The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

Ralph Bellamy Tells on Fred March {Continued from page 23) speed is like, and the squeals of anguish emanating from the back seat on such occasions must startle the pedestrians out of our way, for we bear a charmed set of lives on those rides. Can you imagine Freddie March playing the role of father in real life? I couldn't either — at first. When Florence first broached the idea of adopting a baby, Freddie snorted and scoffed. He gave side-splitting imitations of himself walking the floor with a baby, and presented profound arguments to prove the utter ridiculousness of the whole scheme. Adopt a baby! Absolutely not! So they compromised and adopted a baby. The first thing we knew, Freddie had gone completely berserk over that child. He prances and romps with her until little Penelope March gurgles with sheer joy. The Laguna Beach home — always their favorite retreat — was originally a rather small affair. But now look at it! Proud Papa March, having taken up a career as a father, could be content with no half-way measures. There had to be a nursery. It is almost as big as a Hollywood drawing room. Then quarters for the nurse, and a special kitchen. He even had a dumbwaiter built from the main kitchen to the nursery, so that if her majesty Queen Penelope should desire a midnight snack from the icebox, the nurse had only to press a button. He fairly haunts the nursery, and prowls about to see that all is shipshape while Penelope takes her beauty rest. The other day he proudly surveyed the big nursery, and remarked: "With so much room, don't you think we ought to adopt a couple more babies?" Florence, being a most dutiful wife, smiled and yielded not to the temptation to say — "see, I told you so!" Freddie believes in doing a thing thoroughly, once begun! 'TpHE Laguna home is an ideal retreat *■ for them. It stands on a high cliff some three or four miles south of the town. Back of the house is a veritable wilderness of hills and canyons, and our favorite diversion is to go hiking there. One day we four set out to explore strange territories. Freddie and I had climbed through a fence and were striding along some distance ahead of the girls, when we looked up to behold ten big, belligerent bulls lined up in our path. Freddie and I came to an abrupt halt. Then Freddie asked, with a lift of his brows: "Do you, ah, think they like people?" One of the bulls stepped toward us. "They do not like people," Freddie observed quickly. We marched back to the girls, who silently joined the solemn procession back to the fence, through it, and then, from a safe distance, we looked back. The bulls had not moved. No bulls frequent the beach at Laguna, however — unless we count some of Freddie's verbal ones. He and Florence take the baby down the steps and spend hours on the sand. But lying still is not for Freddie — he brings along a medicine ball and finds someone to play catch. His house is full of games of all sorts, designed to entertain those who abhor the simple delights of sitting and thumb twiddling. No matter what the game, Freddie usually can win it. Freddie is a born entertainer and host. The March's dinners, usually for six or eight, are social highspots. Freddie has very few dislikes — aside from bulls and egotists. He tours through life in high gear, enjoying every minute of the ride. But he has one very definite dislike. A most definite one — toward physical labor. He will expend a prodigious amount of energy to avoid downright work. I discovered this secret grudge for labor one time when I proposed that we make a badminton court. By leveling a slope near the beach house we would have a splendid place for the game of shuttlecock, but Freddie eyed the spot with disfavor. We searched diligently for two days and finally came back to the original site. "All we have to do is shovel away that dirt," I pointed out. "Come on, here's a shovel. I'll use the pick." Freddie made several passes with the shovel, then recalled an urgent errand in town. After that he remembered that he must call the studio. I made up my mind to see the thing through, and it became a silent, bitter struggle between two determined souls — I to make Freddie work, he to get out of it. Finally he capitulated, and when he made up his mind to it the court was finished in short order. L_T E has a splendid physique and de•*■ ■*• spite the nervous restlessness of his make-up, is robust and healthy. To a large measure the credit belongs to Florence. No late hours when a picture is in production; good food thoughtfully selected for dietetic values; cheerful, happy environment at home. Sometimes Florence may become over-enthusiastic in diet regulations, as I have cause to know. There was one dietary siege when we must use celery salt and no pepper, eat gluten bread, and use saccharine instead of sugar in our Sanka coffee. As an added touch we must drink flax seed tea before retiring. I strongly suspect that Freddie was as relieved as I was when this spell passed. But it keeps him healthy. He is a most tractable husband and dutifully eats what is good for him. After regarding my own shortcomings and those of others, I would nominate him a really remarkable husband. Freddie is very devoted to his family, which consists of his father, two brothers and a married sister. They correspond regularly and visit back and forth. He takes his fraternal affiliations with the most serious regard, and is proud of his alma mater, the University of Wisconsin. The success he enjoys in pictures was won by years of hard work, and though he may use all that clever wit and ingenuity to avoid labor, when it comes to picture business he does not spare himself. It is odd to remember that he had to be coerced into leaving a bank teller's job to start his theatrical career, for, more than any man I know, he loves the drama. I have, I hope, given you some inkling of the splendid fellow that is Freddie March. It is difficult to catch that engaging personality with words. Perhaps I could express it all quite simply, in just one short sentence. No one could ask for a finer friend than Freddie March, yUte tatj&'&fa! . . and £&%& HVivJreHaded £k&m otcToit toy Amcde "My sister was the one who opened my eyes . . .'Bess, you're a hard worker," she said, 'but these clothes of yours are such tattle-tales. That grayish look tells everyone who comes to the house that they aren't really clean!'. . . I was furious, but I took her advice. I stopped buying 'trick soaps' and gave Fels-Naptha Soap a try." "And what a lucky day! It takes a second to chip Fels-Naptha into the water in my washing machine. Then I whirr it a bit — and it piles up with grand creamy suds. I never dreamed golden soap is so much richer. And Fels-Naptha is full of clean-smelling naptha! Of course, dirt hasn't a chance. Even grimy, greasy dirt floats right out." "Everybody says nice things about my washes now — no more tattle-tale gray in my house. John says that red look is gone out of my hands, too. There's soothing glycerine in Fels-Naptha, you see. In fact, Fels-Naptha is so gentle to everything that I use it for all my silk undies and dainty in-the-basin washes." . . . Fels & Co., Phila., Pa. © 1935, feus * co. » Banish The New Movie Magazine, February, 1935 "Tattle-Tale Gray" with FELS-NAPTHA SOAP 47