Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1940)

KEEP UNDERARMS SWEET BATH-FRESH NONSPI CREAM FOR COOL ^f/^UNDERARMS SAFE TO APPLY as often as desired. Nonspi Cream is harmless to skin or clothing. CHECKS BOTH perspiration and odor . . . effectively. SOOTHING and cool when applied. Doesn't sting or irritate — even after shaving. DRIES ALMOST INSTANTLY. Not sticky. ..a greaseless. stainless cream. SEND lOcf for trial size of Nonspi Cream. The Nonspi Co., 131 West 18th Street, New York City. Round-Up of Pace Setters V NONSPI Tttt <0»SPi CO *M Tfl ■ ft L*M Then is also a LIQUID NONSPI— at drug and department stores. Age Before Beauty: Hollywood loves this story of C. Aubrey Smith. He was discussing a fellow cricketer against whom he had once played. "And how long ago was that?" he was asked. Smith thought a while. "Oh, about thirty-eight years," he said. To most Hollywood actors thirtyeight years ago is a lifetime. To C. Aubrey, with his seventy-six years behind him, it's merely the halfway station on his road of life. With his performances in "Five Came Back," "Rebecca," "A Bill of Divorcement," "Waterloo Bridge" and now with Gloria Jean in her new picture "A Little Bit of Heaven," it looks as though "Hollywood's beloved friend" is only getting his second wind. High up on a Hollywood mountain top he built his home, with its sloping gardens and bowling green. On a desk in his den is the picture of his daughter, now married to a British Navy officer, and to that picture his eyes wander lovingly. Straight as a ramrod, all six foot two of him, he's somehow caught and held in his heart the spirit of youth that will never die. "You should see him at cricket games," his wife tut-tuts, "jumping and yelling. on the side lines, my word, like an Indian." You should see him play, too. Back in 1890 he threw his dignified British father into a turmoil by declaring he no longer wanted his place on the London Stock Exchange, that he wanted, instead, to go on the stage. "Think of your sisters," the father pleaded. But C. Aubrey's sisters were also thinking of the stage and bravely cheered their brother on. He began touring with Ethel Terry in England, finally landed good parts on the London stage and in 1915 he made his first movie. He's been making them on and off ever since, finally giving up the stage to settle in Hollywood. His blue eyes are keen but kindly, his pipes ripe and mature. Oh, yes, the C. is for Charles. He demoted it to a mere C. because he thought Aubrey a much fancier name to accompany plain old Smith. Except for his loud sport jackets, that name is the only fancy thing about him. Hoax Girl They call her "the hoax" girl in Hollywood. But Doris Davenport claims the only way to beat Hollywood is to fool it, and she should know. She fooled both it and Sam Goldwyn and, as a result, got Gary Cooper as a leading man. It all happened because Doris wasn't getting anywhere with her picture career. She began when she was only sixteen, as a Goldwyn beauty in Eddie Cantor's picture, "Kid Millions." "And I only got in by the skin of my teeth." she says. Cantor noticed her unusual speaking voice and gave her a small bit in the picture, but after that nothing much happened until along came a stock contract with M-G-M and, even then, nothing happened except that for two years Doris played extra parts. "My inferiority complex grew and grew and grew," Doris says. So, she thought things over, finally made her decision; she'd chuck it all, forget it, go to New York and begin over. She did. She changed her name to Doris Jordan and when stage jobs were (Continued jrom page 30) scarce, she became a commercial photographer's model. And then came the great Scarlett quest, and someone from Selznick's saw Doris' picture, and with a half-day's notice she was on her way back home to test for the role. Only they thought, of course, she was a brand-new discovery and she didn't dare let on. Hollywood has a peculiar way of not liking people who have become a part of it too long and Doris knew it. To her horror, the whole crew assembled at Selznick's to make her test were workmen who had known her from M-G-M. But, carefully manipulating the head cameraman into a corner, she explained her hoax. Pretending to glance over her make-up, the cameraman whispered back not to worry, he'd slip word to the boys. Occasionally during the test an electrician would slip her a wink, or a friendly eye would twinkle at her, but never once did one of them let on. Of course Vivien Leigh got Scarlett, but Goldwyn liked Doris' test, sent for her, signed her to play opposite Gary Cooper in "The Westerner," and then found out that here was the kid from "Kid Millions" and no New York discovery at all. All he said was, "Well, I thought she was good then, and I still think so." Doris, relieved of her secret, took back her own name of Davenport. She's already realized her greatest ambition — to play opposite Cooper. If ever there was a down-to-earth, regular, forthright person, it's Davenport. No hooey, no glamour business, no falderal. She's been married to a commercial photographer, John Randolph, for two years, and intends staying married to him. She knows his love is worth all the fame in the world. They live in a small cottage near the studio and each is engrossed in his own work. She kept company with John four years before she married him. Her eyes are blue, her hair ash blonde, she says "Jeepers" in that delightful voice of hers, rides well, fell down the wardrobe steps the first day she reported for work and went limping off to fame. She was born in Moline, Illinois, but her parents later brought her to Hollywood, the town Doris took for a ride. Killer-Diller Denning U.N Sundays, the usher in a Los Angeles Lutheran church is a handsome six-foot blond named Richard Denning. On weekdays, the same handsome lad is a merciless killer from away back and his name is still Richard Denning. Only he's a killer on the screen, of course, doing his daily murders by way of Paramount studios. In his recent pictures, "Emergency Squad," "Queen of the Mob" and "Golden Gloves," however, Richard graduated from killing people to killing hearts. Although he was born in Poughkeepsie, New York, Richard was brought to Los Angeles when he was a mere babe in arms and has lived here ever since, attending grade school, high school and four years of business school from which he emerged as a first-class accountant. At the unripe age of seven, he became friendly with a broom in his father's garment manufacturing plant and worked up gradually to the vice-presidency. Only he didn't like it — he kept thinking instead of the plays they had given back in school. Then came his chance. A radio show gave Richard a role and he walked straight into a test for Warners and straight out again. His blond hair had failed to photograph. So Richard learned to comb his hair with backward strokes at the temples like all actors, took another test and was grabbed by Paramount. He's been there three years. Twenty-six and a six-foot-one bachelor, he lives with his parents and a seventeen-year-old brother who doesn't hesitate to say after one of his brother's pictures, "Bud, you stink." But after "Golden Gloves" the kid brother had to agree Bud was a bit okay. Twice he thought of getting married, but each time decided to get a new car instead. He's America's answer to Brian Aherne in looks and bearing. If Richard keeps up his pace he may one day rival Aherne in histrionics. The Dcnnings couldn't be more pleased about it than they are right now. For that matter, neither could we. Trio at "Torrid Zone": Mr. and Mrs. Pat O'Brien with Charlie Einfeld, director of advertising and publicity for Pat's home studio — Warners 70 PHOTOPLAY