Modern Screen (Feb-Dec 1958)

had been routed out of bed, blinking, sleepy, tousled — fourteen-year-old Janet, twelve-year-old Lulu, six-year-old Jimmy, baby Katherine, only three — and Millie, the in-betweener. In the grey dawn Millie had pulled away from Janet's hands shaking her awake. "Go 'way . . . too early. . . ." "It's six o'clock," Janet hissed. "Come on, Millie, you've got to get up and get ready. . . ." "Ready . . . fo' . . . wha . . .?" "Why, you dope, don't you remember? Daddy's coming home today!" Instantly Millie sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide open. "Oh! Of course! Oh, Jan— today!" She threw back the covers. Janet was closing the window, turning on the radiator. "Listen, Mama's washing Jimmy up. Hear him holler?" They both listened for a minute. Then Millie, slipping into her robe and pattering barefoot into the hall, shook her head in wonder and disgust. "What a dope. Doesn't he want to wash up for Daddy?" But Jan was on her way back to her own room already, too busy to listen. There was so much to be done — so much. For Daddy was coming home — tall, blond, handsome Daddy who sailed the seas for the Merchant Marine and made it back to his family only once a month. And with him he brought into the house more than just himself, though that was enough. He brought excitement, romance, adventure. And he brought — authority. For Daddy the house had to shine the way the glasses did on board his ship. For Daddy every dresser top, every table, must glow with polishing, every hairbrush must be lined up, neat, clean, orderly. The windows were washed, the house was swept, the bathroom and kitchen were scrubbed within an inch of destruction before Daddy came home. And that was not all. On Daddy's children, not a hair must be out of place, not a button undone, not a lace untied. For Daddy clothes had to be brushed, shoes shined, faces scrubbed. So that wonderful, long-gone Daddy, would smile approval and love upon his adoring clan. Of them all, Millie was the one who worked hardest to please. Maybe because she was the middle one — neither the oldest, who got the most privileges nor the youngest who got the babying, nor the boy who could grow up to be a sailor, too. She was only Millie, who got her fair share of love, to be sure, but was still to herself, just the middle child, the quiet one. The great moment came at last. For an hour the children had been lining themselves up behind the door with its brightly polished knocker. And then suddenly, just as they were dying with impatience, certain it would never happen — the key turned in the lock. The next instant their mother was clasped in Daddy's arms and they were clutching him from all sides, laughing, half-crying, pulling at him, crowding closer to be kissed and hugged and smothered in his embrace. "Now," said her father, freeing himself from them all, "let me look at you, all of you. Not bad. No, not bad. But if you really want your shoes to shine, you've got to do better than that. Here children, take them off. I'll show you how to polish shoes!" And he did. That was the homecoming. Today Millie laughs about it, reports cheerfully that they went through that sort of scene every month. But then — then it was just another case of being little Millie, who never quite managed to stand out from the crowd. In-between, nowhere-special Millie. 76 She might have felt that way forever if that particular miracle hadn't happened. When she was eleven she met The Boy, and he looked at her with special eyes. If you've ever felt you were nobody and then suddenly you became somebody — then you know what Millie felt. You know a little something of the transformation that swept over her, of the joy that seemed about to lift her off her feet and carry her away, of the incredulous, shouting-out love that she could feel — even at eleven. For this was not just any boy. This was a special, wonderful, brilliant, popular boy. This was the boy who led in everything— athletics and discussions, class plays and picnic plans. It was magic. For she had been given by him the greatest gift of all, more precious than the envious eyes of the girls, the whistles the boys now bestowed upon her. She had been given herself! And since that gift could never be revoked, that love could never die. Busy improving At home, she was still little Millie, still eager to please, quick to love. Her father liked to see the children busy with improving things, so whenever he was by, she would snatch up a book and pretend to be immersed in it. One day he walked past her chair and found her apparently intent upon a book on how-to-raisechickens. This time she got the recognition she had longed for — her father was tremendously impressed with Millie's practicality, her varied interests. A year earlier it might have cut her to the quick that when she finally got praise it was for a lie — but now she was not alone, now she could no longer believe that that was the only way she could be loved. ^1lllllllllhlllllilllllllllllllllllllllllll1llllllllllllll1IMIIMIII|ltlllltllllllllllllllllllll!lllllll|i!^ I WHAT IS A SUPER I STAR CHART? [ It's MODERN SCREEN'S I 1 oivn official booklet, used to | 1 get the basic facts on all major | | Hollywood stars. 1 WHO WOULD WANT ONE? | Anyone fascinated by Holly \ | ivood and the real facts about f 1 the stars. § HOW CAN I GET ONE? | | Just fill out the coupon beloiv 1 1 and include 25 cents. It's a i | MODERN SCREEN service \ | to you, our readers. ... 1 f 1 | Box 515 ! Super Star Information Chart Times Square P. O. New York 36, N. Y. Enclosed please find 25 cents in coin. Please rush me my copy of MODERN SCREEN'S SUPER STAR INFORMATION CHART j Name | j Address | j City Zone.. .State... | Didn't the boy love her for herself? Didn't he believe in her for what she really was? When high school was over, the future seemed perilously near. Lots of the kids were getting married right after graduation, starting out in small jobs and smaller apartments. "We could, too," the boy said to Millie. "But we won't." If she was disappointed, she said nothing, trusting him. "Tell me — " "I'm going to college. Then to medical school. It takes a long time to be a doctor, eight or nine years. It wouldn't be good for either of us to be trying to start out a marriage while I had to study and sweat over the books. We'll wait." Panic hit her. "Where will you go?" "Not far. You could go to college, too, you know. Your folks would send you." She shook her head dolefully. Much as she wanted to be with him, lost as she would be without him, she was no student by nature and she knew it. The thought of a college campus, filled with brilliant young people expounding difficult theories was too much. "No. . . ." He nodded, understanding that his girl had come far, but would never be filled to bursting with self-confidence. "Very well, then. You come to New York and get a job. We could see each other every week end. You could live with your sister." "With Lulu? That would be great." Millie thought it over. Lulu had a darling apartment, was easy to get along with. "But what would I do? I haven't got any training for anything." The boy took her hands and looked into her eyes. He had an idea; he'd been saving it for the right moment. Now this was it. "Honey, you could be a model!" Millie's eyes positively bulged. For a moment she was utterly speechless. "Me? A model? You're crazy. I — I know you think I'm — pretty — but nobody else — I mean — " The boy waited till she ran down. Then he led her, still holding her hands, to a mirror. "Look!" he commanded. "Look at your eyes, look at your mouth — Millie, I don't know if you're pretty, really. But I do know people look at you. I do know you take a great picture. And I know — I know you can do it!" Slowly, Millie turned to face the mirror. And a year later, she was one of the top models in New York City. Life in the big city All week, she carried her model's hatbox, filled with make-up, clothing changes, skin lotions, from photographer to photographer, posing in glamorous clothes, collecting fabulous fees. Evenings she returned to Lulu's pretty apartment to eat Lulu's marvelous cooking along with Lulu's fascinating guests. All sorts of interesting people came over — writers and musicians and artists — many of them eager to meet Lulu's stunning little sister whose face peered so pertly from the pages of the fashion magazines. But to Millie they were a terrifying crew, full of confidence and grit and strong ideas. She admired them and envied them — but she was much too shy to talk to them. The life she herself was leading never struck her as really unusual and interesting. As far as she was concerned, she lived for the week ends with her guy. Life was good and easy and smooth. Until everything happened at once. On the same day, she was asked to test for Anne Frank, and he received his draft notice. All week end they argued it back and forth, over and over. "But I can't act. I've never acted." "If you can't act, you won't pass the