The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

DO I LOOK UNPLEASANT? That is the question which Helen Vinson, weary of playing so many movie "cats/7 asks herself By RUTH HARDY In "The Life of Vergie Winters" Helen was John Boles' selfish wife. I 'M so weary of playing 'cats'," declared Helen Vinson with emphasis, as we chatted one afternoon. "Sometimes I scrutinize this face of mine in the mirror to find just what it is that inspires this unpleasant casting. Even in "As Husbands Go," — my biggest lead to date — I played a selfish, self-centered woman. Honestly, do I really look so unpleasant? "Perhaps I sound ungrateful. I'm not. I think I've had marvelous luck and I would have been tickled to get a foothold in the movies starting out with any kind of parts. But typing is dangerous, and now that I'm 'in', I wish I could get away from vamp roles and be a little human. I'm sure I could be nice if I could only get the chance!" And I expect Helen will get the chance if her heart's set on it. Luck has played a big part in her career, but determination, grit and the willingness to work hard are outstanding characteristics of the Vinson make-up. She's the type that usually succeeds in anything, once she's set her heart on it — as witness her rapid progress in pictures. This girl is one of the prettiest newcomers to the screen but, thank heaven, she isn't an exponent of the glamour school of beauty. There is nothing pseudo-Garbo-ish in her appearance, as in that of so many young starlets nowadays. Her blond wavy hair is arranged in a neat, smart coiffure close to her head, rather than in the shoulder-length bob so popular with the glamour girls. And her eyelashes are her own. Her make-up is untheatrical and her grooming perfect. She has a quiet charm and a beautiful speaking voice. This voice of hers is a product of cultivation rather than a gift of nature, too, she confides, and she is proud as punch over it, for it took long months of study to banish the pronounced southern drawl she once had. Studying Italian and French pronunciation did the trick, she explains. Miss Vinson is a Texas product. Studio publicity has stressed her social background, picturing her as a frivolous pampered debutante of extremely wealthy parents who indulged her every whim. This, to put it mildly, is an exaggeration and amuses Helen as much as it does her Texas friends. The Rulfs — that's Helen's family name; Vinson was picked out of the air — were of only moderate means when they lived in Houston, Texas. Her fa ther had a good position with an oil company and Helen had pretty clothes and attended dancing school and riding academy, but the family had neither the financial resources nor the inclination for the whirl of high society. Rather than exclusive private schools, as the press-agents have it. Helen attended San Jacinto High in Houston. After graduation, rather than attend a snooty finishing school, she enrolled in the University of Texas, where she was elected by her fellow-students as Beauty Queen of the campus. After two years of college she returned to her home, but. instead of making a brilliant debut, she interested herself in Little Theater work as a hobby. In short, Helen was just a pretty young girl of upper middle-class background like thousands of other girls Ernest Baclirach Helen may think this face is unpleasant, but few will agree with her. in every city and hamlet of the United States. The traditional "silver spoon" of which the press-agents write was not in her mouth at birth; it was presented to her as a wedding present. But we'll get to that later. As a child, Helen was quite a movie fan and even staged plays in the family garage at five cents admission with the kids of the neighborhood. When she was older, her friends impressed with her unusual beauty and her Little Theater acting, had often advised her, "You ought to be in pictures," but despite all this, Helen had never seriously considered a professional career. Once or twice during her childhood. her mother thought she recognized talent in her young daughter which might lead to a career. In dancing school she shone with brilliance, practising ardently and then rounding up all the neighbor(Please turn to page 71) It was Ada who really saved me. I was telling her how Bill and I had quarreled that morning because I couldn't get his shirts white enough to suit him. And am I glad I listened to Ada! My washes are like snow. They've lost every bit of "tattle-tale gray." Bill's so tickled with the way his shirts look that he's been sweet as pie ever since! "Your trouble sounds like 'tattle-tale gray'," Ada told me — "and that means left-over dirt. Change to Fels-Naptha — its richer golden soap and lots of naptha get out ALL the dirt." YOU bet Fels-Naptha will get your clothes cleaner — and whiter! For Fels-Naptha brings you something that no "trick" soap can — two dirt-looseners instead of one. Not just soap alone, but good golden soap with plenty of dirtloosening naptha. Chip Fels-Naptha into your washing machine — and see what a gorgeous job it does. It's great in your tub and for soaking or boiling. You'll find it gentle — safe for your finest silk stockings and daintiest lingerie. And it's kind to hands, too — for there's soothing glycerine in every golden bar. Fels-Naptha now sells at the lowest price in almost twenty years. Get a few bars today !...Fels& Co., Phila.,Pa. ©fel^m.,^ _>9 Banish "Tattle-Tale Gray with Fels-Naptha Soap 1 The New Movie Magazine, March, 1935 49