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Susie doesn't mind doing "weirdies, prefers them to little girl roles. Between horror scenes of "The Climax, she and Boris Karloff tore off a lullaby. Karloff did the lyrics. S. the music.
And what a perfect dream of a date! Sit Susie Foster behind a platter of doughnuts and you can keep the Crepe Suzettes!
Susanna collects records like a puppy collects fleas. Hundreds of discs range from Bach to Victor Herbert but, says Susie, "No swing." Thinks dislike for swing is probably reason she can't dance.
what a blonde! .
■ It's 10:30 at the Hollywood Canteen. If one more soldier edges through the door, the walls will start bellying out. In the corner a guy's picking out scraps of melody on the piano. Behind him half a dozen boys are yelling for "Pistol Packin' Mama." He slides into it and above the clatter of dishes and the noise and the laughing, you can hear the tight little knot at the piano doing a Calloway, hot and loud. Feet start stomping, the piano's rumbling and somebody yells over to you, "The joint's sure rockin'! Get into it, soldier. Get into it." So you do.
But after a minute or so, you realize something's happened. The guys are standing quietly looking toward the platform; the piano's trailing off Jo a murmur; and the joe whose elbow was just jammed into your rib is looking like he just saw gold. "Man, what a blonde. WHAT A BLONDE!"
She's young, about 18, and she's got dimples and shiny hair. Long — past her shoulder. You don't know what she's there for exactly, but it doesn't matter. Just being there's enough. So you start clapping and soon the whole place is clapping and hooting and pounding. She smiles a stiff little smile, then tells you she's never been to the canteen before, that she sings, but not boogie-woogie, only Nelson Eddy-ish stuff and maybe you won't like it but she'll do her best. Thank you. She says it fast, sort of breathlessly. And then she sings something from Victor Herbert, with that frozen little smile still on her face. When it's over she walks off quickly — practically runs.
But the guys are yelling now. Yelling for Susie. "Make it Ave Maria, Susie. Make it good!" It was good, all right. The guys said later it made them think of Sunday morning and how they'd never gone to