We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
To rumors ot romance with Anne Baxter, John declares he won t wed until he buys home for parents and has enough money left over to support wife. Mom wants farm where she can raise chickens and pigs. Most likely spot: San Fernando Valley.
Hates dolling up. lives in old togs ground the house ^ThtZVld^
explained, "says she'll quit unless I get you here for dinner. She's simply wild about you! And you know how scarce maids are these days! Please don't let me down!"
Well— with it put right up to him like that, what could John do? He accepted. His friend's maid, by the way, has been happy in her work ever since. She's got an autographed picture of Hodie in her room. It belongs to the lady of the house (John gave his hostess one)— so how can the maid ever threaten to leave?
It's pretty hard for a plain, straightthinking, modest Hunky guy from Hamtramck, Michigan, to get himself geared to all that's been happening to him in the past year. Sometimes Hodie gets as mixed up inside as a chef's salad at his new-found fame. Like a kid who gets in free at a circus, he can't quite believe it's true.
Right after "Lifeboat," John found himself at a big Beverly Hills cocktail party at Romanoff's for Tallulah Bankhead. The whole Hollywood roster of Big Names were elbowing each other out of the way in Prince Mike's bistro. You could hardly breathe for all the Big League glamour that cluttered up the place. Somewhere in the ritzy crush John Hodiak was busy staring from left to right and then around in circles with his grin a mile wide and his eyes shining like traffic lights. Suddenly, he started bopping himself sharply on the temple with his knuckles. A watchful waiter
stepped up.
"The gentleman has a headache — yes?" he asked politely. "Perhaps a bromo-seltzer or an aspirin? The cooL
air?
6 K " ' 3< in double b^.eor. bri,ht. bright pyiam.. upper, and lo«.r..
e
or
John shook his head happily. "No headache," he grinned. "No aspirin.
No I'm just checking up to see if I'm
really here with all these famous people!"
"But obviously, you're here," murmured the waiter, giving John a queer look and sidling off warily as though he thought the guy was nuts.
John swears he hasn't slept a solid night since he arrived in Hollywood— and he's been home and in the hay early most nights, too. The reason he can't drift off to dreamland is because the
36