Hollywood (Jan - Oct 1934)

Snow Pelted Him, lashed by wind from the mountain tops. This was no movie snow of whitened corn flakes. This was the real stuff — and Clark Gable grinned. Some undefinable impulse had urged him to drive up to Lake Arrowhead this evening. He'd headed for it alone as soon as he left the studio. Kind of help along the Holiday spirit to see a touch of old-fashioned winter. Deep black woods outlined against untrampled fields of white. He would drive back the next day and be home in time for Christmas Eve celebration. A sudden clap of thunder reverberated overhead. Maybe, thought Clark, he was getting into more than he'd bargained for. Only sixty-five miles from Hollywood — and here he was facing a blizzard that would have done justice to the Montana prairies. Montana. Funny he hadn't thought in years of the old gang there with whom he'd played in stock. What had become of them all? Jim and Steve and Wheezy? A great fellow, Wheezy. Used to be a comedian one night and a "heavy" the next. He had an ugly scar from chin to cheek — souvenir of an early football game. Clark remembered how red it had got that Christmas when Wheezy's girl had invited them for dinner. Then, abruptly, all reminiscences were shut out by the storm. It was whipped to a fury now. Tall trees bent before it. Clark stepped on the accelerator. No need turning back. Better to push on to the village that bordered one end of the lake. He was straining forward. The edge of the twisting road wasjj}7y_.iing blurred and familiar sign >byna were blotted out completely. Richai Another hour a e knew that ^A by JERRY LANE somehow he'd taken the wrong turn. He was going towards the other end of the lake where there were only a few forsaken cabins. Drifts loomed up large in front of him. Trackless ground. The car veered swiftly and stopped. Clark found himself lunging in the direction of a distant cabin from which a faint light flickered. There seemed to be need of haste. He had to hurry. • The answer was given him the minute he opened that door. A big fellow lay on a makeshift couch, his face wet with the dreadful sweat of pain. There was a scar from his chin to his cheek. "God — Wheezy!" "Why— Bill. Is that you? And the big fellow lapsed into unconsciousness. His leg was broken. It lay in a A certain Christmas would have been a mighty dismal affair for Una Merkel had it not been for the thonght'fulness of Helen Hayes L Some strange whim took Clark Gable into the mountains one Yuletide and as a result he was able to aid an old pal in dire distress 36 \ manner that made "Bill" Gable catch his breath. There was a sound at the fireplace where a thin flame burned futilely against the stinging cold. A small boy looked wearily up at him. And Clark knew why he had had to get to Lake Arrowhead that night. "Peace on earth." The chimes from the Normandy tower rang out the hour of midnight as he entered the village. It had been seven miles of struggle over frozen snow to get there but fortunately a doctor was staying at the lodge. They drove back in a sleigh. At three in the morning Wheezy's leg was set and he was asleep. So was his son — curled up in Clark's coat. A huge fire crackled in the grate, spreading warmth, shutting out the shadows. And Clark, with a deep new content, threw himself down beside the youngster. Later in the day he drove them both back to Beverly Hills. The doctor rode with them. He'd strapped Wheezy's leg up and propped him with pillows. Gradually the big fellow's story came out. Not an unusual one. He hadn't worked for a year and in desperation had accepted a friend's offer of the Arrowhead cabin to live in for the winter. "I thought there might be something to do with all the people coming up for the winter sports, but HOLLYWOOD