Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1930)

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No guessing this way. Isn't this both safe and fair? Please use coupon. J MARY T. GOLDMAN 24S0 Goldman Bldg. St. Paul, Minn. Name . Street I City S'ate ' 8@~ CHECK COLOR OF HAIR ! D BLACK D DARK BROWN O MEDIUM BROWN □ LIGHT BROWN • D DARK RED D LIGHT RED □ BLONDE Vz Price Frea Trial International Typewriter Exch., oipt. 406.°cmc«lo Photoplay Magazine for April, 1930 beauty, too. Stupefaction could use one of these exotic babies." "I'll try," promised Pete, his mind vaulting to the deluded Carolyn. Too bad she wasn't more flashy, but then, one success in a family was enough. Poor little thing, she'd need comforting when she realized that he was right, and perhaps she'd be ready to listen to a genius propose. His heart would have leaped at that moment could he have seen the starded Carolyn, cornered in a section of the wardrobe department, her grey pupils dilated as she gazed at a swarthy, evil-looking gendeman. "Don't dare touch it!" snapped the stranger, advancing stealthily. "Leave it the way it is, you hear me? Now raise your eyes to mine — " A WEEK later M. Boulanger slithered de■**■ jertedly into the Zoop private lair and beheld his chief chewing madly on a dry cigar, thereby denoting that the storm signals were out. " You wanted to see me? " queried Pete, trying in vain to produce the voice with the guile. "Not want, but must," said the president shortly. "Say, why should you be so droopy? It's me that carries the load around this dump." "I can't find my girl," groaned M. Boulanger. "Her people won't say a word nor let me into their apartment, and it's got me worried." "Is that all?" scoffed Abe. "Get yourself another; it's been done before. Say, you know that bum Salvador?" "The director? Sure, I do. The gossip was that you were firing him because he was lavish." "Yes," said Mr. Zoop. "Last Friday noon when his contract expired, I gave him the air. 'No director who hires a thousand extras for a Garden of Eden picture can work for me,' I says to him. And then can you imagine the dirty trick he did me?" Pete shook his head. "He went over to the wardrobe to O. K. his last requisition and it seems he noticed a girl trying on some Russian costumes. She was a blonde, but the minute Salvador seen her in a black wig he let out a yell and started raving about the contrast with her big, grey eyes. A siren he'll make her, he tells the wardrobe gang, and what does he do but drag her over to Blotts Brothers and hook up with them. The dame is called Gale, and how is it nobody here gave her a glance? Not me, not you — " M. Boulanger went cold and rigid. "Oh, yes I did," he quavered. "She's my girl." "Your girl!" yelled Abe. "What right has a butterlingers like you to true love when you can't keep hijackers away? From under my nose they sneak sirens, and you stand there like a head usher." " But I never saw her in a wig, and anyhow, it's your fault for firing Salvador.'" "T*V)N'T bandy words with the president," -*-^blustered Mr. Zoop. "You got to win back that girl. Is she under twenty-one?" "Just twenty, but — " "Marry her!" ordered Abie. "Then, as her husband, you can forbid her to work for any company but us. Of course, Joe Blotts won't give her nothing but a weekly contract until she makes good, but that pirate Salvador never picks a loser. That's why I want her for Stupefaction. It's up to you. " "But we've had a row because I wouldn't give her a tryout here." "For once I was wrong," said Mr. Zoop sternly. "As a genius you're a lot of eyewash. You may be a wow with scenery, but I need a new juvenile star just as bad. Furthermore, I can't stand that fool Joe Blotts giving me the laugh. Get this Gale girl back, and I'll hand you a five-year contract. " M. Boulanger slunk dismally away, and after a week of futile assault on the Gale doorbell, resigned himself to being merely a disciple of Dore. The public began to talk about his weird settings. Some of the most effective stills were hung as an art exhibit on the Biltmore mezzanine, and he was interviewed while guzzling tea from a samovar. Pete, who was commencing to believe his press notices, viewed his luck with melancholy triumph, fully aware that the gorgeous Carolyn had become even more desirable by invisibility. That young lady, playing minor bits in second-rate films, was not so light-hearted as she appeared. Beneath a smooth, jet wig her grey eyes assumed the qualities of white fire; garbed in form revealing gowns she moved with the sinuous grace of a black leopard and looked equally as dangerous. But success brings its penalties, for, when working overtime to improve her technique, she discovered that part of the course consisted in thwarting Seiior Salvador's inclination to make love to her. She began to yearn more and more for the dependable Pete, and one Sunday she met him as he lay toasting on the Santa Monica sands. "Pierre," she cooed shyly, "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. Will you pretend that it never happened?" "Carolyn!" howled the genius, forgetting his dignity. "What's the matter — did Blotts fire you?" '""THEY certainly did not," flashed Miss -^ Gale, bridling. " I don't like it over there, if you want to know, and besides, I've been lonesome for you all the time. You see, Pierre, my heart's in the right place after all." "So was the rest of your anatomy, judging from your costume in that Arabian picture," scowled M. Boulanger. "But I couldn't help it. That greasy little Salvador said I'd have to do it to get recognition." "Come and see Abe," urged Pete. "He'll give you a better contract than Blotts, and not as a vamp, either." "Blotts haven't signed me yet. They've been paying me by the picture, but Salvador says they want to talk terms tomorrow." "They'll talk to the wall," grinned Pete. "Abe will be suffocated when he hears of Joe Blotts getting the runaround. You see, honey, he promised me a rive-year contract if I could win you over, but what a chance with you giving an imitation of a glacier. I tried and tried — " "For the five-year contract?" "You know the answer yourself," said Pete seriously. " For you, honey. Furthermore, a husband and wife should work in the same studio, if they love each other. " The rosy Miss Gale eyed him mistily. "Not so fast," she murmured, snuggling closer. "I love you, too, but sometimes I feel that I hardly know you. Perhaps it's because you're a genius. Oh, Pierre dear, you haven't a dreadful past?" "Me?" shouted M. Boulanger. "Sure, I've a past — of kowtowing to a lot of chair-warming vice-president's relatives and then having them swipe my ideas. Say, everyone is looking at us, honey. How about taking a drive back into the foothills? I won't propose for at least a week, if you'd rather." THE Sunday evening sky had deepened from lavender to royal purple before their car rolled dustily up to a little drug store in South Pasadena. Miss Gale fanned herself with a wispy handkerchief and smiled graciously at a chubby, aproned youth. "A Clara Bow Surprise," she tinkled. "Hurry, like a nice boy. I'm parched." M. Boulanger ordered a duplicate, and hung over the counter to watch the youth assemble the concoction. Suddenly his voice rang out with the metallic tones of authority. "You're all wrong," he said sharply. "The grapefruit and pineapple slivers should be spread fanwise, not all jumbled up, and on the powdered pecans instead of under them. Spoon the raspberry sherbet exactly in the middle and don't slap the whipped cream down that way. Every advert if ement in PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is guaranteed.