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

Mary knew that without telling; for you can't make people like you unless you like them — and Marion Davies is, perhaps, the most beloved girl in Hollywood. Whenever she finishes a picture she has a present — an individual sort of present, too — for every person who has worked with her. She has, besides, a hundred charities; and though Marion would never have told this herself, Mary had just heard from her studio guide that Miss Davies was supporting a star whom the depression had forced into idleness. "Not only that," the guide had said, "but she sends the star books and flowers and writes a letter once a week — not typed, but with her own hand." But let's get on with our tour. NOW, come upstairs, and see the room where I can be myself," said Marion, goldenhaired, fresh as a rose and dressed in a little gingham gown which she actually had made herself. So they went up the winding stairway — sort of hurriedly, because Marion was expecting some friends in early to lunch and had to do a retake in the afternoon. From the windows, Mary appreciated even more the charming patio below with its fountain and palms and wicker chairs. , "We don't talk about 'boudoirs' nowadays," laughed Marion, with a hint of her delightful stammer. "But here's what would be my boudoir if we did call it one ! Anyhow, it's my rest room. And precious little time do I get to rest in it." It was restful in atmosphere; pretty and dainty as all Marion's things are. But Mary was more excited about the dressing rooms and wardrobes, with a heavenly smell of perfume and expensive sachets hanging about them. The wardrobes were crammed, but neatly crammed, with gowns, little sports costumes, beach wraps and magnificent evening coats ; hats, too, and tiny shoes arranged in a most fascinating way, all the same sorts and colors together. Mary could hardly bear to tear herself away and Marion, seeing how she admired everything so, gave her a pretty choker which she must have bought in Paris. "Do have it! It suits you better than it does me. It's to remember me by." Mary stammered out her thanks. Then she prepared to 56 leave the heavenly spot for, downstairs, people were already trooping in for luncheon and there were a few in the patio. One of those few came forward as Mary appeared and said : "I was waiting for you. I knew you were on the lot, being shown the bungalow." It was Dick Garth, who had danced with her at the Roosevelt, and had been so kind. As she saw him she suddenly realized that he was tremendously attractive. "I've actually got a job here at M-G-M," he said. "Just a bit in a picture. But it's my first chance and I'm going to do a flying stunt that Dick Grace has been teaching me. Would you like to have lunch with me in the Cafeteria, and see the stars? I'm not important enough to eat in the section where the great ones go, but we'll see them pass through and there'll be plenty of small stars and 'near stars' around us." Would she like it . . . ? AFTER she had had glimpses of Joan Crawford, Robert Montgomery, Wallace Beery, Marie Dressier and romantic Ramon Novarro "passing through" to the place of the great ones and had admired at least a dozen young "potential" stars — including Karen Morley and Madge Evans — seated around her while she ate alligator pear salad and ice cream, Dick could see how much she liked it. Her eyes were bright with happiness. Then, to crown all, Dick asked her if she'd like to go to the fights that night. Mary had never been to a fight, but it would never do to show that she wasn't sophisticated. So she said she'd just love to go. Garth explained that he had just had some ringside tickets given him by someone who had another date and couldn't go at the last minute. "You'll be in the midst of everybody who's anybody there," Dick said. "What should I wear?" Mary asked. "Oh, anything!" he answered, manlike. Then remembered himself, "Well, if you'd care to put on something sort of evening-like, under a coat, we could go on afterwards and dance at the Cocoanut Grove." "That will be wonderful!" Mary said. And so that night she put on what in her home town would have been her best for evening wear; a (Continued on page 99) You must come out and have a swim on our little beach at Malibu," Lilyan Tashman said to Mary and Dick. "Yes, you'll Jove it," Edmund Lowe chimed in. Mary could hardly believe her ears.