Motion Picture (Aug 1940-Jan 1941)

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SEND NO MONEY! Pay postman only $2.99 plus postage charges on arrival or send $2.99 (Check, M. O., Cash) and yours will be sent postpaid. A MOST UNUSUAL VALUE! FREE! "MAGICTENNA"— ELIMINATES OUTSIDE WIRES! ORDER NOW! MIDGET RADIO CO., Dept. F-12, Kearney, Nebr. The Prizefighter and the Lady [Continued from page 68] there was a liberal sprinkling of men in the lines outside the theater — men who were not so mindful of Valentino as they were of a man who stood as the most successful interpreter of sinister roles on the screen. To reach George Raft in his dressing room was quite an ordeal. One had to pass a gauntlet of autograph-seekers, of stage door hangers-on, of a battalion of bodyguards and buffers. Looming most prominently in the path to the actor was his pal and general factotum, Mack "Killer" Grey. Once inside the dressing room you became suddenly aware again of the immense loyalty George has not only to his old friends but to his old environment, his old background. In an expensive cream-colored shirt, shorts, white woolen socks and slippers he sat on the edge of his chair knees apart, hands resting on his knees, in the manner of a boxer awaiting the bell for his bout to begin. The same repressed nervous energy, the same alert, expectant sense of surroundings that you detect in a boxer were present. But then you recall that George Raft began life as a boxer. The dressing-room attitude was, after all, a subconscious reflection of his oldtime calling. As a youth he had fought as a bantamweight, had taken part in some twenty-five bouts, had been knocked out some seven times. Had he learned to use his left he might have gone on to a championship. "I appreciate now what a blessing a bad left was," he said. "Had I continued boxing I never would have taken up dancing. And if I hadn't become a professional dancer I would never have gone on to Hollywood — and to this," he waved his arm, his left arm, significantly, to include, it seemed, not only his dressing room but the whole Strand Theater. "I was lucky not to have a left. I'd say my whole life has been lucky. I still can't believe it's true." Here, I thought, is that rare specimen, an actor, who hadn't persuaded himself that his irresistible charm, unusual ability, enormous good looks had brought him to Hollywood's front rank. He had set his success down to his lucky breaks, beginning with his lucky, listless left. "Didn't you later prove to yourself in baseball that your right was also lucky for you?" I asked. "I'll say," he smiled, and I noted how white his teeth were against his olive skin. It was only a flash. His face quickly assumed the more characteristic serious mien that many persons, until they know him, mistake for unfriendliness. Valentino, I remem bered, had something of the same quality. Hollywood scouts sometimes describe it as "vaguely romantic." I thought how definitely romantic George Raft might be to the public were Hollywood to dress him up in the black baggy gaucho pants, the white blouse and the wide-brimmed, high-crowned black gaucho sombrero which Valentino used to affect. And how amazingly like Valentino he would look! "Yeah," he went on, while a Negro dresser was deftly steering a Raft shin into a black trouser, "if I hadn't thrown my right arm out in Springfield, Mass., trying to catch a runner at the plate from deep center field, I probably would be playing ball yet for a living. Or, if not actually playing, mixed up in the game somehow. I hardly think I would have been in Hollywood." I said I could not recall anyone who had similarly capitalized upon the commercial failure in sports of both a left and a right arm. He said he couldn't either. "It shows what a lucky guy I am," he explained. "I hope my luck stays with me at Saratoga." George likes to play the races. In fact, he likes most everything the Broadway Boys like. Most of them, at one time or another, would like to own a Broadway night club. George is able to satisfy such a yen. He has a big share in a place called the Hurricane. It was a girl from the Hurricane, Mary Vee Johnson, who was his dancing partner at the Strand. The association with George was lucky for her, too. She is going to Hollywood for Universal. The absentee landlordship of a Broadway night club helps to keep him in the groove, helps to give him the feeling that he has an anchor to his old street even though he resides in a luxurious castle in Beverly Hills high up in a canyon somewhat incongruously called "Coldwater." "TT'S fun getting back here, seeing the A lown, doing the town, visiting with old friends," he was almost dressed now for his 3 o'clock performance, "and above all, resuming the dance routine where I left off. I don't mind telling you I'm not as fast on my feet as I used to be. You see, I haven't been keeping up my homework, and I'm no longer fresh from the boxing ring and the baseball diamond. They were great training for me when I took up a dancing career. But the people out front are very kind. Many of them are even enthusiastic. It's nice to know you have so many friends. Yet, I'll be glad to get back to Hollywood. Five shows a day can be pretty trying." Back in Hollywood, George Raft doesn't know what he is going to do. What he isn*t going to do is to appear in South of Suez. He had been booked for that picture, but he has rejected it. Meanwhile, there is Norma Shearer. Geography really doesn't matter. It's life and love, according to the song writers, that count. And George and Norma are happy. Being happy, they are inseparable. They dine together, look at movies in her private projection-room at her Santa Monica beach house, attend the races. Perhaps, yet, they'll be in a picture together. Perhaps, Norma was very shrewd in refusing to appear with him on the Strand stage. It might have taken the edge off their screen co-stardom — if and when it takes place. Such a co-stardom, if and when it takes place, would be wheat cakes and syrup to Broadway. Broadway, I have a feeling, would give it a great big hand. 70