The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Jun 1932)

This Word on this Can may save your Baby Never buy powder that is not marked STERILIZED "Thank goodness for Laco — a sterilized baby powder at last." So exclaim thousands of mothers when they hear the good news. No more danger for babies from germ-ridden powders! Laco is safe for your baby because it positively cannot contain germs. It has been heat treated in the sealed can at 235° F. for 6 hours. Laco is soft and velvety — soothing — for general toilet use and for urine scald, rashes, bites, chafing, eczema. Doctors recommend it. Laco is waterproof yet is guaranteed not to contain stearate of Zinc. Use it freely every time you change your baby. Keep it on hand for all the family. Take no more chances with unsterilized powders. Look on your baby's powder can. If it is not marked STERILIZED you cannot be sure it does not contain germs. To be safe use Laco. It's sterilized. Ask for Laco Castile Soap You will also want to use Laco Castile Soap— a genuine castile, imported from Spain. Doctors say, "Use only Laco Castile on baby's tender skin." Try Laco Shampoo Laco Castile Shampoo has a fine penetrating lather that cleans right down to the hair roots. It leaves your hair glossy, silky, more beautiful than you'd ever suppose. Laco Sterilized Baby Powder . . . Laco Castile Soap . . . Laco Castile Shampoo. At all 10 cent toilet goods counters. A generous supply in each ioi package. Lockwood Brackett Co. NEW YORK BOSTON I Don't Want to Be a Lady {Continued from page 29) shoulder she has spied Robert Montgomery. "Why, sweetheart, where have you been?" cries Lupe, and off she goes, with love still trembling on Ramon's lips. He sighs, and I eagerly snatch Lupe's left-over. So Bob hears about the sinking spells, too. Bob can be quite beautiful about sinking spells. He seems to be the one and only man in the world for Lupe until the gate policeman hoves in sight. By this time I'm pretty well flummoxed. I am forming one of those haughty "Pardon me, but . . ." sentences, when Lupe turns a ravishing glance my way. It's only the end of one intended for the cop, but I, too, smile fatuously. So she chucks her fur at me, followed by her gloves and is at last seated. "Me, I am not interviewed. I just talk, you understand," beams Lupe. "I must be myself. I must be free. It was terrible when Gary and I were so much in love with each other. He wanted to boss me. Ugh, I hate young men. They are so conceited. Lupe must do this. Lupe must not do that." And within a couple of days this exuberant and compelling, affectionate little wild-cat had slipped off to New York with, of all people, Jack Gilbert! One could understand at that how Jack might be yearning for a definite change of venue. His first bride, Olivia Burwell, was evidently reasonably mild. His second, Leatrice Joy, was distinctly dramatic with a yen for drama in the home. His third wife, Ina Claire, had that dangerous combination of dignity and humor. Lupe would form a completely drastic change, and, if she could be persuaded to concentrate all her "darlings" on Jack, it might prove a hot tonic. Likewise there is no record that Lupe kissed all the reporters in New York. Instead, she was as nearly demure as a Lupe can ever be. Was she engaged to Jack Gilbert? "I refuse to answer. I admire him very much, but I won't say whether I am going to marry him or not. Why should I put Mr. Gilbert" (Now, do mark that "Mr."!) "in an embarrassing position by saying we are going to get married and then the next day we decide not to marry?" Thus is Lupe reported to have replied. "I change my mind. So does he," she concluded, which, for all its discretion, is a bit incriminating. Now, isn't it? AFTER that "When Gary Cooper and I were so very much in love . . ." opening, I tried to get Lupe back on the subject. "Will you do me a leetle favor? Do you love me? Am I your pet? Very well, then, please, please never mention that young man's name to me again," was Lupe's seeming fervent answer, followed by another tirade against "young men". "Marriage, never!" she announced emotionally. Methought, at the time, that the lady was apt to protest too much. No doubt about it, the Gary episode has left a permanent scar. There were rumors that Gary's family opposed the marriage. This would be a blow to Lupe's vanity and would account for that tempestuous insistence that "Lupe must be free, free, free." It's one of the things that every woman understands. "I flirt, I kiss, I do what I like, but no man shall boss me. I shall never marry," she repeats, yet that last sentence never rings true. There is just the wee-est suspicion of hesitancy on that "never." During the filming of "The Cuban," Lupe lavished her darlings on Lawrence Tibbett. "I want you should know he is the sweetest man," asserts Lupe as though some one were denying it. "Such a gentleman. So kind. So unselfish. He taught me to laugh so it didn't sound like a foghorn, so." Here Lupe startled the company by giving us a raucous foghorn laugh. "He placed his hand upon my diaphragm, so," confided Lupe, acting it for us. It seemed a little intimate. "So now I laugh like this," and out comes a musical trill for which Lawrence must receive due encomium. Incidentally, Lupe got out the word "diaphragm" with cautious exactitude, after she had begun to say "stom . . ." A few more pictures with Lawrence, and Lupe will be a lady. Of course, Hollywood was the natural Mecca for such as Lupe. Her first role of any significance was with Douglas Fairbanks in "The Gaucho." When talking pictures came in, it was confidently expected that she would go the way of many foreign actresses. But somehow Lupe stayed and this has been an exceptionally successful year for her, with "Resurrection," "The Squaw Man," "The Cuban," and so on. She didn't like "Resurrection" so well, but she adored her role as Naturich in "The Squaw Man." "In that, me, I am like my leetle dog that died. I loved that leetle dog so when I am Naturich I try to be like him. Then I get mad about my babee . . . that is a fine scene, don't you think?" Probably no girl has ever worked so hard at being vivacious as Lupe. It should be dreadfully exhausting, but outside of those sinking spells, which she blames entirely on too speedy dieting, Lupe's vivacity seems inexhaustible. It's amusing, entertaining — in brief spells. But if she keeps it up all the time at home as well, I can ses where no sister of Lupe's ever has a chance to shine. She will speak of her sense of humor. But it isn't humor. It's energy, laughter, noise, excitement, even merriment, but humor calls for a little subtlety and, minus a director, Lupe is not subtle. She seems to feel the need of constant motion. Quietude, she feels, means that things need speeding up. Still, as a successful charmer of men, Lupe must have her soft moments. Perhaps it isn't quite nice of us to ponder on these. In the meantime she is described as the girl who makes old men young — and young men old. How old do you suppose Jack Gilbert is? 100 The Neiv Movie Magazine, January, 1932