Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1956)

Everybody's Doing it! Now! SWAP AUTOGRAPHED PICTURES with your Friends Actual Size — 2y2"x3y2' LUXURIOUS, SILK FINISH WALLET-SIZE PICTURES (with your own greeting) From your favorite Snapshot or Photo Give, them to friends, sweethearts, classmates, relatives — Double-weight studio paper, fine enough to frame. SEND ANY PORTRAIT OF YOURSELF (with or without your own "personalized" greeting written on photo) together with payment. All orders get fast service. But if you want finished photos mailed a few hours after receipt, enclose 25 cents for extra handling costs and check coupon. We pay postqge on all service. MAIL MONEY BACK COUPON NOW! * WALLET PHOTOS, Box D13-46. Hillside, N. J.J Token Photos. I enclose vhich you will return Please send me . $ and my picture Slate unharmed. (325< end. for super-speed service. Nam e Address 1 City CORNS Removed by Mosco. also Calluses. Quick, easy, economical. Just rub ! on. Jars, 35 i, 60 At your druggist. Money refunded if not satisfied. Moss Co., Rochester, N. Y. ★CORN* REMOVER MOSCO 90 Movie and TV Stars Free Catalog Listing Latest Scenes, Portraits, Pin Ups, and Candid Poses 8x10 Black and White Glossy Prints Pin Ups, Brief Poses — MaleFemale. Scenes and Western Stars. New. 250 Each — 6 for $1 — Color 500 Each. Stars in New Candid Poses Size 4x5 Black and White Glossy Prints 7 for 500; 15 — $1.00 — Color 350 Each. Include postage. STEPHEN SALLY, Dept. B P.O. Sox 52. Gracie Station. N. Y. 28, N. Y. Happy Is The Day When Backache Goes Away .... Nagging backache, headache, or muscular aches and pains may come on with over-exertion, emotional upsets or day to day stress and strain. And folks who eat and drink unwisely sometimes suffer mild bladder irritation... with thatrestless.uncomfortablefeeling. If you are miserable and worn out because of these discomforts, Doan's Pills often help by their pain relieving action, by their soothing effect to ease bladder irritation, and by their mild diuretic action through the kidneys— tending to increase the Output of the 15 miles of kidney tubes. So if nagging backache makes you feel draggedout, miserable . . . with restless, sleepless nights . ... don't wait . . . try Doan's Pills .. . get the same happy relief millions have enjoyed for over 60 years. Get Doan's Pills today 1 I saw it coming! (Continued from page 39) made up my mind for me. In Florida, where I dined with Prince Rainier's father, the Count Pierre de Polignac, I learned that the Prince, a house guest of friends of the Kellys, was spending much time with Grace. I had talked with the Prince the day after he arrived in this country with his friend and royal chaplain, the Very Reverend J. Francis Tucker — a man to be reckoned with, as you will see. Ostensibly His Serene Highness was here for a medical check-up at Johns Hopkins. But ignoring this usual official camouflage, I asked about his plans. "Christmas week," he said, "I'm planning to spend in Hollywood." Mrs. Millicent Hearst, who was with us, told him, "You must go to San Simeon. I'll telephone my son David to look you up. We have a private zoo there such as you have at the Palace. You'd like to see it." The Prince, as always, was charming. "That would be wonderful, wonderful." "What a pity," I was going to say, but didn't, "that Grace Kelly, whom you met briefly last spring, will not be there." For I had just had a wire from Grace saying she planned to fly home in time for the holidays. "Tell me," I said instead, "are you looking for a wife?" He smiled, with the extraordinary shyness that is part of his charm. That and his great humor. "No, not necessarily. You think I should marry?" "For your principality you should," I said. "No doubt about it!" Her secret Grace All of us are two people; that person the world sees and that secret self who, remembering all the emotions that have patterned our lifetime, dictates how we will think, act and react. I've always felt that Grace's secret self required her to compensate for whatever social importance the healthy, happy, selfmade Kelly clan lacked with Philadelphia's Main Line. Today, of course, any prejudice a mossback society might entertain about first-generation money wouldn't disturb Grace in the least. She would even be quietly amused by it. But it's when we're young, supersensitive and vulnerable that we acquire our emotional scars. And when anyone applies herself to getting ahead, as Grace has done, she's compensating for something even if she's not conscious of it. In an incredibly short time Grace has found Hollywood stardom and won an Oscar. To the envy of the more obvious femme fatales she has captured the romantic fancy of the world's most eligible men and, in the end, held their devoted friendship. She has, contrary to movie custom, established her home in New York where she can enjoy a wider choice of friends and society. The most famous couturiers ache to dress her, because — more than anyone else on the contemporary scene, she exemplifies a beautifully simple and correct look; her spic and span white gloves having come to be so much a part of her that you almost picture her arriving in this world wearing a tiny pair. And now she's going to marry one of the two royal bachelors left in this world — the other being a Belgian Prince (who has just announced his engagement, too). And she's going to enjoy the highest social position. I keep remembering Grace last spring when we were in southern France together. She was chaperoned by the Countess de Seggonsac. You don't catch this young lady traveling alone, leaving herself open to gossip and column items. Among many of her other pleasant qualities she is smart. I asked her to a small dinner party I gave at the Carlton, which was her hotel. I still can see her arriving, breathtakingly beautiful in her short, simple black satin dress. Her only adornment was a little string of seed pearls and a narrow, black, elephanthair ring. No other jewels. I placed her next to Jean-Pierre Aumont at the table. Need I go on? "Elsa," he said, "she's the loveliest thing I've ever seen!" For the first time since the death of his wife, Maria Montez, four years ago, he was smitten. She meets the Prince The day following my dinner Pierre Gallant, an editor of Paris-Match and the husband of Olivia De Havilland, drove Grace to Monaco to meet Prince Rainier, go through the Palace, and be photographed for a picture layout. They both told me about their visit with the Prince a few days later at my farm at Auribeau, high in the ancient hills behind Nice. Among others at luncheon that day were Gene Kelly and his wife Betsy Blair and Marcel Pagnol, author of the stories upon which the musical Fanny is based. I can still see Grace getting out of JeanPierre's car, wearing a tweed skirt and a crisp white shirt, her usually smooth gold hair flying. I like it better that way. Before lunch Grace and I went on a tour of my farm. There's nothing more endearing, of course, than for someone to love a place you love. And Grace adored the farm. "Chickens and pigs,-' she exclaimed. "A huge vegetable garden! Fruit trees! I envy you, Elsa." She need envy me no more, for I'm certain she will turn the palace farm and gardens into a modern Eden. She stopped for a long time at a wonderful old tree that bears the most beautiful white roses, a rarity in France. White roses, I learned, are her favorites. And if my old rose tree can be transplanted she will have it for a wedding present, to grow beneath her palace window. We lunched that day in the garden. Grace was not at my table but I saw her helped twice to the lamb curry, in spite of all the calories lurking in the sauce and rice, pineapple, coconut and chutney. "French food," she said to me. "It's so divinely wonderful." "And French beaux?" She laughed. "The same." She was referring at the moment only to Jean-Pierre Aumont. Had he not begun his siege to her heart and had she not been responsive it could well be that her romance with Prince Rainier would have begun then, seven months earlier. That her image remained with the Prince there seems no doubt. And Father "Tuck" I think, sensed this. Just this last week when Grace and I were laughing about her earlier meeting with the Prince she said, "I hadn't the slightest idea then what was going to happen. Not the slightest!" However, she brought one vivid impression away from her Monacan visit — the way Prince Rainier's tiger embraced him. For she mentioned it several times. At my table at lunch that day we began to gossip and laugh. Grace, I noticed, kept leaning further and further in our direction. At last, frankly unable to endure her curiosity another minute, she demanded, "What are you all laughing and talking about?" "We're being naughty, quite naughty," I admitted. "Can't I come over and be naughty with even Eff