Modern Screen (Jan-Jun 1946)

taken a small apartment with two boys in the band, and Nancy was trying 57 ways to make hamburger taste different. One morning she woke with a still, small sigh. "Fd give anything for a ham sandwich and a piece of apple pie — " That worried Frank. He'd heard about prospective mothers who got a yen for pickles and how their husbands ran miles to get just the kind of pickle they craved. What Nancy wanted was simple, except there wasn't a dime in the house. He managed, though — found some empty coke bottles and turned them in for cash. On the dinette table, after the boys had left for rehearsal, she found a ham sandwich in wax paper, and a piece of apple pie under a paper napkin marked, "with love, for Nancy — " "The least you can do after that," she told herself "is to give him a son — " proud poppa . . . Well, she gave him a daughter first and now he shudders to think that she could have been anything but exactly what she is. The day she was born, he came shouldering his way through the hospital door with a pail and shovel, a teddy bear and a huge doll. Nancy laughed out loud and Frank grinned back. Sure, he knew the kid couldn't play with 'em yet, but you can't come empty-handed to see your own daughter. Then they took him to the nursery, and when he came back, Nancy saw that look on his face for the first time. Pretty soon it was mutual. On the whole, little Nancy's not a demonstrative child, but you'd never guess it to see her hurl herself at her daddy and kiss wherever her face happens to reach — his ear, his eyelash or the back of his coat. Not long ago, Frank had to go to New York. He and little Nancy said their goodbyes in the morning because she'd be at school when the plane left and, in the Sinatra family, you don't ditch school except for an emergency. . . . But the plane was delayed. Frank kept looking at his watch. "I could have seen Nancy." You'd have thought he was going for five months instead of five days. "Maybe I can still see her. Maybe there's time to run out and catch her at school — " Instead, they phoned the house and asked big Nancy's sister, Tina, to pick her niece up at school and drive out to the airport. As the car pulled up, Frank grabbed little Nancy and ran for the plane. By the time the others caught up with them, father and daughter were under the belly of the big Constellation, engrossed in the landing gear — "See those wheels, honey? Well, you know when a bird takes flight, how he tucks his feet under him? Same way with this bird — the wheels are its feet — " First thing Frank packs for a trip are the family pictures. He has them in leather folders of all sizes — big ones for long trips and graduating on down. First thing to go up on his theater dressing table are young Frank and the two Nancys. The longer he's been away, the more he talks about them — and to them — There's another sign by which you can tell that Frank's getting to be a pretty lonesome guy — "Let's go get some spaghetti," he says. You go get some spaghetti, he eats it, even seems to enjoy it, then pushes the plate away with an air of gloom. "Nancy still tops them all — " That means it's high time for Frank to be going home. They've never had a nurse for the youngsters, and that's deliberate. Both feel you lose half the joy of children unless you stay close to them. Big Nancy looks after them herself. Unless he's broadcasting, or away on business, Frank never misses their bedtime. Little Nancy says her prayers and snuggles under the covers with Gooch — a once respectable doll who's now a disgrace, but Nancy loves her. Daddy sings her a lullaby. Then she asks for a story. Mother's a little stricter than Daddy. She's more likely to say no story, it's time to sleep, you've got to be up early in the morning. Daddy's more likely to read her a story. Once in a blue moon he's got to discipline her and it kills him. The only trouble they ever have with Nancy is at meal times. She can't sit still long enough to eat. Big Nancy doesn't bother Frank much with behavior problems, that's her department. But when he's around and sees things for himself, he can't ignore them — "All right," he says, "you'll have to stay home next time I go to town — " I won't say it hurts one more than the other. They're both crushed. But for good or bad, he's never broken his word to her. happy birthday . . . She had a birthday while he was making "Anchors Aweigh." and her gift was to be a lawn swing. On the morning of the great day, it still hadn't come. Phone calls zipped back and forth. The shop finally came clean — the swing was still in the warehouse, they'd deliver it tomorrow. But the birthday was today. Sorry, tomorrow was the best they could do. Never tell Frank a thing can't be done, it's like giving him the hotfoot. He had to work till five. A pal met him at the studio gate in his station wagon. Luckily, they made the warehouse just before closing time, got the swing lashed to the roof of the car, hauled it home and set it up on the lawn before Nancy went to bed. If it hadn't come, they could have explained it to her. Of course she'd have been disappointed, but she's a reasonable child, oveher loni My Beauty facia/s iring quici new Love/mess" "First work Lux Soap's creamy lather well into vour skin,"' says Rita Hayworth. "Rinse with warm water, splash on cold. Pat gentlv with a soft towel to dry." Don't let neglect cheat vou of Romance. This gentle care Rita Hayworth recommends will make you lovelier tonight! In recent tests of Lux Toilet Soap facials by skin specialists, actually 3 out of 4 complexions improved in a short time! G I LDA 9 out of 10 Screen Stars use this Care FIGHT WASTE Soap uses vital materials. 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