has done for Cary is to extinguish completely the torch he was carrying for Barbara Hutton, Mrs. Grant Number 2. It happened when they were on location in San Francisco with their picture. Cary received a wire from Barbara in Europe wishing him luck. At that time, San Francisco spelled “Barbara” for Cary. They had spent a lot of time there in the early happy years of their marriage and the city was full of tender, happy memories for them both. After receiving the wire, Cary was moody all day. Betsy, wise for her years, ignored the moodiness without knowing its cause. During dinner she prattled about herself and the movie. By the time coffee was served, Cary had forgotten his gloom. And now San Francisco means “Betsy” at least as much as “Barbara.” Not: more, probably, because Cary never completely falls out of love with his former wives. Cary was still not securely established in Hollywood when he and his first wife, Virginia Cherrill, were married back in 1932. And so there were financial difficul- ties to intensify the battles brought on by fundamental differences in temperament. Virginia always wanted to have lots of people around; Cary didn’t. Virginia was extremely frank and outspoken; Cary is easy-going and diplomatic. After one of the most tempestuous marriages ever re- corded in Hollywood, they parted. Yet, when Virginia visited Hollywood after their divorce, she and Cary went around together so much that several columnists predicted they’d re-marry. And even when he was with Betsy last summer in Europe, it’s a cinch that he went to see the ailing Barbara Hutton. : What caused Cary’s divorce from Bar- bara could never happen with Miss Drake. In the first important place, Cary had absolutely nothing in common with Bar- bara. She didn’t like the motion picture business or picture personalities. She hated living in Hollywood. All her close friends were European. Her house was always full of members of the international set. Her first and third husbands were Prince Midvani and Prince Troubetsky. Cary, born in Britain, loves Hollywood. And he loathes society parties. He and Barbara battled continuously about the parties and what he should wear for them. Cary wanted to stay home in old clothes and read a book. Barbara insisted on a tuxedo and elegant conversation with the international set. Sometimes he’d go along with her on this. Sometimes he wouldn’t. I remember Cary once walked out on one of Barbara’s own parties at their mansion! Betsy hates big parties as much as Cary does. And she is, if anything, more shy and reserved than he is. In fact, Cary has tried to teach her to expand with people be- cause he thinks it will help her career. “When in doubt, whisper in my ear,” Cary has told Betsy. They are now two of the greatest whisperers in the world. When Betsy has anything important to say, she puts her lips close to Cary’s always listening ear. Even in Alcatraz—for a scene in their picture, of course! Betsy kept pulling Cary into an unused cell for a whispering session. No matter where they are, she draws him apart and whispers. And Cary loves it! With Betsy he doesn’t have to worry about how to amuse her. She likes every- thing. Recently he took her to see the long- WHAT PAPER DO YOU READ? Blood On The Moon, a sombre Western, must have gone stodgy somewhere be- tween scripts and editing. At the Globe, it unreels a dark and dismal picture, confusing to the city slicker through at least its whole first reel, then not so much to make yippee about! Irene Thirer New York Post The Globe is showing a Western with a top-notch cast, the kind of cast usually absent from horse opera. Blood On The Moon is an action film, with plenty of melodrama, hard riding, murder and sudden death. . . . This is an outdoor drama which moves right along, some- thing happens every minute, and that something usually in the homicidal line. Blood On The Moon lives up to its title. Eileen Creelman The New York Sun Although Robert Mitchum gets himself shot, stabbed and beaten up during the course of Blood On The Moon, the new film at the Globe emerges as a curiously static Westerner. Rose Pelswick Daily Mirror

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SDS ee running and very popular Ken Murray’s Blackouts. At the show, Ken turned the spotlight on Cary and he took a bow— something he’d never have done in his pre-Betsy Drake days. Betty Hensel, the blonde beauty who followed blonde Barbara, was more on the Betsy Drake side than the other loves of Cary Grant. She is very simple in her tastes and, although a socialite, not too social—more on the intellectual side. This romance came to a sudden end when Cary, who is usually very faithful to his loves while he is loving, suddenly found himself falling hard for one of his leading ladies—who, by the way, also has a B in her name. He did not, of course, de- clare himself, because the lady was—and still is—married. But Betty didn’t like it— and took a powder. She is now working as a model at Adrian’s. Cary has hundreds of acquaintances, but . few close friends. And yet, more than any man I know, he wants to be loved. And women want to love him—he is so fascinat- ing and eligible and attractive! I remember how Marilyn Maxwell carried on when Cary asked for a dinner date. She was like a freshman escorted to a prom by the Yale football captain. And when Cary was star- ring in Night and Day at Warners, Dorothy Malone used to swoon, just about, at his feet. And Bette Davis, working on a nearby set, found lots of reasons to visit him for long, intimate chats. (During Mr. Grant’s gay bachelor days with Randy Scott, when they shared the same house in Santa Monica, they could have used five secre- taries to handle all the calls from girls.) between romances... Now, don’t get me or Cary wrong—be- tween his romances, he is like any other carefree wolf on the prowl. It’s only when he’s considering marriage that Cary clams up and brackets a girl’s affection with his suspicion. But I do believe that Miss Drake has broken through the Grant caution of the past 10 years. It’s true that he has already done more for her career than any ten agents could do, and even today Betsy is more interested in a career than in mar- riage—but she seems to love him and, I’m sure, he looks on her as being the square- shooter she obviously is. Regardless of whether Betsy marries Cary or not, I am convinced she will con- tinue as a movie actress.. I don’t think she’d be happy with anybody in married retirement. But to do a Mr.-and-Mrs. act- ing job like Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall or Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne —well, that would be very okay with Betsy. There is an erroneous belief in Holly- wood that Cary owns Miss Drake’s movie contract, along with her heart. “I don’t,” Cary told me when I queried him. “But,” he added with a smile, “I suppose I can al- ways get her if I want her!” Betsy’s contract belongs 50 per cent to Howard Hughes and 50 per cent to David Selznick. When David could not sell his own girls to RKO for Every Girl Should Be Married, he did the next best thing—he bought half of Betsy. But both Selznick and Hughes have an understanding with Mr. Grant that any time he wants her for his pictures, he gets her. And that’s good busi- ness for Selznick and Hughes—because every woman star in Hollywood yearns to get Cary as her co-star. ; There’s talk already of a follow-up for Every Girl Should Be Married—to show what happens after Betsy bags the man of her choice. That should be very inter- esting. The movie will, of course, have a happy ending. And it’s time for Cary to have a happy ending in his real-life mating. I think this time he will. THE END i wiit Goaceg My WRECKING HER MARRIAGE... because her knowledge about these INTIMATE PHYSICAL FACTS is not complete or scientific? 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A high potency—10,000 international $9,:.9 0 units per ounce. A reasonable price. ota No C.0.D.’s please. 40c fed. tax) R JOSEPH STARLEY Apothecary and Chemist 509 Fifth Ave., Dept. M2, New York 17, N. Y. HOLLYWOOD'S CRUELEST HOAXES (Continued from page 57) he usually picks on the most loved per- sonalities. A good friend of Clark Gable’s reported that the worst day he ever spent in his life came when rumor swept through his Army camp that Gable had been killed. “For some reason I can’t explain,” he said, “I actua!ly believed it, perhaps by the sheer weight of the number of people who told me. I believed it so strongly that when on the same day there was a news broad- cast concerning the death of President Roosevelt, I scoffed at that—it seemed so impossible.” Some day, perhaps, the arch fiend who has menaced the Bing Crosby family will be located, locked up in an insane asylum or dealt with otherwise, according to the proper legal methods. It’s an unsolved mystery whether or not the person was insane, who somehow discovered the tele- phone number of the Crosby home some years ago and called to tell Dixie that Bing, then on tour with Bob Hope, had met sud- den death. Nevertheless, a similar call has been repeated almost yearly. The last was in the form of a message to columnist Jimmy Starr. It was three am. when Jimmy was wakened by the insistent ring- ing of his telephone. Sleepily, he cursed the fates that had made him a news-hound and answered. “Huh? What's that you say? ... Crosby dropped dead just now on the golf course? ... Why, nuts to you! You thought Id be glad to get the scoop? ... Well, I sure am. If Crosby is out playing golf at three a.m., he should drop dead—and so should you!” Jimmy hung up and went back to sleep. The rumor didn’t. A couple of other columnists had already given credence to the story, and as they checked its authen- ticity, the rumor began to spread. Psychiatry has a definition for the warped minds capable of concocting such stories and deliberately launching them. The person who originates such a rumor is as temporarily insane as the fire bug who sets a blaze and then turns in the alarm so that he may watch the fire engines. The only difference is that the death rumor- monger is more difficult to detect since his presence on the scene may be in one of a hundred thousand homes as he looks feverishly through the morning papers to find news of the havoc he has wrought. nerrow escape... An imaginative script-writer could con- coct an amazing mystery over the recent events in the lives of Ida Lupino and her husband, Collier Young. Early one eve- ning, shortly after dusk, the two were in their bedroom, dressing for dinner. Their conversation was punctuated by a flat noise like a slap, followed by a shower of glass. They turned to see a bullet hole in a bed- room window. Both Ida and her husband are sensible people. It could have been an accident, for they live on the top of a mountain off Mul- holland Drive and on occasions there has been illegal target-practice and rabbit- hunting. Immediately, they reported the matter to the police, who had a similar theory. They felt better, until two nights later both their dogs disappeared. . Now Ida was convinced that something was afoot. And she had sufficient reason. Only a few years ago, while a member of the Women’s Ambulance Corps, she had suffered a cruel trick at the hands of some unknown tormentor. Early one evening, she received a telephone call, telling her to take her station wagon to a specified corner and wait there for the arrival of a truck which was to bring an iron lung for an urgent hospital case. Ida didn’t question the call. She hurried to the appointed place and waited. She waited for three hours, in her mind picturing the scene in which some patient was dying for want of the iron lung. Finally, she borrowed a nearby phone, checked every official contact she had, and finally became convinced that she was the victim of an unbelievable hoax. Again, mysterious things have begun to happen to Ida. Of course, her fears were allayed in the case of her dogs’ disappear- ance when they were discovered, several days later, in the pound where they had || been mistakenly taken by some house- “ holder who lived at the bottom of the canyon. There may have been nothing to 7 those recent events. But then again... target for tonight .. . Movie stars have for years been “target for tonight” for innumerable hoax artists. | Some of the hoaxers are sad cases—people who have lost their sanity and whose hallucinations happen by accident to in- volve famous people. One of these was a former service man who came to Holly- wood and began to hang around Van Johnson’s home. He claimed that the actor had “sent for him.” It developed that this poor lad suffered from severe mental dis- location due to his fighting in the South Seas, and his last memory seemed to be of a picture in which Van had appeared. Sometimes a star may innocently start a chain of events that brings to light the number of hoaxers who live throughout the country. This happened to Ann Sothern, who once allowed a writer to tell the story of her missing sister. Ann had not seen the girl, who was actually her half-sister, since the two were youngsters. She sincerely wanted to get in touch with her, and after considerable convincing of a_ skeptical editor, the story was published. Imme- diately there came a flood of letters from young women. Some said they “thought” they might be the lost sister. Others, the majority, insisted that they were, and many of them asked for money. Almost six weeks passed before a letter came from a young lady who described in detail what each had worn on the last day they had seen each other. In addition, she presented evidence that could not be con- tradicted. Ann welcomed the girl when she arrived in Hollywood for a visit, and as if all the other certainties were not enough proof, the sister stayed only a few weeks and then went happily home to the Middle West. Despite this, Ann still received letters for months from impostors. Perhaps the worst of all hoax artists are the parents who deliberately offer their children for adoption. Then, after a year or two has passed, they manage to find out who has the child. They claim a “change of heart,” and threaten court action unless the child is returned. Not so peculiarly, this seldom happens unless the parents are wealthy—or in the movie business. And also invariably, just before the child is re- turned there is the hint that they can be persuaded to forget all about it for a cer- tain amount of money. Joan Crawford once suffered through such a trying ex- perience, about which she refuses now to discuss details. To her credit, however, it may be said that this has not prevented her from further adoption plans, nor has she ever had anything but highest praise for legitimate agencies of adoption. Another star, who must remain nameless,

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perhaps the n € xes, brought about by human avarice. ile on a personal appearance -tour, she offered to do charity work One day she vent into.a poor section of an Eastern city, bringing a huge basket of food to a poor family in which there were eight children. She talked with the mother who said it would be wonderful if at least one of her children could have a real chance in life. The star arranged to bring the baby to Hollywood, and further provided for clothes and a small income for the family. For three. years the child remained with her. Then, to her utter amazement, the day came when the entire family arrived in a battered old car and demanded the child. Reluctantly, the star gave up custody. Later she discovered that the woman’s sister had talked her into demanding the youngster back in hopes of securing more money. Embittered, the star refused, and when some years later the boy came to her home and asked to see her, she refused. Happily, the same star today has chil- dren of her own. pathetic case... Sometimes, but only rarely, one must feel a little sorry for the one who per- petrates a hoax, even if it does cause tem- porary heartache for the innocent victims. For instance, how would you have felt if you were Mrs. M. G. Mature of Louisville, Kentucky, and received a letter like this: Dear Mrs. Mature: Or shall I call you mother? You may be surprised to hear this, but your son Victor and I were married six months ago, just _ before he sailed for overseas. _ We were going to keep it a secret, but I lost my job and I am going to have a baby. That's the reason I am writing you this letter. I am not a Hollywood glamour girl —just a store clerk. I want to be a good wife and I know that the way things are, you will want me to come and live with you until Victor comes home. Iam very handy and can cook and sew. Until I can arrange to come to Louisville, will you please see that Victor’s allotment is sent to me each month? Love, Fortunately for the peace of mind of Vic’s mother, she knew that he had been out of the country for over a year and that he had never been in the state from which the girl wrote. There was no other choice. The letter had to be turned over to the authorities. The girl was discovered to be temporarily deranged as a result of an un- happy love affair. She was treated kindly and the whole affair was soon forgotten. _ Both Mickey Rooney and Shirley Temple have at different times, when they were youngsters, suffered from widespread tumors that they were midgets! These Were curiously persistent for a long time, and visitors on the set frequently asked to have a close look at them to make sure they were “real, normal youngsters.” In this case, studios have believed that some jealous mother, who wanted her own child to be a star and foolishly hoped that by getting Mickey or Shirley out of the way, she could achieve that ambition, was re- | sponsible. __No one can estimate the number of blackmail cases which annually are nipped in the bud. They have been famil- | jar to Hollywood way back to the time that a girl named Daisy DeVoe, who had been secretary to Clara Bow, went to jail for allegedly trying to extract money from the star. _ Recently there was the case of George t and a girl whose name was briefly d with his, in a story that provided Congratulations, sir! Your bandaged beak is a badge of honor! It’s a symbol of service . . . a sure sign that you, like most of us these days, have been keeping your nose to the grindstone—working your hardest just to keep your family living the way you want them to live. But what of the future? Your nose can’t take it forever. Someday you'll want to retire, to follow the hobbies and take the trips and do the things that you’ve always dreamed of doing. That’s going to take just one thing—MONEY! And will you have it when you want it? You will if you’re buying U. S. Savings Bonds automatically—on the Payroll Savings Plan where you work, or on the Bond-A-Month Plan at your bank. With either plan, you’re heading for real financial security. Month after month, regularly as clockwork, your money is saved for you. All you have to do is sit back and watch the Bonds pile up. It’s just about the easiest, surest, fastest way of building financial security that anyone ever dreamed up. And with U.S. Savings Bonds, you make money while you save it. Every $75 Bond you buy today will be worth $100 in just 10 years! Of course, you can always buy Bonds at any bank or post office. But the best way, the sure and steady way, is to buy ’em automatically! Start doing it now! Keep on doing it! And in no time flat, you'll find that you’re well on your way to a permanent separation of nose and grindstone! AUTOMATIC SAVING IS SURE SAVING —-U.S. SAVINGS BONDS Contributed by this magazine in co-operation with the Magazine Publishers of America as a public service.

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Ask for Glover's Mange Medicine, GLO-VER Beauty Shampoo, Glover’s Hair Dress at Drug or Cosmetic counters—or mail Coupon today for sampler. ——— Glovers, Dept. 852 101 W. 31st St., New York 1, N. Y. Send free Sampler Package in plain wrapper by return mail—Glover’s Mange Medicine, GLO-VER Beauty Shampoo, Glover’s Imperial Hair Dress in 3 hermeti- cally-sealed bottles — with free booklet. I enclose 10¢ to cover cost of packaging and postage. almost a week of juicy headlines. George had dated the girl several times. He had given her presents, including some jewelry. This was not unusual for George, who is noted for his generosity. In this case, however, the story popped up that George had demanded the return of the presents. This was not the truth. Then, as the story gained momentum, there was a threatened lawsuit. The stories grew more and more confusing, then faded abruptly. Public opinion was that George had “settled” the case. He had done nothing of the sort. Instead, he hired a private detective. The sleuth got in touch with the “investigator” who had been digging into this chapter of George’s life. He sug- gested that he had some inside on Raft that would pay off big. The alleged inves- tigator fell for the trap, reported to his fellow conspirators and a hidden camera photographed them as. they talked. Faced with this evidence of a plot against Raft and the threat of court action, they backed off. What have you heard whispered about movie stars recently? That Nelson Eddy is going blind? That a certain star couldn’t get a divorce from her husband because she had, in fact, never married him? These are old Hollywood bromides, but in their day such rumors have driven studio inves- tigators a little crazy. Fortunately, the police in Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and other communities in which stars live are peculiarly alert to the problems of celebrities. Most hoax artists simply haven’t a chance. Loretta Young will now notify police of even the slightest suspicion. Not long ago, the nurse asked Loretta and her husband, Tom Lewis, whether they had been unable to sleep the night before. ; “Sleep?” Loretta asked. “We slept like ogs.” “And you weren’t prowling around up- stairs about three this morning?” “No.” “Well,” the nurse said, “somebody was.” Loretta paid little heed to the incident, and that day she and her husband left for a short Palm Springs vacation. The same night their home was robbed of several thousands of dollars in jewels and furs. An ordinary robbery? Not by any means. This “job” was pulled “Cactus, I've been meaning to ask you—if a script should ever call for it, you can ride a horse, § as ee ee a by hoax artists—in the opinion of the police | who investigated. The theory was that the | thieves were former “servants” who had worked in the home before Loretta and Tom purchased it. They had -keys and were able to leisurely “case” the place. |)% servant problem .. . Eg Do you wonder that stars investigate ’ f their servants with a thoroughness com-, parable to an FBI examination before hir- ing them? Is it so amazing that stars divulge their telephone numbers to only a few people, change those numbers with great frequency, and live behind electric- ally operated gates? As you read this, a hoax artist is at work somewhere, figuring an idea to bring shame 7 and misery to someone in Hollywood. Let’s hope that he’ll be caught in the act | a es ew 2 and punished—but if he should happen to} be successful, let him be like the little man ‘| who, in the long parade of cruel hoax) fiends, provided a comic touch. j It happened when John Wayne and Johnny Weissmuller were living with two | producer friends in a big penthouse apart= “ ment. They were enjoying a carefree * bachelor life and the place was always! filled with companions, some of whom al- } most lived there. Among these people was » an omnipresent, personable fellow. He‘ drank their liquor, made long-distance calls and enjoyed the run of the apartment. | One day, Johnny Wayne said to Johnny ' Weissmuller, “I don’t like to pry into your | private affairs, but I think that friend of yours, little What’s-His-Name, is some- thing of a louse—and on top of that, a‘ deadly bore.” “Friend of mine?” Weissmuller ex- claimed. “I thought he was a friend of * yours!” a That night they compared notes with * their two other roommates. Neither of © - Wi them knew the little man and each as-)| sumed that he was the friend of one of the { other tenants. 4 That night when the little man came in, “ mixed himself a drink and said, “What's | cooking, fellows?” the Johns, Wayne and /) Weissmuller, laid large hands upon his per- son. They carried him to the swimming | pool, tossed him in bodily. Mr. Wayne said, “It’s been nice knowing || you.” iy THE Enp }! End of hoax. MODERN SCREEN { can't you?"

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ray eke T33 OH, BROTHER!” = | of Irish choppers wouldn’t leave any food. |The first time I went hungry, Bing smuggled a sandwich up to the porch later. The second time I figured on the same : | treatment. He gave me a dirty look in- stead, and after that I was on my own. When I grew a little older, Bing said he didn’t want a baby brother who couldn’t ‘take care of himself. I got a half-dozen bloody noses from him while he taught me to counter-punch. When I figured I was ready, I went out on the street looking for trouble. I picked on Tom (Boo) Shields. I was a year younger, so he took a lot of picking-on before he’d fight me. “Well, kid,’ he said, “I hate to do this, ‘but you asked for it.” the manly art... We went around and around for about -an hour while Bing watched. I have to ad- mit there was a touch of class in me. I || stepped around Boo and popped him with left jabs a dozen times to his once. Boo _ kept moving in and trying to slug it out. I ‘circled and jabbed. Finally Boo couldn’t || stand it. He dropped his hands. ‘Tears flowed down his cheeks. “You big baby!” he blubbered in exasperation. - “Come on in and fight!” If I had, he’d have murdered me. It was a dubious decision, but it had Bing’s approval. On those rare occasions when I did something he liked he never came right out and said so. But the night _ of the fight with Boo he took a long look at ' his necktie rack. Next thing I knew, he’d handed me his best tie and beat it out of | the room. kicking around in our family. - murder. ‘There never was much loose change I think George Harrigan, who brought up severi kids without going bankrupt, was a finan- cial wizard. When the old man dug up some small change for necessary upkeep on his offspring we were always struck by }| a hot flash of temptation and I guess I was about the worst of the lot. One Saturday night he gave me 50c for a haircut. I had other ideas about what to do with four bits. So I shagged myself _ over to the Spokane barber college. They 'must have given me to a guy who was _flunking. When I got home I looked like _ Td fallen into the lawn mower. I still have 'a small pie-slice in my ear where the scissors slipped. Dad took one look at me that night and brought out the razor strop. I yelled so loud that it touched Bing’s heart. He gave me his catcher’s mitt. Of course, the only reason I say decent things about the guy is that a miracle might happen and one day he’ll be writing a story about me. I got to have some in- surance. The trouble with having Bing for the next oldest brother is that I could never tell when the switch was coming. - - One day I tagged along down to the river swimming hole. I was wading around in shallow water when one of the kids spotted me. “Kid,” he said, “it’s time you learned to swim.” He grabbed me and dragged me up on the diving board. I yelled bloody A couple of kids grabbed my legs and a couple more, my arms. They Were counting one, two, three and swing- | ing me over the water when Bing arrived _ on the double. “Let go of my kid brother!” he yelled. Gratitude welled up in my little chest. My tormentors looked at Bing with nn. “Huh,” somebody sneered. “Want mind what I want!” Bing “He’s my kid brother and when Wi % 7 out eh) ee las as! bs “ SSAA tel See ta IC ar (Continued from page 31) he learns to swim I'll teach him.” “Yeahhh!” I jeered. “That'll show you guys!” I started gingerly back off the diving board to safety. Bing stood in my way. “I said ’'d teach you how to swim when the time came,” he said. “Hold your nose!” “What?” I gasped. “Well then, don’t hold it!” he snapped and pushed me off the board. I came up, black fury in my heart but I was dog-paddling for dear life. I didn’t talk to Bing for three days, but to anyone else who’d listen I bragged about how well I could swim. When Bing went away to school I didn’t miss him too much. I was relieved, and my other brothers and sisters were too much older or occupied or something to worry much about keeping me in line. Of course, Bing still remained a big influence in my life. I wore his hand-me- downs until I was 17. But I’m not sore about this. After all, I’ve made a splendid living off his middle register for years. [Doesn’t everybody?—Ed.] I always wanted to catch up with Bing. I figured that I had to have an early start, so I quit school when I was 16, but I figured ways to work in a couple years of college. Every time I thought about what Bing was doing or the cracks he might make when I saw him next, I went on the hustle. Bing was working with Paul Whiteman when he sent me a tennis racket for my birthday. There was a letter with it. “Learn to play tennis,” he said. “You'll meet a good class of people—make some- thing of yourself.” I played tennis every day until it got so dark I couldn’t see the ball. I got to be a boy-champ. Finally I won the Pacific Coast Boys’ Championship. Then I re- ceived another letter from Bing. “What’s the idea?” he wrote. “We don’t need any tennis bums in the family.” So I broke my tennis racket in little pieces and started singing. all for one... It’s a funny thing with our family. Bing could do things to make me really sore. Same with Everett and Larry. We could bicker and argue like mad, but just let one outsider make a crack and the whole gang of us was ready to go to work on him. That’s been an unspoken policy since way back when I was in kindergarten. We were all crazy about our sisters, Katherine and Mary Rose. The smart alecs in the neighborhood used to love to tease Mary Rose. When she walked down the street they’d tag after her, yelling, “Mary Rose sat on a tack. Mary rose!” Then they’d roll on the lawns and laugh themselves sick, it was so funny. We didn’t think so. We’d move in on the kids, pair off according to our respective ages and teach a few lessons on respect for young ladies. The result was a healthy attitude toward the Crosbys, but it cost us more than our quota of black eyes. Funny thing, though, as a family we’ve never seemed to be very close. Maybe it’s because, when there are too many in one tribe, too much obvious sentiment can turn into a case of inbred nausea. It’s hard to explain. For instance, when I was married, I never even got a telegram from: Bing, and I don’t remember if I sent him one. The reason I can’t talk about any of his high-school romances or his marriage is that I don’t know anything about them. Bing figures certain things are personal. Still, I don’t want anybody coming up | when | learned about Tampax Only a few words about Tampax are needed to let an imaginative lady foresee a picture of remarkable improvement on “those days.” Tampax is a modern method of monthly sanitary protection. It is worn internally and absorbs in- ternally, discarding the whole harness of outside pad and belt . . . In use, you will find, Tampax is not only invisible but wnfelti—and the difference it makes is amazing. Made of highly absorbent cotton, Tampax was invented by a doctor for this special purpose. The wonder of Tampax is that nothing about it will remind you ofthe occasion. Nobulky pad to hamper your movements or show its edge-lines under dresses. No possibility of chafing. No odor can form ... Tampax comes in applica- * tors for easy insertion. Chang- ing is quick. Disposal no prob- lem. And you can take your bath while wearing Tampax. Three absorbencies (Regular, Super, Junior) for varying needs. At drug stores and notion counters. Average month’s supply fits into purse; 4 months’ average supply comes: in an economy box. Tampax Incorporated, Palmer, Mass. Accepted for Advertising by the Journat of the American Medical Association 103

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Everything is in print and pictures. First you are told what to do. “Then a picture shows you how. Then you play it yourself and hear how it sounds. Soon you are playing popular music, Mail coupon for our illustrated Free Book and FREE Print and Picture eae een on your LET favorite instrument chool o usic, 1442 Brunswick Bldg., New York 10, N. Y. BOOK piease send me Bree Booklet and Print ae Picture | | Sample. I would like to play (Name Instrument). Have you | | Instrument Instrument?...........+ | C-C-C-C-Crosby,” he exclaimed. with slurring remarks. Sometimes Bing really lets go. Like the time he sent me to work with Anson Weeks in ’Frisco. “I guess I need some advice,” I said. “Sure,” Bing replied. “Keep your nose clean.” I feel like a chump writing only about Bing. There’s my brother Everett. He went to war in 1918. He was in uniform as a top sarge so long we figured he must have got caught in a crap game. Now he’s an agent. The best in the business. If he wasn't, how could he keep on working for Bing? Me, I wouldn’t last two weeks in Crosby Enterprises if I changed my name to J. P. Morgan III and disguised myself with a beard. The reason I’m eating regu- larly is that they let me sing and I never had to try a business career. Talking about business, there’s my brother Larry. Like Bing, Larry just doesn’t believe in getting clubby before you know somebody. Also like Bing, Larry knows that the thing to do with a dollar is to hang onto it. Once I was broke on the road. I sent Larry a wire asking for a fast fifty to tide me over. This was the reply: “you CANT REACH ME. LARRY.” Much to my surprise, I didn’t starve to death. My brothers never worried about me, or I about them. We all picked cucumbers for 57 Varieties when we were youngsters. Anybody who picked cucum- bers can get along in the world. You hardly ever hear about our suc- cessful brother, Ted. Frankly, I don’t think Bing’s money will last. Sooner or later he’ll have to go up to Spokane and borrow money from Ted. He’s in the used-car business. Might as well face it. Every now and then some misinformed citizen peddles the story that Bing is closer than two nickels in Jack Benny’s pocketbook. The one with the combination lock on it. That’s not true. Every time I pick up the sports section I see that Bing is playing a char- ity somewhere. (And I’m not being face- tious.) Then there’s the handicap Bob Hope always talks him out of. By this time Hope must have made enough money off Bing to give up caddying as a sideline. (And I am being facetious.) i don't play golf with bing... I don’t play golf with Bing. He’d take me like the Big Nine does the Coast Con- ference. And if I have a complex, you can’t blame me. Bing is one of the greatest competitors you'll ever find in golf. Once he was playing with a guy who kept trying to get his goat. The match was all even on the 18th green. Bing’s opponent had a 30-foot putt. Bing was just outside. Well, the guy fiddled around for about 10 minutes before making his putt. And the last thing he did before hitting the ball was to turn to his caddy and ask, “Did they cut the grass this morning?” Then he sank the putt. Bing walked up to his ball, pulled the clubhead back, looked up at his caddy and said: “About that grass—what time did they cut it?” Then he sank his putt and took the match. « One more thing about Bing and money. Once Joe Frisco, the fabulous funny man, found himself a little short. Bing loaned him a hundred dollars. Joe went to the track and ran that C note in on a few good things to the tune of around $3,000. Then Joe went to Palm Springs and began to splurge. Bing happened to walk in when Joe had just bought a round of drinks for the house. “Kind of throwing your money around, aren’t you Joe?” he asked. Joe looked up as though he hadn’t seen Bing in ten years. “Why, it’s “Here, SN ee ET NE ee ae . . iF -B-Bing—here’s a hundred dollars! S-s-sing| By) ‘Melancholy Baby’ for the f-folks.” af A friend of mine checked this story | with Joe for accuracy. Frisco burned up.’ “Tt’s a d-d-darned lie!” he ~ shouted. | : “B-b-but there’s a lot of truth in it.” ' You’ve heard of Club 15—I do hovel It’s where I work on radio, along with’ Maggie Whiting. This show, which is sponsored by Campbell Soup hit a nice rating of 15. A few days later it was’) Christmas and I was over at Bing’s on a, pass, drinking egg-nogs, which he likes | because they broaden him. “I saw the Neilsen rating on your show, | kid,” Bing said. “Pretty nice.” Then I could/| see a thought cross his mind. Bing had! made a mistake and complimented me. He, thought he’d better retrench before it} went to my head. “By the way,” he asked “what network are you on?” Sometimes Bing drops in to watch me | rehearse my band. Picking up a few point- ers I suppose. “Not a bad little group,” he | Sane one day. “How many men you got in) it? ” “There’s 11—how can I compete with you. You’ve got a band with 37 pieces and | four acres of John Scott Trotter.” i “Sure,” Bing said, topping me as usual,| “but you’ve got no reason to complain.) You keep them blowing all the time. Be-| sides, you’ve got a two-headed sax player.” I do the best I can to keep up. For in-] stance, there’s my family. The kids are Cathleen, Christopher, Bob Junior, ands) Stephen. We tried to name them all with the initial C because we figured that if; times got tough they could all use the same |) luggage. It worked out all right until Bob, | Junior came along and spoiled the routine.) I complained to Bing that trying to have) a family the size of his was keeping me broke. “You should care,” he retorted. | “You can show the girl to the other} Crosbys and charge admission.” Bing’s always been a little sensitive fl about that girl situation. When our brother | Ted became the father of twin girls he | wired Bing, “I’ve got a pair of queens.’>) Later, when Dixie gave birth to the twin boys, Bing wired Ted, “Kings beat queens.” fF Pll have to admit that Bing is a solid’ ; citizen. He’s been married a long time—') 18 years now. Bob Hope has been married \s 16 years. Al Jolson was married 60 years) to his first wife, 20 years to his second| HOW TIME FLIES! @ “Looks like the famous team of As- taire and Rogers has broken up for good. . . . This (The Castles) is the last picture on Fred’s contract and there are no signs he will return to the fold.” —From a 1939 issue of Modern Screen TN ages Martha Raye was starring in Give Me A Sailor. In a supporting role was a comic named Bob Hope. “Bob Hope scores decidedly,” said our reviewer. . . SOS A new sensation, John Garfield, was not yet sure if he liked Hollywood or not—From a 1938 issue of Modern Screen

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he’s been three years with Larry ks. But, man and boy, I’ve been mar- |11 years myself and I have three boys nd a girl. Few Crosbys can make that statement. | For a long time I’ve been sensitive about people referring to me as_ What’s-His- |'Name Crosby—you know, Bing’s brother. Instead of asking me intelligent ques- 1 ions about. me, they want to know if I’ve seen Bing lately. I’ve got an answer for | ithat. [ “Sure,” I say. “I saw him just yester- day. He was up at his ranch in Elko . jjout on The Connecticut Yankee set ... jiand he’d just finished a round of golf lat Lakeside.” | The schmoe always bites and exclaims, "You're nuts—how could the guy be all | | those places at once?” || That’s my cue to snap, “It’s simple! He ||transcribes everything.” | This has got to stop. || But I really want everybody to know j\how nice my brother actually is to me. at’s a lot of junk about his treating me ith studied indifference. Why, only last year I got it by grapevine that Bing was oing to sell one of his Cadillacs. (Cut- ing himself down to fleet size.) I called |(him up and asked, “How much?” || “I can get $4200 for it,” Bing said, “But eeing it’s you, I’ll take $2400.” I went right over with a check and drove the car home. The next morning ing sent the butler over to take off the potlight. He was nice about it. He said, “Begging your pardon, sir, the marster | | said this didn’t go with the deal.” }, I think it would be nice to close my i with a tender, whimsical It happened last Christmas. verétt had just installed one of those electric gates on his property. You know, the kind that has the loudspeaker. You drive your car up to the gate. You get out, press a button and a voice from some- where a half mile away says “Whomff thrarf?” Translated, this means, “Who’s there?” You talk into the speaker and say its you. Nobody can understand you, so you don’t get in unless you’re a second- story man come to hijack the family silver. Anyway, the kids around the neighbor- hood were so fascinated by Everett’s gadget that all Christmas morning they’d been pressing the button and announcing Bob Hope, Mayor Bowron, the police de- partment and Madman Muniz. Everett,, who is the finest tempered of the Crosbys, finally went a little ber- serk. The next time the buzzer rang inside the house he flipped the button and roared, “For the last time I’m telling you bums to get off my property!” Outside at the gate there was a shocked silence. There stood Bing and his boys, all set to sing “Silent Night.” For a minute Bing was stopped. Then he shook his head and exclaimed, “A man never had such brothers. I never know what’s going to happen next!” Neither do they. Neither do I. If you'll pardon me now, I have to go somewhere and sing “A Tree in the Meadow.” (It’s been done so many times, they say that even the dogs won’t pause to listen.) And if the voice sounds like a Crosby, it’s strictly coincidental and any resemblance to my brother is only because there’s a touch of smog in the air. That'll teach the guy to shove his five- year-old brother off a diving board! THE END SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY (Continued from page 53) ollywood! The French papers said, ‘How } could Hollywood even begin to understand j}our own feeling about our national heroine?’ ” The French papers also sneered at Holly- | wood pictures about other famous French pSgures. They said, “They take our people —Pasteur, Zola, Curie—and they fix them | f up!” I Ingrid, who’d finished her breakfast at a ‘small table, drained the last few drops from her coffee cup, arose, moved onto a sofa opposite me, and said, “I’m sorry I Risen’t quite ready when you got here. But i 1 went up so late this morning.” I smiled at that “went up.” She meant || “got up.” She speaks English beautifully {|| and this was the major miscue. She was wearing a simple black dress without ornaments, and sandals with flat | wood soles. “To make it still worse for me, the || French had planned for’ their own star, | Michele Morgan, to do Joan of Arc,’ she ‘said. “I’d wanted to do Joan since 1940. But no one would listen. They said it had | too much war and religion—and no love story. Later, when I did Joan of Lorraine on the stage, they changed their minds.” As I sat there with her now—by the way, || the wind was getting chillier—I saw on the | mantel a small statue of Joan of Arc. Every | actress has one role she passionately wants to play. This one had haunted Ingrid. _But there were long periods of terror about it because of the French criticism. “Victor Fleming, the great director, saw o Joan on the stage, and he sat in the lience and cried,” Ingrid said. “He said, ye got to do Joan of Arc. He used to sit il day and only read and read and read Ayo Ce Sas ae Dae and read about Joan of Are. Then he’d go to museums and study her. And I also studied endlessly, because we wanted to prove to the French people that we could do tneir heroine. “When we got ready to start the pic- ture, I was so inspired, and kept asking, ‘Where is the church? Where is the church?’ There it was—one wall!” Her shoulders drooped, expressing her disap- pointment. “Not even two. The wall was about twice as large as this wall.” She waved at the wall of her own room. “To cut down expenses,” she explained. -“And the solyers!” (She meant soldiers.) “The English solyers would change their helmets and become French solyers. I said to them, ‘Good heavens, you’re French to- day!’ I told them, ‘You shouldn’t come so close to the cameras, you'll be recog- nized!’ ” * * CS And so with all this apprehension having been built up in her mind, Miss Bergman, the supposed stalwart, was not a strong woman but another quaking, quivering female, the day last summer when she flew from London to Paris. She was to appear at a charity show and face the furious French for the first time. After visiting France she would go on to Sweden and confront the people of her home land. They had sneered a little because she had supposedly said it “was the happiest day of my life” when she took out first citizenship papers. “Which,” she said, “I never said.” The charity affair in France was to be held in an enormous tent under the Eiffel Tower. She learned on her arrival in of headache, neuritis and neuralgia @ @ incredibly fast the way thousands of physicians and dentists recommend — Here’s why Anacin is like a doctor's prescription. 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People in the streets were screaming and yelling and pounding each other. Miss Bergman’s escorts had arranged that she could go past Customs without the usual inspection. As she started hur- rying past, an official angrily yelled at her, “What goes on?” “This is it,’ thought Miss Bergman. As she explained to me, “I really thought he was going to shoot me if I didn’t stop.” Her escort explained to the inspector, “This is Ingrid Bergman.” “Ingrid Bergman,” said the inspector, blankly. “Who’s she?” ; “She’s Jeanne d’Arc,” patiently said her escort. “Ohhh, Jeanne d’Arec, Jeanne d’Arc!” shouted the inspector happily. “Go right ahead, go right ahead! And welcome to France!” That astonished Miss Bergman. But she was still apprehensive because of the re- ports she’d received about the street crowds. She sat back in the automobile— with her short hair brushed by the sum- mer breeze—and was ready for come what would. At first she heard what seemed to be a low growl. Then all at once the French imagination | was caught by this girl who’d dared to play their heroine—and suddenly they began acting as if they really thought this was the Maid of Orleans returning to life. A few people began cheering, “Jeanne d’Arc, Jeanne d’Are!” And it grew into one big roar that followed her up the boulevard and into the tent where she was greeted by— The President of France. hostile critics ... Still, she hadn’t won the angry French movie critics. They continued to be hostile. After the big charity affair, Miss Berg- man made a tour along the very route than Joan of Arc had taken. People in the little French villages knew she was com- ing. Children came out in fancy clothes and bowed to her, some of them thinking in their confused way that this was Jeanne d’Are. Indeed, at a flower show, a speaker said, “And now I want to introduce you to—Jeanne d’Arc.” “T'm so obsessed with her that nothing - makes me happier than to be confused with her,” Miss Bergman said. At last she was ready to leave France. A final reception was given her. At this party, one of the French movie critics said to her, “You know, I suppose, that we have never been for you playing Jeanne d’Arc. We’ve been against you.” “T know,” said Miss Bergman. “But now that we’ve seen you, we're very glad that you did it,’ he said. Miss Bergman didn’t kiss him, as that wouldn’t have been like Joan of Are. * * * “With Sweden,” Miss Bergman told me —the window was still open and I was getting colder and she was merely getting redder-cheeked—“it was different because you are never a prophet in your own land. During the first seven years I’d been here the Swedish papers had said very few bad things about me. Everyone had been very nice and kind—the way you want to help a child. “The last two years I’d noticed a change. They printed headlines on my picture, One day on the way home from school I noticed a little girl playing in a yard. She was such a beautiful child.I couldn’t resist stopping to talk to her for a few minutes. As we spoke her ; mother called her . and I took the little girl over to the porch where her mother waited. You can imagine my surprise when I realized her mother was Ingrid Berg- man. And she was just as sweet and friendly as her daughter, Pia. Shirley Mae Wolf Rochester, New York Arch of Triumph—how some critics didn’t, like it! 4 “In Sweden, though, there was even hos-; tility to Garbo. She was not always box-% office there. Sometimes they seemed to} enjoy knocking her by running headlines} like, ‘Garbo Number 15 at Box Office.’ 1, always felt they didn’t have to put that! in—or at least they could have put it in smaller type. i “Then about me taking out my first, papers here. Of course it will make me a)’ little sad to leave the citizenship of my, home country. I had to practice speaking | Swedish again with my husband. Oh, I) knew that was important, because if I had] ever said ‘Hello,’ or ‘Okay,’ that would;) really stab them.” ei Arriving finally in Stockholm, she’ met), the press at the Grand Hotel. Here was an assignment almost as diffi- |” cult as any she’d ever played in pictures} or on the stage—to make the reporters like), her. To convince them that she hadn't) gone big-headed, and hadn’t forgotten that) she was a Swede. “It was almost as full) of suspense as a big opening,” she said. || “T was very calm—maybe because I was}/* almost numb. I knew some of the questions |), they would ask. ‘Who is the No. 1 actress?’} for example. If you say ‘Greer Garson or Betty Grable,’ they say, ‘Oh, isn’t she} generous!’ If you name yourself, they say, ‘Oh, fine thing!’ You see, you’re never) right. } “There was such a crowd. Some people} crowded in front and they wouldn’t budge. } The others in back couldn’t get to see m2.) I answered questions until I was almost! unconscious, then I had to go on a radio} program. When I finished that, they toldiy} me I could go to my room. I said, ‘No, there} are still people in there who want to ask): me questions.’ I went back and tried to see!) every one. y “And they wrote so nicely. Pve never seen anything like it. They followed me} around and wrote a lot about what I wore!)® and what I ate. The morning and after-') noon papers used to kid each other. One} afternoon paper would print, ‘The morning; paper says Miss Bergman had dinner with}, two ladies. What ladies? Who are they?) Then the morning paper would say, “The #) evening paper says Miss Bergman had/) breakfast. That’s terrible. They didn’t say4— what she had.’ } “They said I went incognito to the thea- | ter. Was I supposed to wear a sign?” ! While the papers were kind, Miss Berg-'4 man found herself so rushed giving inter- views and posing for pictures that she and’! her husband, Dr. Peter Lindstrom, de-" cided to go to her father-in-law’s farm at Medelpad for a rest. Here she hoped to get'} away from the reporters for a while. i; But the Swedish reporters were as enter= Pe

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‘ad and was lying around in the bushes, liss Bergman smiled. “My father-in-law was flustered and flattered by the reporters. \;He invited everyone in to have a cup of |; coffee and he”—she laughed—“will tell |, everything!” | So the first crisis developed. She really wanted to have rest and pri- || vacy, and so she decided one day to invite ||| the press in from twelve to two, and then j-end it. ; ' “But it didn’t end it,” she said. “Because ‘there was always some newspaperman _who wanted to interview me while I was | swimming in the river, or something.” | “That would have been me if I'd been a Swede,” I said. “Well, my husband was finally fed up with it, and I was, too. I got pretty angry \and ... well, I got so mad I cried. I said, ‘a will not do any more. Throw them all || out! “The family was horrified but I stuck to | jit. And I guess their editors finally de- |! cided ’d done enough. They didn’t bother {ime and for 10 days I had a nice time. And || the things they wrote about me were just wonderful.” ' The trip that had frightened her turned ‘out to be a great success—such a success |) that when she returned to New York, she lwas so exhausted that she rushed right ‘people who phoned, “I’m taking a little nap. Call me in about two weeks.” || autograph headache... | In Sweden she also got the solution | finally to the autograph headache. “I had tried just about every possible method,” | she told me. “For a while I told the chil- || dren, ‘Look, I can’t sign here in the streets, -or V’ll attract a crowd. Send your books to 'my hotel.’ That way you do nothing all day | but sign your name. I wouldn’t let any- body else sign for me. I got a rubber stamp and they didn’t like that. “And there were so many places I wanted \\ to go! I wanted to go back to a candy | store I knew as a girl. I told them, ‘I used | to buy candy here 20 years ago. I’m back. |I want to buy some more candy.’ “First I went around in a car. Then I || said, ‘I just don’t want this car. I want to | walk in the streets.’ ' “And the children were always there. Tas ari Son Like they are always in New York. They stand there and freeze. And they love you so and they say, ‘We are only three, and you signed last year, and we hope you're not getting stuck up.’ “But I decided it must end somewhere— so in Sweden I said no, not at all, not to anybody, not even to a friend’s little girl. At first some didn’t like it. The papers printed that I wasn’t signing and after a while they quit asking me. And a lot of people told me they thought I had done right. The longer I live the more I think it is the right answer. “It’s the same with fan mail. Thousands of letters a week—how can I read it all?” “And so youre not signing for anybody now?” I said. “No to anybody—except to people I know. I’m going to try it, anyway. “A man from RKO who had come with me said, ‘Miss Bergman, I’m glad you said you'd sign for people you know, because— well, I just happen to have a. picture of you in your nun’s costume, and my wife ordered me to get it autographed. Would VOU eee She laughed and reached for a pen. Don’t have any worry about her getting stuck up, though. She objects to police escorts and such trappings. In New York she dropped into a drug store and sat down at the counter to have coffee and a muffin. A boy alongside her looked at her and did a double take. He got so astonished he couldn’t hold himself and said, “Aren’t you Ingrid Bergman?” : “Yes,” she said. The boy started telling the waitresses and the man next to him that this was Ingrid Bergman, and grew so agitated about his nearness to the great star that he could hardly drink his coffee. Finally she leaned over to him and said, “Take it easy.” “What?” he said. “T want to enjoy some coffee, too,” Miss Bergman said. I’ve also noticed that when Miss Berg- man goes to New York cafés, she refuses to sit on the ringside. She likes to sit in the back. She wants to see the show. She doesn’t want to be the show. But what a naturally glorious show she is. Of course the French and the Swedes didn’t stay mad. How could they? THE Enp /and in tight-twos, Monty Clift put on his ports jacket with the hole in the left |{sleeve, abused his 1940 car until it started, j/and returned to his one-room apartment \'where he played some Bing Crosby |/records for the rest of the evening. Montgomery Clift, as every movie-goer nows by now, is far and away the hottest male newcomer to Hollywood. His two ‘oles, in The Search and in Red River have rey established him as a gent who |)inspires the most natural kind of impulses |in young women, and also as an actor of 'towering technical skill and authority. Also, at the same time, Monty has firmly established himself as a maverick. Holly- ood, as you know, is an old-fashioned own, as rigid as Charleston, S. C., or Bos- conform to certain standards, to drive ertain brands of automobiles, to associate fith other glamor-persons. But this Clift nas got everybody all mixed up—him nis Murphy bed, hole-in-the-sleeve, sual disregard for whether he ac- IS IT TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT MONTY? (Continued from page 58) quires a swimming pool with hot and cold running blondes or not. He hasn’t ap- peared at a night club yet, let alone socked anybody, and various publicity men assigned to exploit him, long ago sighed and gave up any notion of pulling items out of Clift for the columns. All kinds of reports have made the rounds. The chief rumor, current at the moment, is that Montgomery Clift is an uncooperative actor who insults producers, breaks contracts, does as he pleases, and as a result of these sins and heresies, is about to be black-balled by every studio in town and ignored by Broadway. Actually, Hollywood knows Monty hardly at all. In Red River he was con- stantly on location, as he was in The Search. He worked almost every day in The Heiress, and immediately after the picture finished boarded a train for New York, made his manners with his family, and took off for France and Italy. Let’s have a good look at this young man—and see how false those rumors are. He is 28 years old, weighs 155 pounds, stands six feet tall, has brown hair and arian ety eek: wre TET Neeeh ie me et lat Sl Nall yan) aN LUCKY YOU! to be able to have this extra advantage in INTIMATE FEMININE HYGIENE Easier Less Embarrassing fo Use. So Powerful yet So Harmless! Greaseless Suppository Assures Continuous Medication For Hours Young wives are mighty enthusi- astic about Zonitors. This higher type intimate feminine cleanliness is one of the MOST EFFECTIVE meth- ods ever discovered. 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Like Gregory Peck, who is not actually a pretty man, young Clift has the kind of dark hand- someness which photographs extraordi- narily well. “T have never been married or engaged, and currently I am not involved with any- one,” he will, with some reluctance, assure you. “I like to travel. I like to read— Ernest Hemingway is one of my favorites. I like to sail and swim—but I’d hate to have a house with a swimming pool.” He enjoys staying up late at night, listening to music or rehearsing the next day’s scenes. He’d like to become a direc- tor someday, but first he wants to prove himself as an actor. When he works, he likes to: get up as late as possible. He rarely takes a drink, smokes very little, and never chews gum or munches candy or popcorn at the movies. He likes loose, casual clothes, chooses them hurriedly, and is not fussy about food. He enjoys a good steak with all the trimmings, lamb chops and fresh peas, and very little dessert. He disposes of six eggs and two cups of coffee for break- fast. Salads are his favorite lunchtime dish. Now, since there are possibly several thousand young actors who would cheer- fully risk their necks for the chances Montgomery Clift daily throws away, it might be a good idea to examine why this fellow is so “stubborn.” ho newcomer... To begin with, although his fame has just burst out of Hollywood with sky- rocketing acclaim, Monty Clift is far from new to the business of acting. Some ten years ago, aged 18, Monty climbed the long steps to the top of the Theatre Guild building in New York for an interview with the celebrated actor Alfred Lunt. He read some lines for Mr. Lunt. “Hmmmm,” said Mr. Lunt, “I think 1 had better introduce you to Miss Linnie.” Miss Lynn Fontanne came in, heard Monty read, “hmmed” and thought she had better introduce him to Robert Sher- wood, the celebrated playwright. Monty cannot recall Mr. Sherwood’s part of the conversation, because there ensued a discussion about another candidate for the part in There Shall Be No Night. Monty insisted that the other lad should get the part, and Miss Fontanne, Mr. Lunt and Mr. Sherwood agreed with him. But several days later he received a telephone call at home offering him the part and his career as a professional actor was firmly established. He says now with a smile: “Honestly, 1 can’t remember that I had much emotion about it. You know how matter-of-factly kids take things. I can’t remember much about the part, or anything amusing that ‘Miss Linnie’ or Alfred Lunt said or did. “You see, I had done a little work with a little theater in Florida, where my fam- ily spent the winter one time; and ’way back when I was 13, I appeared on Broad- way for the first time in Flyaway Home with Thomas Mitchell. I never dreamed then that I’d land on the same stage with Lunt and Fontanne.” From then on, Monty played in such notable successes as The Skin of Our Teeth and The Searching Wind, and became sold, hard and fast, on the notion that he was an actor. His father, William Brooks Clift, a stock and bond broker, was a patient man who hoped that his son would get over this foolishness and go to school. There was a distressing period between Monty’s 17th and 18th years OE SEES SS 5 =) ee. when he was completely, @ out of work, and it looked for a while as if he would have to give up and attend Harvard with his brother, W. B. Clift, Jr. His twin sister went to Bryn Mawr College. | But by dint of holding out and by avoid- ing family arguments whenever he could! Monty managed to avoid the perils of Harvard and to stay with the stage. Still, the family was patient. y Now here’s a curious thing. Most child) actors are prodigies who are promoted, coached and inspired by their mothers. | But Mrs. Clift never once sought work for her son, and so far as Monty can recall now, was never backstage when he worked } as a small boy on Broadway. He went to} and from the theater by himself and made | his own arrangements. Obviously, this) explains a large measure of his indepen-|| dence today. Another thing, for the record: the re-| port is out that Monty is independent because his father is in Wall Street and’ money is no consideration. Monty laughs about this. “My father isn’t a big Wall Street oper-|} ator,” he explains. “He isn’t rich, never|} was, never made large sums of money,|| and probably won’t. Apparently I won’t! either.” i What motivates this Montgomery Clift | is pure professionalism—a rare motivation || in any line of work. ; “I want freedom, and believe me, it)! isn’t self-esteem that makes me operate the way I do,” he explains earnestly. “Look, I want to grow. I simply want to | be free to do the play or the picture that. means something to me, that I can do best. Considering the long career that an actor can have, it’s understandable what I’m, after, isn’t it?” The call of Hollywood almost sent | Monty out west in 1946. He went out at | the request of producer Milton Sperling, | who was then releasing his pictures | through Warner Brothers. He was given a test, but halfway through it realized he) wasn’t right for the part. He did finish]! the test, but when he got to his hotel he’ packed and left on the next train for New | York. Montgomery Clift’s reputation for being jj hard to handle started right there. Script | after script was given him to read—22, in || fact—and they all came back with a}| neatly pencilled memo, as terse as most of | his conversation. “Sorry, not for me,|| thank you.” . that’s holl To Alton Cook, who was interviewing him, Peter Lind Hayes told how Alan Hale won an argument with a producer who doubted Hale’s drawing power. “Hale insisted that if he walked down any New York street, everyone would recognize him and turn and look at him. A bet was made and they started down the street, the producer about ten feet behind Hale to watch, what happened. Sure enough, everyone turned and looked at Hale. “The producer walking behind, how- ever, couldn’t see that Hale was sticking his tongue out at everyone who passed.” Irving Hoffman in The Hollywood Reporter

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| | = 5 os "It was Howard Hawks who duced him to try Hollywood again. 7 for Milton Sperling and he liked it. Hawks had seen the test Monty meade e called Monty long distance and tried to explain what he wanted. That was for Monty to come right back and appear in a picture called Red River. But Monty wasn’t having any. Whereupon Mr. Hawks, clinging to the receiver, started telling him the story of the film. “Ym sorry,’ said Monty, think—” Then the producer had a good idea. It is very hard to tell the plot of a picture over the telephone, especially that of such an epic as Red River. Instead, Hawks wired Montgomery Clift a sum of money to pay expenses for him to come to Holly- wood and listen. If he didn’t like it then, he could go back to New York. No prom- ises made, no contract to be signed—Mr. Clift was free to do as he pleased. Monty flew out, liked the story as told by Howard Hawks and made the picture. After that he felt he needed a vacation, so he hopped off to Europe. It was while he was staying in. Switzerland that he was paged to play the role of the GI in The Search. He made it, and although it was his second picture, it was the first to be publicly released. Monty’s brother is in the export business and lives in New York, and his twin sister, now Mrs. Robert C. McGinnis, lives in Dallas, Texas. Monty is enthusiastic about her two beautiful young children, Mary Blair McGinnis and Edward Campbell McGinnis. Between plays and movies, and whenever else he can, he likes to hop over to Dallas merely to be able to play with his young niece and nephew. The sister, incidentally, is beautiful. “T don’t _While on location for Red River one of the company asked Monty why she wasn’t in the movies, too. “She’s not interested,” said Monty with a smile. “She’s the sensible twin.” Literally, the man has no hobbies. “Why, I could list tennis and poker and sailing, things like that that everybody does,” Monty will tell you. “But I’m just ally In- average at them and do them just now and then, like anybody else. I could say reading is a hobby, but I’m under the impression that almost everybody reads in this literate age. . . . Well, I do play records as a kind of a hobby—Crosby records.” ; : Matter of fact, Crosby is a great celebrity to Monty. When he first came to Holly- wood, he wanted to see the old Groaner on stage. It did not occur to him that since he worked for the same studio it would be absurdly easy for him to obtain tickets, sit in the sponsor’s booth, hear the show in style, and meet Bing for a snack later. Nope, none of that. Monty stood in line for tickets, looking extremely unimpres- sive in his unpressed suit, and barely managed to get a seat in the back row. He hasn’t met Bing yet. In New York, which he considers home, Monty maintains a small sub-let apart- ment at Lexington and 55th Street. Its one room is so small and so crowded that he bangs his shins on the furniture grab- bing and stumbling every time the tele- phone rings. As he left Hollywood the other day, he was told that all his fan mail had been deriyeree there, as he had requested. Bales of it. “That'll be a problem,’ Monty said seriously. “I never saw fan mail before. Imagine all those people writing!” According to preview cards received when Red River was first shown, and ac- cording to the way that unlooked-at fan mail is stacking up, Monty Clift is easily the town’s hottest heart-throb. “A com- posite of Gary Cooper, Charles Boyer and Clark Gable,” one excited young woman described him. Miriam Hopkins, who also appears in The Heiress, heard about that and flung it up to Monty. “What would you rather be,” she asked, “Cooper in dress clothes or Boyer in dungarees?” Monty considered the question. “I’d rather be back on the stage, Miriam,” he told her. THE END LUCKY IN LOVE (Continued from page 42) smiled, raising his eyes to the sparkling spun-glass doll with her spangled wings and golden halo. “Why, that angel’s al- most as pretty as you, angel.” But then, even a far less biased spectator than her husband could easily mistake Jeanne Crain for an angel. And if old Kris Kringle were scouting Hollywood for a girl to personify the “an- gel on the top,” Jeanne, having rounded out three heavenly years, as of last New Year’s Eve and the Brinkmans’ third an- niversary, would be perfect for the part. Three years would be a long time to hang by your toes or to wait for a street-car. But three years in which all your dreams came true—three years that brought love, a successful marriage, a beautiful new home, the handsomest, smartest baby in the whole world, with a second on the way—all that and three outstanding pic- ture successes that put you right up there in the illustrious company of the screen’s really big actresses . . . well, three brimful years like that zoom by with the speed of an Army jet showing off. But as thrilling an event as it was, when Jeanne and Paul celebrated their third anniversary on New Year’s Eve, the occasion was a quiet one. New Year’s Eve in Hollywood is a highly glamorous night in a highly glamorous town. High- tariff restaurants and clubs along the fab- ulous Sunset strip are filled with celeb- rities. There are big parties in private homes, too, where other filmland notables gather festively. Knowing what a thrill Jeanne gets out of receiving a party invitation, Paul slipped a note under her plate at break- fast, the day after they’d decided to stay at home New Year’s Eve. Opening it, Jeanne read: “Mr. Paul Brinkman requests the pleasure of Mrs. Paul Brinkman’s com- pany on Friday evening, December 31, in honor of their third anniversary. Cock- tails (for Mr. Brinkman) at 7. Milk punch for Mrs. Brinkman. R.S.V.P. by kissing Mr. Brinkman on the forehead immediately.” Of course, their reason for spending their third anniversary quietly before their own fireplace was a double one. First of all, it makes Paul, who is an expectant father, very nervous to take Jeanne away from home when she’s about to have a baby. If it’s a boy, it'll be Michael Anthony. If it’s a girl, itll be Diane Jeanne. His anx- iety starts early and continues right up to the door of the delivery room. 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Trained Artists are Capable of Earning $60, $75 and more a Week, It’s pleasant and interesting to study Art the W.S.A, way. COMMERCIAL ART, DESIGNING, CARTOONING all in ONE complete up to date home study course. No REGIONS Art ex- e sin 1914, furnished, Full information in FREE BOOK, ‘‘Art for Pleasure and Profit,’’ G. |. APPROVED f WASHINGTON SCHOOL De, ART u Studio 802R, 1115 15 St., N. W g Washington 5, c. Street.. i U City... a0 Pf aa er ear ene aes ee ee ess paras & Cet there and reminisce about ae a super- colossal three years it’s been! .. . Oddly enough, their first date was on a New Year’s Eve, two years to the day before their marriage. Paul took her to a party at the home of some friends in Bel Air. And that was the night he said to himself, “Mr. Brinkman, you have just found Mrs. Brinkman.” The same friends repeat the party every year. And until this past New Year’s the Brinkmans had gone there every year since they met, except the night of their wedding. On the Eve of 1948, Jeanne and Paul slipped away from the gathering early to drink a toast in their own new home to future New Years as happy as the ones they’d shared so far. The party had been fun, but all eve- ning they’d looked forward to this special celebration. Before starting out, Paul had put a bottle of champagne, bought espe- cially for the occasion, in the refrigerator. While Jeanne drew back the draperies from the high windows flanking the big stone fireplace and looked down over Hollywood, gala in a million multicolored lights, Paul stirred the banked fire alive and dancing. “And now for the toast,” he announced, heading for the refrigerator. ‘We'll have to hurry if it’s going to be official . . . just 10 minutes to 12.” “Well, if it’s really going to be official, Ba-ba has to be in on it,” Jeanne said. “It’s just time for his midnight feeding, anyway.” (“Ba-ba” is Paul, Jr., and he manufactured his own nickname.) “Of course!” said Paul. “You can’t drink a toast to a new family without the head man. See if he’s awake. I'll get the champagne—and, in my expert way, heat his bottle.” And so Paul, Jr., drank his first toast, taking his formula straight. (Evidently it went right to his head, for he fell asleep in the middle of the ceremony.) looking backward... Reminiscing over all the good fortune this third anniversary marks, Jeanne and Paul have a way of singling out the little things . . . the mingled scent of Christ- mas spruce and incense in the quiet of the church where they were married .. . the simple, beautiful words of the wedding service when they knelt before the priest that New Year’s Eve morning three years ago. . . . “I, Jeanne, take thee, Paul, for my lawful wedded husband .. . for better, for worse .. . in sickness and in health.” . Furnace Creek Inn, where they spent their honeymoon. . . the desert sun rising against the purple hills and the wonderful hot cakes and syrup in the dilapidated old diner in Death Valley. ... In the three years since her marriage, Jeanne has scored three of her biggest box-office hits in Margie, You Were Meant For Me and Apartment For Peggy. But the Brinkmans have crowded a lot of living into those three years, too. Even when Jeanne was away on location, Paul always managed to fly up North or East or wherever the company would be work- ing, for a day or two. The Brinkmans have recently completed their modern redwood and _ fieldstone farmhouse in the beautiful Outpost sec- tion overlooking Hollywood. It’s a very fine house and equipped with scads of high-powered time-and-labor-saving de- vices that Paul, who is an engineer, in- stalls as quickly as he thinks them up. Paul is gadget-happy, as he cheerfully admits, and is now working on a window- drapery control for the bedroom which will operate from the bed. Object: cheery morning sun without putting a toe outside the covers. Fats Pas @ Ed Gardner defines opera: “When a guy gets stabbed, instead of bleeding, he sings.” H Milton Berle: “I saw a woman knit- ting three socks and asked her why. She said, ‘I just got a letter from my son in the Army. He said he’s grown another foot.’ ” @ Out on the Knock On Any Door set in Hollywood, a buttinsky told Hum- phrey Bogart, “You’re not as tough as you are in the movies.” Bogie walked away growling, “And I’m not as polite as I am at home.” —Eayrl Wilson The big sunny nursery wing on the house, which couldn’t be built before, owing to wartime restrictions, is rapidly nearing completion. Jeanne herself has designed the murals for it. One day on the patio she was working away at the early sketches for them while the Pauls, big and little, were sun-bathing. After a while, big Paul arose and stood by the drawing board upen which her crayons were busily creating demure little pink- and-blue angels. “How do you like them?” she asked. “Hmmm,” he said, “I dunno. ... Theyre very nice. ... But, honey, don’t you think maybe you're sort of getting too definite a ‘girl’ feeling into them? I mean—well, maybe it’s going to be another boy.” “Oh,” said Jeanne, “I don’t see why you should worry about that. You know we're going to have a houseful, assorted, one of these days.” Just then the telephone rang and Jeanne went off to answer it. It was a lon_, con- versation, and it was several minutes be- fore she returned to the patio. Paul was again stretched out absorbing sunbeams. Jeanne picked up her crayon—and gasped. All the little angels on the draw- ing board now sported football gear, cow- boy outfits and policemen uniforms. “What's the matter, darling?” murmured Paul. “Now, who could have done this?” in- quired Jeanne, hands on hips. Paul craned his neck and frowned at the drawing board. “Mice,” he theorized. “Well,” sighed Jeanne, getting to work with her eraser, “I still love you, any- how.” The completion of the nursery wing can’t come a minute too soon, according to Paul. The overflow of baby acces- sories, including a bassinette and a pram, and the toys outgrown by Paul, Jr.—now a strapping young lad of 20 months—have spilled over into big Paul’s work-room, crowding his gun collection into a small corner. Since most of the gun collection was stolen some time ago, Jeanne feels that the storage problem has worked out very well. Paul suspects that the lady of the house may have engineered the whole business, robbery and all! Jeanne calls Paul’s workshop “Peggy's Apartment” because its piles of baby fur- niture and assorted and lumpy stacks of boxes could very well have been the in- spiration for the Professor’s attic before Peggy and her ex-GI husband trans- formed it into their home in Apartment For Peggy. Paul insists Apartment For Peggy was

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Sane MEE Te UNE FF = aE ae SRMERT aa aN eae, g E in. reality a sneak preview of what he ha __ dubbed “Baby For Jeanne.” As the young wife of an ex-GI student, Jeanne’s cos- tumes had to be padded to give an authen- tic touch to her make-believe state of ‘expectancy. She neglected to mention this to Paul, until one day when he dropped by the studio for luncheon. Arriving first, he sat down at their favorite table to wait for her. After a moment, there she was, smiling and coming toward him. But it wasn’t—it couldn’t be Jeanne! Not this roly-poly ball of a girl, plumping down in the chair opposite him. He gazed at her open-mouthed. Jeanne caught on at once and shouted with laughter. But Paul really had the last laugh weeks later, near the final shooting on Peggy. Stopping off at his office after she’d been to the doctor’s, Jeanne was the one who looked a little incredulous and _ slightly dazed, as she reported to Paul: “He says I am!” “Ah, ha!” he exclaimed. “I told you to keep out of those padded costumes, gal. That sort of thing’s contagious. “That’s all right, though, angel,” he con- soled her between two bear hugs and a kiss on her nose. “It just goes to show how you really get right into the spirit of a role.” Typical of Jeanne’s admirable old-fash- ioned ideas about wanting babies was her instinctive reluctance to have the news about the new one leak out in gossip before she had a chance to tell her friends and her studio. When her doctor gave her a list of the dozen-and-one vitamins and tonics and builder-uppers prescribed for today’s young mothers-to-be, she com- missioned Paul to round them up—quietly. “Don’t go to Schwab’s,” she cautioned. “Riverybody knows you there. And don’t get them all at the same drug store—that’d be a dead give-away. Sort of shop around, will you, dear?” As always, Paul was off like a streak to do her bidding. But his imagination warmed to the intrigue of his mission, and instead of simply asking for each item, he embroidered the plot as he moved from pharmacy to pharmacy. “Td like to get some calcium tablets, please.” Could he let it go at that? He could not. “Having trouble with my teeth,” he confided chattily to the druggist, tapping his strong white uppers with a forefinger. Elaborating in this vein at each stop along his drugstore safari, Brinkman, the dramatist, came a cropper when he asked an elderly lady clerk for a specific iodine compound. “I’m anemic,” he explained dejectedly. “Anemic?” she repeated hopefully. “Well, young man, I have something much better for that. You take this bottle of Wingbottom’s Wonder Tonic. My brother was anemic, too, and it did him a world of good.” . Murmuring something like perhaps he ought to see a doctor, Brinkman, the real- ist, beat a hasty exit, summarily finishing his pharmaceutical shopping elsewhere. And with no further ad libbing. Reach- ing home and triumphantly dumping his loot in Jeanne’s lap, he counted 11 as- sorted bottles and packets in the great Brinkman undercover pill roundup. Paul and the vitamins Jeanne sketching nursery murals in a _ paint- daubed smock, with a blob of cherub blue on her chin . . . evenings by a fire... home movies of a little boy with brown eyes like his daddy’s . . . maid’s night-out barbecues for two . . . Ba-ba’s newest and sturdiest tooth ... the cuddly white lamb waiting in the white-skirted bassinette for its new owner . . . these—according to a couple of experts named Jeanne and Paul Brinkman—are the little things that make for great anniversaries. But this attitude leads to false rumors like the one started by a hotel clerk in San Francisco where the Brinkmans en- joyed a short holiday not so long ago. Observing them wander off, hand in hand and oblivious to the world in general and the people in the lobby in particular, he winked at a lounging bell boy. - “Honeymooners,” observed the wisey be- hind the desk. “I can spot ’em every time.” THE END The screen story of Jeanne Crain’s latest movie, Letter To Three Wives, is a feature of the February issue of ScREEN STORIES magazine. (Continued from page 29) THREE LOVES THAT THRILLED THE WORLD never made of papier maché. I won’t go - into the amazingly intelligent, level-head- ed, down-to-earth way George and Ger- trude Temple raised Shirley and gave her the character to ward off the very real dangers of becoming an artificial person- ality. But I saw it—we all did—pay off when Shirley Temple suddenly bloomed as a young woman in love—seeing what she wanted, knowing what she wanted, getting what she wanted and finding real love and happiness far beyond the kind she ever played before a camera. What Shirley wanted wasn’t a foreign title, or a glamor playboy or a millionaire social snob—although she certainly could have had her pick of those one-way streets to false love and unhappiness if she’d tossed one coy, flirting look around. But Shirley wasn’t interested. She didn’t shop around or dangle hearts from her fickle fingers. The fact that she was Shirley Temple, the world’s most treasured val- entine in person, didn’t warp her direct mind or honest heart. Jack Agar was the first and only true love of her life. He was a buck private when Shirley first looked up into his blue eyes, in his Strong, unsophisticated young face—and she knew love when she saw it. He wasn’t clever and flashy or snappy with a fast line of bedazzling chatter. He was shy, modest and reserved. He hadn’t a famous name, or too much money, but he did have the same solid American background that Shirley had, the same sincerity and sweet- ness (yep, men have it too). He was her match in every way—handsome, well- bred, manly, real. He was 22, Shirley was 15. But Juliet was less than that when she died for Romeo’s love. Shirley was 16 when Jack slipped an engagement ring on her third finger, left hand, 17 when a wedding band joined it. Too young? She was grown up—birth- days not counting—after they’d looked in each other’s eyes. Shirley had been out with boys before, dated decorously around in her sheltered set. But the day Ann Gallery, Zasu Pitts’ daughter and Shirley’s neighbor, brought her friend from Chicago to Shirley’s pool for a swim, was the day that changed her life. There wasn’t any pretentious hullabaloo about their courtship. 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Letters from Army camps from Jack; and too, too short leaves for visits; sweet-sorrow partings, eased by plans and promises. They’d promised Shirley’s parents to wait two years—but when Jack thought he might sail for duty in Europe, those sensible Temples saw no reason for denying a marriage they knew was right and a happiness that Shirley Temple, young as she was but grown-up in her emotions, deserved. I suppose there have been more elegant and lavishly-bedecked brides than Shirley Temple as she stood in her simple ivory satin wedding dress at the altar of the Wilshire Methodist church that wedding day—but in my memory I don’t recall ever seeing a sweeter one. In her dainty, still doll-like figure, too, there lived the ear- nest hopes and dreams of every girl in the world as she stood beside the handsome young soldier who adored her, and heard the minister intone, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here... .” It wasn’t the most fashionable church she could have picked; in fact, it wasn’t fashionable at all. Shirley Temple had picked it, not for swank, but because it was big—where more of the people who had loved her as a girl could see her be- come a bride. The altar was high and she liked that too. “So my friends can see us get married—all the way.” Proud of her love, she was, and wanting all who could to see her in her happiness. Jack Agar didn’t marry a gossamer package of glamour or a fictitious legend. He married a very real girl. Since that day Ive watched with in- terest that love in the “ever after” and it’s stood the test—from the time Shirley and Jack ran down the side steps and drove away glowing, in a car whose door handle wouldn’t work. From the big re- ception at Shirley’s old home, where all who knew her stepped up to plant a kiss and shake a hand. From their modest honeymoon in Santa Barbara to the home they soon made out of Shirley’s girlhood playhouse. Through the expectant bliss of young motherhood before her twentieth birthday, and through the adult problems that married love has solved—such as Jack’s own future and career as an actor himself. When David Selznick dangled an actor’s future before him, there was the question: Should he go on and finish col- lege or tackle a screen career? movie career for jack... Shirley pointed out, as a good wife should, both the advantages and disad- vantages—but she told Jack he was the boss, it was his decision. (“But you could make a living a lot worse ways,” she told him with her new wifely wisdom. “I ought to know.” ) So John decided—and played opposite his wife in Fort Apache. John Ford tells me he’s sure to be a star. But whether or not Jack and Shirley Agar become another pair of Lunts or not, isn’t important. They have something much more important than mutual fame. They have mutual love—strong, young and sincere—and last Valentine’s Day, as I gazed down into the sweet results of that love, little Linda Susan, cradled in her pink bassinette, I thought: This is the kind of love that makes the world go *round, indeed. The fact that it blossomed right in and in spite of Hollywood makes it all the more wonderful to me. The perfect, though tragic romance of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard was an entirely different sort of love—more adult and mature, but just as rich and strong and satisfying, even if it wasn’t colored with Cupid’s rosy young dream like Shir- ley and Jack Agar’s. People write me all the time to ask, “When is Clark Gable going to get married again?”—and I can’t answer them. I’ve asked Clark the same question to. his andcomes fee time and again and got just a crooked grin from the King. I don’t know any more than anyone else—and sometimes I wonder if Clark himself does. I think he probably will marry again, because he’s a lonely man. Though I’m not sure but that a very large part of his heart rests forever on a Nevada mountainside where his perfect mate, Carole, lost her life—the first Holly- wood star to give it in the service of her country during the war. I know about the living room at Clark’s ranch-house furnished just the way Carole left it. Clark has never allowed one stick of it to be rearranged. I know why he rushed into the Air Corps so swiftly—to cover his grief with action and impelled to risk his own life as Carole had hers. I know about the ruby clip—all they found of the mortal Carole Lombard in that lonely plane-crash pyre—which he him- self found in the ashes, had mounted and still carries with him always. Yet, in fashioning a valentine in the memory of that great Hollywood love, ’d never edge it with sombre black; I’d trim it with the gayest colors I could find. For that was the kind of king and queen they were, and the theme song of their wonderful love was life and laughter. in love with life... Carole loved life and she lived it to the full. I've never known a girl who squeezed more living out of every moment and I knew Carole long before she ever knew and loved Clark Gable. She adored peo- ple, excitement, talk, action. I think that essential part of her, that hungry, vital all-out living side of her was what made Carole Lombard such a brilliant star. She was glowing and happy making other peo- ple happy, giving them fun, and that ra- diant exuberance sparkled through in ev- ery part she played. I remember, and so does most of Holly- wood, one party Carole staged in honor of William Rhinelander Stewart, the New York millionaire, at the Ocean Park fun pier. It was a walloping credit to her social leadership and personality power that she collected all the great glamor lords and ladies of the screen for that sailor-on-leave outing, broke their tinsel dignities to pieces and made them love it. Skirts whisked up over startled necks and glamor gowns tumbled on dusty _boards, male star tailor’s dummies shouted and yelled and reverted to their natural selves, to big kids, on that night. I can still see Claudette Colbert sprawl- ing in six different directions in the roll- ing tunnel of the fun house and Marlene Dietrich sent skittering on the whirl- around, skinning her million-dollar legs— abrasions she exhibited proudly for days, to prove she wasn’t the austere Garbo- copy Josef Von Sternberg had made her. That party made Marlene and a host of other Hollywood stars real people and Carole chuckled to see it happen thus. When Carole Lombard tackled anything it was with all her heart and soul—and that’s the way she fell for Clark Gable, that’s the way she made herself over to his style, staged a complete reverse, which, for a strong character like Carole, could have been worked only by the miracle that makes hearts beat faster on Valen- tine’s Day. I saw their first dramatic debut as a team. It was at a party—the last big one Carole Lombard ever threw her high ten- sion energies into, the last one she wanted to attend. It was that famous White May Fair, the annual elite movie-world win- ter ball that she was selected to stage one year. As usual, she knocked herself out making it perfect and her theme was—all white for the ladies, every glamor gown It was oaaty ue sorials event of. snowy. Se eis Se Se ee

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Hollywood’s year. And that was the night Norma Shearer crossed Carole up, with a feminine dagger thrust, by making a grand entrance in scarlet red—the only color gown there. (Bette Davis later used that incident for a striking scene in a swell movie of hers, Jezebel.) Carole turned whiter than her satin gown, swiftly picked up her skirts and left the ballroom. A big guy left the stag line and strode hurriedly after her. That was the first time Clark Gable took Carole Lombard home, and that was the night they fell in love. Clark was truly Hollywood’s king then. And Carole, with her slashing comedy- drama performances, was at the height of her career, too. She made news every minute. She was the screen’s best-dressed woman, among its sharpest female wits, at the peak of her alabaster, violet-eyed beauty. She rated a fabulous salary, star- tled people by saying she was happy and privileged to pay her gigantic income tax. She was out in front, leading the parade, a fit mate for the king. Everyone who knew Carole loved her; everyone loved Gable, too—and when they loved each other it was a romance fit for the gods. Carole and Clark measured up, and matched. She saw to that. gags and gaiety... The theme of their merry courtship could have been taken from the title of a picture of Carole’s, Nothing Sacred, that of their attraction from another, They Knew What They Wanted. Some of the outrageous pranks and fun they had with each other are still classics—the gags they tossed to and fro like a couple of big, happy kids. I remember one Christmas when Clark parked an ancient jalopy on the front yard of Carole’s Hollywood home and she had to have a junk dealer come cart it off! They made news every day in wacky ways that were columnists’ de- lights—but the biggest, most significant news was the way Carole made herself over to please the man she loved. The way her Paris gowns gave way to levis and riding breeches, her tailored suits to tweed jackets, sweaters, skirts and out- door gear. Carole loved the open, and she loved Clark. She learned to shoot a Clark Gable and his ill-fated Carole at a Hollywood Greek Relief gun, whip a bass rod, drive swift and long at the wheel, even climb up behind the king on his motorcycle. They had both lived and loved before. But they found new youth and spirit to- gether in a love such as neither had yet known. It was as if they’d never loved before—and they made as handsome, vital, electric a pair as I’ve ever seen together in Hollywood or anywhere else. Carole deserted her big home on Holly- wood Boulevard and together they planned and built Clark’s dream ranch-house. Everything—she saw to that—was for a man: Huge, walk-in freeze rooms to hang whole deer carcasses, stables, kennels, deep leather chairs, gun racks, tool sheds and stalls for the fast cars and powerful tractors Clark loved. They had a pair of matched horses to ride, side by side, over the Malibu hills. They rigged up a spe- cial station wagon equipped for almost anything you’d want on a camping trip, double bunks and all. Carole, the party girl, turned into Clark’s outdoor gal. Her friends became his and his, hers. Carole loved Clark’s dad, and insisted Clark find a place near the ranch for him. She loved to sit with Clark and Pop Gable, who died last year, late at night around the kitchen table, frying bacon and eggs, drinking bottles of beer and listening to the salty tales Pop would tell of his crazy kid, Clark. She went bass fishing with Clark and his pals at Lake Mead, back of Hoover Dam; she soon was shooting skeet up near his own high score; and Carole was the first lady gunner to go down into Mexico after ducks with her guy. They rolled all over Arizona, Ne- vada, and Oregon looking for a bigger, more rugged ranch. They had plans and dreams and team projects galore. They were both living and loving fully in per- fect harmony in a perfect marriage. Then Pearl Harbor shot up in flames. Clark and Carole Gable had been mar- ried barely three blissful years when she flew East in the early war days to throw her dynamic gifts selflessly into the new cause, war bonds. Her mother, who trav- eled with her, and Clark’s MGM publicity pal, Otto Winkler, tried to talk Carole out of taking the plane back home. It * broadcast in February - 1941 with Ann Rutherford, Dick Powell, Frank Morgan and a kid named Shirley Temple. AND LOOK IO YEARS YOCW/GER e Now, at home, you can quickly tint telltale gray to natural-appearing shades—from lightest blonde to dark- est black. Brownatone and a small brush does it—or your money back. Approved by thousands—Brownatone is guaranteed harmless when used as directed. No skin test needed,.Tae principal coloring agent is a purely vege- table-derivative with iron and copper salts added for fast action. Cannot affect waving of hair. 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FREE BOOK- LET — send name now on penny postcard. oh : LINCOLN SCHOOL of PRACTICAL NURSING Bs 30% eu Dept. 82, 4737 Broadway Ave., Chicago 40, ii. was overloaded. Bae she Agnew that at the Los Angeles Airport a big, black- haired, grinning guy would be waiting to sweep her off the step and wrap her in his arms. So she hastened aboard... . When the end came, I know, what Carole was thinking of was her guy, Clark, out in Hollywood, waiting to meet her. They never found anything mortal of her—except that ruby clip Clark still car- ries with him—although he stalked the blackened canyon for days and nights with the rescue party, sleepless, with red- rimmed, hollow eyes, silent and tearless in his grief... . That’s been seven years ago now, and they say seven years is a full chapter in any man’s life. It is in Clark Gable’s, too. I hope he goes on to a new one. But I wonder, on this Valentine’s Day, if there will ever be for him a chapter dedicated so completely to the heart—so perfectly, so ideally as it was with Carole Lombard, the love of his life. undramatic devotion... But deep devotion is not necessarily dramatic—even in Hollywood, where that’s the town specialty—nor does it inevitably follow the primrose path that fairy prin- cesses and prince charmings tread. In one Hollywood home shared by two of the most publicly spotlighted and privately plain people that I know—Betty Grable and Harry James—dwells as great a love and understanding as ever blessed a pair. Yet it isn’t spectacular or showy at all. True, it was the combination of a glitter girl whose looks and legs made her a wolf-whistle wherever her picture was pinned—and a brassy trumpeter whose name personified the strident up-to-the- minute blasts and beats of red-hot jive and jazz. A high kick and a hot lick! Yet that’s not the real Betty and Harry— and it never was, to everyone’s surprise. She met him not in Hollywood but Chi- cago, that cradle of American dance and rhythm. Harry was tooting out his golden notes, as the new king of swing, at the College Inn, Chicago’s famous café where great bandleaders have held forth ever since jazz came up the Mississippi. Betty was displaying her twin beauties and ivory smile at the Chicago Theatre on a per- sonal appearance. After one post-per- formance visit to the College Inn, she headed there every night—and she took her mama along every time, too, which might have been a tip-off. From there the scenario progressed to Hollywood, just as it has in a score of musical movies, but the twist was—wartime, the Hollywood Canteen—with Harry James sending sweet notes for the service boys on Monday nights and Betty giving her Hollywood glamor there the very same night of the week. Then they made a picture to- gether as Harry James’ radio fame in- evitably led him before Hollywood cam- eras. Boy and girl who met ’way back in show business found love and happiness at the rainbow’s end—that’s the plot, and it’s been used for a make-believe movie many more times than once. Only that’s what really happened to Harry and Betty James. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for us all to believe. Or perhaps it’s just because Harry and Betty are too busy living their love to waste words or show off trying to prove it. I doubt if they even know when Valen- tine’s Day rolls around, myself. Every day is that for those two—but not the sticky, sentimental kind. That’s not their style. Every time I call on Betty, I come away warmed by the refreshing sincerity of a show girl utterly dedicated to her hus- band, home and children. Every time, too, I confess, I search for a chink in her armor, some tell-tale giveaway of a con- Sao hee eee ey Eu " viction I’ve toted around stepped on a stage Syec ae ao reers in the same family strike sparks. But each time, after brief exposure to Betty at home, my old skeptic heart set- tles right down and purrs meekly, undis- turbed by a doubt. Each time the unpre- tentious girl who draws in more box- office gold than any other lady star in Hollywood, who married the shy King of the Cornet, shames me by her direct dec- larations of the way her heart beats. Last time, I remember, we sat side by side on a great sofa beside her homey, copper-cluttered fireplace, while her dar- ling daughters, Vicki and Jess, romped around. Betty told me then how in tune she and Harry were in their way of life. in the things they love, their interests, hopes and plans. “It’s almost spooky,” she smiled. “Sometimes we burst out saying the same things, and we can almost send messages without a telephone. Every- thing Harry has ever fallen for—horses. baseball, music, ranch life—I suddenly love and want too.” Love does that. And it was not, somehow, ho-hum or trite to hear Betty Grable say steadily: “Harry and I couldn’t live without each other now. Our love has grown and deepened with every day weve been married. We don’t talk about it much—it’s just there.” No, you don’t talk about a love that’s as real as Harry and Betty’s—you live it every minute, in big ways, little ways. Like Betty’s locking her bedroom door each night when Harry’s playing late with his band, so hell have to wake her up and she can welcome him home even if it’s past midnight and she’s due at seven on her studio set... . Like seeing him off and meeting him coming home no matter when a train or plane arrives or departs. . . Like cutting short a scene at six o'clock, no matter how important, to shop in person at the market for the foods Harry likes and her family thrives on. . Like following Harry’s band tours whenever she can break away from her job, arranging her own film vacations to suit his so they can share them together, in some sport they both love, a horse-race meet or a world’s series. . . . Like cooking Harry’s breakfast on Sunday mornings and -helping groom the horses on the ranch. . Like a lot of things that make two people one in all the married moments that add up to a life of love. the hidden hearts . .. That their kind of devotion can grow and endure in Hollywood against the tug- ging tides of two extremely opposite, de- manding careers is to me a marriage miracle, caused by two large hearts worn not on sleeves but hidden inside, where they do the most good. Yes, love blooms—and not just on Val- entine’s Day—in Hollywood as everywhere else. It’s a hardy perennial likely to pop up practically any day the year round in giddying, sweet-scented profusion. Not always are the blossoms spectacular and dazzling—sometimes they’re just tender buds and sometimes the petals are seared and torn at the edges. Well, I’m no poet and I know it. But, at the risk of sound- ing silly to some people, I believe that loves grow here in Hollywood every bit as luxuriant and lovely as anywhere else— despite the parodies they suffer sometimes in print and on celluloid. And because the spotlight shines on them everlastingly, when they are full- blown and glorious they can thrill the world—as the loves of Shirley and Jack, and Clark and Carole, and Harry and Betty have proved to me. At least, that’s the way I’m feeling as this St. Valentine’s Day, A.D. 1949, approaches—and I hope it lasts, because it’s a perfectly gorgeous feeling, believe you me! Tse Enp “¢ ts Si

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The Winners: Once again the points have been tallied, the totals added up, and the winners in our Eighth Semi-Annual MSFCA Trophy Cup Contest are ready to be an- nounced. Three lucky clubs—one in each of our three leagues—whose high standards of performance, valuable services to. their stars, and fine work in fulfilling the broader and generally worthwhile functions of a club have ~ earned them the most coveted award in the fan club world! Here they are: League One: (clubs with 500 members or over) Nelson Eddy Music Club (Rita and Jo Mottola, co-prexies). This two-time cup win- ner rolled up a Trophy-pulling total of 1600 points! League-Two (201 to 499 members): Jeanette MacDonald Club (Martha Farrington, prexy). A first win for this fine club—and it took 1550 points! League Three: Joseph Cot- ten Club (Florence Steingraber, prexy). This club changed hands only about a year ago, but never slackened its consistently excellent pace! Total points: 1600! Congratulations and thanks to the winners for setting the goals for all MSFCA clubs and paving the way for the victors of tomorrow. Runners-Up: In every Trophy Cup contest there are always those almost-winners, clubs every bit as excellent as the three League- toppers—fun to join, filled with surprises and fascinating activities, yet clubs which just miss out on the prize by a few hundred points or less. Very often they are cup-winners of the past. Chances are they’re cup-winners of the future. At any rate, we hope they won't get discouraged, but will keep on try- ing until that inevitabie day comes when they'll wind up with the highest score! So At the Roy Rogers Fan Club Convention in Chicago, Roy helps Jacqueline Turner of Chi- cago into her Frontier Jacket (similar to the one Roy wears) which was one of 35 door prizes awarded at the Convention. Highlight of the week-end festivities was the reception Roy gave for the delegates at the Stevens Hotel. Helping him entertain were his wife, Dale Evans, and the Riders of the Purple Sage, all appearing atthe Roy Rogers Cham- _ pionship Rodeo in Chicago. he fans MODERN SCREEN FAN CLUB ASSOCIATION | ’ Betty Gottschalk, Arthur Kennedy Journal. SHIRLEY FROHLICH director GLORIA LAMPERT associate we salute the runners-up: In League 1, The Gene Autry Friendship Club (a _ two-time former winner) and the Bill Boyd Club (Nancy Sue Bryan, préexy). In League 2, Mary Ruth Bond’s Musical Notes Club and Glenna Riley’s Jeanette MacDonald Club (16 years old and still going strong!). In League 3, the comparative newcomer, the Freddie Stewart Club (Irene Ashcroft, prexy), the June Allyson Club (recently reorganized by Lois Carnahan) and Betty Gottschalk’s Arthur Kennedy Club. We're proud of you all! Fresh Start: Okay, clubbers! The score- boards are cleared and everybody starts fresh, with an equal chance to win in the next series. And remember, winning points isn't the job of the prexy or the journal editor. It's the job of every rank-and-file member. Contribute stories and art work to your jour- nals, submit your favorite snaps in our Can- did Snap Contest, back up your charity drives; in other words, be ACTIVE. 8TH MSFCA TROPHY CUP CONTEST It was a swell contest and we hated to see it go. But the new one’s already begun— the ninth in our series! This is only the be- ginning, and remember, there are monthly prizes in addition to those silver Trophy Cups for the final league leaders. Winners in our THIS IS MY BEST contest can still try for those 4 luscious HELENA RUBINSTEIN lip- sticks all packed in a lucite holder, to match their own particular hair coloring. Club artists have lots to gain by sending in sketches to their club journals. The TANGEE people have wonderful travel kits all packed with creams and powders, and ready to go along with you on that vacation trip. Don't forget, we have prizes for boys too—Dell mysteries, and sub- ‘scriptions to the magazine of your choice, such as RADIO ALBUM, SCREEN ALBUM, FRONT PAGE DETECTIVE and many more. LAST LAP This Is My Best: (100 points) ‘From Me to You.” “Fun with Ginni and Maggie,’ Betty Bayre, Virginia Field Journal. ‘Spring in New York,”’ Dorothy Mc- Caw, Desi Arnaz (Martinjak) Journal. “‘What Do I Say,’’ Dwayne Armstead, Ron Randell (Hreha) Journal. ‘‘My Journey To The USA,” Tess Burton, Randell (Hrehay Journal. ‘Fantasy Impromptu,” Robert Stockbridge, Burt Lancaster Club News. Best Journals: (500 points) League 1. Nelson Eddy (Mottola) Journal. League 2. Bob Crosby Journal. League 3. (tied) Freddie Stewart and Arthur Ken- nedy Journals. Best Editors: (250 points) League 1. Janie Hamilton, Bill Boyd Journal. League 2. Joann Julian, Burt Lancaster Club News. League 3. Virginia Haywood, Televisor. Best Covers: (250 points) League 1. none qualified. League 2. Jean- ette MacDonald (Riley) Journal. League 3. (tied) Anthony Quinn, Sinatra (Wolfenstein) and Arthur Kennedy Journals. Membership Increases: (100 points) League 1. No entries. League 2. Alan Ladd (Pearl). League 3. Vaughn Monroe (Staub). Worthwhile Activities: (250 points) League 1. No entries. League 2. Mel Torme Club (collected toys for underprivileged children). Musical Notes Club (donated $30 to Cancer Fund). League 3. Frank Latimore Club (sent 2 packages of clothing to a member in England). Best Artist: (150 points) none qualified. Candid Camera Contest: (100 points to first prize winner, 50 to others) Margie Hummell, Ginger Rogers Club. Joan Fox, Sinatra Club of Staten Island. Kaye Criss, Jack Smith Club. Joyce Moisson, Sinatra Club. Irene Ashcroft, Freddie Stewart Club. Ann Glatz, Rise Stevens Club. Best Correspondents: League 1. Rita and Jo Mottola, Nelson Eddy Club. League 2. Nell Am- brose, Club Friendship. League 3. 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MOVIE REVIEWS (Continued from page 22) keeper, and Frankie's out to fix things for him. “T'll take my father’s place,’ he promises. Trouble is, Frankie's father had only been an innkeeper in his spare time. His main occupation was banditry. He’d been known as “The Kissing Bandit.” “Kissed every woman he robbed. Made ‘em faint. When Frankie hears this, he’s terrified. He can’t ride a horse, he’s never kissed a woman, and he doesn’t think robbery’s ethical. But Chico and his father’s old gang sell him on the idea of the clean, outdoor life banditry offers. “Fresh air, the blue sky, adventure i And Frankie does try very hard. When the gang holds up the coach of the governor's daughter (Kathryn Grayson), Frankie even almost kisses her. Not quite, though. No nerve. He returns to Chico's inn, sorrowful and ashamed, and that night, the inn has important visitors. A count and a general who've come all the way from Spain to col- lect California’s taxes, or the governor's head. They're a most unpleasant couple (call every- body “peasants” ) and they wind up tied in neat little bundles, while Frankie and Chico borrow their fine clothes and their carriage. Then, masquerading as the noble strangers, Frankie and Chico go off to visit the gov- ernor. Chico's thinking of the nice tax money; Frankie’s thinking of Kathryn. Kathryn doesn’t betray them, she remembers Frankie very well, and they both sing a lot of songs, and Ricardo Montalban and Ann Miller and Cyd Charisse do a dance, and the Technicolor is blinding. Frankie finally con- fesses he’d rather be honest than glamorous, Kathryn decides she can love him even if even though Don Juan: Errol Flynn dashes back to Spain and proceeds to fall for Queen Viveca Lindfors. he isn't a big brave bandit, and the goings-on get really joyful. J. Carrol Naish, who por- trays Chico with a big putty nose and a Mexican accent, walks away with the picture, but he’s such a terrific actor it’s a pleasure to watch him walk.—M-G-M. DON JUAN Don Juan acted out in such atrociously hammy fashion you keep thinking it’s a play within a play. You wait for the curtain to ring down, and for the characters involved to step forward and say a few lines with matter-of-fact inflection. This never happens. In addition to which, Spanish history takes such a drubbing about the head and shoul- ders that Christopher Columbus is surely turning in his grave, sorry he ever discovered the country capable of spawning Hollywood. To get to the Technicolored point, Don Juan (Errol Flynn) the infamous Spanish lover of ladies, is languishing in England, in disgrace He’s given a dressing-down by the Spanish ambassador (Robert Warwick), who says Spain is in bad trouble. Why doesn’t Juan change his way of living? the ambassador wants to know. Go home, in fact. Keep the wicked advisors of the Spanish king (Romney Brent) from making war on England. This is a big order, but not for Errol Flynn. With his trusty henchman (Alan Hale—who else?) he goes rushing back to Spain and discovers the lovely Queen (Viveca Lindfors) to be the only person with all her buttons at the whole court. The Duke De Lorca (Robert Douglas ) has the king under his thumb, and the duke wants war. Errol proceeds to fall in love with the queen, but this time it’s a finer love than he’s ever known before. It gives him the strength to outwit De Lorca, kill half the palace guards (they were on De Lorca’s side) and keep the peace. The queen, who’s fought against the dreadful knowledge, admits finally that she loves Don Juan, and that’s a nice pickle too. She's got her duties to her country on one hand; she’s got Errol on the other. It reminds you of the Thurber cartoon that’s captioned, “With you, I have known peace, Leda, and now you say you are going insane.” Errol tells the queen she must be strong, as he bids her farewell, and rides away, on the trail of the other prettier ladies. Well, it all adds up to good fun, if you're feeling childish— Warners for his various misdeeds. also showing... APARTMENT FOR PEGGY (20th-Fox) —G.I. stu- dent Bill Holden and his wife Jeanne Crain find campus quarters with old professor Edmund Gwynn and save him from despair. A superb comedy-drama. BLOOD ON THE MOON (RKO)—A taut. excit- ing Western with Robert Mitchum, Robert Preston, Phyllis Thaxter. Very intelligently done. ENCHANTMENT (Goldwyn) —Seven-year-old Gigi Perreau walks off with the honors in this superb film of three generations of an Eng- lish family—but David Niven, Jayne Mead- ows, Teresa Wright, Farley Granger, Evelyn Keyes and a number of other first-rate ac- tors are wonderful too. Guaranteed to please. JUNE BRIDE (Warners)—Bette Davis and Rob- ert Montgomery seem to be enjoying them- selves in this bright comedy—and you'll enjoy yourself. KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS (Univ.-Int.) —Burt Lancaster. a murderous fellow, woos and wins Joan Fontaine in post-war London and they come to no good end. A well-ex- ecuted but seamy exercise. MISS TATLOCK'S MILLIONS (Para.)—John Lund 116is hired by Barry Fitzgerald to impersonate an idiot heir to millions. An absolute riot. With Monty Woolley and Wanda Hendrix. RED RIVER (U.A.)—This huge Technicolor Western really gives you your money’s worth. John Wayne, Monty Clift and Joanne Dru get involved in stampedes and Indian fight- ing and feuds and everything. Great stuff. RETURN OF OCTOBER (Col.)—College professor Glenn Ford, horse-lover Terry Moore and some whimsical doings concerning a race- horse named October. Complicated and amusing. ROAD HOUSE (20th-Fox)—-Cornel Wilde, Ida Lupino and Celeste Holm get all fouled up by villain Richard Widmark in this wild and woolly crime tale. THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR (U.A.) —Youngster Dean Stockwell awakes one morning to find his hair has turned green. Because of this, he becomes an outeast. A very worthwhile film that shows how silly bigotry is. With Barbara Hale and Pat O’Brien. THE DECISION OF CHRISTOPHER BLAKE (Warners) —A story of the effect on a 12-year-old of his parents’ getting divorced. Pretty phony fare. With Ted Donaldson, Alexis Smith and Robert Douglas. THE GALLANT BLADE (Col.) —Larry Parks, Victor Jory and Marguerite Chapman in a Cinecolor costume swashbuckler. Lots of dash and swordplay. THE PALEFACE (Para.)—Bob Hope, a tender- foot dentist in the old Wild West. meets up with the Jane Russell version of Calamity Jane. One of the funniest Hope pictures ever. THE RED SHOES (Eagle-Lion) A Technicolor backstage drama of the ballet—which fea- tures a long, original ballet that is one of the most thrilling things ever put on film. Moira Shearer is the ballerina chiefly con- cerned. Don’t miss it if you like magnificent dancing. THE THREE MUSKETEERS (MGM) —A spectacular production, in Technicolor, of the 16th-Cen- tury France adventure classic. Gene Kelly, Lana Turner, June Allyson, Van Heflin, and Vincent Price help make it all look awfully expensive. UNFAITHFULLY YOURS (20th-Fox)—Rex Harri- | son is a symphony conductor who daydreams of the various dramatic ways in which he | ean handle the supposed unfaithfulness of — his wife, Linda Darnell. Unusual comedy. _ ne fy Sa po ty ed i a <2 Meee eid Aa tS

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