Modern Screen (Dec 1933 - Oct 1934)

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And I'm glad Johnny and Bruce have become friends because they are much alike in their masculine interests — golf, riding, fishing. I believe these women will appreciate you for your virtues and not try to correct them. But your friends do not want to talk about their marriages. And now you don't want to talk about Johnny, or anything else for that matter. When I heard you were not talking to the press, I shuddered. My mind flashed back over the years. Lupe — her eyes shining onyx, her mouth a naturally scarlet dash of defiant honesty. "Yes, I am in love with Tom Mix" . . . "Of course, I am crazy about my Gary" . . . "It break my heart into little, sharp pieces to leave Gary" . . . "Johnny is my man!" A newspaper recently printed a story that Adrienne Ames is frightened of you. Afraid you have your eyes on Bruce Cabot. It was a malicious yarn. Untrue. I know you're too busy keeping your eyes on Johnny even to wink at Bruce. And I know you'd give your shirt off your back (and I wouldn't be surprised if you'd begun to wear them) for Adrienne, because you adore her. I cover my ears when I think of what you would have said to the editor of that paper a year ago. You'd have secured a retraction by the very force of your anger, and hired a lawyer to help you. But today you're retreating behind the dignity of silence. I once wrote a story in which I called you the best showman in Hollywood because you were the most natural, most unspoiled, most unaffected by the whitewash which success seems to give most of us. By not fighting such a story, you're using whitewash, Lupe. You've just had a terrific row with Countess Dorothy Frasso. Why don't you tell the world about it? Why don't you tell the rest of us what it means to fight for yourself and a friend? Too many people have forgotten. Why should you commence to do worth while things behind doors, like the rest of Hollywood? The Countess Frasso invited you to a party. You did your best to entertain her friends as only Lupe Velez could entertain them — in a hell-bent-for-election fashion. And then someone told you she said, "I invited Lupe because even royalty must have jesters at their parites!" That hurt! You remembered the gifts you'd sent her. The make-up mirror ; the flowers. You recalled how you'd sat up all night while her father was ill to see if there was anything you could do to help. You had thought her your friend. And then, you heard she'd said something unkind about another woman. So you framed her. In the best, old-Lupe fashion. You and the other woman faced her with the remarks. You did not go behind her back. And now she's leaving town ! Why not tell us about it? You weren't afraid to tell anyone who wanted to listen what you thought about the Mae West picture, "I'm No Angel." You said it was "rotten" and advised me not to let my son see it. That's when you first wanted to join a woman's club. I'm in favor of your joining one. For the sake of the woman's club, however; not for your sake. They'd see how quickly the producers would listen to criticisms, if you made them. And you've always been a crank on the subject of clean pictures. When you wanted to go to Europe on the same boat with Jack Gilbert, you went. You did what thousands of other girls would like to do but were afraid to. You've become an international "big shot" by being different, by being true to yourself rather than to what others said or printed about you. You are trying to be respectable on others' definitions, when you've always had your own — being true to the whirlwind emotions God gave you and telling the whole world to go to hell if it didn't like His creation. And I believe the world would rather have you divorce Johnny, if you cease to love him, than live with him for the protection of respectability. And that day will probably come, since your emotions are as natively uncontrollable as the dynamite of your personality. Only, don't kill him. I used to be afraid you'd kill Gary. Now I'm afraid you're getting too respectable to even hit Johnny. i he world needs your color, your native charm, your dare-devil independence of all sham and pretense and falsification. As a friend, I say in print what you wouldn't listen to in person, "Don't get respectable, Lupe !" Universal is planning to out-Frankenstein "Frankenstein" and out-Dracula "Dracula" in their latest hair-raiser, "The Black Cat," starring Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff.