Screenland Plus TV-Land (Nov 1952 - Oct 1953)

At California desert location for "The Difference," associate producer Chris Nyby looks on as Howard Duff brings lemonade to his wife, Ida Lupino, who is directing the film. who dream of fame and fortune in one of the most colorful professions anywhere. Maybe you have to look like Carleton . . . maybe you have to come from Vermont . . . maybe you have to have some kind of philosophy to hold on to which is as helpful as Carleton's philosophy was to him — "if you're afraid of anything . . . you'll never try anything." Whatever it is, success has come to him very swiftly, with few disappointments along the way. His good fortune has not changed him at all. He has the look of a perennial teenager who'll never look older than Professor Upham, the magician. He may appear shy, awkward, bewildered, naive, but he's really one of the smartest young men around town. He knows what he wants and where he's going. His career has leaped ahead with amazing speed, and in the rush of new success, he has never lost his head. Nor will he ever lose it. This wouldn't be smart, and Carleton couldn't afford the luxury of being foolishly impressed with himself. His young man's charm, something of the quality of a little boy, makes all women want to protect him . . . and all men warn him against these protective women. But he can manage to take care of himself, and still retain that casual, easy, small-town, maple sugar look which makes him quite a guy with the ladies. As everyone knows, he's also made quite a name for himself in films. MGM so pleased with the way he handled his first starring role in "Fearless Fagan," that they've already handed him his second starring picture, "Sky Full Of Moon." No doubt they have brilliant plans for his future, too. But his mother still worries about him, Carleton says. She's always worried that he won't have sense enough to "get out of the rain." It amuses him very much. This canny lad has never been out in any stormy weather. It's always been "blue skies" as far as he's been concerned. "I used to get letters from my mother 68 while I was working on Broadway where I always had a job and more money than I had ever made in Bennington — and she'd always write, 'Come on home, Son, and get a job and settle down . . . take your place in the community.' She was afraid the big city would take advantage of her small-town, helpless, little boy (who, by the way, could give the big city slickers a run for their money) . So one day I sent her a present — a big, white, expensive Bendix which completely overwhelmed her. After that she never sent any more letters to me about coming home and settling down. I guess she finally decided that I was doing all right after all. Funny thing, later on, she became an authority on the theatre in Bennington, and all because she had been coming to New York to see me in my flop shows. But the funniest thing of all was . . . she became kind of an actress herself. She got a lead in an amateur play — and did she love it!" Carleton believes that the Carpenter family lived through the age of miracles, and he isn't sure whether it took more courage for him to break away from tradition, or for his mother to take the leading part in a home town play, or more courage for his father to go and see his mother's play, or one of Carleton's movies. The fact is . . . the Carpenters have stepped out of Bennington, leaving tradition behind them in the hills of Vermont. Carleton, for all his twenty-six years, is something of a pioneer. He went out and found the "new world" and his family followed. To be a true pioneer, one must never be afraid of anything . . . not even Fagan, the lion who recently shared star billing with him and Janet Leigh in his MGM picture, "Fearless Fagan." "You know where you stand with a lion . . . and it's never too close to him, believe me! You're told by the experts in lion culture, never to make quick moves around him. You're lucky if you can make any moves at all when you see him standing there, huge and menacing, and you know you have to play a scene with him. But the legend of the theatre is 'the show must go on' . . . even if Fagan decides he'd much rather take a bite out of you than be a Hollywood actor. I can't say I didn't gulp every time I came face to face with him . . . that's been my luck all through my career! Other actors get beautiful leading ladies. I get a lady and a lion! But that's it, brother, the story of my life . . . never the conventional way for me!" My Midnight Marriage Continued from page 42 From the very first, I liked him. He had manners. He was no hepcat. He was sort of old-fashioned in that he had respect for women, and he was gentlemanly. There was none of that "Okay Kid" lingo with him. We met in May and soon we were dating one or two times a week. When Mr. Sam Goldwyn sent me on tour in July for "Our Very Own" and I was to be gone until October, I soon realized how much I missed him — over all of my other friends. I wrote him three little newsy letters, like "I'm now in New Orleans. I am seeing the sights" etc. And he wired me back a couple of times. On my sixteenth birthday, he wired me an orchid. I was busy in New York rushing around making P.A.'s and doing publicity. The orchid was so special — that I never even wore it. I wouldn't wear it with anyone else. Not Kirby's orchid. And I made it very clear to the press — that my new ruby heart ring was from my parents! I didn't want any misunderstandings caused by columns — when we were 3,000 miles apart. I had three days off to come home during that five months' tour and I spent one of them with Kirby. But still, I don't think either of us exactly thought of marriage. I can swear on a stack of Bibles that we never kissed each other until New Year's Eve. That was eight months after we'd met. Then we knew it was love — and for keeps. And we also knew that sixteen was too young for me to marry. Kirby and I were never engaged formally. And it wasn't easy, wanting to be together all of our free time, and knowing that my work took me out with many others. Kirby and I never went to the places the columnists report. We'd go to movies, for rides, and have friends for dinner foursomes. And the nights I'd be going with other boys, name actors like Carleton Carpenter or Hunt Stromberg, Jr. to the premieres, etc., Kirby would say he would understand. But after those dates, we'd usually have differences. We are both stubborn and we realized the possibility that one day these differences might become permanent. We decided that when I became eighteen, if we still felt the same, we'd get married. Our parents agreed. On my eighteenth birthday, I spoke to Mother about it. She said "If you are