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Brown
BEFORE the arrival of Prince George of England in Hollywood, everybody liked June Collyer. She was sweet and pretty, good to her parents kind to animals and regally lovely on the screen. Which ;„, Newsreei made her merely another nice girl.
Before the departure of the Prince most of our ultra dazzling dames were jealous of her. Which makes her an — Elk.
Hollywood took a second look at June and discovered that she was not only an exquisite but a personality as svelte and smart as her figure. Not that June hadn't been all these things before the coming of His Highness, but Hollywood is a sleepy hollow that has to be whammed with headlines to realize its own charm.
Not since Lindbergh tea'd with Marion Davies has a gentleman's preference caused so fnuch whoopee in local quarters. The story has been pretty well noised around about how June — and her slim shoulders and her dimples and her orchids — walked into the royal dinner at Pickfair and right away with the exclusive attention of the young
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Mortensen
The royal road to learning about the movies was, for Prince George of England, made a particularly pleasant jaunt by the companionship of June CoUyer
Iier ru)yal Q\hyness
June Collyer Doesn't Want
To Capitalize Her Friendship With A Prince
By DOROTHY MANNERS
est of the house of Windsor. Out of his twenty-four-hour holiday to the movie metropolis about twenty-two were spent in the company of the Collyer girl, as she is referred to lately. That's an old story. But in the meantime what has happened to June who has been so suddenly snatched from her quiet debutanteactress existence into the glare of headlines and the envy of a lot of women .?
Queenly but Not Queeny
YOU might reasonably think she would be proud. Or queening it a little. Or even a bit blase. On the contrary, I found June in her dressing-room quivering lest the telephone ring and the newspapers pry her for further details. It was only a couple of days after the leave-taking ofLieutenaht Windsor from Hollywood and June's face was still flushed with excitement. She wore a little red hat pushed down close over her face and a sports suit to match. All curled up on her dressingroom lounge with her feet tucked under she looked as beautiful as — well, as you would expect the girl to look who had been the choice of all the belles of Hollywood. Before I got a chance to get in a little grilling myself a newspaper lady all aquiver with excitement dropped in and wanted to know everything. What had June worn to the dinner.? What had Mary Pickford worn.? What was the Prince like.? What had he said to June.? What had she said to him.?
June lit a cigarette and tried to be polite. But somehow I don't think she had her heart in the answers. So the newspaper lady left a little defeated.
"It seems a shame — all this fuss and excitement over such a quiet, nice boy," she said as the reporter lady closed the door after herself. "His visit here was supposed to be a secret anyway. And now that it (Continued on page 86)
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