Modern Screen (Jul-Dec 1946)

no heat, no furniture, no telephone. Every minute, it seemed, there'd be a rustling noise. Field mice, chipmunks — they sounded like elephants in the still night. Tiny wings whirred around the dark stall room and Sue imagined flocks of bats nesting in her coiffure. A skunk strolled by and wafted shocking perfume in the night air. Alan and Sue lay wide eyed till morning. The Ladds fixed up a lot of comfort items that week. They had no ice box, but Alan found you could keep pepsis and milk cold in the frosty fish pond. He promoted a couple of portable Ohic Sales from the studio and gasoline lanterns to light the place at night. Sue uncovered a threeburner kerosene stove on which she could turn out the same kind of wonderful meals (she's a super cook) she did back in the big Los Feliz kitchen. They got another one to heat up the place and some temporary windows to keep the cold out. Then Alan got a welcome surprise. life saver . . . A truck rolled up the drive the second day they'd moved in. A telephone lineman knocked on the door. "Say," he inquired, "can I sell you folks a telephone?" Alan and Sue almost swooned. That was back when a new phone was something you just didn't dare dream about. The phone was a life saver. They put it in the barn in the tack room (where it still is) and whenever the Ladds got overwhelmed by nature in the raw they called up their city friends for sympathy. When It was a dream day and they felt swell they called them up and gloated. But best of all, the phone paid off in peace of mind about Alana. Alan and Sue didn't mind being cut off from civilization but Alana's barely three and if an emergency came up where a doctor was needed or anything— they wanted to get in touch quick. The population of Alsulana Acres got off to a flying start the minute the Ladds moved in. Joe brought three sheep dogs and two cats, who promptly obeyed the Lord and multiplied. Came Easter and Alana got two bunnies. They're still — miraculously — two bunnies, the only pair on record, Sue insists, who've remained just two for six months. Then' a young actor friend of the Ladds found himself in a spot with an expectant female dog and a tiny Hollywood apartment. The landlord said pups meant he could start hunting. Alan and Sue invited the mutt out to the ranch for her blessed event, and now she's there with her family of iour. I already told how Sue gave Alan "So Sad," the mare in foal, for Father's Day and how he came back with Marijuana, another halo horse — so that added two more and two more-to-be. Then Alan made the mistake of going to a yearling sale at Santa Anita race track. The farthest thing from their conscious minds was buying a race horse. Alan planned to watch and learn and keep his mouth buttoned up in the bidding. What he knew about picking racehorses he could put in his eye. And so look what happened. Racing colts from a famous French studhorse, Firozepore, were on the auction block. They were beauties, but so were the prices, way up in the thousands. They led one out, from a dam named "Cheeky Sue," and Alan found his hand up in the early bidding, just for a sentimental thrill. But the prices zoomed on past him. Another colt came out. It was fun, Alan found, to stick up his hand and make a bid in the early stages. He didn't run any danger of buying a horse, because they were all way past his purse — or so he thought. • But this time when he made his bid — in the hundreds — he didn't have any com68 petition and the auctioneer slammed down his hammer. "Sold," he yelled. Alan had himself a racehorse, and nobody was more surprised than himself and Sue. They were twice as surprised when they saw every other Firozepore colt sell for ten times what they paid. Alan had a funny feeling when he stepped up to his friend, Joe Hernandez, the race horse expert, and asked, "Joe, what's the matter with the horse I bought? How come he's so cheap?" "What's his number?" Joe asked. Alan said, "Thirty two." Joe whistled. "Migosh, Alan— that's the colt with the bum leg!" Of course! There had to be some reason. Alan groaned. "It should happen to me!" They found all the smart horsemen at Santa Anita in the ring gathered around Alan's new colt, pinching and feeling him. They were shaking their heads and swearing. One said, "Can you tie this? An auction crowded with horse experts like us — and a damned ignorant actor gets the steal of the sale!" Alan barged in. "What's wrong with him?" he asked timidly. One of the horse fellows barked back, "Not a thing — dammit! MODERN SCREEN "I just saw your column, Loueiha — is it true that I'm having a baby?" Just a scratch on his leg from a splinter — but it fooled all us wise guys. I'll give you a thousand dollars more than you paid right now." Alan shook his head, but he didn t sleep soundly that night. Racing horses' is expensive and Alan's far from rich. He wondered if he hadn't bitten off an overly ambitious hunk. Sue couldn't help him make up his mind; but she had her doubts, too. Next morning Alan had Sue call up the colt's seller. "Alan's decided to sell the horse back to you," she began. "That makes me very happy," came back the horseman. "He never should have been sold. It was all a mistake — " But Sue was looking at Alan's face, and it was pretty droopy. "I'll call you back," she said. Then she turned to Alan. "We'll keep 'that race horse if it busts us," she smiled. "I can see that's what you want." Seems like ever since Laddie has been at the ranch he's been digging or hammering, sawing, fitting pipe, laying brick and tile — or bossing someone who is. One day he had a cement mixer grinding, a buzz saw ripping, dynamite exploding, a steam shovel puffing away and the bulldozer snorting— all at the same time. That's the day Warner Brothers picked to shoot location scenes for "Stallion Road" in Hidden Valley, across from the Ladd ranch. It wasn't long before the director roared across in his car. "Say," he shouted. "What the heck's going on here — another Boulder Dam? Listen — I'm shooting pictures — or trying to. You gotta stop all this racket. I — " then he recognized Alan. "Oh, hello, Ladd," he said, "so you're the heavy! Now, you're in the business— you ought to know I've got to have quiet to shoot. I've got fifty men working." Alan sighed, and they finally worked out a flagman deal at the house so that when the whistle blew, Alan's help stopped busting microphone drums. Even Alan and Sue's friends were getting the rugged treatment whenever they ventured out to see the Ladds. There's nothing as attractive as a new ranch and Alsulana Acres is just a handy weekend drive-out distance — fifty miles from Hollywood. Sue and Alan are famous for their hospitality — and it never flagged all the time they were torn upside down — although some of the dropper-inners got put to work. Like movie grouch Bill Demarest — one of Alan's best Paramount friends. Bill turned out to be a handy paint man and ended up coating the whole ranch house. Another friend, Pat Lane, turned out to be an expert gardener. The Ladds put him to work fast. Henry Willson, Guy Madison's pal, and Diana Lynn's fiance, brought Diana out one Sunday. He strolled around the swimming pool inspecting Alan's handiwork when suddenly Sue heard Diana scream. Henry had disappeared from the face of the earth! They found him down in the filter hole and yanked him out. He took another stroll and disappeared again — this time down the drain hole. Diana hustled Henry home before she turned into a widow before she was a bride. Most Ladd guests have remained hale and hearty, though, and now that the rough work is over and the place has blossomed, they pile out in droves. That suits Alan and Sue. I sampled one of those Ladd ranch spreads the night I visited Sue and Alan, because of course I had to stay for dinner, and so did Boo-Boo Howell after' he'd brought the groceries. Joe, the ranch hand, joined us at the big table on the flagstone porch that makes Alan's back ache every time he looks at it (he fitted every flag in place). The pot roast was tender, the potatoes brown, the gravy rich and the salad crisp. The California moon was in there pitching, too, and after dinner Al lit a cigarette and tipped back his chair. an eye to the future . . . "What I want to do is make the ranch self sufficient — " he began. "Total produce so far," interrupted Sue, "is one egg every three days — " "What I mean," continued Alan, rising above that, "is I'd like to build a little future security here. Suppose I'm lucky enough to last in pictures another ten years. That's about all I can expect, unless I turn into the Grand Old Man of Gower Gulch. By then, if this farm is producing horses, hay, vegetables, milk, well, what's wrong with that for an ace-in-the-hole?" I knew what Alan was thinking about in particular. Along about next January, there'll be a new baby brother or sister for Alana. Laddie's a very thoughtful guy underneath it all and he takes his responsibilities seriously. so as to the farm . . . "I don't know," mused Alan Ladd. "Maybe that's just another pipe dream, too — " But then maybe it's not. Not if you're really working at it— like Alan Ladd.