Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1951)

ten fantastic years (Continued from page 40) history. Back in 1941, another unknown with a pleasant smile did his first stint before a Paramoiint camera. He'd been hanging around Hollywood for a long time, getting bits in pictures, little theaters and radio. He'd worked as a grip, and he'd run a hamburger stand in the Valley. He ate, but he wasn't signing any movie contracts. Then he met a girl, a former movie star turned agent. Her name was Sue Carol. She became Mrs. Alan Ladd in March 1942, but tJiat day on the Paramoiuit set Alan's whole dazzling future was just a wish on both their parts. When Alan finished his first big time scene he walked straight to her. "I knew you could do it," she said, and folks on the set witnessed the best clinch they'd seen in years on or off the screen. The picture was This Gun For Hire and the stars were Veronica Lake, of the oneeyed hairdo, and muscle-man Brian Dqnlevy. At the preview in Pasadena, Sue and Alan sat with their fingers crossed and their hands clasped. There it was on the screen following all the other high ^ and mighty credits, just a line saying, "And introducing Alan Ladd." I remember when Carl Schroeder, now an editor of Modern Screen, said to me at a party soon after, "Hedda, have you seen that guy Sue Carol's peddling? She brought him into my office today. A real nice guy. But he'U never get any place. Just hasn't got it." Is your face red, Carl? TEN years ago — ^1941 — ^how can I fbrget it? Or the 10 fantastic years that came after when stars were born and stars faded out like used-up electric bulbs. Picture-wise, 1941 was a big fat year, but Europe was at war, and movie producers were mourning their loss of the European markets. They should have saved their aspirins for 1951 and television! Then came Pearl Harbor, and men from everywhere including Hollywood, went off to fight. But they came home on leave and there were two girls who always managed to get handsome escorts. They went everywhere, that Carole Landis and Lupe Velez — dancing, laughing, romancing. Most loved and courted of the Glamor Girls, a few years later they both committed suicide — for love! Very few people had heard of June Allyson in 1941. Not even, I suspect, Dick Powell. Today Jime with her friendliness, sincerity, Eind boimdless energy, has won the hearts of millions. Just like Alan Ladd, she is a part of the American scene. But in 1941, June, very short of cash, was just one of the hundreds of ambitious kids trying to get a break in the New York theater. Jime, following a serious accident, had been told by doctors that she would never walk again. But by dint of pure grit she took up swimming and dancing. In 1941 she was understudying the indestructible Betty Hutton in Panama Hattie and her chances of becoming a Hollywood movie star were about as slim as Frankie Sinatra's hips. And then it happened, right' out of the blue. "June — June Allyson," called the stage manager frEintically at the door of the big room where all the chorines were dressing. "You gotta go on, kid. In a few minutes. Betty Hutton's broken her leg." In the audience that night was Producer George Abbott. He starred her and Nancy Walker in Best Foot Forward, and when Metro bought the show they bought June and Nancy too. Ten years can certainly make a differ 70 ence in the life of a movie star. It can make a difference in your Ufe, and in mine. What were you doing 10 years ago? I remember what I was doing. The past 10 years have brought about a complete switch in my life. I started writing a colimin in 1938 for only 13 newspapers. By 1941 I had twice that many papers. But to embellish my income, I was working in as many pictures as I could get, and doing many guest shots on radio. I had an airshow for Sunkist oranges three times weekly. When that went off the air I did a show called "Hollywood Showcase" in which I introduced new talent. One night I introduced a lovely little girl named Suzanne Burse, with a much better than average singing voice. "Suzanne," I asked, "tell me about yourself. Where do you come from, and what are you doing in Holljrwood?" "Miss Hopper," she said, "I've been singing on radio station KOIN in Portland, Oregon. I'm in Hollywood on vacation with my parents. I want to see movie stars and get as many autographs as possible. May I have yours?" Shortly afterwards that pretty child was signed by Metro. Now she's known throughout the world as Jane Powell. Today she doesn't get autographs, she gives them. But she's as sweet and unspoUed as she was that night on my program. Today my column is syndicated by the Chicago Tribune-New York Daily News, answers to bud collyer's quiz on page 12 1. The Bumsteads, Judge Hardy's, The Days {Life With Father), and Ma and Pa Kettle 2. Olivia de Havilland in To Each His Own (1945-46) Joan Fontaine in Suspicion (1940-41) 3. You Can't Take It With You Dear Ruth Father of the Bride 4. The Barr\'mores; Lionel. Ethel, and John 5. Keenan and Ed Wynn Tim and Jack Holt Lon Chaney, Jr., and Sr. Bing and Gary Crosby Doug Fairbanks, Jr.. and Sr. with some 30,000,000 readers. I've moved from a tiny bungalow— where I lived happily on the wrong side of the tracks — to a house in Beverly HiUs, with the conventional swimming pool. I work even harder today than I did 10 years ago. I have not been unhappy these past 10 years. My life has been filled to the brim, and sometimes it overflows a little. One of these times was when my granddaughter Joan was born. I believe it's more important to have your older years filled with excitement than your younger ones. I've said many times, "Youth is so wonderful. It's too bad to waste it on youth." Still in my nostalgic mood I ran into one of my favorite actors, Dana Andrews, at the Gcldwyn studios recently. "Dana," I asked curiously, "what were you doing 10 years ago? I bet your big worry at that time was not the upkeep on your $350,000 yacht!" "I'U sell it to you for $40,000*" said Dana with a grin. "The upkeep is killing me. Mary's my memory." He turned to his attractive wife. "Honey, what were we up to in 1941?" "You weren't making enough to keep a rowboat afloat in those days," Mary obliged. "Hedda, we were Uving in a small frame stucco house in Van Nuys, for which we were paying $45 a month rent. Indeed I do remember 1941. Dana was working in Swamp Water. The picture was on location, bad weather had held up production, and the comjjany had to work on Sunday. Dana got overtime. The first time he had to 'work overtime. The first time he had ever gotten overtime. It was just enough for me to go out and buy a refrigerator, which we had been needing very badly. "And I have another reason for remembering 1941," Mary added. "After Dana finished Ball of Fire in which he had a fast three days work, we went on a leisurely visit to Texas. Nine months later our first child was bom." TTow times have changed. Back in 1941 Betty Grable, in her second year on her Fox contract, made four films, Moon Over Miami, Yank in the RAF, Hotspot, Song of the Island, and started a fifth. That has not happened since. Betty today only WEints to make one picture a year, and right now^she isn't sure she wants to make that. After 12 years of uninterrupted harmony, Betty and her studio had a spat. It was no lovers' quarrel. The studio took her off salary and suspended her — the most drastic thing that's happened in Hollywood. The studio said she was being temperamental. Betty said she was being practical. It's the most bitter contract hassle we've had since Olivia de Havilland sued Warner Brothers — and how it will end, I don't know. Betty's friends say she's had it, and wants to quit. But this I doubt. Betty's hobby is breeding race horses. And when the bills for hay roll in, the money rolls out. Well, the studio may suspend Betty, but no one can suspend that girl's popularity. She hit the top 10 of the exhibitors' poll in 1942, and has been on it ever since. Not bad for a girl who has been in pictures 24 years. No one ever heard of Janet Leigh in 1941. Certainly Tony Curtis never had. Tony Cvutis wasn't even Tony Curtis. He was Bemie SchwEirtz, and he was busy snitching apples and candies from the grocery stores in the Bronx, with no thought of Hollywood. Jeanette Morrison was an unhappy little school girl of 13. Her grandfather died that year, and her parents moved from Stockton, Cahfomia, where she had lots of friends, to Merced to live with the bereaved grandmother. Janet didn't know a soul in Merced. And it was no fun breaking in with a new gang. But another little girl was well on her way to movie fame in 1941. Ten-year-old Elizabeth Taylor had come from England at the outbreak of the war, and her father had opened up the Francis Taylor art gallery in the Beverly Hills Hotel. Her mother was ambitious for a movie career for Elizabeth, and she brought her to my house that year to sing for me. Elizabeth's beauty was more startling than her voice. But I obligingly took her to Metro and had her sing for Louis B. Mayer. But nothing happened. In December, following Pearl Harbor, Mr. Taylor became an air raid warden. Covering their "beat" one night, Mr. Taylor and producer Sam Marx started discussing their troubles. "You think you have troubles," said Mr. Marx. "I've really got troubles. I've got to find a little English girl to team with Roddy McDowell in my next Lassie picture. I've tested every little girl in town, it seems. What phony accents." Mr. Taylor said he had a Uttle girl, and he could certainly guarantee that she was English. Elizabetii's screen test for Lassie Came Home won her a contract at Metro. One of the tip-top stars of 1941, as she is of 1951, is my good {Continued on page 72)