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^qlerea Wagon Days
baggage piled against it from the outside." Memory of that occasion prompted a wide smile to creep over Joan's tanned face. She had just returned from a month at Palm Springs and the bloom of the desert touched her cheeks. How different from those other days . . .
"If you think it's easy to leave a car this way, just try it. Dad was fat and so was Mother, and even for us kids — I was sixteen or seventeen then — it offered somewhat of a feat.
"About every three miles, too, one of the tires would go flat and Dad would have to crawl out and fix it. After a few days of constantly stopping to repair one or more of the tires, he accused those of us in the back seat of being responsible for all the trouble. He said we laughed so hard that we shook the car and that, in turn, wrecked the tires. Imagine.
"We did most of our driving at night. During the day and evening we put on our act, and as soon as the last show was over we'd pile into the car and start for the next town. We had very little money, the five or six dollars received for the act having to go for gas and cheese and crackers. Once in a while, we'd splurge and buy a steak. Mother then would cook that on a little oil stave we carried with us. Many and many a time she cooked it while holding the stove in her lap in the back seat.
"That trip across country will always be a nightmare, although we did have fun at times despite all the hardships and privations we suffered. We got very little sleep, because we couldn't always afford a room, even in a cheap boarding house.
"I remember one rainy night somewhere in Texas, when we just had to find shelter. We tried a hotel and they wanted
Joan Blondell has attained luxury and wealth and position but few people have ever had as rough a road to travel. She credits her early adversities for much of the rich philosophy which is hers today
our overburdened Ford made," Joan reminisced, as we chatted in her dressing room.
"We had three large theatrical trunks wired on top and bags and suitcases everywhere ... on each running board, roped to the back, even between the fenders and the hood. Why, we couldn't open one of the doors. Whenever anybody wanted to get out of the car he had to climb out the driver's window. Even the other front window was blocked off because of the
three dollars. We couldn't afford that, so we went down the street until I saw a sign, 'Beds, ten cents.'
" 'No family of mine will ever sleep in a place like that,' Dad spouted, nobly. 'Don't be an old silly,' I told him. So we went in.
"Have you ever been in a cheap flop house ? Well,, this was just that. When we entered there was only one large room, with numerous and assorted snores [Continued on page 72]
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