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Miss R ±
Q 'h Nearer ™0 c<^e
Coup/e °Kho?
_ pn°nies!
SHE'S A SCREWBALL TO END ALL SCREWBALLS, BUT OH HOW WE LOVE OUR ROZ!
else but. Sometimes she sobers down when she's on the job) — not often, of course, just sometimes. But when she's on the loose — well, the Russell record of comedy, from Mexico to Manhattan and across the seas, is not likely to be cracked in the near future. The last time Hollywood let Rpz slip away from her make-up kit for any length of time, she even got tangled up between the Siegfried and Maginot lines — honest!
"I am a complete screwball," Russell herself admits, quite unashamed. But you don't have to take her word for it; it's obvious. As a guy who knows her better than I do, Reginald Gardiner, has stated shrewdly, "Rosalind Russell is really a serious girl afflicted with an uncontrollable impulse to clown."
She proved that years ago when she arrived in Hollywood. They let her sit around with time on her hands tor a couple of weeks at Universal Studios and the results
were pretty terrifying. There was one gag after another.
One day Rosalind got one of those command studio memos. It said the boss, then Junior Laemmle, wanted to see her. "He shall see me," declared Rosalind, "and how!"
She delved into her trunk and dragged out a fright dress she used to wear to tacky parties back home. She took a lead pencil and traced every line in her face into dark, mossy wrinkles. She smeared lipstick around until she looked like strawberry jam. She wrinkled her stockings. She saturated her naturally curly tresses with vaseline until they hung in greasy strings about her neck. She even daubed a little dirt on her face. Then, rolling a wad of gum around her tongue, she ambled in to see Junior.
The resulting apparition, itself, was enough to make a strong man quail. But when Rosalind drooped in the chair, stared moronically at the floor and, talking through her nose, repeated, "I am very unhappy," {Cont'd on page 77)
SEPTEMBER, 1940