Modern Screen (Dec 1948 - Oct 1949)

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Savings Bonds Contributed by this magazine in co-operation with the Magazine Publishers of America as a public service. fellow-guests at the Savoy — Robert Taylor, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Cotten, Virginia Mayo, Michael O'Shea, Howard Hawks, and director Henry Hathaway and his wife. Quite an American Club! After dinner, I went calling on Ann Sheridan, who was ill with pleurisy in the same hotel. I was armed with clippings from home, magazines, and as much news as I could remember (I'm not very good on gossip) . I found most of the London Hollywoodites at her bedside — then and the other times I saw her. It was impossible for any of us to see Cary Grant in his flat; his type of yellow jaundice was contagious. That was my introduction to faraway London. As time went on, however, our work schedule prevented us from seeing very much of each other. (Besides, as I've said, the first three days I was struggling along in a daze of insomnia. What a relief it was to have that fog lift!) But even so, I felt right at home working on the picture. For one thing, although everyone in the picture was British except Patricia Neal, director Vincent Sherman and myself, I was dressed just as I always seem to be in American movies. Yep, I was wearing a U.S. Army uniform! There's no doubt about it — studios have kept me in uniform longer than the Army did.) The British crew was just as friendly as an American one, and far more curious. The set soon had what was called "The Reagan Corner," and I became an answering service for hundreds of questions. Mainly, they wanted to know three things about us: our weather, our food, and the life in Hollywood. Really, the only strangeness I found in making a British picture boiled down to one thing: after a couple of months away from the California sun, my face became so pale that I had to wear a suntan make-up — breaking my record of never having worn any make-up at all. Otherwise, making my 38th picture was a lot like making the first 37. hi-ya, queen . . . My social life was, however, very different and extremely limited. I got up at 6 a.m., rode out to the studio in the suburbs of London, and worked all day. At night, I never got back to the hotel before 8 p.m., and generally (like the other Hollywood actors) I'd have dinner in my room, fall into bed, study my lines and go to sleep. Once, though, I had the climax of all British social experiences — at a Command Performance, I met the Royal Family. I'm sorry to say I acted like a typical Yank! In spite of all my preparation in court etiquette, I forgot all the "Your Majesties" and just blurted out, "How do you do?" to the Queen. She was as charming about it as if she, too, had grown up in Illinois. I got a huge kick out of going to the European continent, after the picture was finished. With Arthur Abeles (he's the London head of Warners) and his wife, I went to Monte Carlo. But after only two days there, I got the sad news that I'd have to rush back to London for retakes on the picture. So I boarded a French train alone — wondering how my high-school French would serve me during the overnight trip to Paris. Well, if I do say so, I did myself proud! I'm still surprised about it. As in all French trains, I was not alone in my compartment; my partner was a pleasant French businessman. I forced out a few French sentences, and soon we were getting on so well that he asked me to lunch in Paris the next day, at the Rotarian Club! I did equally well with two other Frenchmen in the dining car. I suppose one reason that the whole trip seemed to me amazingly homelike was because of incidents like this one: I ate the one meal I had time for in Paris, alone, in a restaurant. I sat down at a table, ordered, and then heard an American voice say, "Hello, there." I looked up to see a strange American couple at a nearby table. I nodded hello, although I didn't know them at all. Then I heard the man murmur to his wife, "I swear I know that fellow — but I just can't think of his name!" Throughout the meal he tried to place me: he still hadn't when I left. By the time I landed in New York in March, I was so homesick for California I didn't bother to stay long. I allowed 24 hours for New York, dining with my agent and his wife at their home — and falling asleep at the dinner table! (I was back at my old can't-adjust-to-the-time tricks.) As I write this, I'm rushing back to Hollywood. You know what I want most, after these months away? I want gallons of orange juice, and I want to get the darkest suntan in California. I'd like to regain the weight I lost in England, too. (How much I lost I don't know, but I sure look scrawny!) But mainly, I want to get back on the busy end of a posthole digger. I was building new paddock fences around my Valley ranch all last summer — and I can't wait to finish what I started. This will mean working in the sun for hours every day, and eating meals with my ranch-partner Nino Pipitone and his family. I'm making only one stop-over on my way to those paddock fences. I'll be in Washington, B.C., for a few hours because I'm lucky enough to have an appointment with President Truman — not alone, however; I'm on a Hollywood committee. I'm representing the Screen Actors' Guild, and there will be representatives from Hollywood labor groups at the meeting. But it's a great way for an American to return from a trip abroad — to shake hands with the President on his way home. Now, there are two final questions I'd like to answer. Everyone asks me, "Didn't you have any heavy dates in London? Don't you expect to have some heavy romance in Hollywood?" My answer to the first is that I didn't, and to the second, that I don't. But I do own several horses, and they're all mares! The End HOW TIME FLIES! ■ After Broadway Serenade, many people said the story closely resembled the case of Ginger Rogers and Lew Ayres. But Ginger and Lew reaffirm that there are no sentimental reasons for staving off their divorce, just purely sensible ones. For one thing, they are economically better off on account of community property and, for another, they feel that staying married to each other is a safeguard against making any more marital mistakes. — October 1939 Modern Screen