Modern Screen (Dec 1954 - Dec 1955)

warmth. I remember the first time I took her home to dinner. We weren't engaged or anything. I just took her home as I'd taken other girls who were always welcome. My mother is an outgoing woman, though a little quiet with strangers. My father's still quieter. So I bring them a movie star. Their backgrounds are poles apart. It could have been awkward. Except with Janet, you can't be awkward. She's too natural. Her friendliness bubbles, her laughter infects you, the walls come tumbling down. In five minutes we were just people who liked each other. Later, after our marriage, my mama done tole me, "From the first night, I hoped she would be your wife." I kid her a little. "You're making it up." But she's very serious. "The heart tells you. And look how it turns out. A girl who takes care of the house, who doesn't throw money around, who watches to see that you're happy. Everything a mother dreams for her son, that's Janet." The way my mom talks, you'd think she inj vented my wife. '"The longer they know her, the better they love her, and with reason. Janet ! wears well. She's a mixture of softness and stamina. Her emotions are easily stirred. At a sad movie she's a four-handkerchief weeper, and the only girl I know who can cry at a Disney cartoon. But in the clinches, she's a rock. Her life hasn't been any bed of roses. Along the way she's met hardship, disillusion, grief. These are lessons we all learn, and we all react. They can shatter us, frighten us, make us cynical — or the opposite. With Janet, it's The cast of The Solid Gold Cadillac received a message from coauthor George S. Kaufman. He sent them a postcard from Europe: "When I think of all you people working away in New York while I am in sunny Italy, it makes me sad — but not very." Leonard Lyons in The New York Post the opposite. They taught her more courage, more wisdom and sympathy. If I seem to be bragging about my wife, I'm not. Just the facts, ma'am, from one who's in a spot to know. When my mother and dad got sick at the same time, I was off on location. In the middle of the night Bobby called Janet, and from then on nobody had any problems except to get well. Janet shouldered the rest, went to the hospital, saw that the folks were comfortable, took charge of Bobby. On the phone she told me what happened — without glossing over what I needed to hear, or building it up either. When I got home, she didn't make any fuss. We both knew how we felt, why pile up the words? But in a hundred quiet ways she spared me. Kept people away from me, laid my clothes out, saw that there was gas in the car, always left five or ten bucks in the clip on the dressing table, just in case. If I wanted to go to the hospital at four in the morning, fine, she didn't bother me about food and sleep. Every night after work she'd meet me there. If I wanted to talk, talk. If I wanted to keep still, she'd open a book. Her strength and tenderness were like arms around me. For Bambi, an animal story, Janet has tears. For the realities, she has character. And for character there's never been found any substitute. On the lighter side, I also like her J firmness. Which brings me back to Bobby I for a minute. Whether because he's the I baby, whether because Mom lost a son in I between, Bobby can twist her round his I finger. He doesn't feel like homework right now, he talks her out of it. Easy. He talks me out of it. Takes him a little longer, but he'll spare the time. Not Janet. "Why don't you do it now, Bobby?" And he does it. Of course, I think my brother has a crush on my wife. He's reached the right age, fourteen, and he shows the signs. Calls her up on arithmetic problems. When I hear Janet say, "Eight's divided by seven," I know it's Bobby. Instead of "Hi!", he gets real formal with her. "How do you feel this evening, Janet?" — like he's bowing from the waist. Or he sits in the car with me, he clears his throat. "Janet's very pretty, isn't she?" We're married three and a half years, and all of a sudden Janet's pretty. It slays me, but I try to act offhand. "You like the way Janet looks?" He goes shy on me, stares out the window. Five minutes later: "Uh — yeah." I describe this bit to Janet. "Isn't that sweet?" she coos. Next time they meet, she tells him to do his homework. That's a gift, too. To make your husband's brother learn his lessons. In the last analysis, marriage is companionship. All the words boil down to that. Janet's my good companion. We both don't get our kicks from running around, but from being together. Here's an ideal evening. The fire goes, the music plays, there's food on the barbecue and friends come in. Never more than six — maybe the Champions, Dick Quine, Blake Edwards, the writer who's about to turn director, Jeff Chandler when he's in town, Rosie and Joe Ferrer. A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and all six beside us in the wilderness, that's what we call fun. Here's another ideal evening. The fire goes, the music plays, Janet's on one couch, I'm on the other, we read, we talk over the day's work, we plan how to fix the house nice, I massage her neck so she relaxes. Once in a while we play Scrabble. Not very exciting, is it? But excitement isn't happiness or fulfilment. That's what my wife gives me. She gives me peace. A nd if you want something tangible, I ^* can tell you that too. The hi-fi's my baby. I planned and designed it. I talked to the guy who was building it, we went over the measurements — so long, so wide. "Where do you want the tv set? " he asks. "No tv set, this gismo's costing enough." "Look, there's a chassis and tube that go with it." "Thank you very much, but what's the joker?" Well, it seems Miss Leigh called and told him it's part of the outfit. I go home and find Miss Leigh. "Funny thing happened. Out of a clear sky drops a tv set." "Oh?" she deadpans. "Somebody phoned Bill, he forgot the name." I pause for effect. "I hate to say so, honey, but he thinks the person who called was a charming girl." The charming girl giggles, the charming story spills. Not long before, she'd been on a tv show. Instead of money, she asked for a Fleetwood chassis and tube to fit the hi-fi. If you think I'm thrilled to get it, you're right. But not half as thrilled as my wife to give it. So this Christmas I'm hanging presents for Janet. One's marked: i'll drink milk. One's marked: you can put my records away before i step on them. One's marked: i'll try to make b plus for not throwing. One's marked: take the glass away, only bring it back. There's a big one marked: you can even wash my car if it makes you happy. On top stands a star, shinier every year. That one's marked: love. end (Janet Leigh can now be seen in MGM's Rogue Cop; Tony Curtis will soon be seen in Universal's So This Is Paris.) 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