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SLAP THE geeters on Hysterical in the fourth to show" isn't exactly poetic. Escaping the soft lips of Virginia Bruce, it's enough to make a man bury his eyebrows in his hair. But to J. Walter Ruben those words are music. They mean that the bars are down again at Hollywood Park, that his wife's right in there "picking "em" and that the day's going to be a great one!
Currently, Hollywood Park is Movietown's pet betting ground. A sleek, streamlined race track, located at Inglewood, ten miles outside of Hollywood proper, it is the $3,000,000 magnet that acts as an almost daily lure to the Rubens, Claudette Colbert, Sonja Henie, Irene Dunne and 50,000 others in whom the sporting blood flows free. It is the place where Don Ameche and Mickey Rooney race their own horses, where Marlene Dietrich and Constance Bennett come to lead the fashion parade, and where Bing Crosby and George Raft may bet between $2,000 and $3,000 in a single afternoon!
Like Santa Anita, whose season precedes it, and Del Mar, whose season will follow, Hollywood Park is divided into three sections: the grandstand, the regular club house and the exclusive hangout for people with money. In Inglewood, this "hangout" is known as the Turf Club — and the Turf Club, you guessed it, is where the movie stars gather. Here they sit in $220 boxes, which they may purchase only after paying a $220 membership fee. They ore always dressed to the hilt and on their best behavior, for the club's standards, like its rates, are high. Slacks are taboo, and men in polo shirts or without ties are given an immediate heave-ho.
However, neither the stars that appear nor the horses that run are as colorful as the famous Goose Girl in the center of the track. Two years ago, when Hollywood Park was built, an imaginative landscape artist plunked a goose pond right in the middle of the oval, without realizing that the uninhibited birds might fly into the teeth of the horses and menace the jockeys. Hence the Goose Girl. Dressed in a costume furnished by the Warner Bros. Wardrobe Department, she is a perfectly incongruous figure, spending her afternoons keeping her silly charges in line. But you can save your pity for Mr. Crosby, whose horse is still running, and not worry about the Goose Girl. Her predecessor wound up in Earl Carroll's chorus!
When George Raft, a plunger, wins — he hands over that loot to Bodyguard Killer Grey.
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