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MAYBE it was the war, or maybe it was the heat. But one night last summer eighteen hundred movie fans brushed aside Barbara Stanwyck, George Brent, Geraldine Fitzgerald and Nancy Coleman to shoot the works on a lad whose name they had never heard.
Who, they all wanted to know as they milled out of the neighborhood theater where the preview of "The Gay Sisters" had been "sneaked," was that devastating young fellow who was like a combination of Clark Gable, Tyrone Power and John Carroll?
But nobody knew his name.
Then how could they tell about him on the comment cards they had been given to fill out?
Movie-goers are too resourceful to be stumped by a little thing like a name. Their lad had played the part of Gig Young, the young artist in the picture. So they wrote:
"We liked Gig Young best."
The men around the big table on which about fourteen hundred comment cards were sorted looked blankly from one to the other. This posed a pretty problem. When they had cast their young contract player, Byron Barr, for the role of Gig Young, they had changed Byron's name to Bryant Fleming — because they thought his own name sounded too theatrical.
Now, what to do? Very little publicity had gone out on Bryant Fleming outside of an announcement story that he was playing the young artist. Byron Barr was already dead. Bryant Fleming had hardly begun to live. But everyone was conscious of Gig Young.. So why not let the name stick?
Then and there all agreed that it was an excellent idea. Gig Young had actually come to life! Now all they had to do was let him in on it. In the meantime —
TALL, curly haired, good looking, ' twenty -four -year -old Byron Barr stepped out of the make-up department at Warner Brothers studio and crossed the small patch of lawn to the tiny fountain. He pulled a scrap of bread from his pocket, broke it into crumbs and tossed it into the water. He didn't like to think of even goldfish being hungry.
Then he started for the test stage. Once again he had drawn the old assignment of playing opposite players taking tests — the work-horse job of pictures, the grind into which a studio throws the grist that's not important.
But he felt swell, anyhow. For the
In life, Gig Young of the Coast Guard; on screen, Lt. Williams of "Air Force"