Modern Screen (Jan-Jun 1945)

a G.I. shoeshine, and a mustache that made Colonna look like a stripling — and joined John. That afternoon the three of them hailed a taxi to take the world-famed Seventeen Mile Drive around the Monterey peninsula. The cab driver was wearing khaki, so John asked him how come. The cabby explained that he was on 3-day pass, and he drove a cab to unravel the transportation snarl and to make a little extra dough. "I just got out of the Army," John said, to explain his interest. The cabby looked back over his shoulder and nearly drove over, a cliff. "Whatcha do with your old khakis?" When John said they were lying around the hotel room, the cabby made a deal to acquire the outfit. John took his name and address and made it a point to deliver the outfit personally. Good deal by a thoughtful guy. They reached the celebrated Del Monte Lodge at dinner time. "Food," drooled John. "Steaks, broccoli with Hollandaise sauce. Potatoes, au gratin. Oh, my shattered nerves, such food." He ended by having a steak and a dessert concocted of bananas, two kinds of ice cream, chopped nuts, assorted syrups and a dash of whipped cream. During his stay in Carmel, John had been trying desperately to get train reservations to Hollywood, but it began to look hopeless. So Saturday morning he arrived at the apartment of his friends and verbally thumbed a ride south. They set out at noon and drove along the magnificent coast highway, singing as they sped. The trio stopped at a small town to buy gasoline and the girl manning the gas pump stared admiringly at John as he crossed the street to buy fruit and sandwiches. "Mmmm. Good looking, isn't he? Might be a movie star." One of the girls, always good for a gag, asked, "Don't you think he looks a lot like John Payne?" The petrol polly shook her head in a judicial negative. "More like Ray Milland," she said. Only when John was tagged by a group of loitering school kids, atad agreed to give his autograph to the gang, did she admit an error of identification. John's first problem upon arriving in Hollywood was to find a place to five. He was to be a hotel guest for the single week now allowed travelers, but at the expiration of that period he had to have a house so that Julie, his handsome 4-year-old daughter, could join him. John's notions about a house were extremely flexible; there were only two positive requirements, a fireplace and a convenient spot for his Capehart phonograph recorder. John's method of securing housing, was direct and ingenious. He started out in an attractive district, on foot, and cased the homes. When he found one that appealed to him, he marched up, rang the doorbell and said to the astonished householder, "I admire your home very much. Is it, by chance, for sale?" After" three days of this, he actually located an elderly couple in Brentwood who were planning to place their home on the market the following week. Happy ending: John bought the house and moved in the following family: Julie, her nurse, a cook, one dog and one cat. His home established, John left town on a vacation to be followed by a Bond tour. Upon his return, 20th Century-Fox will have a script ready for him. Also awaiting his return will be a G.I.'s dream of romance, Gloria de Haven, with whom John has enjoyed most of his recent dates. In '39, he spent $5000 on clothes, had reputation as one of H'wood's best-dressed. Lives in sweaters, slacks around house. Anticipating post-war property boom, he invested in 15 acres. Reading in bed was pleasure long untested. Great book-lover, he rereads favorite over and over. Among 50 on shelf by bed are "Book of Pirates" and Plato. Doesn't start novels at night; he'd never snooze! 29