We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
Modern Screen
presents the complete story of Hollywood's loveliest wedding . . .
ELIZABETH,
Helen Rose of MGM created the bouffant skirt and tiny bodice of Elizabeth's wedding gown (center) from 25 yards of of -white slipper satin with tiny seed pearl embroidery lending a floral motif. Mrs. Taylor's dress (left) is of toast-colored lace over a full, chiffon skirt. The bridesmaids (right) wear palest jonquil organdy, trimmed with satin ribbon, and carry white picture hats filled with jonquils and lilies-of-the-valley.
THE BRIDE
■ Picture yourself seated primped, powdered and dressed in your best, in the beautiful little Church of the Good Shepherd in Beverly Hills, California. You're waiting excitedly for the moment of moments on this day of days, for when at last Elizabeth Taylor becomes Mrs. Conrad Hilton, Junior, the most beautiful, most adored bride in the whole wide world.
All around are packed the chosen three hundred close friends, neighborhood friends, studio friends, people who've known and loved this gorgeous girl and her handsome groom since they both were kids. Along the aisle stretches a white satin carpet, and down both sides, draping the oak stalls, are white satin ribbons with bows. Bright spring flowers bank the aisle and scent the air.
Maybe the postman didn't slip a white envelope into your mailbox with an engraved card inside reading, "Mr. and Mrs. Francis Taylor request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter, Elizabeth Rosemond, to Mr. Conrad Nicholson Hilton, Junior. . . ."
But that doesn't matter, really. If you love Elizabeth as do all of us gathered there you can share her joy a thousand miles or more away.
You can feel the thrill that ripples beneath these vaulted ceilings as the wedding music starts, softly at first, then swells into the familiar strains. Nick Hilton steps out from the chapel, a little pale but immaculate in cutaway, striped trousers and stock, a white carnation in his button hole. Behind him is his best man, his brother Barron. There's barely time to follow Nick's anxious glance up the aisle before the first smiling bridesmaid is floating past on an usher's arm. Soon they've passed — Jane Powell, Marjorie Dillon, Marilyn Hilton, Betty Sullivan, Mara Reagan, Barbara Thompson, and Ann Westmore, too, Elizabeth's maid-of-honor — all fresh and lovely as this May day in their bouffant organdy gowns. The ushers, (Continued on next page)