Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1936)

A L L T began, then, this second phase in Claudette Colbert's life, on the night when — in quick successive order — she met Norman Foster an< learned that pictures wanted her. . . . It was 1927, and she was twenty, and for the first time she was free. Her mother was still, and welcome, in the offing; but discreetly so, without harangues and without orders pertaining to Claudette's personal life delivered in vehement French. If the always rebellious Lily Chauchoin of the years past had wanted escape she had it now. Norman was blue-eyed and full of laughter and immensely in love with the shy but valiantly poised little French girl so new to Broadway and footlights. The Georgia Romeo to whom, for a brief engrossing interlude, she had been engaged, seemed suddenly part of the misting past. Jacques, the deserving French student who had squired her to football games and who, in his quiet vague way, had borrowed a portion of her heart disappeared even in memory, except for intermittent disquieting regrets. Here was sudden fame and sudden love, both overpowering and both full of the qualities of first excitement. She made the most of them. Pictures she took with the unbelieving but philosophic acceptance of a young girl to whom great things have come — unexplained and almost unsought-for. First-National was then exploiting a certain young man (of whom they remarked that his was almost genius) named Frank Capra. He had been writing gags for inexpensive comedies and, in the course of things, had directed young Harry Langdon in sundry screaming comedies. Under his youthful but already capable hands Claudette made "For the Love of Mike," in a New York studio before sound was thought of. It wasn't (and this is understatement) a very good picture, mostly because Claudette, being newly from and of the stage, knew nothing about camera technique. But it was fun — dashing madly in scurrying taxis from the matinee of "The Barker" to the studio, and then recklessly through raucous complaining traffic back for the evening performance — and finally once more to the studio for a night scene or two. SHE saw the rushes of her first picture in a private projection room and thus only a few were witnesses to her involuntary hysterics. "It was literally the first time I knew what my face looked like," Claudette told me. "You can imagine that I died a little during the few minutes in that tiny room. I had no idea of what to do with make-up, nor how to handle myself before a camera. I looked liks nothing on earth. . . ." So she went back to "The Barker" and Norman Foster, chastened completely and quite determined never to do another movie. Still, the extra check had been welcome. Two more easy chairs were added to the family apartment, the second The second installment of the fascinating French star's life story. Her first picture — her first marriage— her trip around the world hand Buick was overhauled, and Claudette bought a new beaver coat with a brown fox collar as general consolation. Her mother, be it known, was a little hesitant about the "Monsieur — uh — Foster" of whom Lily was seeing so much these days. A year or two ago Claudette might have listened and believed and foresworn the new interest that was so important to her youth and happiness; but not now. The revolution of her spirit against French family convention had fought its miniature war and emerged triumphant and not at all tattered. She had found within herself a new and wholly wonderful sensation which her romantic mind called Love, am! which was caught from her friendship with Norman. And all Heaven could not have induced her to part with it. They met in Central Park, she and Norman, one late afternoon when the twilight was darkening and Manhattan was lighting its billion lamps. Together they crunched the pathgravel and felt all about them the quiet July warmth. It was that fabulous summer of 1928 when people were still humming "I Can't Give You Anything Hut Love," since it was still not very old, and women were telling husbands accustomed to short skirts that the new dresses would be longer " Woods says a London company is bidding lor 'The Barker,'" Norman said. "They want us both for the production " Claudette said nothing. "What I mean is — " Norman | please turn to page 102 ] 5