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All To The Hoke
BY
ROBERT FENDER
OUR waitresses," 1 advertises a Hollywood eat-shop, "are the prettiest ^irls in town." That's nice.
I And how, we wonder, about :he food.^ But that's old itufF. Why worry about the ''ood so long as the waitresses ire good numbers.'' Maybe that's not the way you figure jit, back in Grapefruit, Louisiana, but you're in Hollywood now. The boys here can ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ stand their apple strudel a little soggy if the gels behind
the counters will only come back with snappier ones than they're handed.
Of course, the movies did it. Every waitress here is a lotential Nancy Carroll or better. And every boy a posible Buddy Rogers. Except, according to them, if they f)uldn't pull better stuff than them two cuckoos, they'd quit. So Hollywood goes 'round. Those whose business It is to act, try to forget it out of working hours. But the rest of the town eats, drinks, and sleeps the movies.
The movies, too, have made every man here conscious of his chest. And every girl aware of her charms. Every time I escape into civilization and get home for a week or two, I am taken aside by my friends. "Maybe you don't know it," they warn, "but you're acting more and more like Charles Farrell." I bow my head in silence. There is no answer.
The girl two apartments down from mine says she gets the same thing from her home folks, except in her case it's Ruth Chatterton. Even my landlady has given up her
Hollywood Is That
Way Through Putting On The Act
personality for another's. Or perhaps she is Beryl Mercer.
My first impression of Hollywood was the kindness shown here. Why, I won^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ dered, was everyone so nice
to me? Had rumors been circulated that I was the Prince of Wales traveling incognito? Did I look the money?
The Yes with a Smile Wins
BUT no. Everyone gets courtesy in Hollywood. There are no blanks. The reason.? Well, my two-bits' worth is: the movies again. Which calls for the following studio maxim: Click your heels and hold your job. Or, written for all to understand: It is better to have smiled and yes-ed than to have gone sailing out on your ear.
Visitors to studios for the first time are surprised at the courtesy shown them. But they needn't be. We're courteous, argue the studio people, because how do we know who you are.'' You might be just the Fuller Brush man, and again you might be a big-shot. And, what with supervisors snooping this way and that, always on the watch for idleness, the studio folk are efficient (or look efficient) to the point of bursting. Now no studio has walls high enough to keep this fine spirit inside. It was bound to {Continued on page lOi)
Evidences thatHollywood is Hollywood: left, a restaurant dressed up as a Cliff Dweller's hut; right, sm iceberg cream parlor, known as -The Igloo; and above, that's no lady, that's a malted milk depot
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