Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1944)

IODENT REMOVES IT SAFELY Choice of two textures— Safely guaranteed— Made by a Dentist. Bears Good Housekeeping Seal. Gently cleans away even tobacco smudges. Restores natural enamel lustre. Delightful, refreshing flavor. Use lodent and you'll smile with confidence. WHICH IODENT DO YOU CHOOSE? ^ in?. BY THE MAKERS OF Stardu Pictured is lorely RITA OAlGtE, chosen, pi Mils SlordlM of 1944 , posed in her Stardust tiip. Rita hat now joined ihe ranks of (fie fomoos Wofier rhorilion pin-up models. to give you a rough idea — only it's not very rough. On the contrary. Turhan's dad was a Turkish army officer. When baby Bey chose to arrive, Bey, Sr. was stationed in Vienna at the Turkish Embassy as military attache. Most of Turhan's childhood was spent traveling here and there to the great capitals of Europe — Vienna, Berlin, Paris, Madrid, Petrograd, Budapest and so on. Schultavy Bey, Sr., wasn't exactly poor. He came from an old aristocratic Turkish family, and when he was in Istanbul, which was rarely, Turhan lived in his father's immense villa "Naschautash" in a suburb of the Turkish city, a giant place spreading over hundreds of acres and boasting more rooms than a resort hotel. Often all the relatives on his father's side parked there, too — an old Turkish custom — and once Turhan remembers fifty cousins, aunts, uncles and in-laws roaming around the mansion all under his father's absolute rule — another Turkish custom. But if his father was well in the chips, Turhan's mother's side of the house was even more on Easy Street. Her family owned vast holdings in Czechoslovakia, a big hunk of which was a factory manufacturing fine crystal glass. Luckily, before Hitler and his gang marched in, she managed to sell out her holdings. But the point is, as a kid Turhan never knew what money meant. The stuff was always around, and every whim he had was satisfied— whether it was guns, autos, trips or hi-jinks. Chasing around like he did, exposed to the glamour and intrigue of the elite, Turhan picked up his polish and poise. He never had any formal education, never went to school in his life. Always a private tutor stuck around to teach Turhan his manners, his readin', writin' and arithmetic. They'd change whenever he went to a new capital. So that today Turhan can rattle off French, Spanish, Italian, German and now English — although he didn't know a word of that until he came to America. Oddly enough, he can just barely stumble along in his native Turkish, because the upper crust of Istanbul stuck to French. forget to remember . . . Being lousy with lucre, Turhan had his own horses now and then, when he was in a place long enough to have a stable. He got to be slick in a saddle, as he is today. They taught him the Turkish way of putting up his dukes, knife throwing, and while he's a little rusty today, he can still hurl a frog-sticker uncomfortably close when he wants to. Judo and wrestling probably helped develop that streamlined, silky-muscled build he has. It certainly is not the result of any training program. "I'm much too lazy for that," Turhan will confess charmingly. He found himself getting a little chubby about a year ago in Hollywood and signed up for a few workouts at Terry Hunt's. He went to just one workout. Then he forgot to remember to go any more. Skipping around Europe's capitals gave Turhan a taste for sophisticated living that shows up today. Before he was 16 he learned, for instance, what the right wines were and how to order in a half dozen languages. Today he's a gourmet supreme. He'll make tracks clear across town just to discover some restaurant where a sauce is right on the beam. Russian Bublichiki's, the Villa Nova Italian restaurant and an obscure Turkish spot in Los Angeles are among his favorite lunch stands. He keeps a Turkish coffee pot, a brass and silver thing, in his studio dressing room to brew the dark strong stuff that can float a fleet of battleships and knock out an uninitiated American with one cup.