Modern Screen (Dec 1931 - Nov 1932 (assorted issues))

Modern Screen If Motoring Makes Your Eyes Burn . . . do this for quick relief! When you return from motoring or other outdoor exposure with heavy, burning, bloodshot eyes, here's the way to get quick, safe relief. Simply apply a few drops of harmless Murine and the irritation and redness will disappear in a jiffy! Remember, too, that Murine is the favorite eye clearer and brightener of famous stage and screen stars. Used daily, it keeps eyes always clear, bright and alluring. 150 applications cost only 60c at drug and department stores. Contains no belladonna! MAKE THIS TEST! Drop Murine in one eye only .... then note how clearer and brighter it becomes and how very much better it feels! lit F-orY°ur eVes Approved by Good Housekeeping Bureau CONNIE BENNETT HAS A FRIEND— A GIRL ENTIRELY UNLIKE THE SOPHISTICATED, HAUGHTY-TOINFERIORS CONNIE. THE WORLDLY MISS BENNETT WOULD RATHER SPEND AN AFTERNOON WITH THIS GIRL, CHATTING ABOUT CLOTHES AND MANICURES AND FINGER-WAVES, THAN ATTEND THE MOST EXCLUSIVE SOCIAL FUNCTION. AND THIS OTHER GIRL IS SO DIFFERENT FROM CONNIE! BORN IN POVERTY, SELF-TAUGHT, A NAIVE CHILD ABOUT MANY THINGS WHICH ARE EVERYDAY MATTERS TO CONNIE BENNETT. WHO IS THIS GIRL? DON'T MISS THE CHARMING, HUMAN STORY ABOUT HER AND THIS FRIENDSHIP. IN OUR JULY ISSUE 104 did he pick to be his happy bride? Once again, the family influence enters the picture. For his bride, Dix chose a girl his own family had picked — beautiful Winifred Coe, whom he met at his own sister's home. A girl not from the movie ranks, but from the world of his non-stage family. A girl whom Dix could compare, and favorably, with his own mother. It was a few months before his marriage that Dix, to a friend, uttered prophetic explanatory words. "I have been accused of having a 'mother complex'," he said. "Well, what of it? When it comes to selecting a wife, I shall certainly compare her with my own mother. Maybe that doesn't sound fair — but I think of a wife as a mother of children — and the kind of mother my own mother has been." Winifred Coe measures up to that requirement. Incidentally, five years ago one of Hollywood's fortune tellers told Dix that some day he'd marry a girl "outside the motion picture profession." That's come true. But the fortune teller also said that Dix shortly thereafter would retire from pictures. And Dix replied at that time : "W'hen I get married, if I ever do, it'll be my ambition, then, to live in an old-fashioned way with my wife in a house by the side of the road and let the rest of the world go by." What does he say about his possible retirement now? Dix says, "Well, who knows?" We hope he won't retire but — after all — his obligations are fulfilled, his family is well cared for, his own life is settled and happy. Wrho knows? She Has Hollywood's Number (Continued from page 31) too," her eyes laughed as she mocked the English countryside manner, "but we only ride bicycles. And bicycles, well, they just don't make the social grade the way a Kentucky gelding does. "So now we have our own crowd. They're people from the theatre mostly. Not people who can help us any. Professionally, I mean." I began to understand why Barbara has been called a stormy petrel on occasion. Anyone who won't stand in line, who doesn't conform, is always called that. The executives no doubt find Barbara difficult. The honeyed threats they aim at her don't hit home; don't drop her into that old morass of fear. Hollywood and her name in electric lights are important enough to Barbara but not too important. "Well," she has announced more than once, "if I'm not going to be happy here, if I'm not even going to have the satisfaction of making good pictures, I may as well quit. I can go back to the dramatic stage ... If that fails me I can still turn cartwheels . . . And if both of these things fail me . . . well, I know I can scrub floors." You can see for yourself how very disconcerting this would be. It is the one thing Barbara isn't expected to mention. For successful people, not only in Hollywood but the world over, are supposed to shed humble pasts the way a snake sheds its skin. _ However, don't let me give you the idea that Barbara is the temperamental kind who holds up production and makes things difficult in the studios. She's too good a trouper for that. Once she agrees to go to work on a picture, she works. Making a scene in "Forbidden," you know, she insisted upon finishing her day's work even after her horse had tripped and fallen upon her, knocking her temporarily unconscious. Barbara's also trouper enough to have a matter of fact confidence in her own ability. She has an idea that eventually she'd like to be a director. And then, so it wouldn't sound as if she were taking herself too seriously, she explained : "I've learned a lot of the tricks. I know how you hold your head in your hands when a scene's got you . . . how to run your fingers through your hair when a big emotional scene is under way . . . how you jingle your keys or exploit some other eccentricity of genius all day long. . . ." 'T'HERE never is anything malicious *• about Barbara. Always there's a twinkle in her deep blue eyes. Nevertheless, I can see how there might be those who don't like her, who flinch a little at the very thought of her direct eyes regarding them. When some people turn in your direction you instinctively hope your hat is at the right angle, and that your lipstick is on smoothly. Barbara Stanwyck wouldn't notice things like this especially but she would notice your pretenses and affectations and think it very stupid and foolish of you to bother having them. DARBARA doesn't fool herself on *-* fame in relation to marriage any more than she does on Hollywood in relation to fame. She knows perfectly well that such extraneous things as your name in electric lights and your weekly pay check swelling the family bank account have nothing in the world to do with the equation between husband and wife. She waits on Frank, sees that his socks are darned, that his pocket handkerchiefs are fresh, and that his tie is the right one for the suit he is wearing just as if she were a wife without another thing to do. I said before that Barbara still wants pretty much the same things she dreamed about long before she was famous. And she does. What's that old song ... "a boy for you, a girl for me . . ." ?