The New Movie Magazine (Dec 1929-May 1930)

A Close Friend for Twelve Years, Sylvia Godwin Describes the Star's Early Struggles to Gain Fame WHAT is she like?" "Has she really a sense of humor?" "She doesn't look like the type that cares for children." "I know someone who met her once, but she never recognized him in London." "They say she is terrifically difficult to get along with." And recently, "It was supposed to be Gloria singing over the radio — how absurd ! — of course it was someone else" ; and so on and so on. If a fan meets a star, mental paralysis usually sets in at once, and the star suffers nothing beyond maintaining a normal composure under the stupefied scrutiny, which, when once centered upon her (or him) becomes permanently attached, and will not DRAWINGS BY FRANK GODWIN Gloria Swanson and her friend, Sylvia Godwin, author of this highly interesting feature. Mrs. Godwin, who is the wife of Frank Godwin, the well-known art'st, has known Gloria since the days when thev were both trying to succeed in Hollywood pictures. be pried loose until the fan or the star has been bodily removed. But a friend of a star — that is something else again. No one becomes frozen with awe. In fact, mental faculties which have lain dormant for years spring to life, and the questions — ah, the questions! During the even tempo of Gloria's activities, I can bear up nicely. I can usually satisfy intimates, acquaintances, or strangers, concerning the title of her picture under way — who is directing — a full description of her wardrobe, and whether or not she still has her figure — though I may not have seen her for six months. BUT the high spots in her life. How I dread them! If people were kinder, they would arrange to meet at the Polo Grounds — or Madison Square Garden, in case the weather were chilly — ■ and allow me to stand on a soap-box following such events as her marriage to Henry — her own company — the shelving of "Queen Kelly" and unveiling of her voice in "The Trespasser.'' In that way I would lose but a day out of my life, now and then, with reasonable intervals of rest. For example, a tea, at which I was thrilled beyond words to meet a well-known author and his wife. My hostess presented me. "This is indeed a pleasure," I said. "Your books have deeply interested my husband and me. as we "' A familiar and thoroughly irritating voice broke in. "Hello Sylvia — what's this I hear about Gloria heading for opera? Anything in it?" The magic word was spoken, and the effect was immediate. Mr. and Mrs. Blank's faces took on a look of animation. "Gloria Swanson? Do you know her? How interesting. We saw her in Paris several times, but have never had the pleasure of meeting her personally." "Mr. Blank," I interrupted rudely, for I knew I'd have to fight for it, "won't you tell me "' "Has Miss Swanson mastered the French language yet?" broke in Mrs. Blank. "She speaks it quite well,'' I answered, deciding to change my tactics and give them a small ear-full. "She has crowded French lessons into her busy program, off and on, and, of course, has been helped by having a French husband, though Henry speaks English so fluently and French is not used in their home as much as it would be otherwise. By the way, Mr. Blank, in the second chapter of your last book " "What an amazing career she has had ■" "Please, Mr. Blank — about those dogs " I gritted my teeth in desperation, "were they — did they " "Dogs? Oh, yes — did you say Miss Swanson ■" 91