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ON THE TOWN WITH JANIE AND JOE
(Continued from page 55)
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McClain in honor of writer St. Clair McKelway. I stood outside making notes and dis¬ playing general frustration while angelic men walked by, doodied up in dinner jack¬ ets and all — my heart did a pitty-pat when Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and Eddy Duchin arrived — and not a gal in sight. What a waste of manpower!
One of the best moments in my young life was when I got a squint at the cuddlebundle American Airlines delivered to Susan Peters and Richard Quine. The baby boy was ten days old on arrival, and certainly made Susan and Richard very happy. I shoved Joe to one side while I got a good look at the Quine scion, and then whisked out my pencil for some quotes from the “adopted” mom and pop. Susan’s still in her wheelchair, but she couldn’t have been happier.
Dragging Joe around these days is get¬ ting to be quite a problem. He’s been listening to that man Slim Gaillard again and when he isn’t humming “CementMixer — Putti Putti” in my shell-like ear, he’s yapping “vowtorooney” or “scootorooney” at some passing pet. It’s a little shattering to my nervous system, but I can’t help understanding how he felt with all those SENSATIONAL creatures over at Earl Carroll’s show place. The occasion was the auction of hats received by Tom Breneman through his recent contest. Hedda Hopper (a fellow columnist!) showed everybody she could "sell all” as well as “tell all.” That gal really went to town along with Eddie Cantor and George Jessel, who helped with the sale for the benefit of the Braille Institute. Eleven hundred of us sat in the audience — and we got some real mel¬ low laughs out of the goings-on.
Shirley Temple had a birthday party later that week. (Don’t look now, hut she was eighteen!) We all celebrated on stage 7 at RKO Studios where the guest of honor was busy starring in “Honeymoon.” The Temple seniors and Shirley’s man — John Agar (a swoon boy, believe me!) — were in attendance. Other guests included that dreamy Guy Madison, Jack Oakie, Lina Romay, Jimmy Dunn and Shirley’s school chums Peggy and Gloria Lloyd. (Harold is their pop.)
The autograph Annies were having a field day at the Ice Capades, the evening Joe and I showed up. Glenn Ford was snowed under by the fans, and some were getting signa¬ tures from his wife, Eleanor Powell. A few years ago, she couldn’t go anywhere with¬ out a mob of admirers surging around her.
That Margaret O’Brien is such a cute sprout. She looks like my kid sister (or yours) and not a bit like a high-salaried film favorite. She was as happy as a giggle over the clown who kept skating over to see her. While Joe snapped her picture, he was doing a sizzle over the lone lensman who was smart enough to bring ice skates. The Hans Brinker was all over the place snap¬ ping exclusive pictures of just everybody. When Joe found out the skating photog¬ rapher was just the gag part of the act, he did a real burn at his own dopiness.
Saaay! Derek Scott is going to be your new pin-up lad before you know it! He’s only a sprout; but so what? I got a good close-up of him when Joe and I went out to Warners’ to watch Irene Dunne and William Powell emote through scenes for “Life With Father.” Derek was supposed to slide down the banister for the scene and his mother, who was watching, was very nervous. She told us Derek was a little fiend, at home and she was afraid he’d cut a caper for director Mike Curtiz and be fired. They rehearsed the scene and
sure enough Derek sailed down the banister and fell flat on his — well, face — smack in front of Mr. Curtiz.
There’s a real zooty-cutie on the movie horizon. It’s Louis Jourdan (pronounced. Lewie Zoor-dan), the French star just signed by David 0. Selznick to do “The Paradine Case,” Alfred Hitchcock’s next thriller.
Jourdan, in his early twenties when the war broke out, was the Van Johnson of French films. He was with the Underground during the German occupation, and returned to picture making after V-E day.
I was dressed to the teeth (my teeth, that is) the eve Joe and I decided to investigate the maze of night clubs that line Sunset Boulevard, but I couldn’t hold a taper to the gorjuss creatures that inhabit the cover charge joints. Across the room from us at the Mocambo sat Sonja Henie with that shark, John Dali. Sonja wore about twenty million dollars worth of diamonds to set off her black satin suit.
Joe and I joined in the gooing and gur¬ gling at the Bob Cummings baby christening. Boh and Mary’s youngster is a handsome lad like his pop, but he sports his mom’s twinkly smile. He’s a lucky kid, too — and he’s going to be plenty groovy, if godfather Jack Benny has anything to say about it!
The Beverly Hills Dog Show brought out the prettiest pooches — but there wasn’t a star in sight the day we were there. I had to restrain Joe from snapping pictures of his canine chums. Took in a Command Per¬ formance (congratulations to the Armed Forces Radio Service on the show’s fourth birthday) ... all the photogs took up so much of Linda Darnell’s and Fred MacMurray’s time they didn’t have a chance to peek at their scripts before air time. . . . Dennis Day, Bob Hope, and Frank Morgan (all on the same program) put on wigs to give the Andrews sisters a giggle. Backstage was more fun than a picnic . . . the three be-wigged wags invaded the A.S.’s dressing room and sang in the sisters’ own style. . . . Hope brought an armload of tiny toys for Cinny Simms, who’s expecting her cheeild any minute now . . . that Hope!
Well, whadayaknow! Hurd Hatfield told us his mellow English accent isn’t on the level, after all. . . . “It’s phony,” he said. “I acquired it so I could be a success on the English stage, now I can’t get rid of the darned thing.”
It’s simply disastrous, gang, but the note¬ book’s run dry. Hope you’ll be with us next month. More news then? But, natch!
Your pal,
Janie
The End
Answers to puzzle on page 84