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I remember Daddy reading the Oz books . . . and when I was five I fell in love. I remember making cement pies . . . and the first night I danced with Jack.
How dear to my
HEART
Through all her 21 years, Shirley Temple has always held secret a part of herself, refusing— until now — to tell her own story in her own words. The appearance of the following story is thus not only a long-awaited event in publishing and a signal honor for which Modern Screen is duly grateftd, but also an exciting experience for readers, who can now share Shirley's own feelings as she recalls with fondness the treasured moments in a crowded and wonderful life. — The Editors.
■ First thing I remember is my brother Jack pushing me to the grocery store in a Taylor-tot — the kind I just bought for Linda Susan. Seemed to me we were going pretty fast — and, knowing Jack, we probably were. . . . And it must have been 'round about then that I started not liking cats very well. Because once while I was napping, my eyes opened, and a cat who'd been curled in a corner of the room was halfway to me, and next he was up on the couch, staring right into my face. No privacy at all. (The other night we went to James Mason's house, with dozens of cats around — well, anyway, eight — and I thought, ye gods, what'll I do? But I minded my own business and they minded theirs, which was a nice arrangement. Just the same, I've always liked dogs better and always will.'
I remember clearing the dishes off the table. Mother believed — as {Continued on page 95)
Dolls have been sent to Shirley from all over the world. A small part of her vast collection is shown here.
Along with groceries, Shirley stores the prints of all her movies in the Agar cellar. The collection is complete but for an early comedy — she's still seeking that.
Shirley's press clippings have been through the years in scrapbpolcs by Gwladys Drake (center) and Ynez
preserved secretaries Hendricks.