From under my hat (1952)

From under my Hat was such a fine, honorable man, he hadn't come to Gene's defense at the time. He also failed to explain what there was in Hollywood that drove Carole Landis to suicide, after she and Rex had spent many evenings together. My feeling for Rex Harrison had an aftermath— not in my favor. Leland Hayward gave me the opportunity to invest in his play Mr. Roberts, the best investment I ever made. Then he asked if I'd like to go in on Anne of a Thousand Days, starring Mr. Harrison. No, I did not. "Why?" asked Leland. "Don't you think it will go?" "Yes, your star's a fine actor, but count me out. I have my reasons." And because of my stand, I wasn't given a chance to invest in Leland's next play, South Pacific, a gold mine for everyone who did. No, Rex Harrison is not one of my favorite people! In the beginning I'm pretty sure Louella liked me. She might yet if my column hadn't caught on. But the story that we were fussin' and feudin' made good copy. It grew and blossomed, nourished by studio publicity heads who used us, one against the other. No one can deny that Louella is a fine reporter. One of her biggest scoops was that Ingrid Bergman was going to have a baby by Roberto Rossellini while she was still the wife of Dr. Peter Lindstrom. This news, coming at Christmas time, was tough to take. Even casehardened newspaper publishers refused to believe it at first. Having seen Ingrid on the screen in Joan of Arc, they'd come to imagine that some of that sainthood had rubbed off on her. She just couldn't commit such a common sin! I spent the day of the announcement rubbing egg off my face, because six months before I'd interviewed Bergman at the scene of the crime. I went to see her in Rome the day the Italian newspapers reported that she was pregnant. I must confess I've never seen her give a finer performance. She wore a simple cotton dress, no stockings, open-toed sandals. As she paced up and down in her apartment on a back street of the 294