Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1936)

MAUREEN O'SULLIVAN'S has been the kind of romance of which every girl dreams. It begirt with across-the-room, softly veiled looks of admiration, and ■ a chance introduction. It moves forward quickly on the wings i of glamorous going-places dates. Then in true dramatic style there is a forced parting, but across two continents and as many years, the memory lingers on. Then a second chance meeting; love's second naming. The ever-growing acceptance of the marriage that is destined to be. But more troubles come to keep them apart. A daredevil race against time and fame by plane from one end of Canada to the other. Then a two-year search for vital papers, the ransacking of the ruins of an old Church in Australia. For this is an Irish love, that like the Irish, wanders all over the world. An Irish love that fights for being against overwhelming odds, and ends happily in a cloud of white veil, a mist of gardenia scent, before a red altar cloth. It began that November morning in 1929 when a little Irish girl, in a soft full skirt and a big dark hat, pulled its brim further down over her cornflower blue eyes, to hide her tears. She had just bade her mother Godspeed on her long journey back home — back to Ireland and Dublin. The girl was only eighteen, and this was Hollywood, and she had only been here a month, and with her mother's going it was sure to be frightening, and lonely. But she kept the tears back at the train, and not until she stood in the doorway of the Fox studio restaurant did she realize the strangeness of those faces all about her. "Alone, Miss O'Sullivan?" asked the hostess, and it was the sudden shock of the word that made Maureen hasten to pull the brim of her hat down. Yet in the search she made that noon of all those strange faces around her, she found one which was destined to be always before her. It was that of a slight blonde man, also sitting alone, at the opposite end of the room. His eyes caught hers as they passed, and quickly he looked away. So silly to be caught staring at a school girl like that. But she was so pretty! Once again that same noon their eyes met, and in the meeting for a second time John Farrow was annoyed at his own interest. After that he didn't look at her again. Not until one day much later when she looked into his office and said, " Is Mr. Butler in —oh, 1 beg your pardon." Weeks had passed in between. Weeks of sitting at opposite ends of the restaurant, weeks of assiduously avoiding a glance at each other. Still he couldn't help but see her come in. Always alone, always going straight to her corner. He could tell by her costume change that she had finished the John McCormick picture; that she was now working in "Jusl Imagine." It annoyed him that he felt a warm pleasure in the fact that she was getting along. Why shouldn't she get along? What was it to him? She was young, fresh, had a good camera face. Everything was in her favor. He was writing and directing at the time. Funny, if some day he'd have to direct her. "Who's that man at the studio who always eats by himself — blonde hair, interesting face — I think he's a writer or something? " Maureen asked another actress whose room was next to hers at the Studio Club. "Not Johnnie Farrow! Don't tell me you've got your eye set on him? Better not, young lady. He's quite a ladies' man, very sophisticated, all that sort of thing, goes around with only the most glamorous beauties. That new star at Warners' is one of the latest. How do you think you could compete with her?" "Don't be silly," said Maureen. "I'm not thinking of competing. I was only just wondering who he was. Know who I'm going out with tonight? Billy Bakewell!" DUT that day she came looking for Mr. Butler and found Mr. Farrow instead, the sudden flush on her face told another story. "His office is just down the hall. I'll show you." Johnny Farrow said. In the few steps it took to reach Butler's door he had asked her to dinner. [ please turn to page 100 ] THEY WAITED TWO LONG YEARS FOR LOVE Maureen and John two years ago — just after their return from a trip to Dublin where they visited her family Then Fate relented and the romance of Maureen O'Sullivan and John Farrow culminated in those heartfelt ivords: "'Till death do us part." By KATHARINE HARTLEY 33