Hollywood (Jan - Oct 1934)

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These soothing, healing, protective pads lift nagging shoe pressure off the nerves and irritated tissues — instantly ending the cause. The result is no more pain, no more blisters or abrasions and no more discomfort from new or tight shoes ! REMOVES CORNS and CALLOUSES Along with this grateful relief, your corns or callouses are quickly loosened for easy, safe, painless removal. Separate Medicated Disks are included for that Eurpose in every box of >r. Scholl's Zino-pads. Why experiment with caustic liquids or plasters that ignore the cause and expose skin to acid burn, or cut your corns or callouses and risk bloodpoisoning? Be safe and sure — insist on Dr. Scholl's Zino-pads. Sold the world over. DrScholls Zino-pads Put otic nn—thtt • nnin in trnnnl Put one on — the m pain is gone! low to noia a Continued from i>iik< iwvnty -n\e then you mustn't forget that Hollywood is a hard place to be happy unless you're so absorbed in your work that you haven't time to get into mischief. I do believe what I say when I tell you that no married person should leave husband or wife alone in Hollywood. There's too much temptation. Think of all the charming, intelligent people out there." It seemed a fresh viewpoint, but it reminded me of a theory of Donald Henderson Clarke, author of Millie and other popular novels. In one of his books he remarked that fidelity is a matter of association, that absence may make the heart grow fonder, but usually for someone else, in a paraphrase of the song. Dolores Had Met Clarke in Hollywood when he was writing the original story for her next picture, Dance of Desire. She spoke of what an engaging man he is and how much she had enjoyed meeting him. "He knows much about the world," she said. "I like men like that." This reminded her of further details in her present domestic happiness. "It's one reason Cedric and I get along so well. We like the same people. Our friends are usually writers, directors or artists; people who think." I ventured the remark that this seemed a knock at her own profession. She was quick to deny it. "Oh, don't misunderstand me. I like actors and I like actresses. We've lots of them among our friends. But I like writers and artists and directors better; they're more creative. Cedric feels the same way about it. But then we feel so much the same way about so many things; even sports. We both like tennis and swimming and dislike horseback riding and golf. "I think," she said, suddenly thoughtful, "that that's the best foundation for marriage; liking the same things. You can't imagine how I appreciate being married to a man in the picture business. He can understand why it is that I sometimes have to miss dinner at home and work half the night at the studio, and he can listen intelligently when I tell him about the day's work, and what he has to say — because he is in the same business — is interesting and vital to me." She paused for a moment to jump up and peep into the bedroom of her hotel suite, where her husband was impatiently waiting for the interview to be concluded. After three and a half years, a husband who frets and fumes at every minute spent away from his wife is certainly in love with her. Assured that her husband was peaceful and happy in the bedroom, Dolores returned and went on; "You know, I really think," she said, "that one of the greatest lures of Hollywood is work and at the same time one of the greatest curses. Now Cedric and I are happy because we're both immersed in our work; we live and talk pictures day after day. Not that we don't like amusements, plays and books and parties and dancing. We do these things together, but we work alone. That keeps us from getting into one of those married mental ruts. Every time we see each other we have fresh ideas to contribute, studio news to exchange and by the end 50 — Clarence Hewitt Of course you remember this gentleman ! Come, come; it's Fredric March in character for The Firebrand, romance of the 16th Century in which he is appearing with Constance Bennett of the day we're both tired enough to enjoy our home." I had heard about Dolores Del Rio's home. Designed by her artist husband in the most recent of the modern trends, this home is one of the seven wonders of Hollywood. I asked about it. "Our home is lovely!" the star exclaimed. "It's been built just for our own needs and our own ideas of comfort; that's what makes it so perfect and beautiful." I told her I had seen pictures of her home in a magazine. "Oh, I'm glad! I'm so proud of our house," she exclaimed. "Aaid of my dog! Did you ever see pictures of my dog?" But I had never seen pictures of hexdog. "He's a bull terrier — a lovely white dog We call him Michael. Both of us love him. We're going to mate him this year and have puppies." I asked her if this dog really occupied a miniature replica of her bed and is served at her table just like a human being as has been reported. "Oh, yes, I do have a little bed for him just like my own and he does sleep in my room — but he eats in the kitchen," she said. When I prepared to leave Dolores smiled and said. "The only thing you haven't asked me is what I eat. Isn't that part of the repertory of interviewers?" "Well, what do you eat?" "Everything — and look — " she pressed slim brown hands against her precise hips, " — I don't even have to worry about diet." HOLLYWOOD