Modern Screen (Dec 1949 - Nov 1950)

Bits mother spanks ( Pat spills crumbs all over the clean rug, and mother has to drag out the vacuum again. It makes her mad enough to spank ! Pete's mother doesrit I Pete has crumb trouble, too . . . but his unruffled mother gets the mess quick, with her handy Bissell Sweeper. She saves her vacuum for heavy cleaning, uses her Bissell® for all quick daily clean-ups. Only BISSELL has "BISCO-MATIC* BRUSH ACTION This miracle-action brush adjusts itself automatically to any rug thickness. Picks up every speck, even under beds, with no pressure on the handle. So easy on rugs, and you! mm 50EEPERS Bissell Carpel Sweeper Company Grand Rapids 2, Michigan * Rec. U. 8. Pmt. Off. BbseU'i fall t prior coatrolled brush. Hollywood, always been a sort of father confessor to minor workers in the industry. On many occasions, instead of merely channeling relief and medical cases to the proper charitable agencies, he has assisted with his own funds. Roy Rogers— who is second to none in the motion picture industry in the amount of good he has done for sick children. He is constantly called upon to visit, telephone or send a message to some ailing child, and he always responds. In every town he visits, he makes a personal appearance at the local children's hospital, if there is one. The American Legion awarded him an Americanism citation in 1949 for his nationwide work in child safety. Red Skelton— who is one of the leading supporters of the Pacific Boys' Club Home, which is sponsored by the Kiwanis Club for the purpose of giving a home and education to boys who have become subject to reform-school terms. Instead of serving their sentences, these boys are frequently transferred by the court to the Boys' Home and given an opportunity to correct them selves. Besides contributing extensively to the larger charities, he does a great deal of charity work on a personal basis. His "loans" to needy motion picture workers reached such a point at one time that his business agent was forced to limit him to $75 a .week in pocket money. Loretta. Young — whose chief charitable interest is in the St. Anne's Foundation, a maternity hospital for unwed mothers to which she has contributed approximately $100,000. She never benefits by any of her radio appearances, since she turns the entire amount she thus earns over to this charity. She is credited with being the first to encourage Father Peyton's Family Theater radio program, which she helped to get on the air. To all these ladies and gentlemen go Modern Screen's congratulations. In being chosen by the General Federation of Women's Clubs as Hollywood's 10 best citizens, they reflect high credit on a profession, an industry and a community that should be proud to claim them. The End BAREFOOT BOY WITH SHOWS ON {Continued jrom page 29) just restless, or is he trying to find out something?" He's trying to find out something. He has a deep curiosity about the whys and wherefores of human relationships. By nature, he's a lone wolf. But, while primarily he's a self-contained individualist, devoting his life to his profession with the ardor of the true artist, there's nothing anti-social about him. "To be convincing," he explains, "an actor must share, or at least be aware of, experiences familiar to the audience. Otherwise, he's making faces in an emotional vacuum and nobody knows what on earth he's trying to express. He must get around and meet the people — people everywhere. Any young actor with the fare should visit Israel. There's one of the few really new nations established since the American Revolution. Everything there is dramatic and challenging — and wonderfully stimulating and broadening. "I can't stand being in the hothouse atmosphere of Hollywood for more than a few months at a time. People there live such an artificial existence that they lose contact with ordinary people. . . . But please don't misunderstand me! I owe Hollywood a lot, and I know it I hope I never turn out to be one of those jerks who reap the rewards of Hollywood and then blast the place for ruining their 'artistic integrity.' Guys like that didn't have integrity in the first place if they let that happen to them." Clift's insistence on maintaining his integrity has been the despair of publicity men. He simply doesn't believe in leading his private life in public nor will he lend himself to the exhibitionistic projects dreamed up by publicists. He's been that way from the beginning of his career. Several years ago, he was playing on Broadway in Foxhole in the Parlor. The press agent in charge of exploiting the play hired 50 bobby-soxers to lie in wait for the young actor outside the stage entrance of the theater. It was planned that, as Clift came out, the 50 were to "mob" him, camera shutters were to click and, it was fondly hoped, pictures of New York's new "matinee idol" were to be plastered over the drama pages of the newspapers. Clift was told about the scheme. He was, to put it mildly, lukewarm. The press agent argued earnestly— and Clift reluctantly agreed. Then, at the last minute, Clift's honesty prevailed. He turned up his .coat collar and sneaked out of the theater by a side entrance. When writers ask him for permission to interview his mother or father or older brother or twin sister for background material, Clift always politely but firmly refuses. "Look," he says, "what could you find out, anyway? What can my mother say to strangers? That I was a cute baby, that I cried at night, that she's proud of me? Nuts! Who cares? Such things don't mean anything. And besides, if I didn't keep my family out of my public life, it would be a terrific nuisance to them. Why should they be bothered?" To date, Clift's feelings about his family have been honored — largely because, when he does grant interviews, he's quite cooperative in telling all about himself. All, that is, except about something his family probably wouldn't know about anyway: his love life. "I like girls," he says flatly. "All kinds of girls. But I just won't drag any particular girl I like into the spotlight by talking about her to reporters. And I can't describe what type of girl I like better than another — I just don't know. If I meet a girl I like, then I ask her for a date. That's all there is to it." In the past year, Clift has been "linked romantically" in the gossip columns with a number of girls. But what male star — with the exception of Lassie, and he's supposed to be a girl — hasn't? Here are1 the ladies the news-hungry columnists have recently mentioned in connection with Clift: Actresses Peggy Knudsen, Ann Lincoln and Myra Letts; writer Tricia Hurst, and WAC Lieutenant Mary Carter. At this writing, his engagement to none of those ladies has been announced. Any more than it has to Elizabeth Taylor who, through studio arrangement, he escorted not long ago to the Hollywood premiere of The Heiress. At the beginning of 1946, Clift was completely unknown to movie-goers. Today, his fan mail is second to none in volume (and probably intensity) and exhibitors everywhere will tell you he's an actor who attracts more profit than even their popcorn machines. Clift is modest indeed about his phenomenal screen success. "I've been very lucky," he says, "to have had fine directors for all my pictures. I've always felt that