Modern Screen (Jan-Nov 1956)

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CROWN MUSIC CO. 1474-F Broadway, New York 36, N.Y. PICTURES OF MOVIE I TV STARS 25C Sensational Collection Of Scenes, Pictures, Photos, Etc. FREE 1 Scene with each 25c order BONUS OFFER QltlV <iflc i 3 Times As Much v,,,» OV*" * LUCKY STARS. Dept. 4 G.P.O. Box 738, New York 1, N. Y. U. S. SAVINGS BONDS ARE DEFENSE BONDS Piles? Fistula? Colon Troubles? Free Book Shows How Thousands Found Relief: 96 These three potential health-wreckers are closely related. Learn how each affects you; how to avoid mistakes in treating them; how thousands have found a proved effective treatment. Write, telling which ailment troubles you. Address Suite 430, Thornton Minor Hospital, 911 E. Linwood, Kansas City 9, Mo. pew, surveyed her discontented teen ager and answered, "You don't have to continue it. I will never ask you to come to church again if you think it is a farce." And Jane got up and walked out right in the middle of the sermon. She didn't give up the Lord or the Bible — she'd been brought up with both and she loved and needed them. She did give up church, but she never even came close to doing without organized prayer. In her mother's home, that was just plain impossible. The kids Jane ran with then were either leaders or rebels, depending on your point of view. Ma Russell didn't know how the other mothers were handling the problem, but her notion was to see that whatever her daughter did, she did at home. When she realized that without her pals Jane wouldn't stay home, she had a brief, confidential tussle with God. "Lord," she demanded, "do I have to take that whole awful gang? All I want to do is save my own little pigeon." And a voice, stern as if she'd been stealing watermelons, answered, "All or none!" So she took them all. Before they knew what they were doing, they were down on their knees beside her. For sure, they were the first kids in town to pray together! Jane, too! Jane's ideas on bringing up kids came from her mother, too. The same forebearance that Ma Russell showed when Jane left the church was applied when she left home. That happened some time later. Jane was tired of community life, not sure where she was going or what she would do with herself. So she moved out, took an apartment all by herself and set about finding out. What she did mostly was stare out the window and ruminate upon life and death and suffering and why. She couldn't seem to come to any decisions, though. Ma Russell knew where she was, but she didn't say a word or try to persuade Jane to come home. She let her ruminate. All Ma Russell did was pray. That was quite enough. In as unexpected a way as usual, the Lord answered her. He did it via a germ; Jane got sick. When the Russells get sick, they want Mama. Ma Russell came home one day and there was Daughter, back in her own bed, wan and weak, but very happy. Until she married Bob, Jane never left home again. Robert don't take no guff Robert Waterfield, by the way, was always the one person Jane couldn't boss. In front of him she turned tongue-tied and meek. From their first date — which she'd been waiting for, breathless with hope, for years (they went to school together) he was lord and master to his humble girl friend. On the whole, his rule was, and is, that of a benevolent despot. When Jane wants to do something Robert couldn't enjoy, he doesn't say, "Don't," he just says, "Goodbye," and goes his own sweet way till she's done. Then they're back together again, happy as clams. The one time he put his foot down before their marriage was when Jane tried out for an Earl Carroll chorus. She made it through endless eliminations, but just before the finals, Robert said, "No." He'd come calling for her and didn't like the looks of the stage door Johnnies. So Jane never went back. "Besides," she said, cheerfully accepting orders, "I didn't like the sound of the talk backstage!" Which, for a fourletter-word girl, was quite a statement! Since their marriage, Bob lets Jane run her own life with the exception of her finances. On that he's firm. He even took Jane's checkbooks away from her when he discovered that she was writing out checks for as much as $100 to anyone who wrote and asked for help. And she let him! But one acquiescence doesn't make a saint. And for anyone but Robert, Old Jane is totally unpredictable — and usually unfathomable. The latest to testify to this is a French sailor who met her while she was making Mamie Sjover in Honolulu. Lo, the poor Frenchman! He was serving on a cruiser, the Jeanne a" Arc, when word came that the ship would dock in Honolulu and liberty was available to the crew. That was fine. But when scuttle butt reported — reliably-that Jane Russell was only a few miies off, making a movie which seemed set to outhorrify the censors who had gasped at The French Line (and muttered piously, "She is wearing nothing but the body God gave her — God forgive her!"), pandemonium broke loose. Those who could begged, borrowed or stole a camera. The rest polished shoes and dusted red-pommed hats with more attention than a visiting general ever warranted. Then, in groups of six and eight, they descended upon the Halekulani Hotel, where shooting was taking place — our sailor in the lead. They arrived between takes and clustered around the set. There, seated in a • canvas-back chair, enjoying her leisure moment, was the red-wigged Mamie Stover, girl-of-few-morals, reading. Off to one side a record player contributed some music to the scene, but Mamie-Jane was oblivious. The French sailors buzzed anxiously. A quick poll determined that our sailor was the only one with a reasonable English vocabulary. Clutching his camera, he found himself propelled from the rear toward Jane. He raised his camera to his eye, then suddenly % froze. Jane glanced up, returned to her book. The sailor lowered the camera and retreated to his comrades. "That is not Jane Russell," he whispered. "That is some girl reading a Bible." "Ask her!" "In the middle of her devotions? That is not nice. She is perhaps the hair dresser." "Ask her!" The sailor walked gingerly back to Jane and coughed. "Pardon," he said, "you are not Jane Russell?" "No," Jane said quietly, "I am Jane Russell." The sailor had an inspiration. "We see you read the Bible. It is for the picture, yes?" "No," Jane said, still unperturbed. "I read it all the time. Always carry it with me." There are few movie magazines in France. The sailor knew nothing of Jane but what he had seen in the movies. The shock was quite something. Along with his poise, his English fled. He couldn't remember a word. But obviously something was required. Jane, her missionary zeal aroused, was smiling at him, waiting for him to speak. And he spoke the only English words he could remember — the very first he had learned. If he had been an American speaking to a French star under those circumstances, he probably would have said, "Where is the pen of my aunt?" Being French, he had learned a different sentence. "Miss Russell." he heard himself gasp, to his horror, "will you dance with me?" But to his everlasting relief, the skies did not descend. "Sure," said Jane Russell heartily, putting down her Bible, getting to her feet, and holding out her arms. And so they danced to the music from the record player, Jane in her red wig, the sailor in his glory, to the whistles and shouts of the French Navy, who had no idea that they were helping to destroy, once and for all, the legend of Jane the sanctified and untouchable! END fa