Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

TH£ MD A»D THE ffl,VS ■ Autumn in New York, and the air had a nip in it — especially for young lovers and most especially for a girl named Irene Dunne. The man of her fancy was a successful young dentist. Francis Griffin — and her problem was how to get him to propose. She was walking happily along Fifth Avenue, excited at the fact that Flo Ziegfeld had chosen her for the lead in Show Boat on tour, when she spied a wicked, but very handsome, red silk dress in a store window. "All men like red! If that doesn't do it." mused the future sensational star of Cimarron, "nothing will.*' Irene Dunne wore the devastating dress at her next date with Dr. Griffin. They went dancing on the roof of the St. Regis to the music of Vincent Lopez; the menu was perfect and Irene wore her beau's corsage like a decoration. Everything was just right — except that young Dr. Griffin didn't even notice the new dress! The dates continued with a regularity that was monotonous except that each time he might he going to propose. Soon Irene Dunne would be going on tour, and there were already signs of Hollywood interest in the talented young actress with a voice like a canary. One early spring day. the telephone rang. "Would you like to come to Mass with me on Sundav an'1 lunch afterwards?" he asked. "That's unless you have other plans. . . ." "Oh. no." said Irene. "I have no plans . . ." Later she thought. Spring? 1 need a new hat! The luncheon at one of New York's nicest hotels was only half over next Sunday when Dr. Griffin said. "That's a very pretty hat you're wearing — that reminds me, would you care to marry me?" "Fes/" said Irene unhesitatingly. . . . Somewhat later she asked. "Why did you never mention my new dress? I thought it was such good bait!" "Well, uh." he said. "I thought — for anything I had to say — it was something of a STOP sign. Today I felt you were wearing a sort of GO sign." "But," said Irene, "my hat isn't green — it's blue!" Dr. Griffin grinned at her wickedly. 'So now you know my guilty secret." he said. "I'm color blind!" Today Dr. and Mrs. Francis Griffin are just as much in love as ever — and blue is still their favorite color. They were separate-' in Mnrch when Larry flew east for a Broadway show, but they talked constantly on the phone, and he secretly flew to California on weekends. In July, when Gone With The Wind was completed, he took leave of the play and they sailed for London together — for long, long talks with Jill and Leigh Holman. By this time they were living together almost openly and both mates knew they were fighting a losing battle — that this was no passing infatuation. They filed for divorce. Jill named Vivien as co-respondent, Holman named Olivier. The romance was out in the open and the world fell in love with their love story. The most divine fairy tale With Larry, Vivien flew to Atlanta for the world premiere of Gone With The Wind. With him she spent the night of the New York premiere, hiding away in a little French restaurant on Third Avenue. On this night she didn't want the crowds, the acclaim. Only him. The next day she laughed about it. "By the time the premiere was over and Jack Whitney was putting on his big party, we had both gone to bed." By the time the premiere was over, they were talking their heads off about their feelings for one another. "I don't suppose there ever was a couple so much in love as we are," Larry said happily. "I was only half alive before I met Vivien." And she chimed in: "Our love affair has been the most rlivine fairy tale, hasn't it? And I'm not going to allow my new fame to interfere with my private life. Even if I have to resort to outlandish disguises I'll do it because I insist upon living like a human being." On the night she won the Academy Award for Scarlett, she revealed — to no one's surprise — that they would be married "as soon as possible." "All we want to do," he said, "is spend the rest of our lives together." At one minute past midnight — August 30th, 1940, they took their vows in the moonlight — at Ronald Colman's Santa Barbara ranch. They had lost every cent they had possessed two months before in a disastrous production of Romeo and Juliet, and had returned to Hollywood for That Hamilton Woman, only in order to make enough money to pay their debts. They were swamped with other offers. $250,000 apiece for six weeks' work but turned them down. Their country was at war — and they were needed at home. They returned to England at the height of the Blitz. Although both had always hated and feared flying, he joined the Fleet Air Arm as a pilot. She returned to the stage in The Doctor's Dilemma, doubled as a fire-watcher between shows and spent her week ends and vacations entertaining the troops. Like other couples in war-torn England, they never knew which night might be their last. When they were together they were always holding hands, always kissing. She turned a deaf ear to Selznick's plea to return for another picture — even though he had raised the ante to $350,000. Her answer was always the same. "I will not leave Larry." A miracle — and a tragedy In spite of the war, the buzz-bombs, the insecurity, her one big dream was to have a baby. And in July. 1944, while she was work