The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

Pretty on the TABLE . . . and grand for BAKING in the OVEN YES, those platters and serving dishes, those round and oval bowls, those cute little French one-handled casseroles, even the cups, saucers and plates, will all stand oven heat. So bake in them . . . pies, puddings, meats, vegetables, anything you like. And whisk them from oven to table. They save work in serving. Save dishwashing. Next time you're in Woolworth's, look over OvenServe dishes. They cost but a trifle. And you can do with them what you can't do with any other table dishes . . . use them in the oven! ovenSerye SOLD AT F. W. WOOLWORTH CO. FIVE AND TEN CENT STORES Freddie and Frankie (Freddie Bartholomew) {Continued from page 51) with her, and they affected me so much that afterward I felt tired. But when I got home and went to bed I found it hard to go to sleep." For my part, I had the feeling of looking into the heart of a child. Yet wondering at the same time how this child felt at seeing himself grown up in the person of an older actor, so I asked : "Do you think Frank Lawton looks as you'll one day look?" This was, naturally — or unnaturally — a bit of a poser for Freddie, but, after pondering it a moment, he said: "I saw myself in him. I noticed his hair particularly, for it was much like mine. Then I went over his features, and they seemed pretty much the kind I might have when older, only" — and he was acutely critical — "his nose was a little sharper than mine is likely to be at his age." Canny judgment of an uncanny subject by Master Freddie. "The whole cast," he added, "was my vision of the Dickens characters." For absolute perfection, I chose his David and the Mr. Dick of Lenox Pawle. "Yes," he heartily agreed in the latter case, "isn't Mr. Dick marvelous? You know, don't you, he's quite mad, only happily so?" He was proving himself so discerning a critic that I wanted his opinion of Hollywood. "I love Hollywood," he declared. "Did it surprise you?" "Enormously! I'd no idea it was so big. My impression in England was that it would mean a bunch of cottages, with a few shops. It was very strange to me at first, but in about a week it was just like home. And do you know what surprised me most of all? The red lights in the drug stores — we call them chemist shops. They are gorgeous, and it's wonderful at night to stand and look down the boulevard. If for no other reason, I think I shall always want to live in Hollywood." "And do you want to be a romantic actor when you grow up?" "No," reflected Freddie, "I don't think I do. I like old-fashioned things." Possibly this explains his liking for pumpkins. He was given one for Hallowe'en by a studio electrician, who lighted it for him and enshrined it on a bench in a corner of the huge stage. Freddie had never seen a pumpkin before, having been compelled to make the most of a large turnip for Hallowe'en in England, and he would sit before its glowing gold by the hour with all the rapt devotion of a worshiper before his Buddha. Days, weeks went by with no change, except in the pumpkin. Finally something had to be done out of olfactory consideration for the other members of the cast. And one night when Freddie was fast asleep at home, the pumpkin was carried gently to its final resting-place. "I'll never forget it," he now assured me. (Nor will the others.) As he gave me his hand on it, and jumped down. I wished him a pleasant journey. For Freddie was starting within the hour for New York to make "personal appearances." Lightly he went out like a schoolboy off on a lark. After all, what did a mere continent mean to a boy who had journeyed 6,000 miles to get a job — and got it? M STARRING IN "SWEET MUSIC" How movie stars guard the natural beauty of their hair. Hollywood's loveliest screen stars guard the natural beauty of their hair like a precious jewel. For this reason DUART PERMANENT WAVES have become the choice of the stars and are featured in the finer Hollywood Beauty Salons. These salons take great pride in offering their famous patrons the protection of genuine Duart Waving Pads that now come in INDIVIDUAL SEALED CARTONS. Duart and only Duart offers you this protection when you buy a permanent wave. When the operator breaks the seal before your eyes you know the waving pads are genuine Duart and never before used on another person's hair. For your next wave insist on Duart — the choice of the Hollywood stars. DUART PADS PERC WESTMORE famous make-up artist and coiffure designer at Warner Bros.' Studio says: "I cannot endorse too highly the Duart sealed package of waving pads. It is a protection every woman should demand for her hair." FREE • SEND COUPON FOR g You can wear 2 a movie star's coiffure [~ Send for this booklet containing smart new Hollywood Hair Styles. 24 pages o of photos showing how to dress your ""■» hair the way the _ movie stars do. Sent * FREE with one ^ 10-cent package of _ Duart Hair Rinse. m Choose from 12 shades listed in cou . pon. Remember s> Hilli itdoesNOTdye so nor bleach the hair. DUART I 30 Qwice, oj t/m Jio&ijwmd StakL £ Duart, 984 Folsom St., San Francisco, Calif. I enclose 10 cents for one package of Duart Hair Rinse and the FREE Booklet of Smart new Movie Star Coiffure Styles. Name Address City .State Mark your shade of rinse. □ Black □ Golden □ Light □ Ash □ Dark Brown Golden Blonde Brown □ Chestnut Blonde Q Medium □ Titian Brown 3 Henna Brown Reddish □ Titian □ White □ Golden Brown Reddish or Gray Blonde Blonde (Platinum) Hollywood's Most Successful Extra (Continued from page 18) in other than atmospheric background or crowd work," receive a minimum daily wage of seven dollars and fifty cents. Extras are further classified as "ordinary extras" and "dress extras" — and there lies the margin of difference between a fair living and a bare existence, for dress extras, who must maintain at their own expense a complete wardrobe, suitable for every modern setting, receive a minimum of fifteen dollars a day. Obviously, it is good business to be a dress extra — for they not only get top pay but also receive more "calls." Frequently they are given "lines" to speak, and, in that case, they receive twentyfive dollars or more per day. Don't think, however, that an extra works every day. We never know today whether we will work tomorrow, or next week, or a month from today. We live from day to day. If we average one and one-half days a week we are lucky; if we average three days a week, we are almost unbelievably fortunate. Central tries to spread employment as fairly as possible — and until the total number of registered extras is greatly reduced, there isn't enough work to go around. The few of us who receive top wages fare well, the others suffer. Thanks to my previous work as a model and to an inborn passion for clothes, I came to Hollywood already equipped with a much better than average wardrobe. And, as soon as I discovered that only the dress extras can hope to earn good livelihoods, I determined to have a complete wardrobe. I skimped and scraped, and sewed and shopped, until I knew that I could accept any call. Those were hard times, and if I hadn't been fortunate enough to have a small amount of money, saved from my previous employment, I know I could never have survived the first few months. Since then I have averaged three days' work a week. On rare occasions I have been selected to speak a line or two of dialogue. During the last two years my average income has been at least fifty dollars a week. WITHOUT considering the fact that I have a tremendous amount of leisure, what employment can a girl in her early twenties, without any special training or talent, find that will pay her better wages? I live by myself, in a well-furnished cottage. I drive my own inexpensive car, purchased new and paid for out of my earnings. I deny myself nothing that I want in the way of food. Contrasting my lot with that of most working girls, I believe I have a distinct advantage. But, I repeat, I have been very lucky! During my first six months as an extra I earned considerably less than I do now and I had to be extremely economical to meet my living expenses. I had been accustomed to a weekly salary and it was terribly difficult for me to budget correctly on an uncertain, spasmodic income. Whenever I had worked for several days in succession and found myself suddenly "flush," I was tempted to go on a spending spree, forgetting that weeks might pass before I would work again. Finally, by keeping an exact record of my earnings over a sufficient time, I struck an average and made it the basis of an iron-clad budget. Since then I 52 The New Movie Magazine, May, 1935