Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1952)

I WAS AT LIZ'S WEDDING Dear Mr. Saxon: Liz Taylor's wedding seemed to come as a welcome relief to Londoners from the gloom that had been hanging over the city since the King's death. Michael Wilding was careful to observe the royal request for dark, quiet clothes, and Liz couldn't have chosen a more suitable color than the grey she wore. All day Monday (the wedding was on Thursday) Mike waited in his Bruton Street flat for word from Liz. He expected a cable which never came. Liz later explained that a cable woidd have revealed her identity— she was traveling under the name of Virginia Courtney— and she didn't want "to spoil the game.' All of Mike's information seemed to be coming from reporters, and, he said, "I seem to be the only man in London who knows nothing about it." He admitted he'd been afraid Liz was joking when she said she'd marry him. His wedding plans were still vague; he seemed to be relying on Liz to make them. At eight o'clock that evening, while Wilding was eating a solitary dinner, Liz phoned from New York and told him she would arrive the next day. Mike reserved a suite for her at the Berkeley Hotel, and had it filled with seven baskets of pink and white hyacinths. After dark, he went out to the airport to wait for the plane. He waited two hours, and by the time the plane arrived he was very pale. When Liz appeared, she and Mike faced reporters who asked them for the formula of a successfid marriage. Bashful and reticent, Wilding said, "I haven't a clue." But Liz replied, "You can't draw a diagrapi for a successful marriage. It's a two-way. business. All you can hope to do is to work very hard at it and believe sincerely that it is a marriage for life." Then her fiance said, "We're just going to work hard at it and hope for the best." As Liz and Mike stepped into his car she turned to him and said, "Dooling, you've had your hair cut," and then they drove off to Herbert Wilcox's flat for a snack. (He was to be best man; his wife, Anna Neagle, was Liz's attendant.) Mike was the chef and Liz said she was glad he could cook because she didn't know how. Wilding laughingly announced that he was "pretty hot with ham and eggs." It was 11 P.M. then, and they all rushed to Caxton Hall to make a formal application for a license. They wanted to include that day in the three-day waiting period. When Registrar J. D. Holiday asked to see their divorce papers, Mike produced his but Liz looked alarmed. "1 don't have them with me," she said "But everybody knows I'm divorced." She glanced about her pleadingly. Finally, the Registrar decided that a cable addressed to him from the California court would be satisfactory, and they hurried to send a wire requesting it. At four-thirty the next day (Wednesday) Liz and Mike were off to earner's. It took them just five minutes to go in and pick up the ring he had selected the day before and ordered engraved. (Liz had bought the engagement ring herself because Mike was short of American dollars.) From there, they went to the house of a friend in Bruton Street where they stayed for tea and received a Georgian silver ashtray as a wedding gift. It was dark when they started for Liz s hotel, but they took their time walking over, and stopped to look at the store windows, seemingly most interested in those that displayed furniture. Liz was up at eight, breakfasted on ham and eggs with Anna Neagle. The waiter who served them asked for an autograph, "The last as Miss Taylor," said. And then he inquired, "Is this wedding going to be for good, Miss?" "What a silly question," said Liz, annoyed. "Of course it is!" By eleven she was dressed, but the room was so strewn about with her belongings that she couldn't find her shoes. Finally, they were located at the bottom of a trunk. The shoes were very high-heeled grey pumps just the shade of her bag, slightly darker than her bolero suit whose skirt was held out with two starched petticoats, both threaded with blue ribbon. However, nothing was old or borrowed, so Miss Neagle insisted they trade strands of pearls and lent Liz her handkerchief. Mike was waiting at Caxton Hall along with fourteen guests, including^ his parents. Just before the ceremony began, Mike's father said in a loud whisper: "She's a wonderful girl, very wise, and she promised me she'd make my boy very happy always." Soon Registrar Holiday announced, "You are now married. You are actually man and wife." Shakily, Liz asked him, "May I kiss the groom now?" "Certainly? said the Registrar, and she did— long and tenderly. Outside, the crowd had grown and had begun to shout. For a moment, Liz looked terrified and clutched Mike's arm. He whispered something to her and she straightened up. Later, she said that she'd been thrilled by the reception, but at first "It looked like a mob come to draw and quarter me." The newlyweds spent their wedding night at the Berkeley Hotel and held a very informal reception there the following afternoon. Liz was curled up on a ' settee, smoking a cigarette in a long holder. A short honeymoon in the French Alps had been planned, and Wilding stated they'd live on his £25 travel allowance. So the wedding was launched— everyone concerned was pleased. And Liz's mother had been quoted as saying, "I think it's wonderful that Liz married someone older than herself. An older man is more considerate, thoughtful and understanding. He will make Elizabeth more considerate and understanding, too." Yours, GISELLE LA FALAISE (Continued from, page 74) but there were some bluntly suggestive notes. Yet not one of these dubious gentlemen got as far as your front door. You lived alone with your friend Peggy Rutledge in your modest Wilshire Boulevard apartment, with Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis for neighbors. You had a light and meaningless romance with director Stanley Donen which was important only to those who make a living dramatizing the lives of exciting people. Then came Michael Wilding, a quiet, slender chap, with great personal charm, Mike appeared unobtrusively on the Hollywood scene. We all saw him at small parties now and then, usually among reporters and writers and not with the big money crowd, although Mike Wilding was well-known and acceptable even in the veddy social gatherings. What he most liked to do was sit on the floor at parties, meet new people and enjoy the exchange of creative ideas. And that's just about the whole story, except that this time you ruled out all the people who had "helped" you before. You made life very tough for reporters who were used to explaining your every move. You spent most of your courtship in the company of the Stewart Grangers, and no newshounds were able to penetrate the curtain around your private life. When you went to Palm Springs, you cleverly let the word slip that you were headed for New York. And about the time the news finally leaked out that Mike had asked you to marry him and the event would take place any minute, you made reservations in Acapulco. That, Elizabeth, was a cute trick. You completely stumped the editors of Modern Screen. They sent a photographer and reporter all the way to Mexico where they cooled their heels for ten days waiting for you to check into the hotel room on your wedding day. Now, for awhile at least, you'll have to get used to predictions and rumors that hurt when you see them in print. Frankly, you had to hurt a few people yourself. Like the friends you seemed to drop so abruptly. Perhaps now they realize that this was the only thing you could do. They represented a threat to your happiness, for if they had been in on your plans the world would have been, too. And you can hardly be blamed for not wanting to make a circus of your second marriage. So you've come to the happy ending, and it can be just that, provided you don't feel that you should continue the drastic measures you've employed. For example, you and Mike have a big problem to face. He must spend almost half his time in England, fulfilling his contracts. That means that it will be difficult for you to create a permanent home. There will be long months during which you will be working in Hollywood, alone. That means that there will be inevitable rumors about a separation. But, if you and Mike realize that you have sincere friends among the press, what the other people say won't bother you at all. As for your studio, it is only natural that with a little more than a year left on your contract, they will seek to renew it. And, with men like Dore Schary interested in your future there should be a way in which you can make plans that will allow you to spend the greatest share of your time with your husband. Summing it up, Elizabeth, you've had a rough trip through Hollywood, emotionally speaking. You've earned your present happiness, conducting yourself with grace and dignity. And your answer to those who say, "It can't last" should be simple. Just tell them, "Nothing in this world is forever, but Mr. and Mrs. Michael Wilding hope to come awfully close to it!~ END