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I'm on my soapbox to say I'm sick of all the innuendoes going around, plus Liz Taylor's open charge, that Debbie Reynolds
couldn't lose Eddie Fisher's love "because she never had it."
What kind of love are they referring to?
As the chaperone of Debbie and Eddie in | Las Vegas just two weeks before their marriage at Grossinger's resort in New York, I can tell you that they were two of the most love-struck youngsters I've ever known, always holding hands in the back of our car— or Eddie whispering love songs into Debbie's ear — all right, let's say it, 'necking' all over the place.
Let me address a guestion to some of you girls who may have at one time in your lives attempted to get an unwilling male to the marriage license bureau. How much luck did you have? Except in cases of 'shot-gun arguments,' I bet — none.
And there was nobody dragging Eddie to Grossinger's when he took Debbie as his bride.
They admit they had their hassles and misunderstandings in the early days of marriage "as most couples do."
And yet, Eddie was always openly proud of Debbie, of her fine charity work — he kiddingly called her his "busy little club woman"; of her fine talent as a comedienne and actress
— "and look how she showed me up as a singer with Tammy." he'd say with pride; and as a wife and mother. He said to me just a few weeks before they parted when I visited them at their home for a Modern Screen interview. "She's the best."
This isn't love? It's just the kind that makes for the good family life this country is based on, that's all. Maybe it isn't the gasping, panting, you-set-me-on-fire kind of grande passion that's based on blinding sex-appeal — but it's love in my book. The best kind.
On page 31 of this edition of Modern Screen I have a round-up article on the Liz-EddieDebbie tragedy which I hope you'll read.