Hollywood (1942)

Anna Neagle is the most potent good luck charm in pictures. Studios who hire her prosper. Her leading men become stars overnight. Miss ISeagle is appearing in R-K-O's They Fleic Alone H If there is anyone in Hollywood who feels he is being ground under the heel of the gods, let him hurry up and make the acquaintance of Anna Neagle. She is by all odds the most potent good luck charm in pictures. Studios who hire her prosper. Her producers pick up a reputation. Supporting players land term contracts. And leading men are made stars overnight. In fact, she has brought good fortune to so many who have fringed her career that she is en route to being dubbed "Lucky Neagle." Naturally, the Neagle luck has done all right by Anna Neagle. In fact, it has treated Anna Neagle sensationally. As a school girl in her native Britain, she won everything from the local beauty contest to the secret "rugby sweep," with which proceeds she got herself her first permanent. Barely in her teens, she decided to open up a dancing school. She had little more than a shilling in capital, but the school prospered and became a high class academy of dancing. Mistress Neagle sold out at a handsome profit. When she determined that the stage was her career, she presented herself at the stage door of a London theater. Just By JACK DALLAS like that. For some strange reason the doorman, who should have sent her on her way, let her in. It so happened that the impresario was about ready to make a change in his chorus line. He swept his eye over the Neagle form — her name was Marjorie Robertson way back then — and said: "I think you'll do," which is pretty stout praise from a British gentleman. A year or two later, Jack Buchanan, the rage of London, picked her out of the chorus (it just isn't done in London, by Jove) and made her his leading lady. The thing was called Stand Up and Sing. La Neagle danced. Terrifically. The show had a sensational run of 604 performances. Jack Buchanan dubbed her "Lucky Neagle." The phrase picked up currency by the minute. Shortly after the play closed, the Neagle lady made her first visit to a race track. It was Derby Day. To the consternation of her friends she picked seven winners out of seven races. The man who brought her cleaned up something like 12,000 pounds — which isn't hay. News of the Neagle doings precipitated the wildest sort of bidding by racing hosts and hostesses who suddenly wanted to make her join the horsy set. And her a mere mariner's daughter! Came 1934, scarcely a half dozen years from her debut in the theater as a chorus girl, and Anna Neagle, the first lady of the British screen, was given the lead in IVeH Guiyn, her most important role to date. Opposite her, as gay, roistering Charles II, was cast a certain Mr. Hardwicke. London critics raised a question: What was an unknown doing playing opposite the incomparable Neagle? The lady did not bother to demur. Before the picture reached the screen, His Majesty King George V tapped with a sword the shoulder of the same unknown Mr. Hardwicke and made him a knight of the realm. "Arise, Sir Cedric Hardwicke," is what the King said to him. And the legend of Neagle the star-maker was born. Two years later Sir Cedric was the most sought after character actor in England. Five years later he was in Hollywood. Neagle luck has been experienced by every studio with which the lady has had any luck at all. When United Artists, for instance, extended its operations abroad by signing up exclusively all Herbert Wilcox productions, British and Dominions, Neagle films began to reach the screen with the U.A. tag. Almost overnight United Artists became one of London's biggest film-distributing concerns, moved twice to larger premises within a single year. During the filming of Bitter Sweet for United Artists, Herbert Wilcox, who has made practically all of Anna Neagle's films, was asked whether he would waive his contract rights so that United Artists might distribute "a British-made picture some screwball wants us to handle for him." Mr. Wilcox, whose main interest is seeing to the well-being of productions involving Anna Neagle and not an unknown screwball, talked it over with the lady. "Of course, we'll waive our rights," she said. Well, gentle readers, the screwball was Alexander Korda. And the picture was Henry VIII, which made Korda rich and renowned, set Charles Laughton among the screen's greatest, and laid the foundation for Britain's largest modern studios at Denham. If you're impressed by figures, take a look at these: Every one of the fourteen pictures which make up the film career of Anna Neagle has shown a profit. None has grossed less than $1,000,000. And the average is around $1,500,000. Came April 1939 and her departure for America to do Nurse Edith Cavell. She closed her apartment in London, stored her furniture and her priceless keepsakes, letters and souvenirs. A year later almost to the day, a Nazi birdman made a direct hit on the storage building. The building collapsed in a heap. But miraculously the Neagle treasures were all recovered. Neagle luck again? Since her arrival in Hollywood, the respected British legend that it's lucky to play with Neagle has been fairly well supported. Ray Milland, for instance, was on the point of breaking with Paramount when Producer-Director Wilcox borrowed him to appear with Miss Neagle in Irene He did a swell job, returned to his studio, patched up his story difficulties, was cast as Claudette [Continued on page 58] 30