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unDeR neDDas nai
and barbecued chicken for two dozen eleven and twelve-yearold boys who’d come to celebrate her son’s birthday.
Ray Milland’s sorry that his son Danny wants to be an actor. When I said I bet his father felt the same way about him, Ray admitted it. “He objected strenuously,” he grinned.
My congratulations to readers of Photoplay for electing Bette Davis as actress of the year. That Gold Medal will be mighty becoming to her. She’s proved her worth not only in acting but as a human being. The town was aghast when Bette came home and took an ad in trade papers announcing she needed a job. The response was a deluge of offers, and now she can pick and choose. Good for her!
When her favorite doctor, Vincent Carroll (he delivered her daughter B.D.) told her that his Laguna Beach Hospital needed $25,000 in a hurry, Bette took a deep breath and pledged the whole amount. Then she added: “If I drop dead, don’t you dare take it out of my estate!” Then she turned around
Above: The marriage of Paul Anka to Anne de Zogheb took on an international flavor. Paul’s late mother hoped he’d marry a “nice Lebanese girl” — and Anne is. Paul met her in Puerto Rico, continued seeing her here and in Europe. They were married in Paris by a Syrian priest.
What did Joan Fontaine have in mind when she left town the day before Olivia deHavilland arrived from Paris to star in “Lady In A Cage?” But Liwy didn’t miss her. Luther Davis was at the airport with a cage full of flowers, and Bette Davis was at the hotel to take her to dinner. When the two gals walked in together, the orchestra struck up “Everything’s Coming Up Roses.” One of Livvy’s friend-dates while here was Groucho Marx. One night as Groucho left the dining room of George Cukor’s beautiful home, he accidently put his napkin on the table, too close to a low candle. It caught fire, and could have been quite serious if a maid hadn’t discovered it.