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I called Joan Crawford one Saturday night recently and she was home with her children — no date, no party, no plans for anything social, no man. This might surprise you, as it did me. In fact, I was even more surprised in view of my reason for calling her. You see, I had just spent 45 minutes in a phone conversation with one of Hollywood's most sought-after bachelors, who calls me at frequent intervals to rhapsodize about Joan Crawford. And he's not the only one. There are a dozen others, who, knowing that I know Joan, call me constantly, asking me to put in a good word for them with the fascinating Miss Crawford.
"What shall I do, Joan?" I wailed. "I just this second hung up the receiver on a man who calls persistently two and three times a week — to talk about you! Sometimes he talks for an hour! This has been going on for three years. My ear's worn out. He's mad about you!" "I'm so sorry," Joan replied with real concern in her
voice. "What can I do? That must be very annoying. It is a terrible imposition on you."
"I'll be forced to change my telephone number, or," I kidded, "I'll have to subscribe to a telephone serviceto handle your calls from these impetuous males!"
"Males? Plural?" asked Jean. "You mean there are more than one?"
I recited a list of men that sounded like the "Who's Who of Eligible Males" in Hollywood. "One calls regularly. The others on occasion. They never give up!"
"That's very flattering," Joan said, "but I am really sorry for the inconvenience to you. Speaking of all those attractive men — did you know it is Saturday night, and I am staying home alone?"
"No!" I gasped. "Not alone!"
"Quite alone," Joan replied. "I drove to Rolling Hills for Christopher and brought him home for the weekend. He took me out to dinner at La (continued on pace 541
Joan went dancing with Jennings Lang at Mocambo recently, but she spends most evenings at home alone or with her children.
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