Modern Screen (Dec 1934 - Nov 1935)

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The discovery of a new, foreign restaurant in an odd corner of town had been an event. Concerts. Puppet shows. Now, if Gloria was working, she must have her massage and then dinner in bed, from a tray. Between pictures she must go only to important homes and entertain only important people. I sighed a little for the days in which we had brought home an itinerant accordion player to dinner, when we had discovered a starving poet, when we had gone to the Hollywood Bowl concerts and sat high on the hills, hand-in-hand, listening to divine symphonies. /~\NE day Gloria and I were having tea on the terrace. Or, rather, Gloria was having tea and I was having several whiskeys. It occurred to me suddenly that she had had something done to her hair. That spun-silk, taffy-gold hair, which I had loved so much, was shinier now and lighter. It made her look older and hard. I asked her about it. "It was very expensive," she said. "But it photographs more flatteringly than it did the old way. For my next picture I am going to have it a very light red." "You didn't consult me," I said. She looked at me, blankly. "Well, why should I?" she inquired, with real bewilderment. "It photographs better. I was just telling you." A few moments later she said, "My next picture calls for me to go on location for about a month." I said, "Is that so? When do we start?" She looked at me and hesitated. "Well, darling," she admitted, at last, "I'm afraid that they don't plan for you to go. They told me that it would be better if you didn't. I don't know how to tell you. But if anything comes up to which I object, they always say that you have put me up to complaining. That it is your advice which is causing the trouble. It weakens my position. Do you see ? Oh, please see, dear. It isn't that I don't love you and that I don't want your advice." She hadn't asked my advice in months. I looked at her for a long, long moment. I tried to recall the shining little creature I had glimpsed that first day on the street of that small, southern town. She was gone. Here was a sleek, groomed, carefully dressed woman of the world. She wasn't worshiping me as a magic, fairytale Prince Charming now. She was appraising me and finding me wanting. She had found that I "weakened her position," even though I had effaced myself, I thought, as far as a man could. I was a drawback, and an expensive one, too. "My dear," I said, "I shall go away. I shan't stand in your way, 'weaken your position' any longer." I went to my room and wondered what I could put into a bag which would belong to me. There was nothing. But Gloria would have small use for men's shirts and pyjamas, which had been tailored to fit me. I decided that I might take a quota of those. I would take nothing in the way of suits excepting what I had on. My clothes fitted the second footman nicely. \X7"HEN I went downstairs, Armvv heimer was there. Gloria was weeping, softly. "Miss Gay thinks that she should give you some money," said the brisk little man. "You can't go away like this. The publicity would be so bad." I hit him. I hit him rather neatly on the chin — just hard enough to knock him out temporarily, but not hard enough to do him any permanent damage. Having accomplished that to my satisfaction, I seized Gloria, who had stood there looking rather dazed, kissed her once and went away. Sitting on a park bench yesterday in a dusty, middle western town, I picked up a paper which someone had abandoned. "What becomes of movie stars' abandoned husbands?" a caption asked. "Where are the erstwhile husbands of Gloria Gay and . . ." I can't go home to the little southern town. My family will have none of me. I have no money. I have abandoned my name. I am about to start over in this little, hot, dusty town, not because I have chosen and prefer it, but because this was as far as I could travel with the change I had in my pocket. Even from my park bench, I could see that this was a clean, wholesome, decent little town, populated by hard working people who earn their money. Today I answered an ad in the small, local paper and secured a job as a clerk in a hardware store, at fifteen dollars a week. I shall work very hard and hope some day to become a stockholder or a junior partner. But I shall hope and pray that never, never shall these people learn that — I have been kept by a movie star ! Is thai the end of the story, you ask? Do you want to know if he ever saw Gloria again? We can't blame you for asking but, you see, it's a story without an end, really. What difference would it make if he did see Gloria again? She wouldn't give up her career. He wouldn't go back to the humiliating life of "being kept by a movie star." And so. you can see, in a heart-breakingly truthful Hollywood story (with fictitious names, of course, for obvious reasons) one of the answers to that perpetual question, "Why can't those Hollywood folks stay married?" My Big Sister Ruby (Continued from page 44) dress and a blue sash and hair-ribbon. I don't think I realized what an occasion it was until I saw Ruby on the stage. Then I got so surprised and excited that I jumped up and yelled, "Hello, Ruby!" N. T. G., who was master of ceremonies, asked, "Who's that, Ruby?" "That's my kid sister," she replied. "Does she dance?" he asked. "You betl Just like me." "Just like you!" he repeated. "Well have her come down." And before I knew what had happened there I was on the stage with Ruby. At the end of the dance N. T. G. kissed me and then, because I just about came up to his knees, he kicked me for good measure. The audience laughed and so did N. T. G. as he called, "I'll see you later, Kick-in-The-Pants." WELL that's how I got my nickname and it stuck because Ruby and I repeated our impromptu performance as long as she was with N. T. G. and later when she was at the El Fey Club with 106