Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1942)

a key to the freedom she must have. But she wanted more than freedom. She wanted stardom in Hollywood for herself. Eddie was rich, indulgent and shrewd. He made her a star. In the process he lost her. There may be some men who can essay to be husband, lover, business manager and adviser to a young, passionately individualistic girl and succeed in each undertaking, but Judson did not. He grew, perhaps, to think of Rita in terms of a property, to be improved Cameras click on sight of Rita Hayworfh, who in Fox's "My Gal Sal" has everything Hollywood wants and guarded constantly; but that, in a sense, had been Eduardo Cansino's attitude toward his daughter, too. This is not to say that Eddie forgot to love his wife. The important thing is that she has made her escape from what she has always believed was domination, but which has been called by another name, "guidance," if you like. She believes she is ready to try it on her own, now after all the years of obeying first one man, then a second; of not being able to choose her own clothes or the location of her evening's entertainment, or decide how she would work, or for whom, or for how much. Is she ready for such a responsibility, after all? But then you must know her story, of coui'se, before you can consider the problem that is hers and her studio's today. HER mother was an English stage actress, born in Washington, D. C, but her father was the third generation of Cansinos and this distinction meant much to him. Had his daughter bloomed in old Seville she could not have been better protected from contact vidth the things every girl should know, particularly about men. Edward Judson, in his forties, was a man who had seen much of the world, lived more than his share in the years of his time. In that time he had been the husband of Hazel Forbes, who was a Follies beauty of enormous sophistication and rare experience. Now he wanted fresh, unspoiled beauty, the eager arms and lips of a girl who had given her arms and lips to no one else, ever. He had seen what most women make of themselves. He wanted a wife he could mold, secure in a pattern of his own choosing. In return he offered seciu'ity, affection, a fine home with servants, the jewels and furs and luxuries that money can buy. To Rita, this seemed what she wanted most of all. Here was the Great Adventure, the chance to break away and be a real, grown-up married lady, with a home of her own and her own man to love and protect her. With all this, she could have what she had been taught was utterly necessary: sanctified respectability. If freedom she must have — and she wanted it desperately — then she must marry to get it. In her seventeen-year-old way she loved Edward Judson. He held glamour for her. He had been about the world, he treated her with suave, worldly courtesy and restraint. And for all her enforced seclusion little Rita had a certain, if theoretical, knowledge of romance by the time she was introduced to him, since she had come with, her parents to Hollywood, had done some extra work and had even been considered for the title role in "Ramona." Darryl Zanuck took over Twentieth Century-Fox just then and chose Loretta Young instead, whereupon Rita, gathering her courage around her, changed her name to Hayworth and contracted to do leads in quickies. Each one took three days to make and paid her S150 apiece, but the experience they gave her was a greater remittance. She was able to recognize in Eddie, you see, the qualities she knew were important to an ambitious youngster so ill-prepared for the Hollywood challenge as herself. He was wise and shrewd, and not busy with a career of his own. He had taste, and a knowledge of showmanship, a critical sense about women's clothes. He was rich enough to give her what she wanted, so that during the years necessary to get where she was going she need not worry about food or rent. And finally, he understood about her great desire to become an actress, approved of it, wanted to help. "I've done everything I wanted to do," he told her during one of their evening drives that first month of their courtship, "and I'd be selfish to insist that you give up your career when you may amount to something." They knew they were in love, by then. He had waited a week after their first date before asking her dancing again, but because he was who he was, and what he was, Rita's father made no objection when the engagements grew more frequent. Eddie showed Rita things she had never seen before — the fights, the tennis matches, the smart clubs; and he took her to concerts, to art exhibits, to museums. In him she recognized a different kind of love from the self-centered, egotistic passion a boy of her own age would have offered. He was sensible primarily of her emotions and feeUngs, thoughtfiil of her whims and moods; he was lover and counselor and teacher, all in one. He saw her as she could one day be, a lovely, accomplished, distinguished creature. She needed confidence in herself, a guiding hand to give her a sense of authority. THESE things he could do for her. There was, of course, another matter to consider. He was middle-aged, she was still the embodiment of youth, as sparkling and fresh as a first spring morning. She did not care. She had lived always in adult company, and she had never had another beau with whom to compare Eddie. She knew nothing of the sharp high beauty or stormy impulse intrinsic in the love of youth with youth. So, one day when she drove him to the station to catch a train for New York, he asked her to marry him: and as he swung aboard she shouted after him, "Yes!" She told her family that night, refuting all their protests and arguments with a simple statement that she knew what she was about, that her mind was made up: and on the day he returned she drove by his house, sounded her horn, and. when he came {Continued on page 76) 28 PHOTOPLAY combined with movix mirror