Movieland. (1950)

Counter Spy fire success on Christmas morning you stumped? suggestions may solve your gift problems ALEXIS SMITH picked out this scrumptious Volupte compact, called ‘The Garden of Eden.” Gracefully apple-shaped, it has a bird and some apple blossoms beauti¬ fully etched into its gleam¬ ing surface. Not taxable, this handsome compact is well worth its $7.50 tag. SAUCY AS A CAN CAN are these adorable “French Panties” by Schiaparelli. They make a truly glam¬ orous stocking case for a gal’s best nylons! And what a color! They’re Shocking Pink rayon sat¬ in with black lace frills and a tasseled drawstring. A luxury gift, at $2.95. SMALL WONDERS are these Harriet Hubbard Ayer items. Left, are three sachet notes tied with red and green rib¬ bon. Right, is an adorable sachet Christmas card. Both dangle a tiny bottle of Golden Chance per¬ fume, come with mailing box. Cost $2.00, $1.50. I wanted to put a stop to the bicker¬ ing and unpleasantness, so we decided upon an amicable divorce. Milton was very sweet and kind about it, and I went back to work. I landed a part in a Broadway show and then signed to do a small part in “The Barkleys of Broadway.” Milton and I lived apart for only a year, but it seemed like a decade. Both of us were busy but we were also in love with each other and a mutual lone¬ liness kept gnawing away at our hearts. Gradually, we began going to the Stork Club together again. Then, when Milton rented and furnished a nine-room apart¬ ment on East 88th Street, he included a nursery in the setup. No one was sur¬ prised when we announced our intention to re-marry, least of all Vicki. One evening as I was dressing to go out, she came up and asked me if I had to go to work. “No, baby,” I said. “I’m going to have dinner with Daddy.” “Oh, that’s right,” she said, as though it had passingly slipped her mind. “We’re marrying Daddy again, aren’t we?” The second marriage for us Berles is notably calm. We’ve found out what’s best for our combined happiness. I, for example, know that Milton has to be busy or he’s not content. This means he has to run a faster pace during vacation than during the regular working year. This includes living with a constantly ringing telephone, keeping up-to-date with Milton’s syndicated col¬ umn, charity shows, benefit appearances, and well, there’s always something hot on the griddle. The only difference between M. Berle in New York and M. Berle in Hollywood is sleep. When Milton is working on his television show, he sleeps late. In Hollywood, he has to be at the studio by 7:00 A.M. He works until six and after that, he watches the day’s rushes (film that’s been shot) with director Roy del Ruth and Jerry Wald, the producer. Some time around 7:30 a slightly knocked-out father returns to our suite in the Beverly Hills Hotel. He stretches out on the couch and for once, is per¬ fectly content to let Vicki do all the talking. Vicki gladly takes over, giving her old man a running account of everything she’s done that day — play school at Ann Rutherford’s, swimming, an invitation to a party at Frank Sinatra’s, a blue fire engine she saw, and so on. Milton is wonderful with all children and perfect with Vicki. He’s patient, understanding, and fun. But he has a firm side, too, which I must say, came as a surprise to me. I always expected him to spoil his own child, but he doesn’t. One word from Milton and Vicki goes to bed like a lamb. Naturally, we’re looking forward to a companion for Vicki, and to tell you the truth, we’re both a little amazed at finding ourselves such model parents. To this end, Milton who never touches alcohol, is cutting down on cigars and watching his language most carefully. As for me, I’m not accepting any more stage or screen offers that take me away from home. I’m learning to play golf because that is the one sport that Milton likes. You see, I want to be prepared for that mythical day when my husband addles up to me and says, “Darling, let’s take the afternoon off from show busi¬ ness and play a little golf.” That’s the day I’m going to say, “Show business, Milton . . . what’s that?” Just once, I want Berle to be stymied m for a punch-line. The End 75