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THE GIHL WHO
When unladylike Frankie, a beauty contest winner, married a wealthy lad after a whirlwind evening and his parents broke it up, she hit upon a great idea
By Elizabeth Benneche Peterson
Vpper left: When she first arrived in Hollywood she was dressed so atrociously she didn't look at all like her photograph which had won the beauty contest. Left: She met Johnny Marland while befriending an injured kitten on the road.
IT SEEMED strange to be getting out the old jalopy and driving down to Hollywood on an afternoon in the middle of the week. Just like old times I thought as I drove into Sunset Boulevard and got tangled in the traffic jam. For a moment, I felt I'd turned the calendar back a year and was. my old goingon-an-interview self.
The latest member of the family sat on the seat beside me, poking his nose against my arm and not helping my driving too much. Maybe I'd better introduce you. His name is Mr. Jones and he's got the softest, most melting brown eyes in the world and he started out to be a spaniel, but changed his mind and became a setter instead with just a dash of dachshund thrown in to make him interesting. "A Bullfoundland poodle," the man I married calls him, but that's a libel. I'm sure he hasn't the tiniest speck of poodle. But of course I couldn't swear to that.
For the only thing we know about Mr. Jones' beginnings is that they must have been pretty meagre judging by the way his ribs stuck out that day he wandered into our garden. The only sign of plenty he had were the fleas chasing each other