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i blue-grey eyes, long blonde silky hair plus an ability to project sex have made May a star
inly on the more mature males. She was determined to j pe very firm about that.
Perhaps that was why, when Edward James Gregson, of 'he fabulously wealthy Janss real estate family, invited her 7 ' o a small dinner party, she accepted. Mr. Gregson is a wid>wer. He is also old enough to be her father.
But . . . whoops . . . she hadn't counted on Edward Greg;on, Jr., seated on her left during dinner. And would anyone accuse Gregson, pere, of plotting? Heavens, no.
PARKS flew, as sparks so often do, between May and lO young Gregson. They saw one another almost daily for a ew weeks; dinners, horseback rides, swimming, tennis . . . but no parties. Then, inevitably it would seem, the two of them took off for Mexico and were married on February 22, 1958. JWas papa Gregson beaming happily in the background? Your ?uess is as good as anyone's, including mine. ' May was no longer a "lonely wolf or even a lonely girl.
But there were problems, naturally. (Aren't there always?) Because by this time May was no longer "cool" to the unexpected film career which had engulfed her. She loved it. And she had been cast for the leading role in "The Blue Angel," the picture which had made Marlene Dietrich an important star years before. It was a terrific challenge. The •adjectives "sultry" and "exciting" are flying again and May
says, "These just make me stammer. I have quite a bad stammer, you know, when I am embarrassed. It's like my stage fright ... I suffer terribly from stage fright.
"Yes, I have looked at the original picture of 'Blue Angel' and I am now trying hard to forget it. It seemed to me so slow. Dietrich, of course, was lovely and I hope I can follow her. But the action just didn't seem to me to move."
The fact that she had to sing in the picture embarrassed her very much. "I can't carry a tune!" she protested. But she talked her songs well enough to get by and, after all, that's what Dietrich did in the original. She couldn't sing either.
May's husband enrolled at Stanford University for some courses and that meant that the two of them must have two homes. They settled for a small apartment in Palo Alto and a sort of guest house at the back of Gregson Senior's estate in Holmby Hills near Los Angeles, a modest, two-bedroom affair to which May paid scant attention.
"I don't want any possessions," she said then. "They just clutter things. And I wouldn't dream of trying to redecorate. Some day . . ." she added, vaguely, "I suppose we shall have a house of our own and then we shall think about colors and fabrics and we shall start accumulating belongings. But not yet! We still need freedom."
This "freedom," to May, meant that they could take off on little trips together when they both had free time. Greg
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