Motion Picture Classic (Jul-Dec 1930)

Perfect HoncymooU'-Almos^^ {Continued from page jo) A new delight in toiletries Before you catch its delicate fragrance or feel the incredible smoothness of the powder, you'll love Shari . . . because of its exquisite casings. You'll want them on your dressing table . . . you'll want to carry them in your purse. And once you've used Shari, you'll prefer it, for the charming fragrance of the perfume . . . and the long-adhering, petal-smooth powder, will bring you so many compliments. At all Rexall Drug Stores which includes Liggett and Owl Stores; there is a Rexall Store conveniently near you. me. Finally I collared one of them. "What's the dope?" I asked. "Why are they so rude to nice fellows like you and me? Especially me — " "Aw, it's the bunk," he growled. "You see Ben Lyon and Bebe said they were going to take a honeymoon without being bothered by reporters." "Yeah," I answered. "That's what I heard, but — " "And," continued the reporter, gingerly feeling certain parts of his body, "I guess that's what they meant! I thought it was the same old stall. I figured they'd be glad to talk to the boys after a day or two, like everybody else who comes here on honeymoons, but I guess it's no soap. None of us guys can get by that (name-name) deskclerk." "That guy!" I shouted. "Let's get him to-night." Still mumbling, the reporter shuffled off and I ambled over toward the tennis courts. And then came my change in luck. Like this: The Good Samaritan AN old caretaker asked me why I looked ^ the way I looked. I answered how I'd come there for a story on Bebe and Ben and that, so far, I hadn't even been able to see them. His eyes twinkled. Maybe he'd been I a reporter once himself. (All good reporters eventually become caretakers.) At any rate, he had a plan. "Mr. Lyon," he said, "has come out to the courts for the last three mornings to play tennis and hasn't been able to find a partner. She comes with him, too. Why not stick around and play him some tennis?" He furnished me with a racket, and after hugging him for the bright hunch, I sat down to wait for them. Soon Ben and his brand-new wife turned up. He was all set to play tennis and Bebe was all ready to watch. Then it was that the caretaker announced he had a tennis partner for him. Ben gave me a suspicious glance, but the caretaker assured him I was all right. "Don't need to worry about him. He's one of the boys." Ben looked at Bebe. Bebe nodded. Approximately two minutes later, Ben and I were playing tennis. And this was the same Ben who vowed he wouldn't let a reporter near him during the honeymoon. We finished the first set and sat down to talk it over. I said, "Must be tough being so famous. Reporters bother you quite a lot, don't they?" Ben winked at Bebe and laughed. " Not this trip they don't," he chuckled. How They Fooled the Boys "' I 'HIS is one time," added Bebe, leaning J_ over, "that we completely out-smarted the boys. Do you know," she added confidentially, "that not one single reporter has been able to interview us since we've been gone — or even get near to us?" "Or even see us, " put in Ben stoutly. j I sighed audibly. "That's wonderful," I j said. "How'd you do it?" ■ "It was Bebe's idea," explained Ben. "She figured we ought to travel at night and not make reservations ahead. Then no one would know where we were." "And when we arrived at Santa Barbara and here," put in Bebe, "we gave strict! orders at the desk that no one — absolutely no one from a magazine or paper should be^' admitted. The clerk at the desk here said he would do all he could to help us." " He did," I agreed. "Oh, do you know him?" asked Bebe. "Only," I answered, "a passing acquaintance of mine." "Well, it's all worked too wonderfully,". Bebe concluded. " I guess we're the only honeymooners who ever got away with it." I was about to agree with her when the hotel photographer came up and asked them to pose for a picture. They refused. "No thanks," laughed Ben. "No pictures this trip." Crestfallen, the man departed. "You wouldn't mind if I snapped you, would you?" I asked. "Just a little snapshot, to show the kid sister?" "Not a bit," Ben laughed. " You can take all the pictures you care to, but those professional boys aren't going to get a look-in." Getting the Evidence I HANDED my vest-pocket camera to the caretaker and asked him to snap the three of us standing together. Ben and Bebe couldn't quite figure why I wanted them to stand in front of the Del Monte Hotel sign. That was v-ery important to me, however. I was going to need all the proof I could get that I'd actually crashed their honeymoon. What if they tried to deny I'd seen them? That sign, I figured, would reproduce nicely. We finished taking the picture and started another set. Ben won, but after allSoon we were on the sidelines again, talking it over. Both Ben and Bebe kept chuckling over the clever way they had eluded the news-hounds. I laughed with them and agreed that they had turned the neatest trick of the year. They seemed particularly pleased with life and each other. This, I thought, is probably this "love" business one hears so much about. Never have I heard so many affectionate words or witnessed such loving glances. They seemed to take less and less notice of me. I up and beat it. The next day I looked up the caretaker to thank him for his help. We had a little laugh over it and then he handed me a note. It was an invitation from Ben for more tennis. But my tennis days were over. I hadn't come to this joint to play tennis. I had work to do. I had a story to write! A story about Ben Lyon and his famous wife and the perfectly marvelous way they had ditched all the reporters on their honeymoon. All reporters except this one — Ballyhoo is always necessary to put over a poor picture. The best pictures are their own best advertisement. Likewise, the best magazines. They fill every page with something worth reading, worth seeing. They do not re-hash old ideas. They have new ones. They set a pace for others to follow. They have that elusive quality called personality. Others may need ballyhoo, but not Motion Picture CLASSIC