We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
What happens to stars when they vanish from the screen? This is the answer — a true and tragic story told by a once-famous star. Between the lines, you may read her identity
Confessions
of a
Falling Star
As Told To Jerry Lane
Illustrations By G. Patrick Nelson
DIDN'T believe him then. I thought Valentino was joking. How could it be otherwise? He was a king, an idol. But he looked so melancholy there on the set that I had slipped over to him and, with all the ingenuousness of worshipful eighteen, offered him an apple from the lunch box that Mother had fixed for me.
It I had given him gold, he could not have been more gracious. But his mood didn't soften. And after all these years, his words have come to haunt me this last month like a minor chord from an instrument that has been muted too long.
He said: "You want to know the recipe for misery, child? A million-dollar house — filled with yesterday s star-dust. Decayed glory for memories — and, for company, a telephone that has ceased to ring . . ."
I didn't know what he meant. I do now. Only too painfully well.
A thousand hands seemed ready to boost me to stardom. Not one is lifted to help me to-day. None except that of old Emilv, the hairdresser at the studio that first built
32
up my name to the point where it was something of a household by-word. She sent me a rose with a little card attached, "I'm so glad you are back, dear." Just that. I had to use every ounce of will power to fight back the tears . . . because she was the only one who had remembered— and because I wasn't "back."
A Victim of False Hope
THIS morning, I thought I was. They had sent for me. They told me it was a "big part" — one that was exactly what I had been looking for. I dressed with more care than I had in weeks. I even bought a gardenia to pin on my shoulder. One little ray of hope had appeared — and all the stings and worry (Continued on page 64)
When I finally saw him, he rubbed his hands and showed his teeth in a smile meant to -dazzle me. "What do you think of doing 'Lost Melody'?" My heart skipped a beat. The part of the girl in it would make— or remake — any actress. "You are to be Arline, the mother.*' Had it come to this — at thirty?