Photoplay (Jan - Jun 1943)

B* *£ fift *» it* J* ^C^/^f/Sa^c One mistake I'm sure I'll never make again is to try to make an impressive "entrance." My first and last attempt was too humiliating. For this special occasion — one of my first dates, the first time I had been to the Cocoanut Grove and my first formal gown — I had bought a very special, extravagant dress, a red one, with a short train. I was making what I thought was a poised and regal entrance — deliberately late, because I had read about "entrances"— but halfway down the stairs I tripped, fell down the remaining stairs and landed on the dance floor. I was dreadfully embarrassed but managed to say, "Maybe Mack Sen nett could use me as a comic double." All evening people passing my table Mt smiled sympathetically, or laughingly, or at least so I imagined. Afterwards I was sure that if I hadn't been wearing such a conspicuous red gown I might not have been so easily spotted as the girl who literally "tripped" down the stairs. Since then I've been much more conservative in my choice of clothes and I never try to make an "entrance." Before I enter any room in which a number of people are gathered, I stop and take a good deep breath and then make sure I know where I'm walking. And I'm usually one of the first guests to arrive. j£ The greatest mistake I ever made was in allowing myself to be "pushed around." When I was on the road tour of "Susan And God" we played Los Angeles. At that time the search for Scarlett O'Hara was on and I was offered a test. I thought that meant going to the studio and having the test, but it wasn't so simple. I wore myself out making trips to the Selznick Studio in Culver City from Los Angeles in the afternoons and rushing back for the evening performance of our play. It went on day after day, through innumerable delays. The climax came when I sat in a producer's officer for three hours, alone, just waiting. The producer had simply forgotten all about me. I decided the fault was mine and made up my mind then and there that from that moment on little Nancy would be the sort of girl who looked out for herself. I lived up to my new resolution. As a result, when Warners offered me a contract I refused to sign unless the contract stipulated that I should be given a test for the role of Louise in "Kings Row." That was the role I wanted to play and I didn't want to come out to Hollywood and find that someone else had been assigned to the role before I even had a chance to try. And just recently I did some more looking out for myself. I had read the script of "Edge Of Darkness" and I knew I could play the part of the Polish actress. But everyone I spoke to about it said, "You aren't the type, Nancy." Even my agent refused to ask for that role for me. Instead of giving up I went to Director Lewis Milestone myself and pleaded for a test. He finally gave in and the result was that after he saw the test he agreed with me that I could play it. J£ J* 7?eSS*ete~ The mistake I'd never make again is to become a star. Before I entered pictures I was a clown in circuses or a judge of walkathons in carnivals — and most of the time I didn't wear shoes. I hate to wear shoes. I could sleep late, didn't have to go to night clubs and, above all, didn't need a car. I used to travel in box cars and let the railroad company worry about it — now I have to carry my A and B ration books with me all the time. Whereas before, Saturday night was good enough for me, now I have to Mt have a swimming pool. And I have to get some relatives. And have to write to Emily Post about the correct way of using forks — whereas the only fork I ever used before was when I pitched hay to the elephants. Now a valet wakes me up; before, a cop woke me up on a park bench. And now I've got to kiss the leading ladies. This being a Hollywood star is sure getting me down! MAY 1943 LfTTT TTT JLLE 47 I ■ I ■ I