Silver Screen (May-Oct 1939)

74 Silver Screen for October 1939 WHAT MAKES HER EYES SO APPEALING. ..SO REVEALING? Most chances Out of ten it's KURLASH, the device that curls back lashes to make eyes seem larger, more limpid and more lovely! Takes no skill — and less than a minute to perform! Helps lashes look darker and more luxuriant, too. Especially if you combine KURLASH with the magic that's Kurlene! $1.00 KURLENE is a beneficial oily pomade that dresses up eyebrows and lashes, gives a dewy look to eyelids, too! $.50 KURLASH The Only Compfefe Eye-Beavly Lino THE KURLASH COMPANY, INC. Rochester, N. Y. • Canada, Toronto 3 Copyright. 1939, The Karlash Co., Inc. FREE STRONGER* MORE ABSORBENT AT 5 AND 10? AND BETTER DEPARTMENT STORES SAMPLES OF REMARKABLE TREATMENT FOR Stomach Ulcers (Due to Gastric Hyper-Acidity) n. H. Bromley, of Slielburne'. Vt.. writes: "I suffered for 10 years with acid-stomach trouble. Doctors all told me I had ulcers and would have to diet the rest of my life. Before taking your treatment I weighed 143 pounds and could eat nothing but soft foods and milk. Now, after taking Von's Tablets, I weigh 171 pounds, can eat almost anything and feci perfectly well." If you gastritis, heartburn, bloating or any other stomach trouble due to gastric hyperacidity, you, too. should try Vons for prompt relief. Send for FREE Samples of this wonderful treatment, and details of guaranteed trial offer. Instructive Booklet is included. Write PHILADELPHIA VON CO., Dept. 645-F Fox Bldg., Philadelphia, Pa. The Girl from the Fiveand-Ten [Continued from page 43] suffer from indigestion. Paramount publicity describes her next occupation as a "position." Miss Drew disagrees: " 'Position' isn't the word for it. I was an elevator operator making $14 a week and listening to the same gag every day — 'Was I having my ups and downs?' "As a matter of fact I was, but the gag didn't help any. And so when the family asked me to come back to Englewood, I went in a flash and got a job with Grant's (really a five-and-ten), selling jewelry and baby clothes. This 'position' brought mother and me $10 a week to live on. We had to make it do; my father had gone back to K. C." The Englewood Kiwanis Club put on a beauty contest to raise money for charity. Then, just as she would now, Ellen Drew walked away with the honors. Like friends of beauty-contest winners the country over, hers were convinced that she was only once-removed from already being a screen favorite. So they persuaded her to leave for the film capitol with a party driving there in two days. "The studios just couldn't see me," she admitted openly, slipping on a hair net as she talked. A hair net that would hold her hair in place yet remain invisible itself for the next shot in front of a fan. "So I got a job at Brown's candy store, making sodas, at $11.50 a week, plus tips which amounted to about $8 more. "One of my customers was William Demarest. You know who he is. He's a film comedian and also an agent. He was pretty sure he could help me get into the movies and I was on the point_ of saying to myself 'why not try again?' except. . . ." Except that a young, good looking fellow named Wallace, Fred Wallace, had fallen in love with her and she was in the throes of the same malady. This Wallace was a tough hombre. "Honey," he whispered, "either you choose me or Paramount. It's Zukor or Wallace!" "It was Wallace and I've never' regretted it," she said reappearing in a light blue crepe de something. "We were very happy but not particularly rich. Then Fred Jr., came along and I found myself hating the soda fountain that took me away from him. So, one night, Fred and I talked it over and he weakened. I got in touch with Mr. Demarest." Demarest fixed up an introduction to someone who turned her over to Phyllis Laughton, a Paramount dramatic coach. Miss Laughton gave her a script to learn. Ellen memorized it thoroughly but when she appeared at the audition found she couldn't recall a line of it. But, apparently, Miss Laughton could see what this girl was made of — even without benefit of screen test — for she saw to it that Ellen got a contract, even if it was one of those things. Hers, unlike most of the others, contained no six month's $50 raise (if the option was taken up). It was simply a promise to pay Erin Drew $50 a week. She started out being "Terry Ray' but they decided that her own name sounded too much like that of a chorus girl, so they changed it to Erin Drew, then to Ellen Drew. She often wondered who she was. Yet, surprisingly enough, it was this contract, perhaps, that was responsible for her long stay with the company. Because, when one of the fifty-dollar-sixmonth's-raise girls didn't seem to be coming through in required acting style, the company simply didn't take up the option and the young actress fell by the wayside. But our Drew wasn't a terrific expense to the company. She posed for enough stills to justify her keep and she was eager to work and learn. Besides, she showed enough talent to make her worth holding, and there followed a row of small parts in some ten pictures. You won't remember her in any of them. It was then that Artie Jacobson (at that time assistant to Wesley Ruggles, now a talent scout) saw her, thought of the girl part in "Sing You Sinners," spoke to director Ruggles and the rest is her history. From $10 to $100 (she'd gotten a raise) gives force to the Cinderella comparison. She makes much more than that today simply because she's worth it — Cindere//e;i Drew they call her. Has she changed from the girl she was at $10 a week? Those who know best say no. Her studio press agents — nice, hardboiled expect-the-worst-people — swear by her. Say she's the most natural girl they've met in a million movies. Say she tells the truth whether it's flattering to her or not. In fact, they're almost speechless over her! And they boast that when they radioed the Nieuw Amsterdam asking her if she'd mind devoting the day to publicity activities, she radioed right back: "ANYTHING YOU SAY REGARDS. . . ." So, on her arrival she got up at five in the morning. Answered a barrage of questions from a feature writer in the cab on the way over to New York from Hobokeri. Got to the hotel, unpacked, had a cup of coffee and was whisked to the hairdresser's for a session. Then two hours in the studio of a dernier cri magazine other than the one Miss Frissel was in, and it's not every movie star who makes the super-month pages of both of these smart ones. Then in and out of ten gowns under hot lights and lunch of a chopped ham sandwich, a dill pickle and a chocolate malted. "A decent sandwich is one thing you can't get in England," she complained, "where, mind you, the Earl of Sandwich invented them. The English idea of a ham on rye is a microscopic bit that Americans would overlook in their search for it. And a chocolate malted is entirely out of the question!" But to get on with her vacation. A news photographer, who had missed her at the docks, and, fearful of losing his