Modern Screen (Jul-Dec 1946)

v. * A ♦ * 3 ^ f V Now that the war's over and a lot more civilian goods are on the market, it's a big temptation to spend just about all you make, and not put anything aside. But to fall for that temptation is plenty dangerous. It's like trying to live in the house above— a house that might come tumbling down about your ears at the first little blow of hard luck. Right now the best possible way to keep your finances in sound shape is to save regularly— fey buying U. S. Savings Bonds through the Payroll Plan. These Bonds are exactly like War Bonds. Millions of Americans have found them the safest, easiest, surest way to save. The U. S. A. protects every dollar you invest— and Uncle Sam gives you his personal guarantee that, in just ten years, you'll get four dollars back for every three you put in! If you stick with the Payroll Savings Plan, you'll not only guard against rainy days, you'll also be storing up money for the really important things —like sending your children to college, travelling, or buying a home. Keep on buying U. S. Savings Bonds! SAVE THE EASY WAY... BUY YOUR BONDS THROUGH PAYROLL SAVINGS This is an official U. S. Treasury advertisement— prepared wider auspices of Treasury Department and Advertising Council and he's been thankful for that ever since. Because with his supercharged way of going about things, he might have ended up a tired old trouper at twenty. Instead, he buckled down to being an honor student in school. Ross can rattle off both German and Spanish like a native today, and the funny part is, neither of his parents spoke a word. He learned it all in school, but Cleveland was progressive that way. The public schools started the kids off young in languages. That's a thing that has come in handy for Ross, by the way. When he went into the Army, they snapped him right up as an interpreter and he worked out on some German war prisoners and generally made himself useful in Intelligence. He's put the Spanish to good use, too, around Hollywood, where there's a large Mexican population. Ross buzzed out on some war bond tours and did a super salesman job in the Spanish sections around Hollywood, because he could give them a sales talk right in their own lingo. Ross has fifty or more plays under his belt today — and every one in a Little Theater group. He was president of the drama society at Glenville High and head of the Glenville Players. He carried on through college with the Cleveland Players, the Eldred Players — a campus outfit at his alma mater, Western Reserve — the Fawn Drama Guild, the Cain Park Players, National Collegiate Players and a bunch more. He ran the gamut — and not from A to B, either — doing musicals, corned}, operetta, heavy drama, doing things like "Broadway," "The American Way,'' "Outward Bound," "Death Takes a Holiday," "Liliom," "The Male Animal" and "Too Many Girls" — about all the hits written. girls, girls, girls . . . They all added up to fun for Ross, too — although he was no one-sided drama school drip. He played baseball, basketball, tennis and handball and got around plenty with the girls. Maybe that was the trouble. Because very early in the saga of Ross Hunter you run into — swooners. Yep, that's the thing that's badgered Ross all the way along. He's not quite sure how it all began, but he remembers even in high school plays the drama society gave, when he got into a kissing scene the females would stomp on the floor and squeal. Anyway, Ross managed to keep his feet firmly on the ground all through this teenage worship. In fact, a couple of times he went out of his way to make things tough for himself. When he enrolled in Western Reserve, for instance, his sober-headed dad came up with an idea. "If you'll prove to me you can work your way through college," he challenged Ross, "I'll pay you back all it adds up to when you graduate." "You're on," grinned Ross. He knew Papa Fuss had enough sugar to send him through, but the idea intrigued him. So he landed a soda jerking job in Cleveland — that's where Western Reserve is — and when that palled, he quit and took a barker's job in front of a Cleveland movie house. That was more down his extrovert alley, because he got a lot of resplendent gold braided uniform and the opportunity to bellow out in a pontifical voice, "Now showing — that stupendous, colossal, drama of love on fire in the jungle — " and stuff like that. Ross knew the names of every star in Hollywood — although he'd never been there — and every part they'd ever played. Or so he thought. He popped off about this talent to the manager when he landed his movie house job and pretty soon he was on the spot. "Fine," glowed the manager, "I've got a great idea." He set Ross up in the lobby as a Hollywood see-ail-know-all to ballyhoo the picture. The idea was: Ask this