The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

Above: Claudette with Clark Gable, in a scene from "It Happened One Night" which won heaps of Academy awards for everyone concerned. CLAUDETTE COLBERT wins Academy Award. Claudette Colbert flying to New York. Claudette Colbert changes plans takes train. Claudette Colbert tells reporter in Kansas City she will not divorce her husband. Claudette Colbert seems undecided about divorce on arrival in Chicago! Claudette Colbert arrives in New York, mum about divorce, but admits bleaching her hair. Like a series of headlines the Colbert bulletins hogged space in the New York dailies for a week. One thing I was sure about, she had won the Academy Award, and another was that the often planned and as many times postponed story about one of my favorite weaknesses would be written, if I had to drag her by her new hair all the way out to my old Manor House in Tarrytown. Fortunately this was not necessary. Her "Hello Darling" when I called on the phone, the facility with which I got her on same and her first line after greeting being "When am I going to see you?" drove away all thoughts of dragging the award winner to my manorial lair. We started to make a date but a "landing" seemed to be more difficult than the "take off" had portended, aeronautically speaking. Claudette's so-called vacation was being turned into the hardest work she had done for months by that master slave driver, King Radio. Some wag in Hollywood had convinced her that a visit to New York by any screen luminary without an appearance as guest artist on a national hook-up was unheard of. Just a half hour's work. Be heard by fans all over the country and incidentally money! Money! Money! Easy, unexpected. In fact, just like winning it on a horse race. It all sounded very simple. One obstacle that an award-winner does not have to leap over is a radio sponsor, so it isn't surprising that Claudette didn't know that, when those gents with bulging bankrolls remove the rubber bands to the extent of thousands of dollars for a few moments on the very precious air, they have to see something for their money. What they saw in Claudette's case was a somewhat disgruntled young lady rehearsing practically all day for almost a week prior to the half hour broadcast. It was Wednesday when I called her on the phone. "Vacation! I'm laughing," she said. "They grabbed me right off the train for a conference and I've been living in their darned old Radio City ever since." "What about coming to the country for the week-end?" I asked. "I'd love nothing better, but the broadcast is Sunday afternoon. What a sap I was to — " Her voice trailed disconsolately. "Do you rehearse Saturday, too?" "No! Oddly enough. I guess I'm supposed to rest up for Sunday." OF course I thought she would want to go to a matinee. Most ex-stage folk who have "gone cinema" spend their New York vacations in orchestra seats. I was astounded when Claudette said she would like to come out to lunch on Saturday. "I'd love to get out of town where I can breathe. New York is so — so — I don't know," she hesitated. Well, I knew, because 1 suffer from one of (Please turn to page 40) At the far right is a lovely portrait of the lady, looking every inch a queen. And the small picture is one taken with hubby Norman Foster. About a divorce, Elsie says, "Will she? Won't she?" — and reminds you of that word 'cagey.' The New Movie Magazine, July, 1935 19