Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from Media History Digital Library https://archive.org/details/photoplayjuldec100macf_15 ifu J A SOFT, FINE SPRAY THAT IS GOOD TO YOUR HAIR HOLDS CURLS BEAUTIFULLY IN PLACE FOR HOURS Breck Hair Set Mist is a gentle spray that leaves hair soft and shining, never stiff or sticky. This fragrant mist, with lanolin, brings out the natural beauty of your hair. Breck Hair Set Mist holds curls beautifully in place, even in damp weather. Use after combing, to hold hair in place; use before combing — style as you comb; use for pincurls. New purse size 75i; 2 oz. 65 1 < GENERALLY FREQUENTLY | 5 < z o U) < o o o £ CE 2 oc. UJ > Ul z What Type Are You? For each of the questions below, put a check in the column at the left that's the right answer for you. Then add up the number of checks in each column. If you've the most checks under: "Always" You're Type 3 "Generally" You're Type 1 "Frequently" You're Type 2 "Occasionally" You're Type 5 "Rarely" You're Type 6 "Never" You're Type 4 | If you've almost the same number of checks in 2 or more columns, it just means you haven't yet decided exactly who you are. For 66 bachelor arguments on who you should be, turn the page. Personality Quiz • Smile when you’re whistled at? • Talk to strange men on a train? • Talk to yourself if nobody’s around? • Laugh out loud at a funny book? • Get misty at beautiful music? • Write letters to editors? • Hum when you dance with him? • Lend your best clothes to friends? • Scream for your team at ball games? • Despite a sign, talk to busdrivers? • Leave your clothes where they fall? • Ask men whether they're married? • Remove your earrings for a kiss? • Pretend a stocking-run just popped? • Ask a new boy home to dinner? • Take a trip at a moment’s notice? • Discuss sex with the opposite sex? • Give him little gifts for no reason? • Stay on the phone forever? • Think tomorrow you’ll go on a diet? • Accept a date for the same night? • Use safety pins when buttons fail? • Reward yourself with a sundae? • Hate to go to a party alone? • Kick your shoes off first thing? • Close your eyes when you’re kissed? • Feel funny at meeting a new boy? • Buy a dress that Hatters your figure? • Can’t eat when you’re in love? • Want to tell him you love him? • Send away for free booklets? • Admit it to him when you’re wrong? • Keep a diary? • Get mad quick and get over it soon? • Forget the ending of a joke? • Answer romance quizzes? • Ask people to sign petitions? • Like a boy to be jealous over you? • Always know what to say to him? • Teach boys to dance? • Sing in the shower? • Take walks with him in the rain? • Tell the world about your secrets? • Kiss a hoy on a first date? • Get teary-eyed when you’re happy? • Sleep with perfume on? • Don’t try to hide your emotions? • Prefer orchids to one perfect rose? • Skip and run when you’re happy? • Try to write poetry? • Do what you make up your mind to? • Laugh so hard at his jokes you cry? • Want to have a large family? • Hug your pillow at night? Now that you’re typed , see who goes for you^^. 66 bachelors vote for their favorite type of girl type: fun-loving Paul Anka Frankie Avalon Edd Byrnes Peter Brown Ben Cooper Robert Fuller Jackie Gleason David Hedison Tab Hunter Pat Wayne TYPE: womanly John Bromfield Phil Everly Jack Lemmon Jody McCrea Sal Mineo Cameron Mitchell David Nelson Johnny Restivo Cesar Romero Tom Tryon type: sexy Stephen Boyd Marlon Brando Maurice Chevalier Montgomery Clift Mark Damon Dwayne Hickman John Ireland Elvis Presley John Saxon Frank Sinatra TROY DONAHUE type: mysterious — jMr HR Cli IT Atquelte Jgxe dAjita i re Richard Beymer Robert Evans Caij| Grant Robert Morse Hugh O’Brian Michael Rennie Mort Sahl Russ Tamblyn Raymond Burr Rock Hudson Jimmy Clanton Gene Kelly Ben Gazzara Christopher Lee )rge Hamilton George Nader Rex Harrison Tony Perkins who’s your favorite man? how to be the type HE wants.., how to be the type HE wants you to be 1 ANNETTE FUNICELLO ( fun-loving ) Life is a picnic to her (as it is to Molly Bee, Connie Stevens, Doris Day, Deb- bie) and I want to tag along, so some of her sparkle will rub off on me, says Rick Nelson. She’s musical — plays a uke and likes to harmon- ize. Her clothes are easy : shorts, pleated skirts and blazers, white duck pants and little sailor hats. Her smile is like a four-alarm fire, and the way she wrinkles her nose when she laughs — it kills me. She looks wonderful in polka-dots, charm bracelets, red corduroy, has bouncy hair and loves the wind in it. She brings me out, gets me to do crazy things. We go to the zoo and die laughing at the polar bears, and the monkeys. She likes Thurber illustrations, bubble baths, bedtime stories; plays tennis, even baseball; is a natural-born flirt, which means there’s nothing phony or obvious about the way she does it. She has the light touch. She’s not afraid of what people will say, because she trusts herself. She has a wonderful time just being a girl. And she sure makes me glad I’m a boy. SHIRLEY TEMPLE ( womanly ) There’s something solid about her (like Sandra Dee, Vici Shaw, Deborah Kerr, Si- mone Signoret). Something I could build my life around, says Bob Horton. Maybe it’s the serious look in her eyes that does it. They’re clear and intense, with thick, expressive brows. Her hair is fluffy and natural looking. She likes to putter in a garden, make unusual soups and stews, serve cheese with apples or pears. We’re both sunworshippers, love sailing or just plain hiking, want to live in an old farmhouse with a creek out back, go barefoot and bareheaded, walk in the rain. She looks great in shirtwaist dresses, velvet slacks, old GI jackets, halter-top dresses, sandals, sleeveless blouses, belted coats, big pocketbooks and the color yellow. She’s practical; helps me save money, gives me confidence, listens carefully to what I tell her, and can keep a secret. She feels a responsibility for the well-being of all living creatures, and cares for them as devotedly as she will one day care for children — mine, I hope. 3 SUSAN HAYWARD ( sexy) Her aim is to make me happy (like Rita Hayworth, or Brigitte Bardot, Marilyn Monroe, Liz Taylor, Tuesday Weld ) , even if she can’t ever be punctual, count money or control her temper. She does pretty much what she darn pleases and. luckily, most of the time it pleases me, says Edd Byrnes. She can get away with extreme clothes: red satin, plunging necklines, elbow-length gloves, a leopard jacket — even a bikini. Her mouth is her most provocative feature, and she paints it brilliantly: the lips always a little parted, the lower one slightly fuller than the upper — which means she’s very good at pouting and getting her own way. She loves big jewels, hanging ear- rings, orchids, fancy petticoats; likes to go on shopping sprees, or to the beach; is a big eater. She has a passion for humor books, but likes me to read aloud to her. She’s impulsive, ticklish, gets a big kick out of shocking people. I can’t take my eyes off her — she gives off rays of life, energy, excitement, that are 100% female. ( Continued ) 68 how to be the type HE wants you to be continued She’s like Carolyn Jones, Ava Gard- ner. Garbo or Marlene Dietrich. And what makes her so special? Well, I guess it’s her face, says Gardner McKay. Not necessarily because it’s so beautiful, but because it hides so well what she’s thinking. Her neck is long, like a swan’s; her profile is superb, and she dramatizes it with all kinds of hats, from picture ones to the kind that cover her hair. She likes masculine sports — or never says she doesn’t — like golf and fishing; also exotic plants, health foods, ab- stract art. panthers. She keeps trim on a strict routine — massages, exercise. She wears straight-straight skirts, de- ceptively simple dresses; unusual combinations, like a woolen sweater with an evening skirt, a double- breasted fur coat, black suits lined with orange silk. Then she’ll have just one piece of jewelry, maybe, worn dramatically on her hat or at her waist. But no. it’s not just her clothing that makes her unpredict- able, it’s that she seems to be looking at something nobody else can see. thinking about something nobody else could know. She can’t be swept off her feet. I know, because I’ve already tried. She can’t really be classified and she can never be talked into doing anything that she hasn’t already decided to do — all by herself. Which means she may never marry me, but I’m going to keep on trying. She’s learned how to say No when she doesn’t trust her emotions, (like Kim Novak, Leslie Caron, Diane Baker, Jean Simmons), because she’s soft- Only 20 minutes more than last night's pin-up . . . . .. ... hearted and tender, and afraid of getting hurt. Her hair is silky and not too curly, and she keeps it long, so she can twist it up in a roll or tie ribbons in it, or violets. Her make-up is all light and rosy, except for the dark outline around her big, inno- cent eyes. She wears pastels, mostly blue; full velvet skirts with matching stoles, crisp blouses with peter-pan collars. She’s got dozens of belts and bright-colored scarves, and she wears a locket with my picture in it. She’s crazy about animals, both stuffed and live ones. She’s a good swimmer; makes fudge, bakes pies, knits; she used to study ballet. I want to protect her from the world, says Fabian, be- cause she’s so — well, fragile, and big crowds of people scare her. She blushes when I tell her she’s beau- tiful. And once in a while she’ll let me know she loves me, in some sweet, quiet way. She needs time and patience, and she’s worth it. I can wait for the day she wont say no. 6 LORETTA YOUNG (lady -like) She has this marvelous elegance about her (like Lee Remick. Susan Kohner, Claudette Colbert, Grace Kelly), as if she had no choice but to make the right gesture, say the right word, wear the right clothes — like long skirts for dinner, and real evening gowns (none of those balle- rina things) when the invitation savs Formal. She wears lots of white kid- skin gloves, chiffon scarves, fur pieces, fresh flowers, little veiled hats. Her jewelry has an heirloom look on her cashmeres and tweeds. She plays charades and bridge, but doesn’t go for outdoor sports. On her table, the china is apt to be Bavarian, the linen Irish, the silver English. Her per- fume is French, and she sprays some on her stationery, too. Her letters are always handwritten, full of wit and unusual observations. Her tastes are expensive, but she’s pretty shrewd about satisfying them without undue extravagance. I guess you’d call her well bred, and a bit of a puritan — which, frankly, I like, says Troy Donahue. And whether she wants one or not, I’ll build her a pedestal with my bare hands — and carve mv heart on it just to show her how I feel about her. THE END vith Only new Bobbi waves while you sleep . . . brushes into a softly feminine, lasting hairstyle! If you can put up youi hair in pin curls, you can give yourself a Bobbi — the easy pin curl permanent. It takes only twenty minutes more than your regular setting ! Then, the wave “takes” while you sleep because Bobbi is self-neutralizing. In the morning you wake up with a permanent that brushes into a soft, finished hairstyle with the lasting body only a permanent gives to make your hair-do hold. Complete kit with curlers, only $2.00. Refill, $1.50. The most-convenient permanent of all— home or beauty shop! .matched to famous Tangee lipstick colors Exclusive Protogel helps nail growth, resists chipping and splitting QfW in regular shades — iridescent shades, 29^ plus tax Tangee cosmetics available in Canada LIZ AND EDDIE Continued from page 37 the monkey. All was quiet, and then a sudden harsh sound at the door made her leap to her feet. Matilda screeched in fright. Their four dogs began barking all at once, and the two cats added to the din. “Eddie?” Liz said. “Eddie?” — but the foot- steps outside faded down the corridor. Sud- denly, she knew it. Something had hap- pened to Eddie. He should have been back by now. He’d said he’d be gone only fifteen minutes. “He must have had an ac- cident,” she thought out loud. She lived in dread of this. “Don’t be silly,” Eddie would laugh, like that day on their honey- moon, when he took up the dare and played he was a matador, making cape- like passes with his scarf at a harmless bull in Spain. Everyone else had laughed; even Eddie had laughed; but her heart had stopped beating — she was certain it had stopped beating — for a few seconds. “Suppose it isn’t harmless?” she had said. “Accidents can happen any time.” She looked up suddenly at Mike’s photo- graph, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Her eyes studied the calendar tucked into the corner of the blotter on their desk. It told her what she already knew so well: this was May 12, 1960, the first anni- versary of her wedding to Eddie. She unconsciously turned over the calendar months, one at a time, and maybe, because she was alone and afraid, she remembered things she had tried hard to forget. . . . May, 1959. She remembered the wedding in Las Vegas but somehow today the ex- citement and the beauty of the ceremony was just a fuzzy blur, and what she re- called was something else; something she thought she had put out of her memory forever. The reporters and photographers were crowding around her. The ceremony was over. Someone yelled congratula- tions and they applauded and for a while — for just a little while — she felt they liked her, that they really wished her and Eddie the best. “What do you have that’s old, Mrs. Fisher?” a reporter shouted. She showed them the heirloom hand- kerchief she was carrying. It had been in the family for years. “And what do you have that’s new?” She looked down at her moss-green chiffon wedding dress, it had been created especially for her for the occasion, and she smiled and sort of curtsied. “Something blue?” For a second her cheeks turned pink, and then shyly, she admitted that she sen- timentally wore a blue garter. “Anything borrowed?” a columnist asked. And a photographer screamed out an answer, one word — and she felt that she wanted to run away, crawl away, fly away, get away and hide from them all. One word: Eddie. Then came the attacks June , 1959. They were in London, she was making “Suddenly Last Summer.” She remembered the press attacks — vicious, underhand, constant — made against her and Eddie by the British press; “Mr. Fisher, after accompanying his ever-loving wife to the studios, every morning, spends his days alone in their rented house (the police guard is no longer there looking after the children) . Sometimes, but rarely, he is al- lowed to bring them over to lunch with Mother. I wonder what Mr. Fisher thinks about the price one pays for an Award- wirming wile? but Mr. Fisher isn t sing- ing, either. Suddenly this summer, all is tension.” She’d tried at first to keep the paper from him, but failing, she had made light of the item and laughed it off. Eddie’s lips laughed with her, but there was noth- ing she could do about the expression in his eyes. But then, later, neither of them could even pretend to laugh. One columnist re- vealed: “Liz Taylor’s raven tresses are already streaked with gray.” Other Lon- don reporters called her “fat.” After that she went on a crash diet that left her twenty pounds thinner, but also left her with dark circles under her eyes. July, 1959. Unfriendly newspapers, hos- tile crowds, and scurrilous mail seemed to meet them wherever they went. When they left London and went to Paris, the British newspapers reached across the English Channel and falsely accused them of “ducking out on rent and food bills.” In their suite, in the French capital, 6,273 letters were waiting for them, a little less than their average weekly mail, usually. And as always, it was directed against their marriage. . One afternoon, she went out alone, be- hind dark glasses and with her hair cov- ered by a simple shawl, to shop. She’d bought two kites for her boys, when the salesgirl recognized her and began chat- tering away excitedly in a French too rapid for her to understand. In a moment, she was surrounded by other salesgirls, and then by an ever-increasing crowd of customers. Everyone was jabbering away at her at once, and she tried to tell them, in her slow French, that she didn’t know what they were saying, that she must get back to her hotel. She didn’t understand the words, but she did understand the tone. At first, the crowding women had been curious, but now they were angry. One stout woman, who seemed to be some sort of leader, screamed and waved her umbrella. The others seemed to be repeating what the woman was saying. They pressed toward her, and she realized that the salesgirls were doing their best to hold the custom- ers back. “It’s a mob,” she thought, “and they’re after me.” She almost fainted. Suddenly, the crowd stopped. Three floorwalkers and a manager pushed to her side and forming a protective cordon around her, they helped her toward the door. The stout woman took a swipe at her with the umbrella, but a floorwalker warded off the blow. Outside, they helped her into a cab and the manager rode with her back to the hotel. On the way, he explained to her, in broken English, that the “ladies” who had descended upon her in force did not represent “real French public opinion.” She thanked him, but in her heart she felt that she had just met, face to face, the 6,273 people who had sent the “hate” letters. To Spain and home August, 1959. If the “ladies” of Paris were insulting, the “women” of Spain were just plain “cold” to the Fishers. A lovely house had been rented for them, in Palamos — a place far off the beaten track where she and Eddie and her two boys could just relax and have fun. But, when the women servants in the house- hold learned that the guests were to be the “divorced” Fishers, they walked out and the men servants walked out with them. They rented another house, on Costa Brava near Bagur, and this time they did not reveal their identities. But, soon, everyone seemed to know who they were. They would flock to gape and glare at them while they were swimming ox picnicking. Finally, a complete detach- ment of Alguaziles (civil guards) were sent out to protect them from the crowds, but instead of keeping back the onlookers, the civil guards mingled with them. The mob’s nearness, their sneers and catcalls, the women, incensed over her bathing suit — a one-piece suit and modest for America, considered revealing and reprehensible for Spain — finally drove them from the beach. September, 1959. She remembered the look of pain and confusion on the faces of her sons, Michael, 7, and Christopher, 5, when they’d hurried from the beach in Spain to their house, with the shouts and jeers of the crowd only dying away, com- pletely, when Eddie bolted the shutters in their suite. They had the same look a month later, at London Airport, when Eddie and she took off for Paris without them. It wasn’t that they felt they were being left behind, again — it was the re- porter who had sneaked over to them and begun firing questions. Michael and Christopher had cringed and were almost in tears by the time she and Eddie rushed over and rescued them. It was the same confusion and pain she had seen on their faces that day, way back in May, when her secretary, Dick Hanley, brought them to Nice by plane to join Eddie and herself on their honey- moon. As the plane from New York, via Barcelona, taxied toward the hangar, she saw Michael’s excited face pressed against the window and she knew he’d seen her. He smiled and waved and his brother’s face peered over his shoulder. But when Michael, the very first one off, came to the head of the landing ladder, he saw the photographers massed below. He shrank back into the plane, and it was some time before Dick was able to convince him and his brother that they would be safe in going out. Her daughter Lisa’s face was calm and sweet in sleep, when her nurse brought her down to the field, but Michael’s and Christopher’s were cov- ered with pain and confusion. October, 1959. She remembered their return to the United States. They had looked forward to it and to Eddie’s engage- ment at the Desert Inn in Las Vegas. . . . And then Eddie started gambling, a little bit, and then more and more. “Same old story,” said the columnist — first Nicky Hilton, then Mike Todd, now . . . Eddie had to lead his own life, she told herself. November, 1959. Eddie’s opening night at the Empire Room of the Waldorf As- ton a. . . . She remembered, now, not the applauding crowds, not the rave reviews, not the sound of Eddie’s voice, warmer and greater than it had ever been before, but the way the press had distorted and twisted almost everything she had done. People couldn’t believe she was proud of Eddie — and very much in love with him. She had invited seventy friends — many were celebrities — to the opening perform- ance as her guests. The bill, for this, came to $1,500 and the press accused her of “buying” a favorable audience because she thought Eddie sang badly. How could she explain the truth: that she asked them to come because she knew he’d be a sen- sation? She sat there, calmly, in the Em- pire Room, that night, wearing Eddie’s favorite diamonds and chinchilla, listening to the crowd call Eddie back for encore after encore. No one knew she was suffer- ing from a high temperature. This night was Eddie’s . . . and only Eddie’s. Noth- ing must spoil his triumph. December, 1959. Their first Christmas together and it looked as if she might have to spend it in a hospital. She’d kept her illness from Eddie — muffling a hacking cough — until Thanksgiving Day. She’d P prepared dinner, turkey and everything that Eddie liked best, and then, as they sat down, the coughing and the fever suddenly seemed too much. They had to leave the dinner untouched on the table. They took her to the hospital — Harkness Pavillion. The diagnosis was made — double pneu- monia— and Eddie moved into the room next to hers to be close by. The doctors said that hers was one of the worst cases of double pneumonia they’d seen in a long time and that her lungs were almost com- pletely congested. The delay in coming to the hospital, they claimed, made her condition almost critical. For three weeks, she lay in the hos- pital bed, and for three weeks, Eddie was with her every minute when he wasn’t on-stage at the Waldorf. He tried to cheer her up — bringing her hot pizza (which she couldn’t manage to eat), arranging for the mink sweater that he’d ordered for their six-months wedding anniversary to be delivered to the hospital, making sure that her children called her every night. She could never get used to hos- pitals, though she’d been in so many — fifteen different ones altogether — for ma- nipulations, examinations, and then that four-hour fusion operation on her back three years ago, the caesarean during Lisa’s birth and a series of throat opera- tions. So it was with great relief that, on December 13, Eddie came for her and she walked out of the hospital, wan and weak, leaning on his arm, but out in time for Christmas just the same. The new year January, 1960. “Liz Taylor is definitely pregnant,” she read in the paper, one day. And another rumor, nicer, perhaps, than the report in a British paper two months after their marriage in June, that she was “expecting in November.” The latest rumor brought all kinds of scary warnings from her friends, from the press, and from people she’d never even met. “Don’t have another child,” they’d said. “Caesareans are dangerous — to the mother, to the child”— they went on. When she insisted she wasn’t pregnant, they ac- cused her of lying. When she replied it was nobody’s business but hers and Eddie’s if she were pregnant or not, they wrote that she was nasty and uncooperative. In the end, she simply bit her tongue and said nothing. February, 1960. Funny, but about all this eventful month, she remembered just one thing: her 28th birthday. A crazy day, with sweet, kind, loving Eddie doing everything to make her happy. And a day of memories: They’d talked about her childhood. The first day on the set of “National Velvet.” She was thirteen. Her mother, always a little off-camera, gave hand signals — hand on stomach when her voice got too shrill; hand on heart when she wasn’t showing enough emo- tion; hands on cheek when she should smile more; hand on neck when she was overacting. . . . March, 1960. She remembered how hor- ribly March began, with memories of Mike’s death — two years ago — and how beautifully it almost ended. . . . almost. She and Eddie’d been to visit his mother in a Philadelphia hospital, where she was recovering from a heart attack. After they’d left the hospital, she slipped on the pavement and severely cut her leg. The motion picture strike was on; her leg was slow in healing; so it seemed a fine time to take a vacation from every- thing. She and Eddie flew off to Jamaica in the British West Indies. On the plane down, Eddie just had one cup of consomme, but she threw caution P and diet to the wind. During the five-and- one-half-hour B.O.A.C. Britannia turbo- she ate almost without stopping and drank glass after glass of what Eddie calls Liz’s soda — champagne over ice. Paradise— but not for long At Montego Bay, they transferred to a small plane that was to take them to the Hotel Marrakesh at Ocho Rios, Ja- maica. At the hotel, they stayed in their own three-room cottage (two bedrooms, a living-room, and a private patio) . But it was the bathroom that really delighted her: it had a bath tub eight feet long and six feet wide, with three marble steps going down to it. She took one look at it and cried out, “Oh! Eddie, it’s my own private swimming pool.” For a while, they were in paradise: no crowds to bother them, no reporters to plague them, no films to make, no records to cut — just privacy. They slept late, ate a combination breakfast-lunch at twelve or one o’clock, and then lazed around the beach or patio all day. At dinnertime, they would attend an outdoor barbecue with the hotel guests or dine alone on their own patio. At night, they’d walk along the beach in the moonlight, or take rides on the bay in glass bottom boats, or visit offbeat native night clubs, or watch goat races on the sand. ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ INVEST IN II. S. SAKS BONDS NOW EVEN BETTER ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ Eddie was fascinated by the races, real contests between six goats, each of whom was guided on a leash by a native boy. The guests would bet on each race. She and Eddie never bet on the same goat. She’d get advice on whom to bet from their favorite waiter, dubbed “Benny the Bookmaker” by Eddie. Eddie talked di- rectly to the jockies, offering to split his winnings with them. She’d bet two dol- lars a race and Eddie would bet ten, and every night she’d win and he’d lose. At the end of their stay in Jamaica, she turned all her winnings over to her ad- viser, “Benny.” Each lazy day was followed by a still lazier day. They went shopping for things for the boys and for Lisa. They sneaked in to see “National Velvet” and nobody recognized them. Each evening, they’d call Michael and Christopher in New York. It took a century to get through to them, but it was worth hearing their voices, even when Michael swore that he was eating his vegetables while his nurse insisted that he wasn’t. Late at night, they’d sit on the patio — he’d sip Coke and she’d drink iced champagne — watching the lazy moon overhead and listening to the pleasant beat of the surf close by. They had never been happier. Then the champagne went flat and the bubbles burst. It all began innocently enough. They’d meant to go shopping, early, but they’d been racing up and down the beach like high-school kids and had forgotten what time it was. Too late, they realized that shops closed at 4:30. Eddie called up one of the stores and asked if they’d stay open a little longer. “Sure,” they said, “be here by six.” But then other shopkeepers heard that they were coming and they all decided to stay open. Some of the guests heard they were going to the shopping area and they decided to go along. Soon, a whole bunch of cars were following their Cadil- lac to the stores. They went, they purchased things, they returned to the hotel, and that should have been that — but it wasn’t. A local newspaper ran a front-page story about “Elizabeth Taylor and her faithful retinue.” That was just the beginning. Next came a vicious editorial which matched in untruth and bad taste any- thing that had ever been written against them. All the old charges were made . . . and some new ones as well: it poked fun at her “broken leg” and pointed out she’d had a miraculous cure (it didn’t matter that she’d never claimed her leg had been broken) ; it accused her of “buy- ing” an appreciative audience for Eddie’s Waldorf comeback; it said she maneuvered a part in “Butterfield 8” for him; it un- loosed a flood of innuendo and criticism. Paradise wasn’t the same. Not so long afterward, they left Jamaica and flew back to New York. How much more could Liz take? She didn’t stop smiling April, 1960. Early in April and the night of the Academy awards. She tried not to let her hopes rise. When people told her that George Sidney had said, “Elizabeth Taylor will win an Academy Award for her performance in ‘Suddenly Last Sum- mer,’ ” or that the conservative Herald Tribune had stated, . . if there were ever any doubts about the ability of Miss Taylor to express complex and devious emotions, to deliver a flexible and deep performance, this film ought to remove them,” she smiled and changed the sub- ject. She remembered the year before, her “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” nomination, and the public opinion which had turned against her after Eddie gave up Debbie. So she smiled and thanked people for their good wishes and tried not to dream of the Awards. Only Photoplay’s Sidney Skolsky re- vealed her true feelings when he recalled how she’d told a London newspaperman earlier in the year: “My ambition is to win an Oscar before I retire. Only then will I be really content to settle down to a full domestic life.” She did not admit this to herself, again, as at the Pantages Theater, on the night of the presentation, she sat next to Eddie, in the midst of a small group of friends, and listened to the presentations being made. Her smile was easy and natural, as if she were home, alone, with Eddie and their kids. Then the moment came, the card was read, and the name rang out: “Simone Signoret.” She did not stop smiling for a moment; she clapped her hands with the others, and she did not believe it when someone, sitting close by to her, told the press he had heard her whisper, “Oh, no.” . . . But she could not be sure. Eddie comes home Matilda, Elizabeth Taylor’s pet monkey, jumped up on the desk and pressed her nose against her mistress’s cheek, and Liz had to laugh. The calendar dropped from her hand. At that second, the door opened and Eddie came in, his arms piled high with fancily-tied packages. It took a few minutes for him to pile the gifts on the couch and when he turned toward her, she was smiling, and the look in his eyes told her that, for the moment, everything was all right and she forgot the heartbreak of the past year, and the jinx that seemed to follow her The End LIZ STARS IN “SUDDENLY, LAST SUMMER” FOR COL. SHE’LL BE SEEN WITH EDDIE IN M-G-M’s “BUTTERFIELD 8.” EDDIE RECORDS FOR RAMROD. OF CURRENT PICTURES ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, THE — M-G-M. Directed by Michael Curtiz: The King, Tony Randall; Huck, Eddie Hodges; Jim, Archie Moore; Joanna, Patty McCormack; Pap, Neville Brand; The Duke, Mickey Shaughnessy; Sheriff’s Wife, Judy Canova; Mr. Carmody, Andy Devine; Mary Jane, Sherry Jackson; Lion Tamer, Buster Keaton; Capt. Sellers, Finlay Currie; Widow Douglas; Josephine Hutchinson; Granger- ford Man, Parley Baer; Slave Catchers, John Carradine, Dean Stanton; Sheriff, Royal Dano; River Boat Singer, Dolores Hawkins; Barber, Sterling Holloway. BATTLE OF THE SEXES, THE — Continental. Directed by Charles Crichton: Mr. Martin, Peter Sellers; Robert MacPherson, Robert Morley ; Angela Barrows, Constance Cummings; Andrew Darling; Jameson Clark; Old MacPherson, Ernest Thesiger; Irwin Hoffman, Donald Pleasance; Detective, Michael Goodliffe. BOBBI KINS — 20th. Directed by Robert Day: Benjamin Barnaby, Max Bygraves; Betty Burna- by, Shirley Jones; Bobbiuins, Steven Stocker; Lydia, Billie Whitelaw; Valerie, Barbara Shel- ley; Dr. Phillips, Colin Gordon; Luke, Charles Tingwell; Gregory Mason, Lionel Jeffries; Sir Jason Crandall, Charles Carson. FIVE BRANDED WOMEN — Paramount. Di- rected by Martin Ritt: Velko, Van Heflin; Jovanka, Silvana Mangano; Daniza, Vera Miles; Marja, Barbara Bel Geddes; Ljuba, Jeanne Moreau; Capt. Reinhardt , Richard Basehart; Branco, Harry Guardino; Mira, Carla Gravina; Svenko, Alex Nicol; Sgt. Keller, Steve Forrest; Mirko, Romolo Valli; Milan, Sid Clute; Boja, Teresa Pellati. FLAME OVER INDIA — Rank, 20th. Directed by J. Lee Thompson: Catherine Wyatt, Lauren Bacall; Capt. Scott, Kenneth More; Van Leyden, Herbert Lorn; Bridie, Wilfrid Hyde White; Gup- ta, I. S. Johar; Lady Windham , L’rsula Jeans; Peters, Eugene Deckers; Sir John Windham, Ian Hunter; Brigadier Ames, John Gwillim; Prince Kislian, Govind Raja Ross. FUGITIVE LIND, THE — l.A. Directed by Sidney Lumet: V al Xavier, Marlon Brando; Lady Torrance, Anna Magnani; Caro! Cutrcre, Joanne Woodward; Vcc Talbott, Maureen Stapleton; Jabe Torrance, Victor Jory; Sheriff Talbott, R. G. Armstrong; Uncle Pleasant, Emory Richardson; Ruby Light foot, Spivy; Dolly Hamma, Sally Gracie; Beulah Binning s, Lucille Benson; David Cutrere, John Baragrey; Don Hamma, Ben Yaf- fee; Pec Wee Burning s, Joe Brown, Jr.; Nurse Porter, Virgilia Chew; Gas Station Attendant , Frank Borgman; Attendant's Wife, Janice Mars. I PASSED LOR WHITE — A. A. Directed by Fred M. Wilcox: Bernice Lee, Lila Brownell, Sonya Wilde; Rick, James Franciscus; Salh, Pat Michon; Mrs. Leyton, Elizabeth Council; Mr. Leyton, Griffin Crafts; Bertha, Isabelle Cooley ; Jay, James Lydon ; Dr. Merrett, Thomas B. Henry; Mr. Gordon, Max Mellinger. / M ALL RIGHT, JACK -Lion International. Directed by John Boulting: Fred Kite, Peter Sellers; Stanley ll indrnsh, Ian Carmichael; Maj. Hitchcock, Terry-Thomas; Sidney de V ere Cox, Richard Attenborough; Bertram Tracepursef, Dennis Price; Aunt Dolly, Margaret Rutherford; Mrs. Lite, Irene Handl; Cynthia Kite, Liz Eraser; Wind rush, Sr., Miles Malleson; Mr. Mohammed, Marne Maitland; Waters, John Le Mesurier; Magistrate, Raymond Huntley. IN THE WAKE OF A STRANGER — Para- mount. Directed by David Eady: Tom Cassidy, Tony Wright; Joyce Edwards, Shirley Eaton; Barnes, Danny Green; McCabe, Harry H. Cor- bett; Shafto, Willoughby Goddard; Barmaid, Barbara Archer; Hetty McCabe, Vanda Godsell. MOUNTAIN ROAD, THE — Columbia. Directed by Daniel Mann: Maj. Baldwin, Tames Stewart; Madame Hung, Lisa Lu; Collins, 'Glenn Corbett; Michaelson, Henry (Harry) Morgan; Kwan, Frank Silvera; Niergaard, James Best; Miller, Rudy Bond; Prince, Mike Kellin; Ballo, Frank Maxwell; Lewis, Eddie Firestone; General Loo- miss, Alan Baxter. SAV AGE EYE, THE — Trans-Lux. Directed by Sidney Meyers; Judith McGuire, Barbara Bax- ley; The Voice, Gary Merrill; Kirtz, Herschel Bernard^; Venus The Body, Jean Hidey; The Nurse, Elizabeth Zemach. SWORD AND THE DRAGON, THE—V italite. Directed by Alexander Ptushko: Ilya Muromcts Boris Andreyev; Prince Vanda, Andrei Abriko- sov; Princess Apaxia, Nina Medvedeva; Villa, Ninel Myshkova; Little Falcon, Alexei Shvorin; Mika, Sovol Martinson; Durbar, Georgi Dyomin* Alexei, Sergei Stolyarov; Tsar Kalin, Shukur Burkhanov. TV & MOVIE STAR PHOTOS Brand new stars and brand new pictures! PLUS your favorites! All handsome 4x5 photos, on glossy stock, just right for framing. Send your order today. 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Zone State Send cash or money order. 12 pictures for $1; 6 for 50c. (NO ORDERS LESS THAN 50 CENTS) P 75 DEBBIE AND GLENN Continued from page 42 to her to be miles away in thought. His mouth became set, and his eyes brooded intensely, as though he were deeply ab- sorbed in a difficult problem. Evidently, trying to attract his attention, Debbie cocked her head to one side and snapped her fingers. At this, Glenn sud- denly shook his head, smiled across at her and began chatting gaily, as they walked off toward their own table after having stopped for just a few seconds to greet Maria Schell. She had been working on a film recently with Glenn. There’s always a big turnout of glam- orous stars when the Hollywood Foreign Correspondents present their Golden Globe awards, yet Maria stood out; her manner was poised and elegant, her exquisite blond hair shining under the brilliant lights; her smile gentle yet provocative and her blue eyes deep-set and compelling; in fact the whole impact of someone with a remark- able personality. There had been gossip about Maria and Glenn, ever since they had begun working on “Cimarron” together. But if a look of concern crossed Debbie’s face, even for a moment, as they had greeted Maria, she quickly found her smile again and ob- viously seemed to dismiss the gossip lies. And yet . . . was there any truth? First, just one week before “Cimarron” began shooting, Glenn’s wife Eleanor was granted her divorce suit, ending their six- teen years of marriage. Second. Glenn had been spending three months in the almost-daily company of a very special woman, a woman as different from Debbie as any you could imagine. These crucial days began under the warm winter sun of Arizona, where “Cimarron” went into actual production. Glenn had met Maria Schell only briefly more than two years earlier, when the European star came to M-G-M to make her first Ameri- can movie, “The Brothers Karamazov.” However, he must have heard stories and perhaps was wary about the prospect of working with Maria. She was hard to work with and the unhappy crew of her French movie “Une Vie” (“A Life”) nick- named her “The Monster.” Over in Holly- wood, “Karamazov” director Richard Brooks had just barely managed to keep the upper hand. “Maria,” he said, “fought me all the way.” A girl like Debbie . . . Maybe Glenn Ford has his moods about the house, but on the job he has no time for temperament, his own or anybody else’s. His idea of a model leading lady is a girl who is brisk, business-like, and good-natured. Perhaps (if a fellow’s lucky) she even behaves as if she enjoyed work- ing with him. A girl like . . . well, like Debbie Reynolds. And here on the wide prairie, forty miles from Tucson, he was face to face with something else instead. Not a very promising start. Being wary of Maria beforehand, Glenn was also strongly aware of her. She didn’t look much like a monster, standing there in the sunlight, ready to rehearse their first scene together. Funny, few people realize how small Maria is. Only an inch taller than Debbie, Maria is more sturdily built, and she sometimes has a commanding presence that adds to her apparent height. Now her figure looked tiny-waisted, pressed into the prim corset of her 1889 “Cimarron” cos- tume. Her head was bent; her face, slightly turned away from him, was sombre in concentration. WILD ROSE Makes hairdos behave under water because Secret Magic Sava-Wave Inner Rim keeps water out, waves in. Colors, $2.00. Other Sava- Waves, $1.25-$8.98. Then she looked up and said, “I’m ready.” And she smiled at him. “The gold- en smile,” as her German fans call it, hit him with full force. “I’m ready,” she repeated and her soft voice and the play of emotions across her sensitive features wove a magic circle around them. That is the keynote of her character; intensity. She recognizes it herself, even admits it may be a fault. But the drive has been in her from the beginning. It made her a star when she was sixteen, in the Swiss film “Steinbruch.” Some people compare the similarity be- tween Debbie and Maria. Debbie also went into her first picture at sixteen, but let’s not forget — not as its star. And she never had the hellbent-for-fame manner. All through Debbie’s early career, no matter how hard she worked, everybody had a hunch that something more important was on her mind. And for Debbie, love — the love she was looking for — was an emotion entirely apart from her job. But not for Maria. From the start, love was very thoroughly involved with the Schell career. While she was working on her first big hit, “The Angel with the Trumpet,” all Germany heard the news: Maria Schell was in love! She was in love with producer Ernst Lothar. No . . . she was in love with actor Attila Horbiger, famous in the German theater. No . . . the man was cameraman Gunther Anders. Two years later, European fans thrilled to the tender young love story of Maria Schell and Dieter Borsche. True, they just happened to be co-starring as on-screen sweethearts in a series of weepy pictures. But even when they were off the job, they were seen whizzing around the country- side in an open sports car, while Maria laughed, her golden hair blowing in the wind. Dieter and Maria were seen hand- holding and whispering at sidewalk cafes in the spring. Publicity? No, in Maria’s case the motive runs much deeper. Listen to her own words, spoken to a Photoplay writer years later, when she came to Hollywood. Of acting, Maria said: “There’s something very strange about our profession. Every- one else has tools of his trade. But we have only one soul; we have to use the same soul to live with and to act with. If you love, you love with the same soul you act at love with . . .” Of her fellow players, Maria has said, “Mv feeling is that they should share my intensity in trying to make each scene as perfect as possible.” And Maria has said, “Without love, I can’t glow.” And that glow, “the golden smile,” is her chief stock in trade. Debbie never has had this attitude to- ward acting. Talk to Debbie for ten min- utes and she’ll be telling you about her house, her children and how happy she is to loaf with them. When she works, she’s gay and fun but business-like toward her leading man. This was her attitude to- ward working with Glenn. With Maria, it was different. For three weeks, the “Cimarron” com- pany worked on those outdoor scenes. On location, troupers live much more in each other’s laps than they do in Hollywood, where each person can go home at night, to a separate life. From Arizona, the ru- mors began filtering back. A technician wrote to his wife about the two co-stars: "They act as if they really mean it. They can’t hide it — the way they feel about each other.” In the meantime, rumors still cir- culated about Debbie and Glenn, and in the end, all three ended up saying sepa- rately, “We’re all good friends.” Besides, “I am married,” Maria protested. She hadn’t married her leading man but a dark young man named Horst Haechler, who was doubling as assistant director and as actor, in a minor role. His prematurely receding hairline gave him a serious look that Maria liked, and he was plainly dazzled by the star. She was twenty- eight then (just the age that Debbie is now), and yet three more years went by before Maria made up her mind about Horst Haechler in 1957. Her wedding day, April 27th, seemed a nightmare. Fans and photographers mobbed the church. The bridegroom was elbowed aside, lost in the crowd, treated as a nobody. And when Horst and Maria finally retired to the quiet of their room, the phone rang. Kurt Frings, Maria’s agent, and Benja- min Thau, M-G-M’s administrative chief, were calling with the news that the part of Grushenka in “The Brothers Karamazov” was hers. The bride had to report to Hollywood immediately. And the groom went along, hoping wistfully for a ro- mantic California honeymoon. It turned out to be a matter of snatched weekends. Rumors of trouble The whispers that had started while “Cimarron” was on location grew louder when the company moved to the Metro lot and to nearby outdoor locations (the San Fernando Valley, Thousand Oaks). It was hinted that Glenn and Maria were seeing each other off the job, too. “Positively. I heard it on the best authority. They were having dinner at Jack’s at the Beach — -and looking very chummy.” “They were drinking beer at the Beverly Hilton Rathskeller — a real tete a tete.” If any of these stories reached Debbie Reynolds, she didn’t betray her hurt with public outbursts. But she should have guessed, because she knew from her own experience, what daily, close association on the set can mean to an actor and an actress — especially when there is a back- ground of emotional upheaval. On the very day that Eddie Fisher and Liz Taylor were married, Debbie and Glenn were doing the crazy, hilarious, love-under-the- shower scene of “It Started With a Kiss.” The wild clowning and Glenn’s friendly cooperation covered-up Debbie’s secret heartache on the day that had put a final end to her first young hopes. Glenn’s separation from Eleanor and her suit for divorce came soon after that. No matter how the newspapers prattled about “the ideal marriage,” Hollywood knew it hadn’t been. There had been rumors of trouble as much as ten years earlier. And yet Debbie, with her strong sense of propriety, would not date Glenn until her own divorce decree had become final. “She won’t date him openly, that is,” cynics added. For just the same sort of rumors that now follow Glenn and Maria once trailed Debbie and Glenn. “They didn’t come to the party together,” said one eager reporter, “but I saw Glenn leave — alone — right after Debbie had left — alone. And after that . . .?” As soon as Debbie was completely, legally free in her own eyes, she did begin going out with Glenn, and they seemed utterly relaxed together, frankly enjoying each other’s company. His divorce had come through by this time; he, too, was free of other entanglements. But was he? wags asked. For he had met Maria Schell. Six years older than Debbie, she has a worldliness that widens the gap even further. Though Debbie has put on the air of the gay sophisticate since her divorce, nobody doubts that at heart she remains the young American housewife and mother, longing for security in her home. In a genuine duel of romantic strategy, would she be any match for the high-powered Maria? From Hollywood, Maria went to New York, to rehearse for Garbo’s old role in the TV-special version of “Ninotchka.” Between sessions of turning on the in- tensity and the golden smile, she relaxed with solitary whims — like turning out the staff of the furrier Maximilian for some midnight shopping. Pirouetting before mir- rors, draping a black broadtail scarf around her shoulders, smiling at her own image, what was she thinking about? Horst? He would be joining her in New York any day, but he was busy on a new German picture, busy seeing to the com- pletion of their dream farmhouse, on a lake near Munich. So everybody waited, waited for a new dramatic climax in this strangest of “friendships,” while Glenn and Maria were suddenly called back, weeks later, to Holly- wood for re-takes, following the end of the actors’ strike. The talk started up all over again. Some people even said that Glenn had asked M-G-M to co-star Maria with him in “North of Rome,” the picture he was set to make in Italy. What will happen then? Hollywood is watching and waiting with intense interest, for, in this triangle, almost anything can happen. The End SEE DEBBIE IN PAR.S “THE RAT RACE" AND “PLEASURE OF HIS COMPANY.” don’t MISS HER SPECIALS ON ABC-TV. HEAR HER SING ON DOT. BE SURE TO WATCH FOR HER IN COL.S “PEPE.” SEE GLENN FORD AND MARIA SCHELL IN “CIMARRON” FOR METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER. FLAME Keeps the curl in your coif because Secret Magic Sava -Wave Inner Him keeps water out. In colors, $5.98. Other Sava-Waves, $1.25-$8.9o. JACK PAAR! Don't Miss this Exclusive Story about TV's Most Explosive Personality 'Tier# feaye coi X A c K. 3 C o T s- *1 F o bs 'R M 8o N to E S U 11 R u N N I N & N E IZ D 1 o N N E 1ST P lk> 1 C E 1 t 1 1 / A N 19 E F C A N ZO E Gr 6 R K G % E D A Z3 K A *1 E B 2* A N N at. E n T T E % 21 P A 3,l C o N A 32 < A S H F 1 R 3* P R E S T O N to mine, so that our faces nearly touched. I couldn’t help notice that he had a bad eye that wouldn’t stop twitching, and a scar just above it. ‘What a scary-looking character,’ I remember thinking to myself. Then, he started to whisper in his deep country brogue: ‘That estate you ’ave — St. Mary’s Mount — it’s got quite a ’istory. Did ya know,’ he went on, ‘that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the mystery writer, used to live there? An’ did ya know that many of ’is legendary tales of Dr. Watson and Sherlock ’Olmes originated right in that ’ouse? Those thick woods nearby — they’re supposed to ’ave been the setting for ’is story, “The Hounds of the Baskervilles.” Lots of folks, ’ereabouts, say it’s ’aunted, even though only a few ever seen ghosts there. Seems them spirits only show them- selves to certain people. But ya can’t lis- ten to stories, now can ya?’ he said, almost mockingly — his bad eye twitching even faster than before. “ ‘No,’ I answered coolly, trying to ap- pear undisturbed. “ ’ave . . . ’ave you and your missus seen any ghosts lately, sir?’ the old man asked, breathing heavily on my face. “ ‘No, of course we haven’t,’ I replied. ‘I don’t believe in such things.’ “ ‘Ah, that’s what they all say,’ chuckled the old man in a tone that sent chills up my spine. “Gulping down the rest of my drink, I thanked him and left. I wouldn’t think about it, I promised myself, as I walked homeward. Instead, I thought about Doro- thy who was due back in two days. I couldn’t wait to see her. “Life was being good to both of us, I thought. Dorothy was enjoying a success- ful singing engagement, and I had been signed to star in a TV series called ‘Ivan- hoe.’ What they found “Because of this, we had decided to take advantage of our good fortune and put into action a plan we’d had for a long time — to build a swimming pool in the gardens of the house — despite the chiding by our friends that the British climate wasn’t exactly suitable for outdoor bath- ing. “The builders had moved in to begin working on it and, when I returned home, I stood watching them before going in for tea. But, then, at around sundown, a strange thing happened. It was about quit- ting time for the men, when suddenly one of them came charging in. He was as white as a ghost. No pun intended! “ ‘Mr. Moore, excuse me,’ he said, ‘but one of the men, when he was digging, un- earthed what seemed to be decayed roots but we think they’re human bones!’ After calming him down, I went out to the gar- den. After I saw the remains, I summoned the town constable. When he came, we all took shovels-in-hand and searched the spot. More bones were found. “The whole place was in an uproar soon. Before even I knew what it was all about, news of this finding spread like wildfire. Tongues of the townspeople buzzed with bizarre speculations, including the blood- curdling theory that Jack The Ripper may have dug deep graves in the garden to bury his victims. “Fortunately, the town constable lived up to Sherlock Holmes’ reputation. After four hours, he confirmed that the bones were human and, by checking the records of the township, he found that this was no case for Scotland Yard. Our garden, it seems, was, probably in the late 16th Cen- tury, a cemetery for a convent! “Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and I really didn’t give the incident much more thought because I. too. had accepted the graveyard theory. Accepted it, that is, un - til late that night. I was so exhausted, that I retired early and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. Then, just like the night before, I awoke suddenly. I heard the clock strike two. I smelled that hor- rible odor and began gasping for breath. I looked up and there again, above the bed, was the mysterious, swirling form. But, this time, it looked as though it were swirling out of the ceiling. I watched, mo- mentarily stunned, and then I remembered the maid’s conversation of that morning on getting rid of the spirits: I swear at it and then it stops , she had said. “I didn’t swear, but I yelled as loud as I could. ‘Get out of here this instant,’ I screamed. ‘I want to get some sleep!’ And, surprisingly enough, the ghost just van- ished before my very eyes. I was relieved, but it took me some hours to doze off to sleep again. The showdown “The next day, everything went wrong. The men had some trouble with the ce- ment for the pool, which was supposed to be finished that day, and Dorothy had telephoned that she wouldn’t be home un- til the day after because she had missed her train connections. To make matters worse, ail day I seemed to be hounded by the episode of the night before. “Sometime in the afternoon, I made up my mind to have a showdown with the ghost. Instead of going to sleep, I decided I would prop myself up on two large feather pillows and wait for it. Which is exactly what I did. I was prepared for it, I told myself as I waited. I must have smoked a pack of cigarettes by the time midnight chimed in. I grew a little nervous as two o’clock approached. Two o’clock came. Nothing happened. Three o’clock. Still no sign of anything. My eyelids be- came heavy and I finally dozed off to sleep, still propped up on the pillows. For the first time in two nights, the ghost didn't appear. I was sure, the next morning, that this whole nightmare was finally ended. “But you can’t be too sure about these things, for odd things continued to hap- pen in that house. A few days after Doro- thy returned home, a cycle of strange events started. It began her first night home, when she’d decided to take a bath. She let the hot water run in the tub, un- til the steam filled the room. She always liked a hot bath. Then,, barely seconds after she turned off the hot water and stuck her toe in to test it, she jerked her foot back in utter amazement. The water was ice cold! “After that, lights would mysteriously flick off and on in the unoccupied bed- rooms in the middle of the night. My three poodles, for no apparent reason, would suddenly gather in front of one of the up- stairs rooms, late at night, and start howl- ing— and we couldn’t do anything to make them stop. “On another occasion, when we were preparing to go out for the evening, Doro- thy daubed some perfume behind her ears and placed the bottle back on her dressing table. We hardly got through the door, when we heard a glass-shattering bang behind us. We turned and found the per- fume bottle had been smashed against the wall at the opposite end of the room from where Dorothy had placed it on the table. But what puzzled me most was the fact that Dorothy saw all these things happen- ing, yet she never saw the actual ghost it- self— only I did. “With these unbelievable occurrences, Dorothy and I went to London, just to get away for a little while. Dorothy had to stay on and since we didn’t want to leave the house empty, indefinitely, I returned on a late train, one stormy night, a few days later. It was about a mile’s walk homeward to St. Mary’s Mount, from the tiny rail station. I couldn’t explain to my- self why, but I was especially nervous that night. The wind was howling and it was pitch black outside. As I walked, only the sounds of my footsteps were heard. Beads of sweat started to form on my brow. “Just as I passed the town’s cemetery and had started up the long slope to the estate, out of the trees came a misty figure. My hair was standing on end again! The figure hovered over, moving along with me as I walked. I didn’t run, although I thought of it, because I didn’t want to show the ghost that I was frightened — but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t walk much faster. It didn’t do much good, though, be- cause it just followed me at the same pace. “Then, as we approached the house, it disappeared into the trees and, I realized then, that I had been so alarmed, I had completely forgotten to scream! . . . And that was the last I saw of the ghost. “Dorothy and I left, soon after, for Hollywood, where I was to begin work on the TV series, ‘The Alaskans.’ “We still own the estate and it’s a funny thing, the ghost must have liked St. Mary’s Mount, because it didn’t follow me across the Atlantic. Maybe it was afraid of becoming seasick. Or maybe it couldn’t swim. Or perhaps it just thought America wasn’t old enough to be haunted!” . . . And, as Roger Moore said this, he sniffed the air and then looked up at the ceiling. “Just wanted to make sure,” he laughed, “that the ghost didn’t decide to take swimming lessons.” The End SEE ROGER MOORE SUNDAYS ON ABC-TV, 9:30- 10:30 P.M., EDT. APPEARING IN “THE ALASKANS.” ALSO SEE HIM IN WARNERS’ “RACHEL CADE.” A squeeze of Cuticura shampoo just a quick squeeze of new Cuticura Shampoo— you get mountains of gentle lather. A rinse of clear water— your hair becomes naturally luminous, with starry highlights. Naturally smooth with completely manageable body. Cuticura does far more than ordinary shampoos. Combines two kinds of cleansers. Guards the life of your hair as it cleanses, conditions, beautifies. Goes twice as far— costs no more. Can’t break— a joy for the shower, children, all the family. Wonderful new way to wash your hair! Cuticura SHAMPOO p 79 GOODBYE MRS. CALABASH Continued from page 53 was with him more than twenty years. Her name was Jeanne. Jeanne Durante. She was dead. It began, of course, with a nose. Even when Jimmy Durante was an un- dersized child, his nose was big — and old. Other children on the dirty New York street pointed at the nose, made cruel jokes about it and its owner, and dared each other to pinch it and run. The little boy Jimmy felt himself a thing set apart, a freak. How could he have been born, he wondered, to his father, Barto- lomeo the barber, the elegant, dignified gentleman with the stunning mustacheo of his calling? How could he be the product of his mother, queenly beautiful Rose? Having, by some miracle, been born to these two, could he, in his ugliness, actu- ally be loved by them? Jimmy Durante had a deep need for love — for more love than most people could stand. The too- small eyes peered out past the nose at the world, begging for love from anyone — strangers, animals, poets and gunmen. Eventually, it didn’t matter how much love he had. He wanted — no, he needed — more and more and more. In 1910, when Jimmy was seventeen, times were hard. He heard of a job play- ing piano at a beer hall in Coney Island. To his surprise, his audition was success- ful. He was offered twenty-five dollars a week — a stupendous salary. It was a lot of money to the Durante family. But to Jimmy, the real riches of the job were not to be counted in cold cash. He had received them on his first night at work when, after playing a group of songs, he swung nervously around on his piano stool to face his audience and found smiling faces and applauding hands. He saw them, and for a long time, that was enough. And they didn’t even seem to see his nose. Could a girl love him? He became a very popular man. For the first time he almost believed he might be loved. He actually got up the courage to fall in love himself — and to tell the girl he cared for her. When she turned him down, it never occurred to him to find it ludi- crous. After all, he was Jimmy the Nose. Doubtless he had gotten too confident, ex- pecting a woman — any woman — to want him. He got a job at a bigger place, The Alamo, and hired a band to play jazz with him. Sometimes he’d even heckle the other musicians with jokes and cracks. The audiences went for that. They would laugh and applaud and come back night after night to hear Durante’s New Orleans Jazz Band. Afterward he would play cards or drink beer or just talk to the guys. They never failed him, never turned him down. And then one day a girl named Maud Jeanne Olson walked into The Alamo and asked for a job singing with the band. Why he said yes, Jimmy never knew. The girl was a soprano, and sopranos hardly ever went over with his audience — they liked loud, deep-voiced, deep-chested singers. This girl was slight, with red hair and a pretty, quiet face, and a voice of r delicate beauty. But her eyes shone, and she tossed her hair back when she sang, and in the middle of a song she broke off oU and said to Jimmy, “Who ever told you you could play the piano?” He started to laugh— she laughed— and by the time they were ready to finish the song, she was hired. She was the first real lady he had ever met. At first he was simply lost in admiration, her tiny hands and feet, her clear mid- western diction, of her neat, attractive clothes. She was a lady — and yet not a saint, not an angel. A lady with a quick temper, a sharp wit, a talent so forceful it quieted the rowdy Alamo crowds with the first notes and held them spellbound through her songs. A lady as wildly in love with performing as he was. A miracle personified. Very diffidently, after a show, Jimmy suggested that they go out for something to eat. To his everlasting gratitude, Jeanne agreed. Over hamburgers and coffee, he fell in love for the second time. Only this time, of course, he had better sense than to say so. Yet he wondered what would a girl like Jeanne do if she sus- pected? True, she went out with him for coffee almost every night — but then, he was her boss. Possibly she was afraid to offend him lest he fire her. He pushed his luck a little. He asked her to go to a show with him — it would be the first time he had ever been inside a legitimate theater. At the appointed time, she walked to the corner they had agreed on, and there she stopped, stared at him, and planted her small fists on her hips. “Are you going to the show with me?” she demanded. Jimmy stared at her. “Who else?” Her gaze traveled coolly over him. “In a cap and a sweater? No, thank you. Some other time, Mr. Durante!” And she turned on her heel and walked off. For a full minute, Jimmy stood looking after her, his face crimson. It had never occurred to him to buy a shirt and tie for the occasion — fool that he was, he had em- barrassed Jeanne, humiliated himself, ruined his chances with her forever. If the pavement had opened and swallowed him up, it would have been fine. Just fine. And then he blinked. She had walked out on him. Without a moment’s hesitation — she’d turned her back and stalked off. Didn’t that prove she wasn’t afraid of making him mad? It had to! In that case — In that case, all those other times she’d gone with him — it must have been because she wanted to. Because she liked him. No happier man There was, in all of New York, no hap- pier man than Jimmy Durante as he stood on the street corner and tore up the ex- pensive orchestra tickets to the Hippo- drome Theater. The next day, he bought shirts and ties. He never wore a cap again. After that, they began to see each other often. There were shows together, long walks, evenings spent talking. There were shared jokes: Jeanne’s heckling of Jimmy when he played the piano, the time he turned around suddenly and caught her waddling behind him in imitation of his walk — and knew without asking that there was no unkindness in the gag. And yet — she had other dates. There was one other fellow she saw often, a man who took her out for coffee almost as often as Jimmy did. Did she really like him? Was it just coincidence that almost every time she went out with him she would walk him past the window of a room where Jimmy and a group of friends played cards? Was she trying to rub it in — or to make him jealous? If she wanted to make him jeal- ous, surely that meant she was serious about him. But how could that be? He was so ugly, she so beautiful. He could hardly speak English — she was so refined, so cul- tured— Half in ecstasy, half in agony, he let time drag on. In the winter of 1920, Jeanne became ill. She had an operation, then went home to her family in Detroit to recover. With painstaking attention to spelling and grammar, Jimmy wrote to her. Immedi- ately, Jeanne answered. With a pen in his hand and his homely face invisible across the miles, Jimmy felt more at ease than he had ever been with her. Into his letters went more of his life, more of his heart than he had ever shown before. The an- swers came quickly, as warm as his own. They awoke hope so great it frightened him. This time he didn’t think he would re- cover if hope lied. Nor could he bear the suspense any longer. On the day Jeanne returned from De- troit, he asked her to marry him. “Why, Jimmy,” she said. “Whatever took you so long?” They were married in church — Jimmy in the clothes Jeanne had told him were proper, Jeanne in a brown flowered dress she had made herself. They were both in their late twenties. After the wedding, a party was held. All the people from the Alamo were there, waiters, singers, musicians, steady cus- tomers. “It’s a pity you don’t have time for a honeymoon,” someone said to Jeanne. She looked around at the hundreds of friendly, well-known faces. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Working with Jimmy and everyone is like a honeymoon in it- self. I won’t mind going back to work to- morrow night.” She stopped short when she saw Jimmy staring at her. “Why, honey,” he said. “Listen. I thought you knew. I wouldn’t let you work after you’re married. Why, Jeanne. That — that ain’t anything for a lady to do.” Jeanne glanced around. Then she took Jimmy’s arm. She pulled him over to a quiet corner. “Jimmy,” she said, “what are you talking about? Why should I quit? I love singing. It’s been my whole life till now. I like working with you. And you think I’m talented, you know you do — ” “Honey, honey,” he said. “I think you’re great. Only — don’t you see, Jeanne? I mean, you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I got to be worthy of you. I want to give you everything. Dia- monds. Fur coats. A beautiful house. Everything you want — ” “I want you, and to sing. That’s all.” “Naw, naw,” Jimmy said. His eyes were anguished. “Jeanne, you gotta let me give you everything. And — and you’re not well enough to work all night like you used to. You gotta protect your health. Please, Jeanne. Please — ” The tragedy begins She had never heard him so anguished, so in earnest before. She was a bride of a very few hours; she was very much in love. With tears in her eyes, she nodded her head. “All right,” she said. “You promise?” She turned her head away. “I — promise.” “Aw, honey,” he said. “You’ll be so glad. You’ll see.” “Only — what will I do with myself?” she whispered. “What will I do?” “You’ll fix up a place for us. You’ll have babies. And listen. You’ll help me manage my career. You know, make plans for it and figure out what a contract is talking about and all that stuff I don’t understand. You’d be great at that. Wouldn’t you, huh?” She kept her head turned. Finally, muffled, she said, “Yes. I could help you. I could do that — ” “Sure,” Jimmy cried. “You’ll be the brains, I’ll be the breadwinner. Now smile. Come on. We just got married.” Jeanne looked up. She saw the relief in his eyes. She smiled. And so they collaborated in what was to be the great tragedy of their marriage. The next night, Jimmy went back to work. Jeanne stayed at home in the fur- nished room they had rented. It wasn’t too bad at first. She would wait up for him at night, perform cooking miracles on a tiny stove — she was ambidextrous, and would delight Jimmy with her stirring and bast- ing feats employing both hands— and then, when they had eaten, they would sleep all day. But gradually the walls of the tiny room seemed to close in on Jeanne; she was used to the bustle and noise and ex- citement of the clubs and stages in which she had worked. “Jimmy — I’m so restless. I’m going nuts here!” He didn’t know that she was waiting for him to say, “All right, honey. Come back to work.” Instead, he looked around and nodded. “Yeah. No wonder. I’m gonna find us a bigger place.” He rented a larger apartment in a better neighborhood. It meant his taking on ex- tra work, and Jeanne’s finding a boarder to help meet the higher rent, but it never occurred to him to doubt that, in hand- some new surroundings, Jeanne would be happy. So what if he had to work all night and well into the morning now? It was worth it. But now Jeanne had a larger house to clean, a boarder to provide with linens, meals, a home. All day she shopped, cooked, cleaned. At night she waited up for Jimmy. At the end of a few months, she was exhausted. She began to fall asleep long before Jimmy came home. In the morning, when she rose to get at her chores, he was snoring peacefully. At the end of the day, he would get up, eat what she fixed for him, and leave again for work. They were together for perhaps an hour and a half in twenty-four. But they were still in love, still trying to do what each assumed was best for the other. During those snatched hours to- gether, Jeanne held firmly to her part in her husband’s career. At her urging, Jim- my asked for, and received a badly needed raise. At her constantly repeated sugges- tion, he eventually nerved himself to try for what Jeanne told him was the world in which he belonged — the world of large, sophisticated clubs — the world that had as its center, the glittering stages of Broad- way. He quit The Alamo. For a while he was out of work. For a while he played other clubs no better than that one. Once he even went back. But finally he landed a better job at a far better place. “You see?” Jeanne cried. “Listen to me, Jimmy. You’ve got real talent — you’re more than a piano player. You’re going to be a comedian, to go places!” Almost, she was content with her role in their lives. She couldn’t hold him One summer, Jeanne’s folks bought a camp on a California lake. For three months, Jeanne' and Jimmy stayed there. It was the honeymoon they had never had; it was a world neither had ever known. They lived in jeans and old shirts, fished for their food. They were together and alone, twenty-four hours a day. When We Dare Any Other Eye Make-up to Make This Swim Test! mti'S&cutks&ieA^ PERMANENT DARKENER FOB LASHES AND BROWS You «an swim, walk in the rain, weep at the movies, and keep that “born- beautifvi” look, with ‘•Dark-Byes’* . . , avoids looking "featureless” at the beach. 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Cutex gives hands ten fashion tips with new “Fashion Coral,” beautiful flattery for a tan. Regular or iri- descent polish 35?:*, lipstick too, 79?;* E. New cleanser by Helena Rubin- stein, “Herbessence” blends herbs and scientific ingredients in a soft green liquid to clear and refine skin. $2.50* *plus tax they left, it was, to Jeanne, like walking away from heaven. She began to talk wistfully of leading a simpler life, of mov- ing to California some day. Neither she nor Jimmy fully understood that what she really wanted was not life in a fishing- camp — but the husband who was slipping away from her. But there was nothing she could do to hold him. Back in the city, they resumed their life —coming together briefly every day, part- ing for the long hours in which Jimmy entertained and Jeanne sat home. More money was coming in now. As soon as it was in his hand, Jimmy had to spend it — on Jeanne. Whatever her troubles, he thought, they’d be cured by having what every woman wanted — a home of her own. He bought a little house at the end of a wooded street in Long Island. It would re- mind Jeanne, he thought, of the fishing camp at Clear Lake, where they had been so happy. Everything would be perfect now. And so, with the best intentions in the world, he installed her in the lonely little house on the Island — where he could no longer even rush home for an unexpected half-hour in the evening, where their pre- cious time together was cut still further by the hours of traveling it cost him to get home. The next summer, Jimmy found a job for three months at a resort in the Cats- kills. "It sounds wonderful,” Jeanne said. “I’ll take a room there, of course — ” i Baby, you can’t. It’ll cost everything I’ll make, and we gotta pay for the house.” Her eyes filled with the tears that came more and more readily these days. “But I want to be with you. I can’t stay here alone — ” “Why don’t you go to California for a while and stay with your folks. You know how you love that place!” “Without you?” “Honey, we ain’t millionaires. We gotta have money!” She knew he didn’t want it for himself. He had no interest in money, or what it bought— except in so far as it paid for her pleasures. It never occurred to him that her joys, like his, were not to be bought with money. He was obsessed with the idea of proving himself worthy of her in the only way he knew. In a sense the trag- edy came about because he could never believe that anyone could want, out of the whole world, only his company. So Jeanne went to California for the summer. It was their first separation. She came back from it with two dreams, nei- ther new. One was that Jimmy would take her there to live. The other was that he would ask her to work with him again. Instead, he found a new way to make Jeanne happy. He opened up a night club with a friend, Eddie Jackson. It was Pro- hibition time then; little clubs all over New York served bootleg liquor and priceless entertainment to customers who ranged from Chicago mobsters to society leaders. The Club Durante was an imme- diate success — within months, Jimmy was bringing home the first real money he had ever earned. That is, when he had time to go home. When the club had been running for a while, Jimmy took on a third partner. His name was Lou Clayton; he was a great dancer, a shrewd businessman, a loyal lifelong friend — and the crowning blow to the Durantes’ staggering marriage. For with Lou’s coming, Jimmy moved into a new life. Lou had big ideas — and he knew how to make them work. He knew how to turn Jimmy into one of the world’s greatest comics, how to make a good night club into the most important in New York, how to blend a clever floor show into the top entertainment the East Coast had to offer. To do it, all he needed was all of Jim- my’s time and all of his trust. There was no question of his being worthy of those things. It was only that it left nothing for Jeanne Durante — nothing she could even pretend was a share in her husband’s life. “You’re destroying me!” At first she fought bitterly and desper- ately against Lou — his friendship for Jim- my, his ideas, even his successes. When time after time Lou was proved right, when his schemes worked, when Jimmy started to become, under his manage- ment, a truly wealthy man — she gave up fighting. She never gave up caring. In the fifteen years when Clayton, Jack- son and Durante were the most famous entertaining trio in the world, Jeanne Durante spoke to Lou Clayton only once. And that was to say that he was destroy- ing her. More and more she withdrew into her- self. She had never been afraid of any- thing; now she was afraid of everything. All night, alone in the house in Flushing, she sat among the expensive furnishings Jimmy bought her, and trembled. After a while she began to lock the bedroom door, to barricade herself inside. One night while Jimmy was on stage, a waiter inter- rupted his act. “It’s your wife, Mr. Durante. She’s on the phone. Says it’s an emergency.” He hurried to the phone. “Jeanne?” “Jimmy— I— I’ve got to go to the bath- room. I’m so frightened to leave the room, Jimmy. Please — stay on the phone till I get back and tell you I’m all right. . . .” It became a nightly occurrence. It was, of course, inevitable that sooner or later Jeanne Durante would begin to drink. It was inevitable that when she had irrevocably lost her health, Jimmy would finally wake up to his wife’s real needs, to the destruction he had so lovingly wrought. And by then, of course, it was too late. Running away Once, during the long slow years when Jimmy and Jeanne lived in California and Jimmy made his series of bad, degrad- ing movies, he boarded a train one night without telling her. He didn't even care where he went by then. He was running —only running not from her but from himself. For by now he believed he had destroyed the high-spirited girl with the lovely voice, the girl who had laughed and tossed her hair, the girl to whom he had planned to give the world. It seemed he had taken the world away from her, and given instead, a stone. In 1947, when Jimmy’s income was al- most nil, when Jeanne’s tears and protests prevented him over and over from ac- cepting engagements at the New York and Chicago clubs where he was still loved and remembered, Lou Clayton got an offer for Jimmy to do two weeks’ worth of work in New York. He would net, Jimmy was told, eleven thousand dollars. “I can’t do it,” he said. “Jeanne’s sick.” Standing beside him, weak and ill, Jeanne said quietly, “If you leave me this time, Jim, you will never see me alive again.” “I’m not going,” her husband said. “I won’t go. Let the bills wait a while longer. I won’t leave you.” They sat together silently, the woman 82 who kept her beloved husband from the work he loved and needed, the man whose penance had already begun. What they thought then, neither ever told the other. But an hour later, Jeanne Durante turned to her husband. “Jimmy, I’ve changed my mind. It will do you good to go, and we do need the money. Take it, Jimmy. I want you to.” When he had been gone for four days, she died. He went back to Los Angeles to bury her, a lost, bewildered man. He began, after that, a life that lacked only the hair shirt and knotted scourge of the penitant. In every way that a man can cry, “For- give me,” Jimmy Durante asked pardon. He haunted the places where memories lurked. Every Sunday he went to her grave to weep. And above all, he kept his tortured mind and heart turned upon his mistakes, upon his errors, upon his guilt. Even into the one part of his life that had been happy, his work, he brought his sorrow. “Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are. . . How she had loved being called “Mrs. Calabash.” It was the one thing that al- ways made her laugh. Once, when they were touring upper New York State, they’d visited a town that Jeanne fell in love with. Jimmy, unable to pronounce its name, called it “Calabash.” And, because of Jeanne’s love for the town, he’d nick- named her “Mrs. Calabash.” Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash. Forgive me. Goodnight. He was free now to work — and no longer free to enjoy it. He clung desperately now to the love of his friends — and knew always that it was partly that love that had killed his wife. A second chance? A year later, he met Margie Little. She might have been Jeanne again. She was red-haired, a singer, a lady — and a sprite. She had Jeanne’s once- light heart, Jeanne’s way with a joke. If he had been anyone but Jimmy Durante, he would have known he was in love again. If he had been anyone but Jimmy Durante, he would have seen Margie and her love for him as his chance to start over. But it was Jimmy Durante, who couldn’t believe he deserved another chance. Who thought the rest of his life would be too short to be sorry enough for the mistakes of the past. Who believed that loving him could lead only to disaster. Who had promised Jeanne’s mother that he would never marry again. Time and time again, he tried to put new love away from him. Somehow, it wouldn’t go. Somehow, Margie continued to wait. And Jimmy to suffer. And then one day in 1959, when Jeanne had been dead for seventeen years, Jimmy Durante woke up and knew that the burden had been lifted from his heart. The reason, he never knew. Maybe pen- ance is finite — that it is meant to last only a certain number of years and then end. The reason didn’t really matter. At the end of 1959, Margie accepted his proposal of marriage, and set a date for the summer of 1960. The papers carried the announcement; they gave only the dates, the names, the facts. They left out the most important line. They left out the words that ended the past, and opened the door of the future. “Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are. Goodnight — and, at last, good- bye.” The End ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK ALBUM CAN-CAN” with CAPITOL SOUNDTRACK ALBUM. Wonderful! A magnificent cast sings glorious Cole Porter songs like It's All Right With Me (Sinatra), I Love Paris (Chevalier and Sinatra), You Do Something to Me (Jourdan), Let's Do It (MacLaine and Sinatra), and many more! w 1301* *IN STEREO TOO! money can be yours for help- ing us take orders for magazine subscriptions. Write for FREE information. No obligation. Macfadden Publications, 205 E. 42 St. , N. Y. 1 7, N. Y. ENCLOSE A STAMPED, SELF-ADDRESSED ENVELOPE! o ♦ DIFFICULTY Irregular or scanty menses may be sympto- matic of functional disorders. 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He’d come over to visit the children either dur- ing the day or in the evening. “I will always love him,” Virginia once said. “But he thinks more of the children than he does of me.” Virginia tried acting to forget Jim. She starred in a local company doing “Streetcar Named Desire.” This didn’t work, and she went to Europe. On her way back in October of 1959, she stopped off in Hono- lulu. From there she telephoned Jim, begging him to come back. He refused and she slashed her wrists in a suicide attempt. Her friends thought she had really re- signed herself that Jim wasn’t coming back when she announced, in March of 1960, that she was planning to file for divorce. Less than a month later, she tried to take her life again. This time by taking fifteen sedatives. “I want to die,” a note read, addressed to Jim. “Life is not worth living.” The exclusive story behind the second attempt is this. Jim had told Virginia’s mother that he was willing to give their marriage a second try when she returned from Europe. However, he said when she tried to commit suicide in Hawaii he didn’t want anything more to do with her. Her mother unfortunately told Virginia this the weekend in March when she tried to end it all. She has been released from the hospital, but is under close supervision of her psy- chiatrist. Cal’s Comment: The tragedy that ended this marriage, was seemingly brought about by one of Hollywood’s crudest masters: the work itself. When Jim began his series, he found himself with less and less energy and time left to devote to his family until he found the marriage falling apart. And, after having struggled together for so many years, Virginia found it impossible to give him up. He was her life. She had worked and fought through difficult times only to find him leaving her behind when he finally became successful ... as is so often the case. HOPE LANGE DON MURRAY P 84 Continued from page 49 of eight films caught in the middle by the strike. Don and Dolores used to spend a lot of time together on and off the set at 20th Century-Fox while the film was in production. They claimed that they were rehearsing their lines. But after the filming had been stopped by the strike, Don paid daily visits to Dolores. It surprise many around town, because Don had never appeared as the playboy type. He’s ofttimes naive and even shy. The Dolores Michaels-Don Murray romance undoubtedly led to his marriage breakup but whether he told Hope that he was in love with Dolores and wanted a divorce is purely speculation. Dolores, who’s very popular around the studio, has, in the past, dated most of the young eligibles in town and while going to dramatic school last year, met John Duke, a young actor. They were reportedly en- gaged, but that was before Don stepped into the picture. She’s been married once — to Maurice Martine, an interior decorator who owns a small art shop in Laguna Beach, Cali- fornia. She once worked with him in the shop but claims that it was boring and left him for a movie career. They were di- vorced a year ago. Oddly enough, earlier rumors of a rift in the Murray-Lange marriage had started over Hope’s attentions to the dashing, young Stephen Boyd when they became close friends while co-starring in “The Best of Everything” last year. They were inseparable on the set and a daily two- some lunching in the commissary. Several columnists began to infer that Hope had fallen in love with Boyd and wanted a divorce. She became so upset over these rumors that she nearly suffered a nervous breakdown. Boyd said, at the time, that he liked Hope very much as a “good friend.” He made no bones about it that he would certainly seek her affections if she were single. “She’s very happily married,” he con- fided to me, “and I would never even at- tempt to break up a happy marriage. I think Hope is the greatest girl in the world and I respect her very much.” At that time Hope and Don vehemently denied the rumors. They even quelled the gossip by going to Europe together. Just before their announcement, I saw Hope and Don at a party for Shelley Ber- man at the Crescendo. Both seemed jolly (even though at that time they knew of their decision to separate but hadn’t an- nounced it). I remember Hope kept com- plaining that there was no room to dance in the place. Don wasn’t too talkative, but he never is. Cal’s Comment: This was a surprise all around! VERA MILES GORDON SCOTT Continued from page 49 1955. She had already met Scott, now 32, while filming a picture with him, and they dated off and on for a couple of years. On March 2, 1956, he proposed to her via long-distance telephone from London where he was making a Tarzan picture. Previously she had told the press, regard- ing marriage rumors to Scott, “I want to make very sure before I marry again.” The marriage breakup with Scott began last summer and came as a surprise to Hollywood. There hadn’t been one indi- cation that anything was wrong. Both their careers were booming. However, Vera confided to a close friend that Gordon had been going out with other women, and that she had put up with it as long as she could. It was the second marriage for both. The six-foot, three-inch “Apeman” previ- ously married Lea Duarte in March of 1954. She was a switchboard operator at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas. Gordon worked as a lifeguard at the same hotel. It wasn’t until Gordon became a movie star that this marriage came to light. He claimed that they only lived together less than a year following their overnight mar- riage in Tijuana, Mexico. The brief mar- riage produced a son, Eric, born in De- cember of 1954. They were divorced in 1955. Cal's Comment: Long separations and conflicting careers seem to be the cause of the breakup of this marriage. In so many Hollywood marriages, such lengthy sepa- rations have usually been the prelude to divorce, even if the divorce was won for other reasons. Theirs is a story repeated over and again: the struggle for love which finally ends in disappointment and break- up, because of a greater love: the screen. BRIGITTE BARDOT JACQUES CHARRIER Continued from page 50 already saying that all was not running smooth in the Charrier family. Brigitte seemed upset at being pregnant and soon became disappointed at her husband’s lack of adjustment to Army life (which finally won him a deferment on medical grounds) . After the baby arrived, further squabbles took place — this time over Brigitte’s insist- ence on continuing her career. Some say Jacques, two years younger than Brigitte, resented her success. He, too, is an actor. Brigitte was married once before when she was seventeen — to director Roger Vadim. It lasted four years. And it was reported that it broke up because she never settled down. For Jacques, it is his first marriage. Cal’s Opinion: This seems to be a perfect example of a marriage where the woman outshines the man so much that, as Brigitte herself said, “You cannot love a man 24 hours a day — you also have to respect and be able to rely on this.” And she did not find this with Jacques. He became resent- ful and jealous (particularly when she did love scenes with other men). And, like many women stars, she refused to give up her career to save her marriage. AUDIE MURPHY PAMELA ARCHER Continued from page 50 had become final from actress Wanda Hendrix. Pamela was an airline stewardess, an employee of Braniff International Airways. The wedding of the World War II hero was quite an occasion in his home state of Texas. They were married in Dallas by the chaplain of Audie’s Texas National Guard outfit, the Rev. W. H. Dickinson. They separated briefly eight years later — in 1959. At that time they gave the reason as a conflict between Audie’s career (he has to be away many months out of the year) and his home life. On March 24, 1960 they announced a second separation. Audie married his first wife Wanda Hendrix, in January of 1949, and they separated in February of 1950. They had no children. Wanda charged, in her di- vorce action, that Audie “constantly criti- cized . . . even to the expression on my face and any opinion I had.” Wanda since married again, this time to Jim Stack, the brother of actor Bob Stack. This marriage has ended in divorce. Neither Audie nor Pamela will give the reason for the second separation. But one friend remarked, “Audie is married only to his career and a horse.” Cal’s Comment: Career versus marriage: a story that is told time and again. But it is a story whose ending is almost always assured . . . the career wins, breaking up the home. Maybe not this time, though. Most of their friends insist that the separa- tion just doesn’t look final. DEBRA PAGET BUDD BOETTICHER Continued from page 51 with David Street was a fast one even for Hollywood — they knew each other only a few days when they married. He pro- posed to her on their first date. The wed- ding, which took place at Debra’s parents’ home, was surrounded by gossip about David’s four former wives and a suit his latest “ex” had filed for money she claimed he owed her. With this mixed-up begin- ning, many people weren’t at all surprised when, ten weeks later, there were rumors about a separation and plans for a divorce in Mexico. After this experience Debra steered clear of marriage until this spring when she eloped with movie director, Budd Boetticher, also after a hasty romance — three weeks (they got together during the actors’ strike). At the time she said she was blissfully happy. However, just nine- teen days later, came reports that she moved back to her mother’s home, saying that she hoped to patch things up, “but there are a few adjustments to be made.” Cal’s Comment: Who can tell what this girl will do next! YUL BRYNNER VIRGINIA GILMORE Continued from page 51 in Paris. Brynner married his first wife Vir- ginia, on Sept. 6, 1943. They have a son, Rocky, now 13. Both now have joint cus- tody of the boy, who currently is living with his mother in New York, but will attend a school in Lausanne, Switzerland, next year. Brynner plans to build a home Laraine and Leo: It’s no longer funny. for his bride in Lausanne so he can spend as much time as possible with his son. Miss Gilmore, a one-time big star, is planning to resume her acting career. His first marriage, I am told, went on the rocks shortly after he met Doris. But both Yul and Virginia never discussed their problems with the press. They maintained that everything was all right up until a month before Virginia winged to Mexico to divorce him. Terms of the property settlement were kept secret, but it was estimated that she got over a million dol- lars, in addition to their beach home at Balboa, California. Cal’s Comment: This marriage seems about par for the course, and following the trend of those which seem to break up not too long after the husband achieves real success. His goal achieved, the world’s most glamorous women anxious to meet him . . . and ... he goes. SUZY PARKER PIERRE DE LA SALLE Continued from page 51 known as an unsympathetic offbeat char- acter who loved life and high-living. She even made a mystery of her marriage — denying it until after a tragic auto crash which took the life of her father and got her headlines — because, friends say, she wanted to protect her image of the gay bachelor girl. Once it was proven, she took on a new line — that of a woman who had very unconventional ideas about mar- riage. “In France you never see your hus- band— French couples believe in ‘separate- ness,’ ” said Suzy, who added almost in the same breath, “but I never expect to get a divorce. Why start going through the whole thing over again?” Suzy denies that there’s been a “separa- tion,” insisting that she’s in the States because of her career, while Pierre’s in Paris because of his. But people close to the couple say that these conflicting careers could eventually become the cause of a real breakup. Cal’s Comment: It may be just a matter of time. Anything can happen. LARAINE DAY LEO DUROCHER News Item: Laraine Day, 39, and Leo Durocher, who’s 54, announced their sep- aration on March 17, 1960. They have stated no immediate plans for a divorce, although Leo engaged Chicago attorney Sidney Korshak and she, attorney Edward Rose, to work out terms of a property set- tlement, thus paving the way for divorce action. They’d been married thirteen years. Facts: Laraine obtained an interlocutory decree from her first husband, James Ray Hendricks, an airport manager, on Jan. 20, 1947. The next day she and Leo flew to Juarez, Mexico, where she obtained a Mexican divorce in less than an hour and they were married the same day, Jan. 21, 1947. However, this marriage wasn’t legal in the eyes of the California courts. So, on Feb. 15, 1948, they were married again in a small Mormon (she’s Mormon) ceremony in their Santa Monica, California, home. Her second marriage, like her first, was childless. This disturbed the non-smoking, non-drinking actress because her faith calls for large families. So on Oct. 2, 1946, she adopted a boy, Chris. She and her husband, the following year, adopted a girl, Michele, in Texas, and later another girl they applied to adopt was returned to the adoption home due to physical handicaps. Following the marriage, the two were inseparable. Laraine even announced, in December of 1948, that she would give up a million-dollar movie contract with RKO if it meant she couldn’t be with her husband, then managing the Brooklyn Dodgers. She joined him in New York, telling the press: “I do not intend ever to be separated from him.” Everyone knew, including Laraine, that the marriage was not a happy marriage for the last year. But Laraine refused to admit it. Leo was seen in the constant company of dancer Larri Thomas, the estranged wife of actor John Bromfield. Leo had even met her family and reportedly was going to marry her as soon as he divorced Laraine. But he denied this. But everyone knew it was just a matter of time before they would publicly an- nounce their separation. And I hear now from a source in New York that Leo and Miss Thomas have since broken off. Cal’s Comment: Thirteen years seems a pretty lengthy average for a Hollywood marriage, and it was hoped by close ac- quaintances that this one could be saved. Is it simply that the couple seems to have lost interest in each other? They have evi- dently tried hard at their marriage. They adopted children, moved around the coun- try together when one of them had to move . . . but this didn’t seem to help. There seems no hope for reconciliation. The End Famous ALFRED SHAHEEN, Honolulu *na %wjie MARGIE’S MAGIC NECKLINE Exclusive one-, piece Lounger. Magic neckline, ALFRED SHAHEEN'S fabulous fabric 50% Cotton, 50% Arnel. 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I think only as a man. And as a man, I find that there is no difference between American women and women throughout the world. “I have not met an American woman who was not feminine,” he adds, seriously. “I have not met an American woman who has struck me as being more ag- gressive than any other woman. I think anyone who starts describing American women as something different is just out of his head. As for me, I don’t care whether she’s an American woman or not. If I find her attractive, then give me her telephone number! “Woman — ” he goes on, “takes the place that man gives her. The original author- ity always is with the man. If a woman has authority, she has been given that authority by a man. If a man complains he is being dominated by a woman, then he is complaining about something he asked for and is getting. If certain people say American women are aggressive, that they are becoming the bosses, don’t talk to me. Talk to the American male! “For me,” and he said this almost re- signedly, “I don’t think I ever really have been in love. None of my romances have ever been serious. Romance is differ- ent from love, and this is often confused. Sometimes I think men are more romantic than women and for this reason, a woman sometimes must understand a man better than he understands her and love him for what she understands — no matter how painful or different he is from her romantic image of him. A man loses something when he must compromise. And, strangely, a woman probably loses, in the end, the most. ... I can’t explain why. “Why do some men want to stay single? Maybe, it’s better to ask, Why should a man marry? A woman must understand what a man is looking to find in her and in marriage with her. “I’m looking for something that I came very close to a few years ago. I met a young French actress and from our affinity in work grew an admiration, a respect, a loyalty — and finally a great affection. I feel that she is my friend and will be my friend for life and I will be hers. We had a friendship affection, but it was not enough to put in the form of romance. We never really considered marriage, al- though we did talk about it. Immediately, it became personal and we dropped the subject. But I sincerely believe that it must be possible to be in love with a woman and have that same kind of friend- ship. If it isn’t, perhaps I’ll never marry.” His head is turned He says this with a soft trace of brogue that still reveals his birthplace, “a tiny hamlet on the outskirts of Belfast, Ireland, called Glen Gormley,” where he was born the ninth and last child of James Alex- ander and Martha Boyd Millar. He is at a loss to say where his love for acting came. His father was a truck driver but he remembers his boyhood as being filled with performances in village ama- teur shows and by the time he was eight years old, he had already played Hamlet for a small children’s company. “I started young,” he says matter of factly, “but I didn’t get ahead much until I was ten.” It was a group of touring players that came to town and turned his head. They called themselves the University Players. And to the ten-year-old boy who sat hunched on the step in a corner of the local hall, watching them rehearse, his chin resting on his hands and his body mo- tionless so he would not miss a line, they were — these University Players— the most fantastic people he had ever seen. He was sitting in his regular corner, as far out of sight as he could, when an actor came down from the stage and sat next to him. He read a script and when he finished reading four or five pages, he turned to Stephen and asked, “Why do you come here every day?” At first, Stephen could not find his tongue and he shuffled his feet and felt the red burn deeper in his cheeks. And only after a long hesitation, did he find courage to say what he had been almost afraid to Watch TRUE STORY on your NBC -affiliated television station on Saturdays See your local paper for time and station. Exciting stories of actual events and people, straight from the files of TRUE STORY Magazine — narrated hy Kathi Norris. And don’t miss “ Barbara Finch — Forgotten Victim of the Fineli-Tregoff Triangle” as exclusively told by a loyal friend . . . In July TRUE STORY Magazine The Woman’s Guide to Better Living Now at Your Newsstand Kathi Norris admit to himself. “Someday, I will be an actor, just like you.” Stephen never knew whether the actor told anyone in the company about what he had said, but not too long after that, maybe two days, a man came over to him. It was after rehearsal and he said, “I am the manager of the group. Would you like to join us?” he asked. “Can you imagine,” Stephen says today, “me a mere ten years? They probably would have sent me straight back home if they’d known. But I was tall and looked much older and they believed me when I said I was sixteen.” He went on tour, with his parents’ per- mission, and “I loved every single minute of that hard, unsettled life,” he says today. “I never had any doubts this was the only way to live, even when between acting engagements, I had to work and struggle.” He worked as a waiter, and a receptionist and at so many other things that he can’t remember them all. And if it bothered him that he never had a childhood, he never told anyone. His world was a different world from the one other boys his age had. “They would go to coffee shops and sit around and talk of conquests while I worked,” he says today, his voice neither betraying whether he would have liked to have done so or not, but simply stating a fact — that maybe, it is true: one can’t miss what one doesn’t know about — even if it is a childhood. And by the time Stephen had worked his way to England to join a touring company, he was already a man. But in London, instead of acting, the nearest he could get to the inside of a theater was a job as a doorman. When he was offered the job of ushering for the British equivalent of our Academy Awards, to be staged at a large London movie theater, he accepted it. The evening was spectacular and festive and all evening long, he took the winners up to the emcee, introduced them and quietly walked away. Nothing might have happened if the emcee had not been Michael Redgrave, the well-known British actor, who has both a keen interest in the theater and in young actors. When the evening was almost over and Stephen was standing at the sidelines watching the celebrities leave, Redgrave took him by surprise by coming over to him and asking sternly, “What do you think you are doing?” “Why . . . ?” Stephen asked, not too certain that he were not doing something wrong. “You’re an actor, aren’t you?” asked Redgrave. Stephen remained silent. “So what are you doing opening doors?” “How . . . how did you know I was an actor?” he finally stammered. “You can always tell,” Redgrave an- swered. “But why aren’t you working?” “That did it,” explains Stephen today. “I told him why; he listened with great patience, took out a piece of paper from his wallet and wrote me a note of intro- duction to a small repertory company near London. And from then on, it was a breeze.” What Stephen means by a “breeze” is that he was spotted by a London agent who smoothed him of many of his uncut country manners and his sharp Irish ac- cent and, after that, he was on his way. Good luck caught up with him; after mak- ing the English hit film, “The Man Who Never Was,” and in Hollywood: “The Best of Everything” and “Ben Hur.” Romance catches up And then, finally, early in 1958, even romance caught up with him. . . . 86 It was spring and he was in Rome and Rome was very beautiful. He arrived at his hotel, and not many minutes after, there was a soft knock on the door of his room. He opened it, and standing be- fore him was a slim, young blond woman with the “most engaging manner and smile.” “Hello,” she explained carefully, “I am Mariella di Sarzana. I am from MCA (his American agency) and I have been assigned to look after you for your stay in Rome — as long as you are making the picture ‘Ben Hur.’ ” “Come in,” was all he could find to say. After that, when he was free, he would telephone her and ask, “Would you like to show a visiting actor what Rome is like . . . the Colosseum, the fountains, the ruins, the Vatican — everything,” he would say. And then afterward, they would drive out into the sun-baked countryside, sometimes with a picnic basket, other times they would stop in the small villages or towns for something to eat. It was on one of these days, as they walked by the shore of a picturesque Italian fishing vil- lage, Stephen turned to Mariella and asked her softly, “Will you marry me?” “I honestly thought this was it,” he says earnestly. “She was lovely, attractive, and a wonderful girl. She was clever and cosmopolitan, too, and just about every- thing seemed to point to everlasting love.” A few weekends later, they flew to London for the ceremony . . . but their life together seemed doomed from the start. Stephen’s work seemed to get in the way, as never before. “Just after the wed- ding,” says Stephen, “I received a cable from my studio telling me to be sure to be back very early on Monday morning. That gave us not even a day before I had to fly to Rome again.” Together, they raced back to Rome, only just in time for Stephen to rush off to the studio. It was a busy day for him, that Mon- day. But even so, Stephen had felt sure he would spend it thinking about Mariella, about their new life together, about their love for one another. Yet he was sur- prised. For all that day, he could think of nothing but his work and his portrayal of Messala. And it was like that for the rest of the week . . . and the next. Exhausted, he would come home at the end of the day to drop into a chair, pick up a script, and lose himself in preparation for the next day’s shooting. Mariella tried to be understanding. She tried to reason that, after all, while a mar- riage is a career, a fulltime occupation for a woman, it is only part of a man’s life. His outside life is still vitally important to him. Yet it was hard for a bride to be neglected. . . . Sometimes, thinking perhaps it would be kinder to distract him for a few hours in the evening — so that he might have a little relaxation — she would walk unex- pectedly into the room where he was con- centrating, and start talking to him about nothing in particular. At first he could try to shut out her voice, but finally his concentration would be broken and he’d wheel around, eyes flashing with irritation and snap, “Honey, please don’t disturb me when I’m working.” Officially their marriage was dissolved a little more than a year later, but it was over, to all intents and purposes, a month after they had recited their marriage vows, when Stephen had to leave Rome for Hollywood . . . and Mariella did not go with him. Some say she was reluctant to leave her native Italy; others point out that she was hurt and resentful for the way Stephen had neglected her. A hasty decision “But it wasn’t really an unhappy mar- riage,” Stephen himself explains. “It was an unsuccessful one. Just a question of two adults making a mistake. It’s that simple. Both of us had the courage to recognize it, and this way neither one feels hurt. And I do believe,” he adds, “that the decision to get married after only three months courtship was what was hasty — not the decision to divorce after less than a month. There was no point in prolonging what we both knew to be an error. “A husband and wife must be friends first. You cannot get to know someone in three months . . . friendships are not made that easily. You need time to know what you aspire to — for yourself and for the other person; to know what you are looking for in life and in marriage, also.” And what is Stephen Boyd looking for in a wife? Today, in Hollywood, where he has re- sumed his bachelor existence, he seems more reluctant than ever to give it up. He says simply: “You can be certain I’m not in any hurry to put my head in a noose for a second time.” But he does say that if a girl is fun- loving and good to talk with, if she has a sense of humor and a sense of values, he will find her attractive and want to know her. “But she need not know anything about acting, or my work,” he adds. “Even though a man’s occupation is his first love, when I am out with a girl, very little shop talk ever enters the conversation. I make sure of that. “There are so many other things than work to talk about and find out about,” he says. “Like the wonderful life here in America, its people; there is food; there is the different attitudes toward living that people have in various parts of the world ... all sorts of wonderful things. If an actor can only talk about acting, then he must be a very dull person; and this is true for any woman who can only talk about what she does. And because I was so poor so long,” he says, “I value things. I try to absorb pleasure and I would like the woman I am with to feel the same.” She would please him, too, if she liked golf and tennis and if she knew a little about baseball. “I became a fan last year,” he laughs at himself, “and no one talks to me when a baseball game is on. They — or she — wouldn’t dare. I’d go out of my mind.” And if she could be prepared to follow him anywhere and live anywhere in the world — “I’m very uncertain. I don’t know yet where my future lies, here or back again in Europe,” and if she could love the out-of-doors and not be afraid of being too unsettled. . . . “You see, I’m a rambler,” he tries to explain. “I guess you might call me an Irish rover. Anything that’s going to stifle my life — let it go somewhere else. I don’t want it. That does not mean that marriage is out of the question. It’s just that I don’t think marriage is neces- sarily something that has to be within four walls. If she were another ram- bler . . .” he hesitates and never finishes the sentence. But it’s pretty obvious what Stephen Boyd means is that just about any bachelor can be made to change his mind about being single if the girl is willing to take the time to understand him and offer him a lasting friendship along with her love. The End SEE STEPHEN BOYD IN M-G-M’s “BEN-HUR.” for a state-by-state survey of boys: how they're alike; how they differ — don't miss . . . BOYS U.S.A. IN JULY TEENS TODAY MAGAZINE Also in this issue — TEEN MODELS; HOW TO BE ONE! COLLEGES UNDER $1000 A YEAR ’’CATCH HIM ON THE REBOUND!" P/us— many other terrific articles about problems you face daily. 25f at newsstands or, use this coupon • TEENS TODAY WG-760 ? • 205 E. 42nd St., New York 17, N. Y. • • Rush me a copy of the July, 1960 issue • • of TEENS TODAY. I enclose 25c. • • Name • • Please Print 0 0 Address # £ City State J (Canadian price 30c) 87 MOVIES ( Continued from page 8) Vm All Right, Jack lion INTERNATIONAL Do you think labor-management re- lations is a pretty solemn subject? Strictly for school discussions? Wait till you see the hilarious shambles the British make out of it, with a per- formance by Peter Sellers that’s a deadpan masterpiece. Ian Carmichael, who nearly wrecked the British Army in “Private’s Progress,” now does the same for British industry — all with the best of intentions. He’s a nice fel- low, you understand; just not extra bright. Worse yet — he’s honest. As a new employee in a missile factory, Ian runs afoul of Sellers, the shop steward, who’s given to calling strikes to make sure his union members will keep getting more money for less work. As for top management, it’s thoroughly crooked. The picture plays no favorites, just lets everybody have have it right where it hurts. adult Five Branded W omen paramount Guerrilla fighting in Yugoslavia during World War II provides plenty of violent action, but sympathies are blurred. The five women of the title have had their hair cropped off by the partisans, as a penalty for fraternizing with a handsome Nazi (Steve For- rest). Outcasts, they must join under- ground forces led by Van Heflin in order to survive. The unhappy hero- ines all seem strongly individual char- acters, thanks to good international teamwork by Vera Miles, Barbara Bel Geddes (American), Silvana Manga- no, Carla Gravina (Italian) and Jeanne Moreau (French), and are worth worrying about. adult Bobbikins 20th, cinemascope Delightful surprise ! There’s a fresh comedy idea in this fable about an Anglo-American show-biz couple (Max Bygraves, Shirley Jones) and their angel-faced infant (Steven Stocker). Baby Bobbikins suddenly starts spouting better English than his old man can speak. The astonished Max tries to tell Shirley about it — and promptly lands on a psychiatrist’s couch, because the kid won’t say a r word when anybody but Max is around. Then the toddler’s secret tal- ent is put to amusing use. Along with 88 the fun, there are songs for Shirley and Max, who’s a cheerful favorite in British musical comedy. family The Mountain Road Columbia While yesterday’s wars sometimes seem colorful and exciting, somehow modern warfare looks drab and trag- ic and utterly confusing, like this closeup of World War II in China. The Japanese are advancing, and a small group of retreating American soldiers, led by James Stewart, is or- dered to block the roads by demoli- tion, cutting off the escape route for the terrified civilians. The story tries to make a plea for international understanding, compares Stewart’s thinking — he shows absolutely no imagination — with Lisa Lu, as a sensi- tive Chinese lady, and Glenn Corbett, as a sympathetic American. But no matter what, you’ll want to see more of that good-looking Glenn. family The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn m-c-m; cinemascope, metrocolor We seem to be all set for a lively big musical, with a smart showman like brash little Eddie Hodges playing a runaway who goes rafting down the Mississippi a century ago. But the scant bits of music get brushed off before they’re finished, and all that’s left is some mild humor about Eddie’s difficulties with two con-men (Tony Randall and Mickey Shaughnessy) . Any resemblance to Mark Twain’s story is strictly accidental. Nobody in on the movie seems to have read the book, except perhaps fighter Archie Moore, who shows some flashes of dignity as the slave Jim. family The Buttle of the Sexes continental It’s a small classic that gets tossed away this time, as the British move James Thurber’s short story “The Cat- bird Seat” from the U.S. to Scotland. Still, it’s hard to complain whenever Peter Sellers is charming the audience with his sly humor. He’s a prim, pre- cise and utterly loyal employee of an old Edinburgh tweed firm. When an American efficiency expert (Constance Cummings) starts breaking up the stodgy but happy routine, Peter is forced to desperate measures. Too bad comedy isn’t as subtle as the act- ing- FAMILY The Sword and the Dragon vitalite; VITA MOTION, NATURALISTE COLOR Though this spectacular adventure- fantasy is Soviet-made, there isn’t a trace of modern propaganda in its rambling story of a legendary hero of the Middle Ages, played by husky Boris Andreyev. Instead, there’s an appealing fairytale atmosphere about the mighty peasant’s battles with bar- barian invaders and mythical mon- sters. The castles and the costumes and the warriors’ weapons make you think of faraway places and long-ago times. Most of the English dialogue is pretty stiff, but its quaintness some- how fits in, and there aren’t too many words breaking up the action, family In the Wake of a Stranger PARAMOUNT Guess the British are paying us a compliment with this brisk little melo- drama— it’s a murder-suspense yarn in the fast American style. But there are some interestingly different Brit- ish touches: the grim streets of the Liverpool waterfront; the character of a bookie, whose profession is per- fectly legal over there and is an- nounced in an office sign reading “Turf Accountant.” The Plot? As a young merchant-ship officer, Tony Wright behaves like the traditional sailor ashore, and when he wakes up the next morning, he’s not only mis- erably hung over, but thoroughly in- volved in a murder case. Pretty schoolteacher Shirley Eaton tries to help him clear himself. family / Passed for W/hite allied artists A drama that isn’t very believable makes its bid for your attention with a provocative title and three attrac- tive young newcomers to movies. Re- member James Franciscus as the jun- ior hero of “The Naked City” on TV? And opposite him is Sonya Wilde, who has to contend with the shakier angles of the plot. She plays a part- Negro girl who “passes” in order to get better job opportunities, then falls in love with a rich white boy and mar- ries him with almost no advance plan- ning. As a sympathetic friend, Pat Michon shows a sprightly, likable per- sonality. Too bad that, in being so nervously anxious to avoid offending anybody, the movie just may wind up by making everybody mad. adult ■ SANDRA DEE Continued from page 40 Some of them had had her mother in their classes and one teacher had even told her that she’d known her grandmother as a girl. Of course, it had been a high school then, but even so, it was hard to imagine that long ago. She’d peeped around to look at the stage. It was so big. It was bigger, she thought, than the one at Radio City Music Hall, where her mother had taken her once. And then the teacher had come over to her. “Ready?” she whispered. Sandra nodded, her blond curls bobbing as she shook her head up and down. The school band started to play her introduction and the teacher gave her a little pat, to start her on her way. And then she was doing her dance step, making her way right to the middle of that big stage. She stole a look at the audience. There were so many kids out there. She took a deep breath and started to sing, “Peggy O’Neill . . .” All the kids had clapped for her and she’d smiled out at them and held out the full skirt of her dress in a curtsy. “Ooh, Sandy, you were wonderful,” a little girl had whispered to her backstage. “Weren’t you scared?” “No,” she’d said, “I wasn’t scared.” But later, when she thought about it, and about leaving all her friends, and, when nobody could see her, she cried. The day they moved away, her mother had hugged and kissed all her friends goodbye. Her mother was like that; she always let people see how much she loved them. “I’m not like that,” she thought. “I’m not affectionate at all.” Sometimes, because she didn’t show how she felt, peo- ple thought she was a snob. But that wasn’t true. She really liked people, only it was hard to show it. The awful present Then her mother’s voice, calling from the other room, brought her sharply back to the awful present. “Sandy,” her mother called. “It’s get- ting late.” Her mother poked her head in the doorway and gave her a long look. “Nervous?” she asked. “You’ve hardly said a word all morning.” Sandra shook her head. “No,” she lied. “I’m not nervous. I’ll just pretend that Bayonne is like any other town.” She could feel the blood rushing to her face at what she’d just said to her mother and she turned away so her mother wouldn’t see. It was just a little lie, a fib really, she tried to tell herself, but she’d told it to her mother. That made it seem like a whopper. She and her mother were so close and she never lied to her, even about little things. She didn’t understand why she wanted to hide what she felt, even from her moth- er, but inside she knew it wasn’t true. Bayonne wasn’t at all like the other places she’d been on her tour for “The Snow Queen.” If the people in your home town don’t like you, she thought, it doesn’t matter how much people in other places say they do. Bayonne was where it really mattered. The day meant so much to her and she wanted to show the people how much she loved them. If she could only find the right words . . . the right way. “I thought you might be a little wor- ried about making that speech,” her moth- er said. “I still wish you had something all prepared.” “No, I don’t want it to sound rehearsed,” she said. “I want to say what I really feel. It’ll come to me when I get out there.” She wasn’t really sure about that. Making a speech was scary. Maybe she’d get out there and open her mouth and nothing would come out. Her mother always teased her about how much she talked and talked. But maybe today she wouldn’t be able to think of anything to say. “There’s really nothing to be nervous about,” her mother went on. “I am not nervous,” she insisted slowly and emphatically, getting up out of the armchair to go into the other room to dress. But there was a lump in her throat that made it hard to swallow. She was afraid that if she said how she really felt, if she admitted she was nervous, it would be worse. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her. Her mother always said how good Sandra was at hiding her feelings. She could look one way on the outside and feel completely different inside. If she didn’t have to make that speech, it wouldn’t be so bad. She could really en- joy this day. Even, she thought, glancing out the window, if it was raining. She looked at the pale blue dress and coat she’d hung on the door of the closet the night before. Maybe, with the rain and all, she should wear something else. She looked through the closet, finally pulling out a tweed suit with a fur collar. Then, when she was finally ready to leave, she gave her hair an extra squirt of spray, hoping that would help it stay in even in the rain. I remember you The first place they stopped, once the car had crossed from New York into New Jer- sey, was a dress shop in Bayonne. The woman who ran it was an old and dear friend of her family’s. “Sandra,” she beamed. “Why I remem- ber you . . .” she held out her hand to show how high Sandra had been. Her mother and the woman kissed each other, but Sandra held back. How could you kiss someone you hadn’t seen for ten years? I remember you, too, she thought, smil- ing at the woman. Mother had always bought her dresses here and she’d always taken her along. They only had grown-up dresses and so there’d never been anything for Sandra herself. But when her mother disappeared into the fitting room, she’d look through the racks of dresses, stand- ing on tiptoe so she could turn them over, one by one, and plan which ones she’d get when she was big enough. Once, there’d been a blue dress. “For afternoon weddings,” the woman told her. Sandra had reached out gingerly to touch the delicate silk, holding her breath. There’d been paper spread on the floor where someone else had tried on a long dress and they hadn’t wanted the hem to get soiled. So the woman had let her hold the dress up against herself and she’d turned slowly in front of the big mirror, the skirt sweeping down on the floor, ’way too long for her, as she tried to imagine how she would look in it. She looked through the racks now, while her mother talked to her old friend, but there wasn’t anything there in that same shade of blue she remembered. Then they got back in the car. “I’m so excited,” her mother said, “aren’t you?” As if to avoid having to answer, she looked out the window. Bayonne hasn’t changed, she thought, it’s still just the same. When they got to the school, there was a big crowd waiting outside. She hadn’t thought there’d be that many people. Some of the faces looked familiar and the people were all waving to her as if they knew her. She waved back. There were crowds of people inside, too. OPPORTUNITIES FOR EVERYBODY OF INTEREST TO WOMEN (PWC-July '60) BEAUTY DEMONSTRATORS — TO $5.00 hour demonstrat- ing Famous Hollywood Cosmetics, your neighborhood. For free samples, details, write Studio Girl, Dept. 1607-C, Glendale, California. UP TO $500 For Your Child's Picture paid by advertisers. Send small picture for approval. (All Ages). Returned. Print child’s, parent's name, address. Spotlite, 1611 La Brea, PG Hollywood, California. GOOD PAY MAILING advertising literature for growing organization, Literature, lists, stamps given free. Information $1.00 (Refundable). National Mailers, Box 5428, Philadelphia 43, Pa. $1 5.00 THOUSAND PREPARI NG envelopes, postcards, home — longhand, typewriter. Particulars free. G. Economy, Box 2580, Greensboro, N.C. DRESSES 29c; SHOES 59c; Men's Suits $5.98; Trousers $1.38. Better used clothing. Free Catalog. Transworld, 164-A Christopher, Brooklyn 12, New York. HOMEWORKERS: ASSEMBLE HANDLACED Precut moc- casins and handbags. Good earnings. California Handicrafts, Los Angeles 46-B, California. SPARETIME HOMEWORK! GUARANTEED Pay. No sell- ing. Enterprises, 556-A Beacon, Manchester, N.H. EARN SPARETIME CASH Mailing Advertising Literature. G lenway. Box 6568, Cleveland 1, Ohio. EARN $50.00 FAST, Sewing Aprons. Details Free. Redykut’s, Loganville, Wisconsin. MAKE MONEY CLIPPING Newspapers. Write Newscraft, PW-983-E. Main, Columbus 5, Ohio. $200 MONTHLY POSSIBLE, Sewing Babywear! No house selling. Free information. Send name to Cuties, Warsaw 1, Ind. SEW OUR READY cut aprons at home, spare time. Easy, profitable. Hanky Aprons, Caldwell 3, Ark. $25.00 WEEKLY MAKING flowers at home. Easy. Boycan, Sharon 7, Pa. EDUCATIONAL OPPORTUNITIES HIGH SCHOOL AT home. No classes. Texts furnished. Diploma awarded. If 17 or over and left school write for Free assignment and catalog. Wayne School of LaSalle Extension University, A Correspondence Institution, Dept. 760 WC, 419 S. Dearborn, Chicago 5, III. COMPLETE YOUR HIGH School at home in spare time with 63-year-old school. Texts furnished. No classes. Diploma. Information booklet free. American School, Dept. XB74, Drexel at 58th, Chicago 37, Illinois. HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA at home. Licensed teachers. Approved materials. Southern States Academy, Station E-1, Atlanta, Georgia. BUSINESS & MONEY MAKING OPPORTUNITIES EARN EXTRA MONEY selling Advertising Book Matches. Free sample kit furnished. Matchcorp, Dept. WP-70, Chicago 32, Illinois. $3.00 HOURLY POSSIBLE assembling pump lamps Spare Time. Simple, Easy. No canvassing. Write: Ougor, Caldwell 1 , A r (o. UU per year all other countries. Change of Address: 6 weeks notice essential. When possible, please furnish stencil-impression address from a recent issue. Address change can be made only if we have your old as well as your new address. Write to Photoplay, Macfadden Publications, Inc., 205 East 42nd Street, New York 17, N. Y. Manuscripts, Drawings and Photographs will be carefully considered but publisher cannot be responsible for loss or damage. It is advisable to keep a duplicate copy for your records. Only material accompanied by stamped self-addressed envelopes or with sufficient postage will be returned. Foreign editions handled through Macfadden Publications International Corp., 205 East 42nd Street, New York 17, N. Y. Irving S. Manheimer, President; Douglas Lockhart, Vice-President. Re-entered as Second Class matter May 10, 1946 at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., under the Act of March 3. 1879. Second-class postage paid at New York, N. Y., and other post offices. Authorized as Second Class Mail P. O. Dept., Ottawa, Ont., Canada. Copyright 1960 by Macfadden Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. Copyright under the Universal Copyright Convention and International Copyright Convention. Copyright reserved under Pan American Copyright Convention. Todos derechos reservados segun la Convencion Panamericana de Propiedad Literaria y Artistica. Title trademark registered in U. S. Patent Office. Printed in U. S. A. by Art Colo' Printing Company. Member of True Story Women’s Group. 2 -HUNGRY WORLD OF THE SOPHISTICATED YOUNG MODERNS! presents Torn between the urgency to love and the desire to hurt! AN AVON PICTURE **A J f ■T'T| D lifjL 1 FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS PEARL BAILEY/ in CinemaScope and METROCOLOR I’m proud of my Golden Apple. So is Mrs. Bob Hope. I’M weary of imitations of Dean Martin with the impersonator holding a glass of liquor. . . . No matter what they — and I — might say about him, I do have a fondness for Fabian. . . . Rod Steiger once said this about acting: "I turn pretending into reality.” . . . Peter Lorre calls acting “making faces for money.” . . . 1 have liked Lana Turner ever since she had only one sweater to her name, and our friendship has endured all her years of success and strife. . . . I can’t wait for Simone Signoret’s next picture, but I must. . . . No mat- ter what you’ve heard. Yves Montand has that yearning sound in his voice when he speaks about Simone. . . . Yet you could have knocked me over with the gentle push of an Oscar when I heard the Don Murray-Hope Lange marriage was on the celluloid rocks. . . . Whatever became of Deanna Durbin? She’s married to retired producer Charles David, lives in France, and hasn’t any desire to return to the movies. ... At a recent party, Debra Paget uttered, “Take away Brigitte Bardot’s towel and what has she got?” Jayne Mansfield has an unbuttoned look. . . . I’m weary of the opening shot of “Gunsmoke." It’s been bur- lesqued so often that now even Jim ( Matt Dillon I Arness looks as if he’s doing a burlesque of it. . . . Laurence Harvey is one of the screen s finest actors. Some night even Oscar will realize it. ... I haven’t more respect for an actress who won a Phi Beta Kappa key than I have for an actress who hasn't a high school diploma. . . . My thanks to the Hollywood Wom- en’s Press Club for voting me their “Golden Apple” award as “Man of the Year. It was my thirtieth cover- ing Hollywood. And if anyone was going to top me. I’m glad it was Bob Hope, named “Man of All Time.” I’ll wager Tuesday Weld would have been as popular if her name had been Wednesday Weld. . . . Want to know what happened to Elvis Pres- ley’s sideburns? They went to the top of his head, where he’s got more hair than ever before. ... 1 believe TV has done more for Garbo than any other movie star. It has kept her popular and a legend to many young- sters who had only their parents’ word for it. . . . I’m weary of those TV series in which the hero (Craig Stevens and John Vivyan, to mention two ) endeavors to give the impres- sion he’s a small-size screen Cary Grant. I know a lady (a relative I who viewed a Cary Grant movie and claimed that he was trying to be Craig Stevens. . . . Cara Williams gives the impression that she’s hold- ing back a scream. . . Whatever be- came of Evelyn Venable? She’s mar- ried to star cameraman Hal Mohr, and after being graduated from UCLA (June "56 1 she occasionally teaches Latin and Greek there. . . . I get no message from Dorothy Ma- lone, but with Angie Dickinson I’m tuned in. . . . James Mason usually wears a scowl, appearing as if he’s angry. Yet James is a pleasant chap. ... I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with all the new faces. Most of them have the same new face. . . . Alec Guinness claims that England and the United States are two coun- tries separated by the same language. Nick Adams looks like the kind of guy who likes to wear a funny hat on New Year’s Eve. . . . I’m weary of those movies which advertise “Fun- niest picture in 10 years.” I’m al- ways tempted to ask the producer the name of that picture that was so funny 10 years ago. ... I’d like to have a dollar for every model who came here to be a movie star. And ( Please turn the page) 4 at his hilarious best in a A solid wave of laughter roars out of fabulous Miami— as Jerry’s classic comedy performance ( launches the silliest series of sequences ^ ■* that ever hit the screen! .. WRITTEN. PRODUCED AND DIRECTED BY JERRY LEWIS ASSOCIATE PRODUCER PRODUCTION * * P 5 NORTH HI WARREN: NEW YORK • MONTREAL • LONDON • PARIS • COLOGNE STOCKHOLM • MADRID • MILAN • RIO DE JANEIRO • BUENOS AIRES • MONTEVIDEO Senhora Julieta Pereira Estrela, Rio socialite, with her debutante daughter, Senhorita Gilda Maria Senhora Julieta Estrela says: “Why do so many of my friends choose Odo-ro-no? Because they’ve found through personal experience that Odo-ro-no keeps them feeling sweet and fresh — even in the warm Rio climate.” Yes, in Rio, as in most world fashion capitals, gentle new Odo-ro-no is the largest selling deodorant. Lastingly effective, yet so kind to your skin. So safe, too, for your loveliest gowns and for your filmiest lingerie. Discover the excellence of Odo-ro-no for yourself— in cream, stick or spray. did you know ODORO-nO is the leadinar deodorant in Rio? HOLLYWOOD continued I’m merely referring to those I’ve met. . . . Peggy Lee is one of the few singers who doesn’t have to act at being sexy. . . . Zsa Zsa hates to be alone — and she never is. I wonder why Mickey Rooney gives excellent performances on TV and is so mediocre in the movies. Mickey hasn’t done an excellent movie job in years. . . . Edd (Kookie) Byrnes Something’s gone to Rookie’s head. now combs his hair too much off- screen as well as on. . . . Whatever became of Jess Barker? He couldn’t get a job in Hollywood so he moved to Chicago where he’s the chief man in an employment agency. ... I have a suspicion that despite all his suc- cess, Charlie Weaver would like to be sophisticated. . . . I’m so weary of Sammy Davis Jr. doing Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong that I’m also getting weary of Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong. ... I like Byron, Keats and Shelley Winters. Sue me. ... I believe that Frank Sin- atra believes the stage is a playground and he’s out there with the boys for a good time. . . . Our old friend Mike Curtiz, talking about movie audi- ences, said, “If the people don’t want to come, nothing will stop them.” That’s Hollywood For You. MOTION PICTURE GIANT OF 1960! ltd story is by Edna Ferber and its people are fierce, tencier'tfnd passionate-like her people of ‘Giant’!... These are people caught up in the turbulence of creation... This is Alaska today-lavish splendor, stripped passions, tremendous personal drama! Presented by WARNER BROS * TECHNICOLOR® starring RICHARD BURTON i ROBERT RYAN i CAROM JONES i MARTHA HYER i The Kennedy they called "Czar". with He came out of the wilds... with a hunger. Belonging too much to two men. The bride— bought for a wedding ring. JIM BACKUS -SHIRLEY KNIGHT- DIANE McBAIN From the novel by Screenplay by Produced by , ‘ EDNA FERBER * HARRY KLEINER • HENRY BLANKE • VINCENT SHERMAN • maxsteineb Directed by WOMAN TO WOMAN YOUR QUESTIONS ANSWERED ABOUT INTERNAL SANITARY PROTECTION Q. Is internal protection a new idea ? A. It may surprise you to learn that it isn’t ! Modern women of every era, as far back as ancient Rome, have used various methods of internal protection. But it wasn’t until a doctor invented Tampax a little more than 25 years ago that in- ternal protection became truly safe and sanitary; easy and practical for all women to use. Q. Can you bathe while wearing Tampax? A. Emphatically yes! Because Tampax® cannot absorb water from the outside and remains in place for full protection during showers, tub baths or swimming. This is an advantage of internal sani- tary protection. It lets you do every- thing you normally do. Lets you be your own sweet self — fresh, neatly groomed at all times. You feel so free, cool and comfortable, you’re scarcely aware it’s your time of month ! Q. Can unmarried girls use Tampax? A. Of course! Remember Tampax was invented by a doctor for the benefit of all women, married or single. This means that Tampax serves its purpose of absorption safely and comfortably. When inserted correctly, Tampax is un- felt and perfectly secure. While wearing Tampax you can feel free to engage in even the most strenuous sports. Q. Is internal protection really adequate? A. In most cases yes, depending upon how frequently it is changed. The very prin- ciple of internal sanitary protection makes it fully adequate to use from the very first day. You’ll find Tampax in three different absorbencies to fit every individual need; Regular, Super, and Junior. Many women use different ab- sorbencies on different days to insure the right protection at all times. A trial sample of Tampax ( in plain wrap- per) will be mailed to you on request, together with our free booklet on menstruation facts and advice. Just send 10c to Department HD, Tampax Incorporated, Palmer, Mass. LAST MINUTE FLASH! John Saxon’s side of the story by ERIC LEE MEXICO CITY— —Maybe it wasn t the best time to talk to Johnny. When we met in the Hotel Banter, in Mexico City, he was obviously tired — not really beat, just tired. His shooting schedule in Durango had been pretty tough. Should I ask him to comment on such a personal subject as Yirki Thai? I think he sensed my hesitancy, because he forced a smile and said, "Cjo ahead. Ask whatever you want — anything.” "Do you plan to marry Vicki':'” John lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He was silent for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. Then, in a voice that was grave and even wistful, he answered, “No. No, I don’t think so. I don’t see how 1 can. “Most of the stuff printed about Vicki and me sounds like I leel marriage would interfere with my career. That’s just not true. And it’s also not true that if I did have to choose between Vicki and Hollywood. I might choose Hollywood. For me, the question simply doesn’t exist. “I’ll explain. We’ve all seen many marriages crack up because the husband maybe feels the wife is getting more publicity than he is or the wife thinks her husband is only a part-time bus- ,> band. You know, between the studio and cocktail parties and press conferences, he never gets a chance to be with her. That often happens in the case of a star.” IS MARRIAGE TOO MUCH OF A RISK? “So you mean,” I said, "that being a star, marriage is too much of a risk for you? John broke into a broad grin. "For a star, maybe, but I’m not a star: that’s why I said for me ; the question simply doesn't exist. ” "Not a star? Look: it’s nice to be modest, but not that modest!” “I’m serious. What do you mean by a ‘star"? Somebody who wins a lot of popularity polls, gets a stack of fan mail and things like that? Wrong. A real star is a combination of stamina and talent. I know I’ve got the stamina: what I'm not so sure about, is whether I’ve got the talent.” “Can I print that?” “Why not? It’s the truth, isn't it? Who knows where I’ll be in a couple of years. Right now I have a lot of fans — and I appreciate their loyalty — but they think of Johnny Saxon as a handsome face and that’s all. I want them to get a different picture of me. Why kid ourselves? We all get older and if your talent, your acting ability, doesn’t mature — you’re through. You re through for good. That’s my problem. And that's one of the reasons I can’t marry yet. First I have to prove to Vicki and myself that I— we — have a future. As it is, I’m definitely not satisfied with my work up to now.” i'l “But you do love Vicki?” "DON'T THINK SHE’S MY IDEAL!" “Very much. But don’t get the idea she’s my ideal or my ‘dream-come-true’ or anything like that. I prefer surprises! I suppose that’s why I did fall in love with her. “You see,” added John, “Vicki is different. Every actor is constantly being flattered. And some- times— I won’t say always — the flattery goes to your head. That couldn t happen with Vicki. Not only is she my severest critic, but she’s probably the one person who understands my problems and helps me because she knows me.” “John — ” “No, hold it a minute. Put this down. Say that, for me, Vicki is a kind of mirror. I see myself reflected in her. I can only look at her. and I find me. Does that sound selfish? I hope not. Don’t miss John Saxon in“The Unforgiven” for United Artists andl‘Portrait in Black” for Universal-International. NEW LIQUID LUSTRE-CREME IS HERE! Now you can shampoo... Set with plain water...and have lively, natural looking curls! VERA MILES, one of Hollywood’s loveliest new stars, always makes sure her hair is shampooed with Lustre-Creme. It leaves her blonde hair shining with highlights, every wave soft and smooth. Why don’t YOU try Lustre-Creme, too? FOR CURLS THAT COME EASY— HERE’S ALL YOU DO: Shampoo with new Liquid Lustre-Creme. Special cleansing action right in the rich, fast-rising lather gets hair clean as you’ve ever had it yet leaves it blissfully manage- able. Contains Lanolin, akin to the natural oils of the hair; keeps hair soft, easy to set without special rinses. Set— with just plain water! An exclusive new formula — unlike any other shampoo — leaves hair so manageable any hair-style is easier to set with just plain water. Curls are left soft and silky — spring right back after combing. Waves behave, flick smoothly into place. Lusire- Crime — never dries — if beautifies — now in liquid., lotion or crem*J. 4 OUT OF 5 TOP MOVIE STARS USE LUSTRE-CREME SHAMPOO! Thanks For The Joke 1 want to thank you for playing a joke on me. Let me explain : I make it a habit to lmy Photoplay every time it comes out. When I passed a news- stand, an article from your May issue caught my eye. It was called "Why Frankie Avalon Won’t Talk About His Secret Bride.” I grabbed it and bought another for my friend. I immediately sat down to read it. As I neared the end of the story, I sat back and was furious at myself. The next day, my friend stopped over and laughed so hard, that I had to laugh too. I would like it if you had more of these catchy features in your future issues. Ari.ene Meuschke Flushing, L.I. Rock and Dot in a state of confusion. Remake? The Story Of My Life I was born in “Kansas City” “Back in the U.S.A.” When I was “Just Young” I fought in “The Battle of New Orleans.” I was a “Lucky Devil” not to be killed, so I’ll “Give Myself a Party” “For My Good Fortune.” The party went fine as I remember but we all had “Too Much Tequila.” We got in a fight and “I Shot Sam” so I decided I “Gotta Travel On.” I had figured on going “South of the Border” but I ended up in “El Paso.” I met a “Country Girl” named “Mona Lisa” but her “Baby Talk” made me a “Wild One.” Me and three friends of mine killed a man, but tbe sheriff caught us and we spent a “Lonely Saturday Night” in the “Tijuana Jail.” Then our case was brought to court and now I’m on the “Chain Gang” with my three friends “Johnny Reb,” "Running Bear” and “Big Harlan Taylor.” I guess we’ll spend the rest of our lives on the “Chain Gang.” P.S. This isn’t really the story of my life. Hope you didn’t think it was. Ruby Paige Upham, N.D. You’re kidding!! — Ed. Kinfolk? Ernie Ford and Mr. Ferreira . Do you agree about Keely and Carol? More Look Alikes: ... I think Carol Colombo has a striking resemblance to Keely Smith. Don’t you agree with me? B.M.M.H. Rochester, N.Y. . . . We have been told by so many people that our son, Jerry, looks like Bill Cullen, emcee of tbe television program, “The Price Is Right.” C. E. Marteney Akron, Ohio The face is right for Bill and Jerry. I was wondering if you could help me. My friend and I were having a discussion about a movie. We know that Clark Gable starred in the picture, “Gone With the Wind” back in the 1930’s. What we would like to know is, did they remake that pic- ture starring Rock Hudson and Dorothy Malone not too long ago? William Johannes Kitchener, Ont. Oh, you mixed-up kid. You mean “Written on the Wind.” — Ed. Good news: Hayley’s coming your way. She Was Darling My family and I just saw the picture “Tiger Bay.” We thought the picture was just wonderful, but the star that stood out in our minds, was the little girl who played Gillie. We’ve never seen her before and wondered who she was and will we be seeing her again. We hope so. Mrs. Simon New York, N.Y. Look Alikes: . . . Many people think that my father resembles Tennessee Ernie Ford. They ask him if he is related to him all the time. Helena Ferreira Danbury, Conn. Orchids To You, Photoplay Orchids to you and the staff of Photo- play for those super colossal pictures of our Elvis in the June issue. Mrs. Chris Bray Coal City, 111. You certainly will. She was played by that new little star, Hayley Mills. Her dad’s the famous actor, John B. Mills. W atch for her in the picture “Polly ana.” — Ed. Please turn to page 13 V**rrrvrfW MojCjiu J^(x AM/Ub TO N/I/\K 4 fashion shades In all the world, nothing does so much to make eyes beautiful as Maybelline, the pure eye make-up you know you can use with perfect confidence. Maybelline offers everything for eye-beauty . . . quality unrivalled, prices unmatched ... in a wonderful range of precious jewel colors that give eyes shimmering, glimmering loveliness. That’s why Maybelline is so necessary to every woman who wants to appear perfectly groomed, fashionable ... as lovely as she was meant to be. Maybelline is a specialist in eye beauty 1 >©ud Jyyahmnxtu 4 fashion shades professional OieMvb 4 fashion shades Se£|pAJt EijeWtti Petted 7 flattering- shades Eite SkotW) precision 6 iridescent shades 8 iridescent shades BlUW© O/Vui JlftAl'b Bfuuk vC CW& 8 iridescent shades max Factor stirs up summer fun and fashion with Cool Coffee Colors Drench your lips, tempt your lips with a splash of deliciously new summer colors! Max Factor flatters your suntan with cool Coffee TofEee . . . sparks your summer fashions with creamed Cafe Frappe. Enjoy both of these cool, cool ^ max Factor FACTOR & CO. DEAR EDITOR: I have been going with a boy I love very much for four months, and he has said we shouldn’t see each other any more five times already! So, five times we’ve broken up, but he always comes back the next day. He said he thought we were really too young to go steady but still he said we could be engaged and wait two years until he finished school to get married. I’m very un- happy and he even says he doesn’t know why he does things to hurt me, but 1 still can’t make myself hate him. Love is a mess and I hate it. Please, can you tell me, am I crazy or what? I’m so very confused. G.N.M. Akron, Ohio Dear G.N.M. : “Crazy-in-love” maybe, to get so in- volved in such a short time. Calm his jitters — and you’ll stop hurting yourself — by suggesting you keep on dating but save that marriage talk for a much later date. * DEAR EDITOR: I have been dating this one boy for quite some time now. I go to the bowl- ing alley every Saturday to see him bowl in his league. In fact, I go prac- tically everywhere he goes. Just lately Continued from page 10 he has been ignoring me as if I were nobody. My girlfriend, Bonnie, says he must like another girl. What’ll I do? Judy Dearborn, Mich. Dear Judy: Stay away from that howling alley. You can't score there anymore. DEAR EDITOR: I have two girlfriends, one my best friend and the other, my next-best one. I hang around with both of them a great deal, but I have a problem. They don’t get along. Both talk about the other behind their backs. What can I do to bring them together so everybody will be happy? Especially me! Troubled Newark, N. J. Dear Troubled: With a little psychology on your part, next time the gossip starts, say in a surprised voice, “I don’t know why you dislike Susan so much. She thinks you’re a genius in Spanish (or anything).” She’ll he so flattered, she’ll admit that she’s always envied Susan’s beautiful red hair. And, before long, they'll he exchanging compliments to each other and all your problems will be solved. P.S. Look for your letters here every month. We're sorry they can't be answered personally. Please turn the page The features I like WHO DO YOU WANT TO READ ABOUT? I want to read stories about (list movie, TV or recording stars): ACTOR: 1. 2. 3. 4. ACTRESS: 1. 2. 3. 4. best in this issue of PHOTOPLAY are 1. 2. 3. 4. Name Age Address 8-60 Paste this ballot on a postcard and send it to Readers Poll, Box 1374, Grand Central Station, New York 17, N. Y. Ij yours is one of the first 25 ballots received each Friday from July 8 through 29, we'll send you an autographed picture of your favorite star. Just tell us who it is. Nestle Hair Color RINSES IN. ..SHAMPOOS OUT Nestle Colorinse glorifies your natural hair shade with glamorous color- highlights and silken sheen. It removes dulling soap film, makes hair easier to manage, excitingly lovely! 12 shades that stay color- true till your next shampoo. 35£ NESTLE COLORINSE Nestle Colortint intensifies your natural hair color OR gives you thrilling NEW color. Colortint also beautifies grey and white hair . . . blends in grey and faded streaks. More than a rinse . . . but not a permanent dye. Colortint lasts through 3 shampoos! lOshades. 35?: NESTLE COLORTINT p 13 continued WHY PAY MORE? With Plastic Push-Up Holder! Large Size The Dainty STICK Loved by Millions You Just Can’t Buy a Better, Safer, All* Day Deodorant at Any Price! The Perfected Luxury-Quality ROLL-ON Stops Perspiration Odor Worries USE-TESTED*: McCalls ? ’ p CHLOROPHYLL DEODORANTS iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniim I confidentially . . . | = 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 p 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ■ 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ii 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 i = I ... I am a boy ten years old and I'm in | the fourth grade. I would like anyone who | who has any monster pictures to please send § them to me. 1 Ricky Tindall 1 Box 395 RR #2 | New Albany. Ind. | ... I would like very much to thank you | for publishing my letter in your magazine. | I’ve received 243 letters and I’m trying to i answer them all. So I ask a little patience | to the letters that didn’t receive my answer | yet. I promise I will answer soon. | Pedro Berger | Uruguay, So. A. | ... I am a sixteen- | year-old Chinese girl | living here in the Phil- | ippines. I would like | very much to have pen | pals from anywhere. 1 Diana Ku | 66-68 Tindalo Ave. | Bacolod City | Philippine Islands | ... The newly organized Perry Como fan | club wishes to extend its membership. The I dues are 25f for which each member is | entitled to: a membership card, a photo | button, a journalette-booklet with info on | Perry, a 5 x 7 photo of Perry. 1 Audrey Kyle \ 133 Ira Rd. | Syosset, N.Y. | ... I am starting a fan club for Bobby | Rydell. Dues are 500 and you receive an | 8x8 autographed picture, a membership | card and Bobby’s biography. Joanne Di Giampaolo 120 Evans Drive | Manville, N.J. I ... I am a boy eighteen years of age. My | hobbies are rugby, cricket and radio build- | ing. I shall correspond in English. Gielie Ras | Hugo St. 9 Elsies River, Cape Town I Cape Province, So. Africa 1 ... I’ve started a fan club for Elvis Presley. I It’s the first one for him in Finland and it’s | a chapter of Elvis Presley’s Golden Platters. 1 Anyone interested? Membership dues are I .$1.00. Please, “let’s talk Elvis!” Miss Marja Tenhunen | Fregattiv. 9., Jollas Helsinki, Finland . . . I am a sixteen- year-old boy who is going to the U.S.A. at the beginning of 1961 just to become a U.S. Air Force pilot. Be- cause of this, I would like to have several U.S.A. pen pals. Eduardo Amaral Rua Alagoas 515 Apt 133 Sao Paulo, S.P., Brazil . . . I woidd like to correspond with boys and girls from any part of the world. I like to collect and ex- change postage stamps and like to know about other countries. Roshan I. P.O. Box 1827 Addis-Ababa Ethiopia . . . On my own accord, I left home ten I months ago, just to see how it feels to be 1 independent. Though now employed and | gained many friends, I still yearn to return | to my family life which I miss very much. | But because of foolish stubbornness, I keep I on remaining here and face the fact of being | lonely. Maybe you, anywhere, can somehow | help me overcome my loneliness by corre- i sponding and sharing interests through let- | ter-writing. I’m eighteen and of Filipino | descent. | Maxine Santiago | 1418 SE Ankeny St. | Portland 14, Oregon f ... I have always wanted a pen pal in the f U.S.A. but I did not know how to get one | until now. Does anybody want to be my | pen friend? | Miss Inger-grethe Johansen | Uranienborgv. 9A | Oslo N.V., Norway | ... I am fourteen and would like to corre- | spond with boys and girls who are interested | in sports, rock ’n’ roll and who simply dig | Frankie and Annette. § Linda Lindahl | U.S.O.M. to Costa Rica | c/o American Embassy | San Jose, Costa Rica i CA. 1 . . . All are welcome to join my Eddie | Fisher fan club. For information, write: | Susan Grubarnick f 127 Ten Eyck Wk. | Brooklyn 6, N.Y. | . . . I’m a seventeen- | year-old Hungarian | girl, I have no friends | and would love to 1 have someone to write § to. I’m majoring in art | and was the 1959 | North Carolina swim- § ming champion. I cor- § respond in German, | Hungarian, English, | Yugoslavian and Rus- | sian. Please write. | Mary Czike I 33-46 84 St. | Jackson Heights, N.Y. g . . . Anyone interested in stamp collecting? | I live in New Jersey and will trade stamps 1 for other stamps from different places. | Sharon Duimstra | Hainesburg, N. J. | Need members for a fan club? Want a pen pal? | Like to exchange fads? Write: Confidentially, g Photoplay, 205 East 42nd St., New York 17, NT. | 7illllllllllllllllllHllllllllllllinillllllllllMMIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIinilllllllllllllllllllllllHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIinilllllllinillHllllllliniHIIHIIIIIMIIIIIIIMIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIimiimiimMII.= 14 Cream hair away the beautiful way. . .with new baby-pink, sweet-smelling NEET— you’ll never again be embarrassed with unsightly “razor shadow” (that faint stubble of hair left on razor-shaved legs and underarms). Gentle, wonderful NEET goes down deep where no razor can reach — actually beauty-creams the hair away. And when the hair finally does grow in again, it feels softer, silkier; there’s no stubble at all 1 So next time, for the smoothest, nicest legs in town, why not try NEET— you’ll never want to shave again! shave, lady?. .. don't do it! mmn I . Q&* 15 PERFUMED HAIR SPRAY Matched to your favorite perfume! p A unique new formula keeps every strand delicately perfumed and softly in place all day! What more could a woman want -except to know, that with this entirely new kind of spray, a wet comb restyles your hair without spraying again! No stickiness, no stiffness, no drying. Have the perfume of Paris in your hair this very night! introductory $1.50 value ^ | CREATEO IN FRANCE . MADE BY BOURJOIS IN USA For fuller reviews see Photoplay for the mouths indicated. For full reviews this month, see page 18. (a — ADULT F — family) ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN. THE — M-G-M ; CinemaSeope, Melrocolor: Mild fun on the old Mississippi with hrash little Eddie Hodges, runaway slave Archie Moore, con-man Tony Randall. Mark Twain's story gets lost: so do the snatches of song. (F) July BABETTE GOES TO WAR— Columbia : Cine- maSeope. Eastman Color: Smart suspense com- edy stars Brigitte Bardot (fully dressed!) as a lovable French girl who blunders into the un- derground in Occupied France, while Nazis think she's on their side. (A) April BECAUSE THEY'RE YOUNG— Columbia : In a picture made especially for younger movie- goers. likable teacher Dick Clark is under fire for his interest in the personal problems of high-schoolers Michael Callan (a hit!) and Tuesday Weld. (A) June BEN-Hl’R — M-G-M; Camera 65, Technicolor: This epic of Roman imperialism. Jewish pa- triotism and Christianity’s beginnings is the best of the big pictures about Bible days. Charl- ton Heston and Hava Harareet as Judeans. Stephen Boyd and Jack Hawkins as Romans, stand out in a story that has not only historic excitement but ageless emotions and ideas. (F) February BOBBIKINS — 20th, CinemaSeope: Fresh, de- lightful comedy gives an Anglo-American show- biz couple (Max Bygraves, Shirley Jones) an angel-faced baby — with the fantastic ability to spout big words! (F) July CAN-CAN — 20th; Todd-AO, Technicolor: Feast of star talent. Cole Porter songs, Gay Nineties costumes. Frank Sinatra, Shirley MacLaine and Louis Jourdan make up a sauev Paris triangle, while Maurice Chevalier makes with the sly comments. (A) June CONSPIRACY OF HEARTS— Rank, Para- mount: Breathless tension becomes more than just a game as nuns of an Italian convent rescue imprisoned Jewish children during World War II. Lilli Palmer is the Mother Superior, charm- ing. quick-witted, dedicated. (F) June CRACK IN THE MIRROR— 20th. Cinema- Slope: Sharp courtroom thriller with a trick twist. Orson Welles, Juliette Greco and Brad- ford Dillman skillfully juggle two roles apiece in a sensational Paris murder case. (A) June EXPRESSO BONGO — Continental : The British kid r ‘n’ r films with the fast, flashy, funny tale of tough manager Laurence Harvey and dreamy- faced young singer Cliff Richard and their girls. (A) May FIVE BRANDED WOMEN — Paramount : Yugo- slav guerrilla fighting during War II. led by Van Heflin, provides violent action. Among the women who are outcasts because they frat- ernized with a Nazi, Silvana Mangano and Vera Miles draw sympathy. (A) July FLAME OVER INDIA— Rank, 20th; Cinema- Scope, De Luxe Color: Excellent thriller of civil war in India in 1910 sends British officer Kenneth More and American governess Lauren Bacall on a wild rail ride, to save a child prince from assassins. ( F) July FUGITIVE KIND, THE— U.A.: Three high- powered personalities put us under a night- mare spell as Marlon Brando drifts into a town deep in the heart of Tennessee Will iams-land, where he meets Anna Magnani. a restless wife, and Joanne Woodward, a sad rebel. (A) July GALLANT HOURS, THE— U.A.: Amazing look-alike for Admiral “Bull'' Halsey, James Cagney dominates an unusual war epic of the fight for Guadalcanal. Not a shot's fired on- screen; the action is all at headquarters — Halsey's or the Japanese. (F) June I'M ALL RIGHT. JACK — Lion International: The British turn labor-management relations into a laugh-loaded shambles. As a shop stew- ard, Peter Sellers creates a deadpan master- piece. Ian Carmichael’s a bumbler whose hon- esty starts a riot. (A) July KIDNAPPED — Buena Vista. Technicolor: Splendid version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic, shot in Scotland, with Jim MacArthur as the lad seeking a lost inheritance. Peter Finch is a delightful fightin" fool. (F) May MASTERS OF THE CONGO JUNGLE— 20th: CinemaSeope, De Luxe Color: Beautiful travel movie, both exciting and truthful, surveys the African land and people, with narration by Orson Welles. William Warfield. (F) May MOUNTAIN ROAD. THE— Columbia : Closeup of War II in China reflects the drabness and confusion of modern warfare. James Stewart, as an unimaginative U.S. officer, is opposed by Lisa Lu. as a sensitive Chinese lady. You will like newcomer Glenn Corbett. (F) July PLEASE DON'T EAT THE DAISIES— M-G-M ; CinemaSeope, Melrocolor: In a hilarious do- mestic comedy. Doris Day’s a darling, as she copes with a theater-critic husband (David Niven), three uproarious little boys and an actress “rival” (Janis Paige). (F) May SAVAGE EYE. THE— Trans-Lux: A truly un- usual movie, intensely personal, frighteningly real, takes you inside the mind of a lost di- vorcee. Barbara Baxley, lacking love, sees only ugliness in Los Angeles life. (A) July SCENT OF MYSTERY— Todd; Todd Color. New Todd Process, Smell-O-Vision : Gorgeous, cheerful whodunit takes us around Spain in a couple of days, while a very proper young Eng- lishman (Denholm Elliott) tries to rescue an heiress from a murder plot. (F) May SERGEANT RUTLEDGE— Warners, Techni- color: Attempt at a new angle in westerns. Ac- cused of rape-murder. Negro cavalryman Woody Strode is defended by Jeffrey Hunter. (A) June UNFORGIVEN, THE— U.A.; Panavision, Tech- nicolor: Big. handsome frontier drama about Indian-haters and a family mystery. The fine cast is led by Audrey Hepburn and Burt Lan- caster. Andie Murphy also scores; John Saxon's role is minor. (F) June 16 rca Victor A ’»** Hi*fe ft«vwdl«: * MIRACLE ~f- SURFACE LSP-2231 EXTRA CLWS PHOTOS Brand-new . . . and his first in Stereo! With 17 never-before- released photos. Also in Regular L.P. 0 IU'A\ 1( TOH @ It9s here! Hear it! Tour all day veil of fragrance scents, smooths, clings more lovingly, more lastingly No cologne prolongs and protects your daintiness like Cashmere Bouquet Talc. Never evaporates. Never dries your skin. Leaves you silken -smooth, flower-fresh all over. Make Cashmere Bouquet . . . pure, imported Italian Talc . . , your all day Veil of Fragrance. Cashmere Bouquet Talc the fragrance men love Pollyanna THE MONTH’S BRIGHTEST SURPRISE; FAMILY Even if you’ve never read the old juvenile classic, you probably associ- ate the name “Pollyanna” with a girl who’s sticky-sweet. But you’ll forget all about that the moment thirteen- year-old Hayley Mills — seen before only in the wonderful British film “Tiger Bay” — lights up the screen. She’s absolutely, wonderfully, irre- sistibly natural. You really can be- lieve that she could arrive in a small town, as a gawky, unknown orphan — and proceed to change everybody’s life. Directing his own screenplay, David Swift surrounds her with charming 1912 atmosphere and a lot of fascinating grownup characters: Jane Wyman and Richard Egan, for- mer sweethearts; Nancy Olson and James Drury, young lovers; Karl Malden, a browbeaten preacher; Adolphe Menjou and Agnes Moor- head. village eccentrics. You’ll enjoy meeting every one of them. BUENA VISTA, TECHNICOLOR The Apartment LOW COINCS-ON, HIGH MORAL TONE; ADULT To look at Jack Lemmon — upright, clean-living type — you’d never think that he would let his insurance-firm bosses use his apartment for their grubby affairs. But he does, just to get ahead. To look at Shirley Mac- Laine (above with Jack) — sweet, pert, even standoffish — you’d never suspect that she could be mixed up with a married man. But she is. And to look at Fred MacMurray, you’d assume that he was the model execu- tive and family man. But it takes the whole picture to give you the real lowdown on Fred, and it’s mighty low. Producer-director Billy Wilder pulls off a couple of daring experi- ments here. He may switch from office shenanigans to a suicide attempt, and yet he makes sure that the audience never laughs in the wrong place. The behavior he’s investigating is often sloppy, hut the movie has its morals on straight. Witty or serious, it makes a sharp comment with each expert scene. The picture’s a tricky mixture of comedy and tragedy, u.a., panavision Wild River SOLID STORY OF DEPRESSION DAYS; ADULT Now here’s a picture to get your teeth into: people so real that you worry about their problems even aft- er you leave the theater; details of their everyday lives all so convincing that you feel you’re actually living with them, in Tennessee in the trou- bled year of 1934. Producer-director Elia Kazan is in his best “On the Wa- terfront” form, and it’s good to see Montgomery Clift’s old talent and ap- peal returning. As an employee of the federal government’s Tennessee Val- ley Authority, Monty has a stubborn opponent to battle: Jo Van Fleet, magnificent as an ancient farm worn- 18 an who refuses to give up her land, even though it will be flooded when a TVA dam goes into action. Lee Rem- ick, who has usually played flighty or brassy dames, goes sympathetic as a very young, very lonely widow. 20th; cinemascope, de luxe colob Bells Are Ringing HI-FI RECORDING OF BROADWAY HIT; FAMILY Judy Holliday proved years ago that she’s about the smartest and most likable of the lady clowns. But she showed theatergoers that she had an- other trick up her sleeve when she put across the lively songs of “Bells Are Ringing.” Here’s Judy on film as the girl who gives her whole warm heart to her job with a phone-answering service. On the stage, the customer who captures her heart was just a role for a leading man. But Dean Martin (above with Judy), earns his co-star billing as the playwright who’s lost his confidence and is looking for it in the bottle. Judy’s other problem clients — a song-composing dentist, a “Method” actor — help keep the plot bubbling, and jazzman Gerry Mulli- gan (who is Judy’s steady date off- screen) does a cute bit as her blind date. Though some scenes were shot around New York, most of them seem to be taking place on theater sets. It’s more like a stage show than a motion picture. M-C-M; CINEMASCOPE, METROCOLOR (Please turn the page ) Only 20 minutes more than last night’s pin-up . . . wake up with a Only new Bobbi waves while you sleep . . . brushes into a softly feminine, lasting hairstyle! If you can put up your hair in pin curls, you can give yourself a Bobbi — the easy pin curl perma- nent. It takes only twenty minutes more than a setting! Then, the wave “takes” while you sleep be- cause Bobbi is self-neutralizing. In the morning you wake up with a permanent that brushes into a soft, finished hairstyle with the last- ing body only a permanent gives. Complete kit, $2.00. Refill, $1.50. The most convenient permanent of all— home or beauty shop! For you . . . sweet simplicity? — one word of caution; don’t be fooled by its deceptive innocence. Be prepared to be irresistible! Lavish Cologne Decanter 1.00 Fragrantly floral Dusting Powder 1.00 Dewy-bright Cologne Sprayl.50 Matching Cologne Stickl.00 Applique Sachet 1.00 P ANOTHER FRAGRANCE TRIUMPH BY BOURJOIS MOVIES continued The Rut Race OOH, THAT Bit, WICKED CITY; ADULT With a team like Debbie Reynolds and Tony Curtis (below, left) it’s easy to get all upset over the woes of two young people trying to make good in New York, Debbie as an actress, Tony as a jazz musician. She keeps borrowing money from her dancehall boss, who wants to set her up in an older profes- sion. Now if she’d only take a brief course in shorthand and typing instead . . . no, that way the picture would wind up with no plot. Tony does a pleasing, relaxed sort of job as the naive hero, but Debbie has a harder time drawing sym- pathy for a heroine who is essentially dishonest, no matter how the story tries to excuse her. Jack Oakie tosses in some humor as a friendly bartender, and here’s Gerry Mulligan again, in and out quickly as one of a hot (and crooked) combo. paramount; vistavision, technicolor Strangers When We Meet LIKE A JUICY BIT OF GOSSIP; ADULT We’re used to seeing Kirk Douglas swashbuckle around in ruggedly male action yarns. Now he settles down and looks at home in a love story aimed at feminine fans. He follows a properly ro- mantic profession, as an architect, and lie’s happily married until he meets sub- urban neighbor Kim Novak, who hasn’t been emotionally awakened even by mar- riage and motherhood. For the early part of the proceedings. Kim’s usual sleepwalking manner is just right. And when the love tangle builds up to big drama, Barbara Rush comes to the pic- ture’s rescue, with her showy perform- ance as Kirk’s wife. The brightest lines go to Ernie Kovacs, as Kirk’s screwball client. But Ernie’s character fits into the picture’s mood, too. This poor guy isn’t happy — because he’s a bachelor. And we want all the hoys to get that message, don t we.'1 columbia;cinemascope,eastmancolor Hiroshima, Mon Amour WHAT WAR DOES TO PEOPLE; ADULT French director Alain Resnais, shoot- ing in Japan, brings all the seldom-used power of the movies into play, to tell a story that goes deep beneath the surface. Its beginning is strange and shocking, interweaving scenes of love-making with shots of ruined Hiroshima and its tragic people. The lovers are a French actress (Emmanuelle Riva) and a young Japa- nese (Eiji Okada), hut the idea of racial barriers doesn’t enter the story at all. Through this affair that started casually, the Frenchwoman is forced to remember her first, youthful love — for a German soldier — and its terrible aftermath. ZENITH international; dialogue in french, TITLES IN ENGLISH The Story of Ruth PAGAN SPECTACLE, PLUS LOVE; FAMILY There’s a beautiful simplicity in the Old Testament story of the young widow who follows her mother-in-law into an alien land. “Wither thou goest . . .” So the movie-makers have plenty of room to use their imagination. As Ruth, the very lovely Israeli actress Elana Eden (below, right with Stuart Whitman) isn’t 20 just a hated Moabite; she’s a pagan priestess, and the opening scenes are loaded with the pageantry you expect in : Biblical epics. But the rest of the picture stays on the personal level. Peggy Wood puts warm, unexpected humor into the sad life of Naomi, bringing home a daughter-in-law who is a foreigner in Judea and a target for the local gossips. And Stuart Whitman’s Boaz, a rich farmer and a husky fighting man, has to battle his own prejudices before he can : love Ruth. The folks at the harvest fes- tival don’t go in for square-dancing, but you still have the pleasant feeling that all this happened only yesterday. 20th; cinemascope, de luxe color Pay or Die REALISTIC CRIME THRILLER; FAMILY You’ve most likely seen blood-and- thunder melodramas about the Mafia. But this is the first that really sticks close to the facts, and the truth doesn’t need any phony trimmings. The police detective that Ernest Borgnine plays was an actual person, who tackled the Black Hand in New York half a century ago. In the old days of Little Italy, on the Lower East Side, there was a lot of color and romance, as well as danger, and all three come back to life in this unassum- ing movie. Zohra Lampert, as a local girl who’s being courted by a young cop (A1 Austin), manages to be convincing even though she’s too new to have learned much about acting, allied artists The Subterraneans THE BEATNIK WORLD; ADULT At least, the beat generation gets some sympathy here, instead of being treated like a bunch of comedy characters. And its assorted nuts give several young play- ers a royal opportunity to parade their talents. “Nuts” isn’t too strong a word. When George Peppard drifts among San Francisco’s beatniks, he says, “You’re all crazy!” And the movie really does present the beats as a pathetic collection of mentally disturbed people, huddled together for comfort. Leslie Caron is the worst off, as a war-shocked French girl. But Janice Rule isn’t in much better shape. Gerry Mulligan, in the biggest of his three current acting jobs, is a minis- ter who tries to help the beatniks by dressing and talking like them. Yes, they’re still mumbling that old tired lingo: “Like, man . . . like, I mean.” For people who have such trouble with all their ( Continued on page 96 1 The Opposite Sex and Ybur Perspiration Q. Do you know there are two kinds of perspiration? Q. Which perspiration is the worst offender? A. It’s true! One is "physical,” caused by work or exertion; the other is "nervous,” stimulated by emotional excitement. It's the kind that comes in tender mo- ments with the "opposite sex.” A. The "emotional" kind. Doc- tors say it’s the big offender in underarm stains and odor. This perspiration comes from bigger, more powerful glands — and it causes the most offensive odor. Q. How can you overcome this "emotional" perspiration? A. Science says a deodorant needs a special ingredient specifically formulated to overcome this emotional perspiration without irritation. And now it’s here. . . exclusive Perstop*. So effective, yet so gentle. Q. Why is arrid cream America's most effective deodorant? A. Because of Perstop*, the most remarkable anti-perspirant ever developed, ARRID CREAM Deo- dorant safely stops perspiration stains and odor without irrita- tion to normal skin. Saves your pretty dresses from "Dress Rot.” 'Why he only Half Safe ? use Arrid to be sure ! It's more effective than any cream, twice as effective as any roll-on or spray tested! Used daily, new antiseptic arrid with Perstop* actually stops underarm dress stains, stops "Dress Rot” stops perspiration odor completely for 24 hours. Get arrid CREAM Deodorant today. Garter Products trademark lor sulfonated hydrocarbon surfactants P 21 After the brawl: Arthur Miller, Simone and Yves, Marilyn. Party Of The Month: Would you pay $1000 to hear John Wayne and Guy Madison duet “Red River Valley”? Or a siz- able sum to hear Tony Curtis play the flute? Well, guests at the Share Inc. party did. and applauded wildly when Mexican star Cantinflas donated $10,- 000 not to sing “Granada.” All for sweet charity’s sake. The popular Moulin Rouge became the old Trading Post all over again, with guests appearing in western riggings. Frank Sinatra as a Heap Big Indian chose to start an argument with Big Sheriff John Wayne and a moment later became involved in a parking lot brawl. Sannny Davis Jr. showed up in the uniform of a Confederate general and Dean Martin, as usual, was a relaxed master of ceremonies. Debhie Reyn- olds, with best beau Harry Karl, looked cute as a bug in her snug Western breeches, and Lucille Ball happy as a lark with her date, songwriter Jimmy Van Heusen. To me, Yves Montand looked like a passenger on a wagon train. Set News: Doris Day was trembling with emo- tion when they lowered a supposedly trapped elevator on the “Mid- night Lace” set. From the sidelines, I had watched them raise the elevator to its trapped position and shuddered along with Doris when villain John Gavin at- tempted to get at her though the car roof. What a scene! A night- mare. really, as Doris’ screams rang out in what seemed like genuine terror. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure I didn t scream along with her. Incidentally, I won- der if those people who make a to-do over no more posed pictures of Doris and her son. Dennis, ever realize Dennis may prefer it that way? After all. a college lad in his teens must want some identification of his own. Scrambled Love: “It’s simply not true,” Tuesday Weld told me when I mentioned her rumored romance with Elvis Presley. “And neither is it true my mother lashed out at Elvis for bringing me home late on a date.” Over in Lon- don it grows even more mysterious. “I was never alone with Tuesday in my life,” says John Ireland, who wooed the teenage blonde some months ago. “In fact, I have alreadx chosen my next bride, the ex-Mrs. George Cameron.” Now try to figure that one out. . . . David Hedison dates Maria Cooper in Hollywood. But his long-distance tele- phone calls go to Lupa Bodine in Rome. They met when Lupa played a role in “The Lost World” with David. . . . And handsome Gardner McKay has settled on the Oriental beauty Greta Chi as his steady date. In fact. Greta crews for Gardner on his 18-foot outrigger boat and greater love hath no woman. Especially when the sea is choppy. ... It was really laughable the way several Hollywood starlets just happened to find themselves in Reno while Efrem Zim- halist was there preparing to divorce his wife. Steffi. Efrem paid them no mind, you can be sure. The Zimbalist mind is on actress Kip Hamilton, according to all reports. A wonderful actress, this Kip. Wonder if Doris would’ve scared even he-man Rock? I learn of Gardner’s new girl. 22 Goodbye To All That: It was early summer when Joan Crawford flew to the Coast and for the last time entered the Brentwood house that had been home for thirty-one years. Thirty-one years and what memories they held for this woman who put the “G” in glamor and the “S” in stardom. Here, in this house, she had lived through her first marriage to Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and her second marriage to Franehot Tone. And then Phil Terry and finally to her fourth husband, the late Alfred Steele, be- fore they took off to New York and a new life for Joan, at least. As she strolled through the beautiful rooms and gardens, what memories must have arisen, of famous names and faces, some of whom have long faded, of stormy scenes, of joyous moments and tragic ones! At the end of the day, Joan quietly closed the door for the last time and, meeting with actor Donald O’Connor, signed the papers that made the house his. And so was written another paragraph in the passing of the old regime in Hollywood, of the life, the glamor, the excitement of an era gone forever. Heartache: “Don’t turn on the radio,” they cautioned ten-year-old Yasmin Khan, daughter of Rita Hayworth and the late Aly Khan, Pakistan’s delegate to the United Nations and a world renowned figure. From the golf course, where Rita and husband Jim Hill received the tragic news of Aly’s accidental death in Paris, they sent the car and driver to pick up Yasmin at her ice skating lesson. “Don’t turn on the car radio,” they warned by telephone, afraid the child would hear the news before Rita could rush home to meet and console the little Princess who adored her father, who had been Rita’s third husband. Only three weeks before, Aly had flown to Hollywood for a short visit with his daughter and three days before his death, he’d telephoned Yasmin from Paris, full of plans for their summer together. What a tragedy and what a heartache for the child who openly preferred the exciting world of her father to the rather dull life of a movie star’s child in Hollywood. Here And There: A cat may look at a King. And Kool Kat Elvis Presley cer- tainly eyed the King and Queen of Nepal during their recent visit here and Royalty eyed Elvis right back on the set of “G.I. Blues.” In fact, the King asked Elvis for his autograph while the Queen smiled sweetly, her eyes widening slightly at El’s enormous pompadour hairdo. Seems, whatever came off those sideburns, Elvis has piled on top. It’s really something to see. . . . Rex Harrison recaptured every heart during his stay here for “Midnight Lace.” Some years ago, Rex left Hollywood under a cloud when Carol Landis took her own life, reputedly over Rex, who was then mar- ried to Lilli Palmer. But his devotion to his late wife, Kay Kendall, whose impending death remained his secret, and his graciousness to one and all while here, completely won over his most ardent knockers. . . . What a surprise to hear that actress Andra Martin filed for divorce from cowboy-actor Ty Hardin charging extreme cruelty. Young Love: Tommy Sands considers him- self the luckiest fellow in the world with lovely Nancy Sinatra as his promised bride. “I didn’t want anything to hap- pen to our love,” Tommy says, “but I knew if I didn’t ask Nancy to marry me, it could have turned out another Molly Bee episode. And I didn’t want that.” Tommy was remember- ing back to two summers ago when he and Molly were steady-dating but seldom saw each other. Their careers kept them apart for weeks and sometimes months at a time when Tommy was on tour or Molly Bee was off on a singing job. Although the two were deeply attached, they finally saw it wouldn’t work and called off the romance. “But it wasn’t easy,” Molly told me. “I didn’t sing a note for six months after our breakup.” But with Nancy, who has no career to follow except that of Tommy’s, things will be different. Where Tommy goes, Nancy will be free to follow. Some- times I think it’s the girl whose only career is home and husband, that’s the happiest after all. . . . Chums are de- lighted Edd Byrnes is dating Asa Maynor again. Asa is by far one of the nicest girls “Kookie” ever had. I won- der if anything really serious will develop with these two. New Hope? It’s sad to think about it, but I’m told that just before Virginia Arness attempted to take her life in Hawaii, Big Jim was about to telephone his estranged wife, asking for a reconciliation. “Let’s try again, Vir- ginia,” he’d planned to say when the distressing headlines broke, shattering plans for a more mature, unemotional sec- ond chance at marriage. But, today, Virginia Arness has found new contentment in doing for others who need it at Long Beach Veterans Hospital. ( Please turn the page) Edd’s dating Asa again, hut I wonder if he really means marriage this time. Two Nancy s will miss Tommy. Goodbyes: 1 hey met face to face at an actors’ meeting. Diane Jergens and her estranged husband Peter Brown. For one long moment, they looked into each other’s eyes, re- membering the tears, the heartaches, the first separation, the reunion and the final parting. Suddenly, Peter reached out a hand and said, “Will you have a drink with me, Diane? Impulsively, she took the hand he offered. “Yes, Peter, I d love to,” she said. “But. it’s no reunion,” Diane said later. “I’m still going through with the divorce. But with the bitterness gone and I hope forgotten, Peter and 1 can now become friends.” Which is as it should be. That’s how I feel, anyway. And I do hope that Peter and Diane can each find, in a new love, the happiness they missed together. Roundup: Janies Dar- ren telephoned the good news all the way from Europe. He and his bride, Evy Norlund, are ex- pecting a baby. When their chores in “The Guns Of Navarone” were finally finished, the Darrens hur- ried right home. . . . The real estate agent eyed the prospective customer with the anonymous name rather curiously. “You are Eddie Fisher, aren’t you?” she smiled. And Eddie, who shopped for a Bel-Air home during a brief visit to the Coast, admitted he was. The Fishers plan to make Hollywood their home base, dividing their time among their other homes in Jamaica, New York and Connecticut. ... At one time, she was the most fantastically beautiful woman the town had ever seen. But beauty was never enough for Hedy Lamarr whose heart hungered for love and understanding. Today, Hedy seems a most unhappy woman, involved first in a divorce suit from her husband, Howard Lee, and secondly with local accountants. In each case, Hedy re- fused to make a court appearance, resulting in unpleasant complications. . . . Tab Hunter seems slowly but surely retreating farther and farther from Hollywood and its demands. When Tab moved to the suburban town of Glendale, Hollywood thought it rather curious. But now that Tab is thinking of selling this house, plus his stables, and moving a hundred miles away to Santa Barbara, his friends, even Maria Cooper, are frankly puzzled. Will Betsy and Cary give one another a second chance? Bits And Pieces: Cary Grant’s courtship of ex-wife Betsy Drake is the talk of London town. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if these two remarried and lived happily ever after. I hope. . . . From Rome, comes word that Sandra Dee has the natives goggle-eyed in her new Jean Louis wardrobe. Now eighteen and fancy free from lessons and the welfare worker who constantly haunted her sets, Sandra is having a wonderful time making “Romanoff and Juliet.’’ What a doll ! . . . Seems little Missy Reynolds is feeling her oats a bit in demanding her first TV Spectacular be almost a solo sort of “Evening With Debbie Reynolds” kind of thing. The network felt Debbie should surround herself with guest stars, as do Dinah Shore, Frank Sinatra and Bing Cros- by. Debbie’s reply to that suggestion was “Whose show is this anyhow?” And, in the end, Debbie seems to have won her fight. ... A friend who sneaked in on one of the lessons Ricky Nelson is taking from the matador Luis McManus, reports that Ricky could become one of the best young bull fighters. . . . From the soft lights and sweet music of the Coconut Grove to the wide open spaces and a cattle roundup, is a big step but Vic Damone made it with ease. After his last appearance at the Grove, Vic took off for his Fresno ranch. Vic hardly misses Pier Angeli these days. From What I Understand: The “Gunsmoke” cast is very blue over the decision of Dennis Weaver to go it alone next season. The old West will never seem the same without Chester, who has been doing some fine dramatic work both in movies and on TV. . . . From Rome, the Richard Egans and their baby daughter send word that Italy is great but Hollywood looks mighty good from that distance. Richard took his family while making “The Story of Esther.” They’ve got us puzzled: Peter and Diane, Tab and Maria Cooper. 24 Cal York’s Jottings: In Las Vegas, Russ Tamblyn took one look at showgirl Elizabeth Kemp- Ion and said, “Didn’t you play in Tom Thumb with me in England?” “Yes,” said Elizabeth and two hours later they were married. The payoff came the follow- ing day when Venetia Stevenson telephoned Russ that they were never properly divorced since neither one had bothered to pick up the final decree. Poor Tom Thumb! The payoff now is, I hear the two are spatting already ! ! ! ! Friends are keeping their fingers crossed for Pam and Audie Murphy. It looks like a reconciliation coming up for these two. . . . Suzy Parker, in Hollywood with her baby daugh- ter, is finally divorcing the Frenchman she denied having married in the first place. . . . Ava Gardner gathers stares of interest wherever she goes in Hollywood, but like Kim Novak, recovered from her recent illness, Ava doesn’t seem to have any place to go — heart wise, that is. . . . Word from Israel has Joanne Woodward terrified over those threatening letters sent her husband Paul Newman and director Otto Preminger on the set of “Exodus.” Seems the Arabs object to the story theme. . . . Ellen Powell, daughter of Dick Powell and Joan Blondell, married actor Chuck Hayward, with Dick and Joan’s approval. . . . No wonder Dot Malone and Jacques Bergerac beam every time they talk about their little Mimi. She’s a little doll. . . . Talk about British understatement: For a year and a half Sir Cedric Hardwicke has been over here starring in a play while his young wife, Mary Scott, has been in Hollywood. Suddenly he’s notified that she’s plan- ning to divorce him, and what’s his reaction? “Well,” he said, “I’m certainly going to telephone her about this!” Brando*isms: It will be a dull world out west if the Brandos, Marlon and Anna, ever reach a lasting agree- ment. Their recent goings-on in court, where Marlon, once again, fought for visiting rights with his son Chris, had us all agog with Anna hurling the terms, “you slob” and “you criminal” in Marlon’s direction. And Marlon’s claim that Anna hired a man to spy on him, was never completely cleared up. But the climax was reached when Anna, irked at the questioning attorney, fled from the witness stand and out the courtroom door with the judge yelling, “Bring back that woman.” For all the world like a TV comedy. Anyway, Marlon won his case and can now see his son at the specified times. But if looks could kill, actor Brando would have been a “daid” goner. Come to think of it, I wonder how Perry Mason would have handled the Brandos? Dot Malone and Jacques have a good reason for smiling. Mailbox Corner: Doug Moore, president of the Sara Hamilton fan club, telephoned the pleasant news the club now has several hundred members from Canada, the States and Mexico. Incidentally, Doug has a new address. It’s 2254 McIntyre, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. . . . Faye Spieler of 730 Willow Ave., Niagara Falls, N. Y., would like an autographed photograph of her favorite actor, Earl Cameron and Lupine Malise of 629 Pine Street, Camden, N. J., yearns to join a Mario Lanza fan club, if there is one. ... A big thank you to Barbara Moore of Oakland, Calif., and Dianna Zieban of Chicago for their charming letters. I’m happy the Frankie Avalon matter was cleared up to Dianna’s satisfaction. Mexican kids couldnt get over Shirley and Cantinflas. On the Sets: The odd looking, middle aged. Southern belle, rounding the corner of a 20th Cen- tury-Fox sound stage, looked strangely familiar. With a shout of laughter, 1 suddenly knew why, for here was my friend Bing Crosby done up in hoop skirts, pantaloons and blond wig, hurrying from his trailer dressing room to the “High Time” set. I stood by Fabian while Bing went through his scene and later, when Bing coyly lifted his skirts to reveal heavy yellow woolen socks and tan brogues, Fabian all but had a fit. Emoting in two pictures at once, “High Time” and “Go North” with John Wayne, has Fabian in a spin. “I miss Frankie, too,” he sighed. Be- fore young Avalon took off on a night-club tour, the two lads had a great time together. And I spotted Fabe with a new date, Katie Kelley. They make a cute couple. . . . The musical scene in Columbia’s “Pepe” done by Cantinflas and Shirley Jones, two of the picture’s many stars, cap- tures all of the pageantry of a Mexican Fiesta. This picture, to be released in December, should be quite a hit. Is Katie the one to catch Fabe? Jtlontfjlp Makes hairdos behave under water because Secret Magic Sava-Wave Inner Rim keeps water out, waves in. Colors, $2.00. Other Sava- Waves, $1.25-$8.98. July, 1960 Duane Eddy Tattles On Himself; Connie Stevens Ends A Romance; Johnny Mathis Gets A New Girl You’ll ivant this memorial tribute to Eddie. What’s Duane like? Is Connie sorry now? Judy Fowler The lucky winner of our contest to win a date with Elvis is pretty Judy Fowler 16, who’s a student at Central High in Phoenix. Watch for the story of Judy’s trip to Holly- wood and date with Elvis in Photoplay. by PAUL DREW STATION WGST, ATLANTA— What’s he really like? The inside answers are in picture and song in "Duane Eddy Plays Songs of Our Heritage.” . . . Did you know Fabian's favorite song is “Unchained Melody?” It's out now by The Blackwells. . . . Breakup of the month: Connie Stevens and Gary Clark. Connie’s new album is as refresh- ing as a Waikiki breeze. . . . The memorial album, “Eddie Cochran,” is one you’ll want to treasure as a memento of a won- derful, talented boy. It includes five tunes Eddie wrote himself. (For Shari Sheeley’s story of the tragic accident in which Eddie was killed, just before they were to be mar- ried, turn to page 32). . . . Dinah and Brook swing with “A Rockin' Good Way.” . . . For handholding time at a party, play music nostalgics to Mantovani’s “Songs to Remember.” . . . The boys’ latest album is “It’s Everly Time” — and when isn’t it? Their next project is a movie. . . . The Broadway show, “Bye Bye Birdie” spoofs a young pop singing star, Conrad Birdie ( played by good-looking Dick Gautier ) , who gets drafted into the Army. It’s loaded with his songs: “Kids,” “One Last Kiss,” and “One Boy.” . . . Not quite five-feet tall. Brenda Lee’s a tower of sound singing "That’s All You Gotta Do.” . . . Phi Gam- ma Delta fraternity’s gift to you is the Brothers Four, clicking with “My Tani.” . . . Still a teenager — he’ll he nineteen in July — “Paul Anka Sings His Big 15”— all giants. . . . Ernie Fields leads the pack in the new big band era with ‘‘Begin the Beguine.” . . . “Maria,” from the Broadway show “West Side Story,” could be this year’s “Misty” for Johnny Mathis. . . . The ex- citement of jazz and the loneliness of the blues comes to life in “Ray Charles In Person,” recorded live in concert. . . . And for some funnies, try “The Button Down Mind of Bob Newhart” and “Laughing Room” by Woody Woodbury. If you’re fond of good music, you’re familiar with the label, Deutsche Gram- mophon Gesellschaft, and know it repre- sents some of the most superb European record imports. Like those four new re- leases: Schumann Piano Concerto in A Minor, Svjatoslav Richter on piano; Haydn String Quartets in G Major and B Flat 26 mecorb Major, by the Amadeus Quartet; Mozart Piano Concerto in E Flat Major and Haydn Piano Concerto in D Major by tbe Berlin Radio Symphony Orch., with Jorg Demus at piano. . . . Violinist Jaime Laredo is 19 years old and chances are you'll get to know him as well as Van Cliburn. As an introduction, listen to him play Brahms Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, on RCA Victor, . . . And if you don’t already own Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony No. 8, the Richmond (London) record of it is a bargain, not only because the Vienna Philharmonic, con- ducted by Carl Schuricht, gives a stirring performance, but on the other side is the wonderful Mozart Haffner Symphony. i What’s in the Stars? by ERIAL Bob: Too sensitive? Were you born be- tween June 22nd and July 21st? Then you belong to the fourth sign of the zodiac - — Cancer — like Bob Evans (June 29), Susan Hayward (June 30), Leslie Caron (July 1), Gina Lollobrigida (July 4), Janet Leigh and Luana Patten (July 6), Nick Adams (July 10), Tab Hunter (July 11), Polly Bergen (July 14) , Pat Wayne (July 15). You are a very sen- sitive person and be- cause of this, you tend to take upon yourself the grief of others. You have great love and protectiveness and Sus(m; FZattcrer? so your home and family mean a great deal to you. Because you are such a sensitive person, you take things very personally, sometimes thinking a remark was meant for you but which was never intended. Money is important to you and you can often “stretch a dol- lar” very far. You are very straight- forward, generous and loyal to friends and family. Men, you are understand- ing and thoughtful. Women, you are gentle and feminine and have a natural talent for flattery. Your lucky number is three. Tab: A great love? Vol. 2, No. 6 Puzzles ACROSS 1 . Miss Bee's initials 3. His hit is “Big Iron” 5. I love (Latin) 6. TV network (abbrev.) •8. He made white bucks famous 9. Our pictured singer of the month 10. Perry's “Music ” 12. Eydie’s husband 1 3. Male goat 14. "Stuck on you” (don’t you wish he were?) 16. Henry’s daughter, Jane 18. 17 down hails from here (abbrev.) 19. Compass point 21. Our art director (init.) 22. Lee’s “Sweet Nothin’s” DOWN 1. Connie Francis' Italian hit 2. “Greensleeves” is their best-seller 3. To chart or survey 4. International Business Machine (abbrev.) 6. Popular record label (abbrev.) 7. “Teenage ” by Sam Cooke 9. Bobby Darin’s big one 11. “Don’t Throw Away Ail Those Tear- drops” is his plea 12. He made money with “Money” 15. Yard (abbrev.) 17. He made “Puppy Love” 20. Singer who died in auto crash (init.) CAN YOU GUESS THEIR NAMES? 1. Virginia Katherine McMath — a. Helen Hayes b. Lauren Bacall c. Ginger Rogers 2. Arlington Brugh — a. Bela Lugosi b. Phil Silvers c. Robert Taylor 3. Clara Ann Fowler — a. Patti Page b. Shelley Winters c. Mary Martin 4. Sarah Jane Fulks — a. Lillian Roth b. Shirley Temple c. Jane Wyman 5. Edythe Merrener— — a. Marilyn Maxwell b. Susan Hayward c. Dinah Shore •q s (3 > 'D £ .'3 i '3 l :sj0MSUV Keeps the curl in your coif because Secret Magic Sava -Wave Inner Rim keeps water out. In colors, $5.98. Other Sava-Waves, $1.25-$8.98. You’ve put a ban on beauty shop bills. Good girl! Since Toni came into your life — home is headquarters for permanents. Now your waves are penny-wise — prettier. And no more appointments to pin you down. No more dryers to dawdle under. Best yet— Toni has “Hidden Body.” You can sleek it away — or coax it into the frothiest fluff-up. Toni’s "Hidden Body” is perfect for all hairstyles. You won’t find it at any price — in any other permanent — home or beauty shop. And you’ll sail right through the neutralizer bit — without a splash! No watery mess to mix — with Toni. Just squeeze a plastic bottle. 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( Please turn the page ) bv JAE LYLE mvr, LIZ AND EDDIE continued Then Liz had stopped short. “Let’s go back,” she said suddenly. “I don’t want to swim after all.” They walked back slowly, neither of them speaking. Eddie watched her face worriedly. He knew by now what could cause a bright mood to fade and make Liz’s face grow pale with fear. There had been many times he’d seen that haunted look. Sometimes it helped to talk it out between them, and so he asked softly, “Liz, what’s wrong?” She walked into the cottage and then, hands dropping helplessly to her side, she cried out: “Those whispers! I can't run away. ..and I can't answerthem." {Continued on page 74) Shari Sheeley: “Eddie told me: ‘Something awful’s going to happen. I can feel it. You’ll never be Mrs. Cochran.’ And then, EDDIE DIED IN MY ARMS only two hours later. I still can’t believe it. (Continued on page 76 ) DEBBIE SETTLINC FOR LESS THAN LOVE ? In her heart, Debbie knew she couldn’t listen to what others were saying. Then something happened to make up her mind. (. Please turn the page ) 34 |r u con remove unwanted hair FOREVER. MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE (Our 76th Year). MAHLERS. INC.. Dept. 600K PROVIDENCE 15. R. I. FREE! Art Talent Test Find out, free, if you have talent worth training for commercial art career. Take simple Art Tal- ent Test at home. Devised by professional artists. Contributed without obligation by world’s largest home study art school. Forty-six years’ art teaching experience. Mail coupon today. r i i i i i i i i ART INSTRUCTION, INC., STUDIO 7390 500 South 4th Street, Minneapolis 1 5, Minnesota Please send me your Talent Test, without cost or obligation. (PLEASE PRINT) Name Occupation AGE Address Apt County City Zone State P 79 TO KILL A MEMORY Continued from page 66 Show,” her expression changed and she got up and clicked off the television set. Walking to the window, she stood there motionless, looking out at Central Park, eighteen stories below. Peaceful and un- real, the pulsating city had at last gone to sleep. She stood there a long time without moving, and then, almost defiantly, she turned around and walked across the room, turning on the set again. Adjusting the sound, she backed away from the set, not taking her eyes off the screen, and sat down on the couch again. As she watched the picture come into focus, she began to smile, almost hesitatingly, as a cool, slightly arrogant voice said, “If you want anything, just whistle!” Then, for the rest of the evening, and for the first time since her husband’s death three years before, Lauren Bacall sat alone watching Bogey on TV, and reliving a memory. . . . “To Have and Have Not” was her first picture and their first together. “I remember the day before we went in- to production on that picture,” she said. “I was so nervous that I was all arms and legs. I was sixteen and had been a model and Howard Hawks had discovered my pictures in Harper’s Bazaar magazine. The first thing he did, when I arrived in Holly- wood, was to take me on Bogey’s set to meet the star. I had always been a movie fan but, amazingly enough, Bogey had never been one of my special favorites. To my sixteen years, he seemed like an old man of forty-one. Besides, he was mar- ried, so that automatically excluded any thoughts of romance — which I didn’t have, anyway. But I had enormous respect for him as an actor, and even after we had worked together, my worst fears never en- tirely disappeared. “Sitting there watching ‘To Have and Have not,’ I remembered the crazy nick- names he used to call me, like ‘Sam’ or ‘Joe’ or ‘Charlie’ — ‘Charlie’ was his favor- ite— -he never called be Betty — and how he kidded me out of my nervousness. One day we were playing a scene together and I suddenly went dry. I just couldn’t remem- ber my dialogue. There was a dreadful silence, and then Bogey just looked at me, and in a low, deadpan voice asked, ‘I beg your pardon?’ I just broke up and, after that, all my tenseness was over. I didn’t muff another line. Another time, I had a scene where I had to enter a doorway and I slouched in like a model. Bogey came over to me and said, ‘Listen, Charlie, have you any idea why you are entering that doorway? Just don’t walk in as if you had come from a manicure and had no other thought in your mind except whether your nails are dry!’ ” Betty stopped talking, as though the memories were stronger than the present and finally, without reason, she said: “Bo- gey gave me a sense of security. He shel- tered me the way my family had. That’s why, after his death, when I was left with the children and had complete control of our future, without Bogey it terrified me. I kept telling myself that there were millions of young wives all over the world who experienced the same. But it didn’t help my loneliness. The panic was still there. “It remained until, one day, I finally came to my senses. I decided I couldn’t go on living surrounded by the ghosts of the past. I stopped wearing the bracelet Bogey had given me, with the inscription from ‘To Have and Have Not’ and a tiny whistle. “It had no point to it now. He can’t whistle for you any more, I told myself, so put it away. And I put away the pictures of his yacht ‘Santana.’ I didn’t need them as a reminder of the fun we had, sailing in Catalina, Balboa and the races in Hono- lulu. The memory of Bogey’s contented face, when he was sailing, was all I needed. So I sold the ‘Santana’ to a fellow-yachts- man who knew Bogey and loved the sea as he did. “I also sold the house we shared our life together in. Our friends — Hjordis and Da- vid Niven, Kate Hepburn, Frank Sinatra, Spencer Tracy, who had come to see Bogey every day to help keep up the pretense with me that everything would be all right, continued to visit me — but Bogey was al- ways with them. Everyone was wonderful to me, but Hollywood is a town of couples — married, divorced, romantic — and I felt like a third wheel and more alone than ever. However, I didn’t have the courage to move away. And then, when I moved into a new house, I chose one in the same old neighborhood — can you beat that? “I had always traveled with Bogey and the thought of being on my own, in Lon- don and Paris, was more terrifying than staying on in Hollywood. Then, one day, my great friend ‘Slim’ Hayward said she was going abroad for a six-week holiday and invited me to join her. That did it. “In London, Vivien Leigh and Larry Olivier gave me a party. Everyone of im- portance, in the social and theatrical world, was there, and I kept pinching myself to see if I were the same girl who had once fainted at the thought of even meeting Sir Laurence and Lady Olivier. You can imag- ine what this did to build up my morale — to be accepted on my own, without Bogey, for the first time. The fatherless children “Then I came back and made up my mind to live in New York. The children love it and . . .” Betty paused again. “You know, it’s a shame Bogey can’t see Stephen and Leslie growing up. Being a father was quite an astonishing experience for Bogey because, after three childless marriages and at his age, he was sure that the stork had passed him by. When I told him about Stephen’s impending event, at first he was somewhat reserved in his reaction. I think he was a little scared of the responsibility of fatherhood, and also a little jealous that maybe Stephen would trespass on his ter- ritory a bit! But after Stephen came, and looked like a miniature Bogey, he was just like all fathers who feel that it is they who had produced their first born. As for Les- lie, he adored her, but he didn’t quite know how to play with a little girl. He would balance her on his lap like a deli- cate piece of china. “You can try to keep the memory of a father alive for a child, but I don’t. Not with any conscious effort anyway,” she said. “They each have a photograph of him in their bedrooms, and they accept the fact that their daddy is dead. I wouldn’t allow them, though, to attend the funeral and I didn’t tell them about the anniversary of Bogey’s death, either. Bogey would have been the last person to have wanted this kind of morbidity. “I know there is no such thing as being father and mother to a fatherless child. Leslie isn’t as aware of her need for a fa- ther yet, but I hate the fact that Stevie is being brought up in a household of women. “So, of course, I want to get married again. It is the greatest compliment I can pay Bogey. But, I know now, you can’t go looking for love. It has to find you — aided by the moving finger of Fate. Now that I’ve learned this the hard way, I go out on dates and have fun. I no longer take in- ventory for possible husband material! BW my son,” and she paused and laughed, “mv son has other ideas. You should see th way he sizes up every escort who bea’ me around. He takes me aside and whi pers, ‘Mummy, is he the one?’ “I’ve explained to him and to Leslie tha I want a father for them, but first he must be the right husband for me.” “Too old for her . . And, pausing, as if considering the lone- liness of the past three years, she said: “We would have been married fifteen years on May twenty-first. We were mar- ried at Louis Bromfield’s beautiful farm in Ohio. I was nineteen.” And remembering the day fondly, she smiled, “Bogey had hesitations, in the be- ginning, about our ages. He once told a friend ‘I’m nuts about the dame, but I’ll never marry her. I’m too old for her. I’m at that age when I’ve had my fling and want to settle down. She’s just starting her life and needs a young guy who will take her dancing every night and give her a family. I’m too far off from that type-casting. . . .’ He always kidded me and said he finally proposed because if he didn’t someone else would beat him to it. . . . “I want my next husband to be some- one closer to my age, not only for the chil- Watch TRUE STORY on your NBC-affiliated television station on Saturdays See your local paper for time and station. Exciting stories of actual events and people, straight from the files of TRUE STORY Magazine — narrated by Katlii Norris. And don’t miss “THE WOMEN WHO STOOD BY CARYL CHESSMAN” — as exclusively written by one of them . . . In August TRUE STORY Magazine The Woman’s Guide to Better Living I\ow at Your Newsstand Katlii Norris 80 dren, but for me. Bogey’s friends were all much older than I. So many of them have passed on, too — lifelong friends like Leslie Howard, Robert Sherwood and Louis Bromfield and his wife Hope. They are all gone. . . Betty sat still, then said, “I can finally look at Bogey and not be sad any more. Watching him on the ‘Late, Late Show’ last ; night, seeing him now as he was when I first knew him, is like a flashback in a movie. And there are no sad memories now, just happy ones, of eleven-and-a- half wonderful years shared together. I realize I have these. How many people can go through an entire lifetime and be this lucky? “And now, all I want is a one-woman man, as Bogey was,” she said quietly. “I don’t believe in infidelity in marriage. You know, most people think of me as a play- girl, but they couldn’t be more wrong. I’m the type that goes to India to film ‘Flame Over India,’ where I meet the richest ma- harajahs. But do they decorate my finger with a pigeon-blood ruby, or smother me in sable? They do not. And why? Because they think of me as a nice girl and don’t want to offend me. And do you know something? They are right! If this makes i me sound like Miss Virtue I don’t mean it like that. What I mean is, I believe in the : ‘togetherness’ of love that builds a home and a family. I was lucky enough to find it once, and I hope I will again.” “So long, Baby” She stopped talking and sat thinking, perhaps of a young woman sitting quietly in a bedroom, watching her husband — still and weak — gasp for breath. And know that she was sitting there watching him die. And feeling that she, too, was in a long ill- ness and that she, too, might never re- cover. Only, she would be alive, yet numb. And a telephone rings downstairs, below in the library, and she listens as someone moves and picks it up, and yet, she knows she has no desire to know who’s calling. And a slight movement and cough pulls her thoughts back to the bed and to her husband and she realizes, as though it were a new thought, that she has been sit- ting there for months, desperately trying to hide from her husband that he was dy- ing. And wondering, all the while, “Does he really know? Does he know, even as we dress and shave him and carry him down- stairs every afternoon, at five, for a drink and a smoke with friends, that he cannot lick this cancer?” Then, aloud, revealing her thoughts, she says: “Bogey never once discussed death with me during all those months that I sat at his bedside, trying to hide the desperate truth from him. He was a great actor and he played out his part magnificently to the end. He knew, from the beginning, that he had cancer, but he really thought he could lick this dread disease as he had licked every other obstacle in his path. But in those final days, he was too perceptive to kid himself any longer — even though he went on kidding me. He faced death as he faced life — honestly and unafraid. When his time came, with his last strength, he merely said, ‘So long, Baby . . .’ and then was still. But what he meant, I’m sure, was ‘It was great fun while it lasted, but it’s all over now. Tough luck, Baby.’ ” And, smiling a little she went on, her voice hardly audible, “You know, I’ve sent for all my furniture. It has been in storage since Bogey died. But I decided, last eve- ning, from now on I’m going to have a new home of my own. That’s the way Bogey would have wanted it, don’t you think?” The End DON’T MISS LAUREN BACALL IN “FLAME OVER India” for rank and 20th century-fox. Don't wish you were a BLONDE . . . Bg one today! Everybody loves a blonde! With IVIarchand's Golden Hair Wash you can turn time-darkened hair honey bright again— or lighten it only a shade. You can sparkle dark hair with sunny highlights— or add a sophisticated blonde streak. 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Annette coaxed, “Don’t be blue, Paul, they didn’t mean to poke fun at you, they were only trying to entertain me.” Paul sat brooding, quietly, until he burst out, “It isn’t them, Annette — it’s me. They’re right — I was a mixed-up kid, never sure exactly what I wanted. But what bothers me is I’m still mixed up! When am I going to know? When am I going to be sure what life’s all about?” Annette bit her lip, and thought, does he mean us! Does he mean marriage? But this was nothing a girl could say, or ask. So she told him, comfortingly, “Paul, you’re only eighteen. Give yourself a chance!” Her concern, so sweet, moved Paul to tell her something he hadn’t intended to. Something he had kept from her, and his mother, and his whole family — until now he felt the need to reveal it — and himself — to Annette. He told her what had happened on his last hop to Europe. . . . They were an hour out over the Atlantic when suddenly a sputtering sound on his side of the big Air France plane snapped him out of an exhausted doze. Lights suddenly flooded the wing, showing one propeller fanning to a stop, and gasoline leaking from the tanks. At the same time, the cabin blacked out. Stewardesses with flashlights explained the danger. “There is a fuel leak. We’re circling back to Montreal. Please fasten your seat belts and remain calm. There’s only a little danger.” Paul wasn’t so sure. He noticed revved- up engine’s sparks dangerously close to the escaping gas. If they set it off — they’d all blow up in flames. “Why,” he told himself, “I can’t die like this. I’ve hardly lived!” He prayed. And then, miraculously, they were safely down, the whole thing an unbelievable night- mare. He had just toured practically all of Europe and Japan, Australia, Hawaii and Africa, this boy who had “hardly lived.” He’d set records at the famous Olympia in Paris, and on the Riviera. In Tokyo, they’d staged a ticker-tape parade in his honor. In Osaka, thousands stuck out a typhoon to greet him. In Helsinki, Finland, he’d sung for two hours, in driv- ing sleet, to 20,000 people — without losing a listener! And, yet, something was missing. Paul knew it then as he knew it today, sitting here with Annette. “Sometimes on that European tour, I’d find tears welling up,” he went on. “I’d lie on my hotel bed, all wound up after a day of the wildest cheers.” Yet he couldn’t say exactly why. Coming into the Georges Cinq Hotel in Paris, a bunch of French teenagers invari- ably flocked around him. “Come on, Paul,” his older troupe members would say. “Break it up and let’s rehearse.” “No,” he’d answer them, arrested by a disturbing tug. “You guys go in. I want to stay here a while.” So he’d sit on the brick wall out front, buddying with kids his own age, messing around and talking about things that the people he traveled and worked with wouldn’t care about, or even understand. Then he felt better. It was funny: how some days in lots of places — Rome was one — he’d have to smuggle himself to safety in fire trucks or police wagons. He’d have to climb over walls or shinny down fire escapes, hide himself under long cloaks and hats, even paste on false mustaches — all to give them the slip. And yet, he really ached for someone like them to talk to. At the plush Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas, where he’d made his American night-club debut last spring, he was like a fish out of water. All around him, gamblers clinked silver dollars at the gaming tables and bellied up to the bar. Even if he liked to drink or gamble, which he doesn’t, he couldn’t. He was too young. At the dinner shows, he shared the program with brassy Sophie Tucker, past seventy, with her risque patter and suggestive songs. In his own act he found himself practically apologizing for being in front of that sophisticated audience. "Every night, at the end,” he told Annette, “I’d walk off fast, without looking back, like a school kid running out of a room of patronizing adults.” So, in Las Vegas, he got an idea. He’d give a free concert on Saturday at the high school auditorium, just for teenagers — two thousand of them. That way, he knew, he could meet kids. And it made him feel good. “But then, it was so strange,” he told Annette. “One minute I was out in front of all those people. And then, suddenly, I was alone. What could I do here in this hotel room? Nothing but think of what I’d be doing if I was home! I’d think I’d be with the kids having fun — or would I have been? No, I guess not,” he frowned now. “It’s not the same anymore. They’ve heard my records and they think I'm different. They don't know what to say and I don’t either. They may even resent me. Some- times, I think, ‘what's happened to all my friends?’ and then ‘what’s happened to me?” He looked at Annette as if waiting for an answer. But she just sat there listening intently. “It was that way when I went back to my home town, Ottawa, Canada,” he con- tinued. He’d looked up his best pals, the Quinn brothers and Tommy Wrangle, busting for things to be like always. They weren’t; there wasn’t much to say. All the things he’d planned, excitedly, to say and hear didn’t come out — either way. It was really just “hello” and then “goodbye” without real contact, and that lonesome feeling again. “Like I’d hopped off a sleigh ride and hopped right back on,” he described it for Annette. “I’m so young” Once, before he moved his family to New Jersey, he got a chance to fly home to Ottawa. He wanted it to be a surprise, so he didn’t let the family know. When he arrived, nobody was home; the house was empty and still. He just sagged to the piano seat and fooled with the keys, be- cause that’s all there was to do. In a few minutes, he wrote “Lonely Boy” — and he also wrote about himself. “I’m so young — and you’re so old. . . .” the words of “Diana.” “And this is the way I feel!” he explained to Annette. “Like there were two Paul Ankas living in two different worlds.” In one, he’s a seasoned entertainer. In the other, he’s a kid who sometimes says gloomily, “I should be in school,” who likes to send for his mother to be with him on engagements, who can’t resist sophomoric pranks and was “as tongue-tied as a ninth grader on my first date with a girl named Annette Funicello.” When he finished with a shy smile, Annette squeezed his hand, touched by the very shyness he was con- fessing. “I don’t know much about love, Annette,” he went on. He fumbled for words. “You know who was my first love? Miss McCrea, my third grade teacher.” And he went on and told Annette how he used to slip little gifts into her desk drawer and hang around after school, mooning. After she got married, he’d ride his bike past her apartment and stare forlornly until, finally, he snapped out of it. “When that happened,” Paul laughed, “I made up my mind never to fall in love again. I couldn’t have been more than nine at the time!” Annette started to laugh at this, too. “But then, along came Collette.” Paul continued. “She was a French girl who came to look after us kids when Mom worked at Simpson- Sears store, and Dad was at the cafe and had to work until 4 a.m.” Paul fell madly in love with Collette. When she got a boyfriend, Louie, Paul sulked miserably and threw oranges at them as they sat on the porch. “You love him better than you do me!” he accused bitterly. Collette tried to ex- plain the betrayal. “No I don’t, Paul. I just love Louie in a different way. When you get a little older, you’ll understand.” Now Paul was older at last — eighteen — and trying to make Annette understand how he felt about her. “Like one night, last December, I was tossing around in bed. I just couldn’t sleep. My manager, Irvin Feld, was trying to get some shut-eye. We’d just come from Hollywood — that was where I fell hard for you, Annette. Now, here I was in New Jersey and I couldn’t stop thinking of you. “ ‘Tell me’ I finally blurted out to Irv, ‘Do you think Annette really loves me? Do I love her?’ “ ‘Paul,’ Irv said to me, ‘You know what I think? You’re infatuated. It’s puppy love.’ “ ‘Puppy love — what’s that?’ I asked, and Irv told me. Next thing I knew, I yanked him out of the bed and downstairs to the 33/4% interest on New U.S. Savings Bonds now in effect and the Bonds you already own are better than ever, too! HELP STRENGTHEN AMERICA’S PEACE POWER SAVE WITH U.S. SAVINGS BONDS The U.S. Government does not pay for this advertising. The Treasury Department thanks The Advertising Council and this magazine for their patriotic donation. 82 music room. ‘I’m gonna write that song,’ I said.” And, in twenty minutes, it tumbled but — words and melody. By five o’clock, Paul had scored it on a lead sheet. “Puppy Love” went to the top of the Top Ten. “And where I sob out ‘Help me — help me!’ I felt it that way. But I wouldn’t have known how to say it to you, Annette.” A pretty fresh kid This was the day Annette learned some- thing else about Paul she never knew be- fore—how, if anything bugged him, it was the fact that he’s only five feet six inches. As a kid they’d called him “Shorty.” Like most small kids, he did everything he could to prove being little didn’t mean a thing. “Most people thought I was a pretty fresh kid,” he admitted to Annette now. “Mother doesn’t kid when she says I was a little devil most of my life.” At Connaught elementary school, he wore a rut between his class and the principal’s office. He was always getting tossed out of classes for passing notes, shooting spitballs, pulling ponytails. He called Miss Winchester, the teacher, “Miss Windbag” behind her back. He was promptly kicked off the “Safety Patrol” for heaving snowballs. “The only thing I really liked about school,” confessed Paul, “was sports.” He was a mighty atom at those, once he fought his way onto the teams. He made the soccer, baseball and hockey teams. He was goalie on a bantam league club that won the city championship, high scorer for “The Ants,” another ice group sponsored by the Kiwanis Club. Later, in Fisher Park High, he caught for the softball team, ran the 100 mile run in eleven seconds. He was the shortest member of the basketball squad, but its high-point player. And he hustled just as aggressively at making money. He had the knack. One summer, when he was only seven, a gang of workmen dug up the street in front of his house, laying new sewer pipes. He rigged up a lemonade stand and cashed in at a nickel a glass. Next day, he organized a tidy racket, floating a saucer in a bucket of water and inviting the men to pitch pennies for a free drink. The coins that missed — and most did — he fished out and kept. After that, he shagged bottles for the milkman, mowed lawns in summer, shoveled snow off walks in winter. He swept out a grocery store mornings and afternoons. His newspaper route got to be the biggest in his section of town. One day his dad handed him a bankbook. But the pages remained blank. Paul blew the pro- ceeds on records, records and more records. He stacked his room with platters, his phonograph or radio was always going during his homework, and late into the nights when he was supposed to be asleep. Because all this time, there was another side to him besides the joker, hustler and athlete. It was a side nobody saw — it was too personal. He knew he had to entertain people. It might have begun when he heard the Anka clan singing around the house, as they all did, especially his Uncle Maurice. The holy chants at St. Elijah’s Orthodox church might have originally stirred what was deep inside him. Paul was an altar boy, then a member of the choir. “Music was everything to me,” he told Annette. And this she could well understand. Yet high school was one long, confused misery, which brewed plenty of tension at home. “I was so mixed-up,” he said, “I couldn’t seem to settle down to anything. I used to cry at night in bed, wondering why I couldn’t do anything right. It was the worst time of my life.” always popular! Girls on-the-go like PEDS for stocking-free comfort; for extra warmth on cool days. PEDS never slip thanks to exclusive heel protector— held snug by an elastic edge— save shoe linings. Buy PEDS in exact foot sizes in Fine Cotton, 25