The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

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The result will delight you, giving your face new charm. Buy any or all of my Winx eye beautifiers. Make a trial. If you are not pleased, for any reason, return the box to me and I'll refund your full price, no questions asked. JbbULkt (jurtA I Owe a Lot to Will Rogers (Continued from page 18) America from coast to coast, and took me into small towns where most of the stars I imitated had not been seen, I never had to worry with "Will" and the lariat tucked away in my box of imitative tricks. TT AVING, I hope, explained the title *■ ■*■ of this effusion, which so far reads like a rush of I's to the typewriter, we will turn to Will Rogers, the man. Where there's a will there's a way, but where there's a Will Rogers there's a flock of ways, most of them winning — all of them lucrative. Whoever said "Jack of all trades, master of none" reckoned without a guy who would one day come trotting out of Oklahoma on a cow pony and grind that well worn quotation in the dust under his restless feet. If he's not in the air, he's on it. When he's not in pictures, he's on the stage. When he is not writing for a paper, he's being quoted by one, and when in doubt, he's playing for a benefit. If I could be sure that he would ever stand still, I would say that he stands alone as a master of all trades, at least of all the six or seven he has roped and hog-tied for his own personal round-up. A lot of stars have combined radio and pictures. Stage stars "Air" themselves successfully now and then. Writers broadcast and still hang on to their newspaper jobs. But where, and you don't need to try to answer, is there another personality in America who is shooting for public approval from as many angles as Will Rogers, and hitting the bull's eye every time? In dragging the bull in by the horns, I don't mean to link Will with "bull" because of all the clear thinking, free speaking so and so's who ever got paid to tell the world just how to spin on its axis, Will Rogers is that "sucha." I knew him some time before he started to contribute to my support. We played together in vaudeville. He had a horse and a lariat. There was nothing he couldn't do with the rope, but he was so shy that he wouldn't even talk to the horse. Today he thinks nothing of telling a king that his crown is not on straight. Will often seems to make a slip and say something he didn't mean to say. Listen, folks, the only thing that one will ever slip on is a banana peel, and being part Indian he always has one ear to the ground. So don't think he can't see the banana peel before it sees him. Behind that cascade of chuckles and gurgles which is ever flowing over his barbed observations, there runs a cool stream of thought down which the Oklahoma Oracle paddles his own canoe. Every time it looks as if he might be going over the verbal falls, Will grabs on to what looks like a willow tree, and suddenly it becomes a sturdy oak. If you ask me why, and even if you don't, I'd say it's because the guy has a heart of gold. I can say that with safety since the decision of the supreme court. Mind you, I'm not saying that there isn't some platinum evident now and then. Rogers, the cowboy, has become an international big shot, so he couldn't be expected to remain entirely "getatable." Naturally there are secretaries stalling off the flotsam and jetsam who, although starving, are always able to get hold of a pen and some ink to request that the mortgage be paid at once, and who usually manage to obtain special ** Amozinq Value in i. [LOPAY 15* SHADES Astonishes m W Everyone! 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What I'm getting at via a mental detour, is that if I should play a benefit and not find Will participating, I would know he was ill, or that Mrs. Rogers (who is a peach) had finally said, "Fun's fun — and you will stay home one night!" You may have read in his column a few weeks ago, of how he and Mrs. Rogers came to New York from Washington. Incidentally Washington is a great help to Will. When he gets a bit low on comedy material he goes to the capital and listens to the Senators talking seriously. Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers came to New York for one of his broadblasts — pardon, broadcasts. No sooner had Will arrived than the benefit "giver-outers" grabbed him. He played two that Sunday night, besides his own Arial-Oil appearance. Just as he can be in Moscow sopping up Soviet data one week, and be in America handing out Rogers Rudism the next, so he was that night leaping from radio network to theater, and back to the opposition network in a space of two hours. Who else but Rogers can make Columbia Broadcasting Company (who pay him) and National Broadcasting Company (who, I'm sure, would like to pay him) in one night? Between the two he breezed into the Actors Fund Benefit, and believe me, breezed is the only word for it. There I saw him. A rather chic Will sartorially speaking. A tremendously sentimental Will really. There were lots of old-timers on the program and it was the New Amsterdam Theatre. I saw the tears in Will's eyes. I knew he was thinking of the old days and of Ziegfeld, but I didn't think he would shoot his entire Sunday column about it, risking criticism of the younger generation who don't give a half a whoop about what happened twenty years ago, or a quarter of a whoop about what is going to happen twenty years from now. But he did it, and it isn't because he said nice things about me that I say, "Atta Will!" It's because he is one guy who says what he darn well feels, in print, on the very precious and censored air, and won't play a part on the screen or stage that he doesn't feel. "Ain't that 'sumthin'?" Well, if you don't think it is, I'll take a few days off some time and tell you about the big shots I know who are scared of the press, the executives, the fans and — the camera. Of course, Will doesn't have to worry about the camera. He cracked that long ago. The press, he has it all over like the stratosphere, because he has been writing for one paper for over five years, and with that one paper goes a syndication that resembles a chain of five and ten emporiums. Executives — I'm sure if you said to Will, "How do you feel about executives?" he would grin and say, "Adjectives I juggle round with, superlatives I kinda dally with, but executives, well, all I know is what I read in the papers." He would probably add sheepishly, "Papers are contracts, ain't they?" Which means that Will doesn't have to worry, and yet he does. Worries about Russia despite all the gags he pulls about it. He can't overlook all the tragedy he saw there. Worries about the extras in Hollywood who are not getting a break. Worries about his attractive young daughter, Mary, who is destined to be a swell actress according to reports, but he is interested enough to fly to Maine to look her over as she plays in a summer stock company. Worries probably about the crops and live stock on his wonderful ranch which skirts the waistline of Beverly Hills. But what can he do about it? The Netv Movie Magazine, June, 1935