Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1930)

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'md Other Things "alks About Intimate A3.rz Bow And Others ibbles into the air as she did so, my heart has not been y own. I gave it then into her keeping, and she still has it. I id been kissed before — what mouse-of-the-world has )t.' But this, I knew, was something different. Minnie m take my heart and make it dance a jig in thin air as e kiss, or make it stand to attention and then fade from ght just as if she were Houdini. We have tried to show lis little trick of Minnie's in my pictures. I have never )and anyone else who can kiss like Minnie, and all the lost thrillingly intimate moments of my whole life have c en with her. As for the fantastic stories that have been circulated )upling my name with that of Clarabelle Cow, I can Illy strive to maintain my composure and state in an ^en voice that they are false. Not that Clarabelle is ot an attractive enough animal, as cows go. But lollywood is like that; if you are seen twice in public k'ith a cow, everybody at once thinks the worst and :arts spreading scandalous gossip. What if I did give larabelle the lavaliere cowbell which she wears around er dainty neck? And what if I did, on perhaps two or iree occasions, take her to lunch at the Brown Derby nd to dance at the Roosevelt.' Good, Clean Fun Spoiled 'T was only what common kindness necessitated; and if Horse-Collar Horace, that dreadful wet blanket, to ^om Clarabelle has the misfortune to be married in rivate life, had not ambled into the Derby in the wee ma' hours one night, just as I had sliced a spare-rib into Harabelle's lap, none of the absurd gossip would ever ave started. Horse-Collar is fanatically opposed to any ort of clean fun, and simply could not see the joke. The Tiprint of his hoof is still with me, and as I slip into my ajamas each night it starts me to pondering on the im(ossibility of malcing anyone in Hollywood see the clean ide of an intimate moment. This sort of thing will, I hope, give my fans some idea f what we stars, apparently so carefree on the screen, have o go through in our private lives in Hollywood. Of ourse, I just love Hollywood. If I had to leave it, I hould die in twelve hours. But a more malodorous ollection of foul minds than there are in this town I lever hope to find. It is useless to expect anyone to undertand that one has ideals. Anywhere else, a platonic affection for a cow would be accepted as a natural and a delightful thing. In Hollywood, all the beauty and poetry of a friendship like that is dragged in the mud. That is the price you have to pay for being a star of the movies. No wonder we get that Pagliacci feeling, something chronic! My Clara Bow Moments IT has been said of me, too, that moments I have spent in Clara Bow's company have been of an intimate character. That is true, and I am proud of it; and anybody who thinks that means what they think it means, can just go run round the block. Few of us young fellows in Hollywood have not at one time or another fallen under the spell of the Divine Clara. I came chronologically between Gilbert Roland and Victor Fleming in the list of Clara's boy-friends. Clara and I used to ride for hours on the roller-coasters at Ocean Park, and while she tenderly tore off the lobe of my ear with her teeth I would slowly throttle her with my tail — which, by the way, she always thought had "It." Ah, happy nights! Moments of sweet intimacy never to be repeated! Clara had a sweet, soothing way of doing things which was in a class by itself. But she could not juggle with my heart as Minnie Mouse does. Finally, one day, she {Continued on page g6)