TV Radio Mirror (Jan - Jun 1963)

NEW DESIGNS FOR LIVING 817 — Flattery goes to your head. Knit pillbox or turban of soft mohair or other wool. Knitting directions for two hats to fit all head sizes included. 575 — Sammy, the Seal, is a fine TV hassock for tots. Make Sammy of corduroy, veleteen or terry cloth. He's 22 inches from nose to tail. Pattern and directions. 573 — TV or dorm slippers in easy crochet. Make ba let style of wool, boots of gold or silver yarn. Fine for Christmas gifts. Crochet directions for small, medium, and large included. Patterns are twenty-five cents each. Send orders (in coin) to: TV Radio Mirror. Needlecraft Service, P. O. Box 137, Old Chelsea Station, New York II, New York. Add I0# each for 1st class mailing. Send 25# for our Needlecraft Catalogue with more than 200 designs to order. California residents add sales tax. JUNE ALLYSON (Continued from page 31) thought of her as an ingenue, get one thing straight: June Allyson is a strong ingenue, a woman with a mind of her own, a stubborn will, and a fierce sort of courage far larger than her size. This is the girl who, at the age of nine, lost the use of her legs. Lightning struck an oak tree, felled a large branch, the branch struck June — and, for many months, she was an invalid who was told she'd never walk. She not only walked, she became an expert swimmer and dancer, and eventually "broke into" show business via the chorus line. She showed her strength then, she showed it when she fought her way up to stardom, she showed it during Dick's illness. The doctors never told Dick he was going to die . . . when is a patient ever told? They told June. They told her that he had three to six months. (It proved to be just four.) And, from that moment on, this halfpint "idiot" of a wife played her toughest role. She who told Dick everything, never told him this. Never told anyone. Life went on. When Dick suggested selling the house and moving to Newport, she said fine. When he wanted a boat, they got the Sapphire Sea. "We fished and swam and visited friends on the little islands,'* she remembers. "He caught some goodsized marlin — you know Daddy! Anything he did, he did well." "Don't work any more, Junie," he had said. "I want you with me. When I'm off, you're likely to be in a picture. When you're off, I'm working." So she quit . . . and he, of course, went on with the TV work he loved so much, as long as he could. June, as always, shared all his plans and projects . . . and kept her tragic secret. Only once did he ever question her. He was in great pain. "Am I going to die?" he asked. And June said, "Of course you are. And so is Ricky and so is Pamela and so will I. Everyone dies, Daddy." "But you're evading the issue. I mean am I going to die of cancer?" "Possibly. If you don't die of heart trouble, or gout, or if our boat doesn't capsize first." She looked him straight in the eye. Her candid Junie look. "Well," he said, "you aren't worried, and if you aren't worried, that's good enough for me. I'll not worry, either." And that was the end of the discussion. Dick busied himself with his million-and-one business projects: TV production, real estate, oil, coffee. . . . And June played her part straight through to the end, the hardest part she ever tackled. Even today, she finds that — surprisingly enough — she has gained strength. can do it, carry on a life as every human being must, raise Dick's children and give them the love, the discipline and incentive they should have had from two parents. "Pam is doing very well," June says. "She is very like Richard, strongwilled, stubborn, kind, with an insight into why the world is and what makes it swing. But Ricky, who looks so like his Daddy — his very image — is just like me inside. And he's gotten so subdued since this happened, so terribly subdued. "He's no sissy, my boy, and one day he came home from school, came into the den and just sat, listless. This just isn't Rick. He's either slamming a baseball around or running or jumping or diving. I thought perhaps something had gone wrong at school . . ." But nothing had, and, after a minute, June realized. "Oh, I think I know, Ricky. You're missing Daddy especially today, is that it?" Ricky nodded. "And maybe you'd even like to cry?" This he denied vigorously. A strong man's tears "Listen, Ricky, did you think Daddy was a sissy? Well, let me tell you, your daddy cried. He cried for sheer joy and he cried for sheer grief and he was the strongest man I've ever known." She held out her arms and Ricky promptly climbed into them, onto June's lap (he's almost as big as she is), crying his young heart out. Without knowing a thing about psychology ("I simply make a habit of putting myself into someone else's place"), June Allyson Powell had set her son free from the tension of bottling up his emotions, set him free to express emotion naturally, set him free from the silly taboo that tears are only for women. Proof of it is that later that afternoon, when he was supposed to be doing his homework, he essayed another kind of homework, far more important . . . wrote it all out, a letter expfessing how he felt about his dad, how much he misses him, how proud he is to have his dad's black leather chair in his room and his dad's barometer and clock, how keenly he realizes that it is better for his dad not to have to suffer, but — "I love you, Dad, and you're not here and we are left with our sorrow." June has almost worn this letter out with re-reading. It is like a letter from long ago, the paper thin at the creases, the words blurred with tears. But there is strength along with those tears. June has moved into a new house, and every room is filled with mementos of Dick Powell. The walls of the den are covered with pictures of him and of June, awards and honors to them both. There are pictures of Dick in every room, smiling down from the walls. His canvas-backed chair from the set, his sailing cap, pictures of the Sapphire Sea and the model of it Junie had had built for him for Christmas . . . This is today, but it's tinged with yesterday and June wasn't sure just what tomorrow could possibly mean. (Although she didn't realize it at the time of our interview, June was already falling in love. The Man: Glenn Maxwell, owner of two plush barber shops in Newport Beach, California. A few short weeks after our interview, June was to announce that she and Glenn would marry. "He was a friend of Dick's," she said, "and I am sure that Dick would approve." Pamela and Ricky gave their bless