Modern Screen (Dec 1949 - Nov 1950)

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DIVORCE— THE SHAME OF HOLLYWOOD (Continued from page 53) A pretty look — instantly! Just walk into it, button once, wrap and tie. Famous Bates combed broadcloth, in flashing precious stone print on black. brown, navy. Sanforized, colorfast, washable! Opens flat for jiffy ironing. Sizes 10 to 20. About $9. Marshall Field & Co., Chicago, 111. B. Altman & Co., New York, N. Y. Other Swirls, $6 to $9 at fine stores everywhere. L. NACHMAN & SON, Inc. 1350 Broadway, New York 18, N. Y. 818 S. Broadway, Los Angeles 14, Cal. COPYRIGHT. 1980 Shirley, the princess, that through four long years his mother was invited to the house exactly twice. They tell how Jack planned to surprise Shirley on her birthday with a small but nifty new car. And how Shirley found out, and because they'd had a tiff, whirled home that evening in the biggest, showiest Cadillac she could find on the market. Wherever the blame may Lie — and, as usual, it's probably somewhere in the middle — what's the outlook for Linda? Behind her dimples, Shirley's a determined young woman. We can't see her making concessions where her child is concerned. On the other hand, Jack's a stubborn young man, unlikely to yield up his paternal rights. At best, Linda loses the warmth of her father's presence. At worst, she grows up to be a bone of contention, her loyalties divided, her affections torn. poor little rich kids . . . It's this kind of conflict that develops neuroses in children of divorce. You don't have to be poor to feel insecure. A certain boarding school in Hollywood caters largely to the youngsters of filmland's broken marriages. Most of the kids go home for the weekend. To one father, the principal said: "Always be on time. If you say you're coming at three, make it exactly three, or a minute earlier. Never a minute later. Because around noon, these children begin to look worried. They gather in little bull sessions, wondering whether they're going to be picked up or not. Sometimes parents get their signals mixed, and a child is left stranded. What that does to the child, I'd hate to be responsible for." Compound divorce, like a compound fracture of the leg, offers more serious problems than a simple break. A case in point is the Flynn-Eddington-HaymesDru-Ireland mix-up. Flynn has a son by Lili Damita and two daughters by Nora Eddington. Three children were born to Haymes and Joanne Dru, Ireland has two by a former marriage. Nora and Dick have announced a blessed event. Eight children and a prospect caught in the net of their elders' tangled emotions! The original divorce agreement between Flynn and Nora gave her legal custody of both little girls, while Errol retained physical custody of two-year-old Rory, the light of his life. But once she was free, Nora repented her bargain. The two little sisters, she told Flynn, loved one another and should be allowed to grow up together. In tears, she begged him for permission to take Rory to Las Vegas while Errol went abroad. Flynn refused. She could visit the child at home as often as she liked, but Rory was not to be removed from the premises nor from the charge of Nora's stepmother, who'd been caring for her. The struggle continues. Nora bases her pleas — a little tardily — on what's best for the children. "We have no right to separate them." You can hardly blame her for wanting both her daughters. Neither can you blame Errol, who for the first time has given his whole heart to a child. But even at two, Rory is affected. Her father's return from Europe excited her to the point of illness, so that she had to spend the next day in bed. Perhaps this is partly the reason why Nora's arguments seem to be making some dent. On the point of leaving for India to do Kim, Errol offered a counterproposal. While he's away, both children go to Nora. When he's at home, both children come to him. Considering the circumstances, it sounds like a fair solution. Considering the children, how can they help being confused and upset by all this? But Rory and Deirdre are mercifully little, and for the present unaware of many things. It's the older children who take the full impact of these blows. In this whole picture, Skippy, first-born of Dick Haymes and Joanne Dru, presents the most forlorn figure. Regardless of the break between him and Joanne, Dick was an attentive father till he met Nora. To Skippy, he was the sun and moon. When Daddy came home, something wonderful always happened, like going up in a plane or taking a horseback ride. He couldn't understand why Daddy had stopped coming. Joanne tried to explain, but he still didn't understand. "Because he's divorced from you," he asked, "does that mean he doesn't like me any more?" After marrying Nora, Dick used to have his children come over to the house. Somehow it didn't work out, and the visits were dropped. Skippy missed his father so desperately that often he'd call him on the phone just to hear his voice. Sometimes Dick would be out and, through negligence, the message wouldn't be delivered. After all, what could a little boy have to say that was so important? John Ireland is wonderful to the children. But to Skippy, John can't take his father's place. Skippy, unfortunately, is old enough for pain, and not old enough to know how to cope with it. . . . Even with the younger ones, who can tell what things go on in their minds and hearts that could lead them 20 years hence to a psychiatrist's couch? A four-year-old was told that her father would come to take her out that day. Her father had been away for months. He was a stranger. The word meant nothing to her. When he appeared, she shrieked bloody murder. Not till they promised to let the nurse go along, would she budge out of the house with this man, her father. Or take the case of Deanna Durbin's Jessica at a Hallowe'en party. The kids were bragging — "I've got this and my mommy's got that and my daddy's got the other." Jessica listened gravely and supplied the topper: "My daddy's got four mommies." Where she'd picked up the information that Felix Jackson had been married four times has no bearing here. Of course it sounded funny. How funny will Jessica find it in years to come? life without mother . . . Originally, Jane Wyman intended taking the children when she went to England for Stage Fright. Ronald Reagan, just back from making The Hasty Heart, advised against it. So did other people. Finally convinced that the small fry would be better off at home, Jane asked Ronald to stay with them while she was gone. Because, cliche or not, these two remain friends. Neither could foresee that at a charity baseball game Ronnie was destined to fracture his thigh in five places and spend nine weeks at the hospital in traction. Those weeks, piled on top of his long stay in England, pretty well dimmed him from the mind of four-year -old Michael. When Ronnie hobbled in at last, Michael stared with more interest at the crutches than at his father. Ronnie went about the business of making friends. Each evening he sat with the child while he had his dinner — till the nurse took him aside. "Mr. Reagan," she said, "Michael doesn't eat when you're around. He's too busy talking." The following night Ronnie said, "Look, Michael — I'm going out of the room. Here's the reason why: When I stay, we talk to (Continued on page 72) i