Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1940)

(Continued from page 76) stories around the clubs about Brandon. But he was the most promising and spectacular young lawyer in Los Angeles just the same. I HEN, long awaited, the examinations were upon them. No more horsing around. No more studying. No more kidding. Even six months ago Mac had thought they meant everything to him, because all his ambitions and dreams were in them. Now — there was Jerry, too. She was the rounding out of the picture, the supreme answer, the girl to work for and with, to make life rich with love and sweet with humor and vital with ambition. As he walked in the wide doors of the room on the tenth floor of the old courthouse, it seemed to him that everything in life was now within his grasp. He felt almost awed by it, by Jerry's last kiss, by his own vast happiness. He was spick and span, too, as became the next great ornament of the bar. His suit had been carefully chosen and his father had selected a new shirt and a tie that was bright, yet dignified. He had shaved meticulously and brushed his hair until every lock lay smooth and his shoes had been polished until you could see your face in them. His manner was casual and assured and if he was shaking inwardly nobody could spot it. There were two hundred other men in the room. Old and young, well-dressed and shabby, black and white. Every size and color from the thin little Mexican in the corner to the tall, blond football star in the front row. Two hours for the first examination. Mac ran over the questions hurriedly, flipping the pages between quick, nervous fingers. The hours went by, the days went by. The tension grew. Sweat broke out on Mac's forehead. His hair stood on end. Sometimes his mind refused to work — at other times his pen raced furiously. The clock ticked on. The sheets dropped away and were discarded. This was a matter of life and death for all of them. The funny little guy in the next seat with the thick glasses squirmed and wiggled and moaned to himself. The placid fat young man across the aisle seemed about to break into tears at any minute. Nobody was spruce now. Everybody had forgotten to shave on the second day and by the third they were wrecks. So they had to take the oral examination then. Oh sure. . . . FINALLY, it was over — all over. He had done his best. He was completely sure that he had failed. The questions had been beyond him. He couldn't remember how he had answered any of them, but he was sure they had been wrong. He had promised to go to Jerry at once. But he felt sunk. He wanted, just for a few minutes, to get completely away from everyone and everything and particularly he didn't want any living human being to mention law or bar examinations. He only wanted to forget. Moreover, he wanted a drink. Alone, he slipped into the old bar on the corner back of the courthouse. He was not to be alone long. All the other men who had taken the examinations had been bitten by the same idea. When he looked up from his glass there was the little guy with the glasses and the placid fat guy and the one who squirmed and wriggled and they were all talking about the questions and nobody knew any of the answers. They had a drink — they had several drinks — they began to remember all the answers, not only to the questions in the exam but to almost everything. It was a little unfortunate for Jerry that this happened to be one of Wanda's rare nights at home. A restless Wanda, who switched the radio on and off, strolled about and glanced sideways at the telephone, did half a crossword puzzle and threw it away, and finally said to Jerry, "For goodness sake take your nose out of that book and play some Russian bank with me." Jerry set up the card table reluctantly. She wanted to keep her mind occupied and she didn't want to talk to Wanda just now. But Wanda never seemed to read a book anymore and she had to be doing something. "Where's your boy friend?" Wanda said. "I thought he was due here right after the big event." JERRY dealt cards carefully. "Well— I suppose maybe there were things to do afterwards." "I wouldn't be surprised. And I suppose you'll just sit here and wait until His Royal Highness makes up his mind to come after you. I used to do that, too." "It's not like that, Wanda. It's been pretty tough the last few days. A big strain. I just want to help him get by, that's all." "Suppose he does pass?" Wanda played a black queen on a red king. "Then what? Oh Jerry, have some sense. If you're going to marry him, and I can see nothing will stop you, look a few facts in the face. You've seen enough of life by now to know what it's all about. My life — other women's lives. Divorces don't happen in courtrooms, they happen long before that. David fell out of love with me right after Davey was born, when I looked liked an old hag and couldn't go anywhere with him. I learned my lesson then. But it wasn't ever the same, you can't forgive a man for things like that. In the end, when he wanted me because I was all right again, I didn't care any more." "But he was always so crazy about Davey, right from the beginning," Jerry said. "Maybe he was crazy about Davey right then, but he forgot about Davey 's mama, all right." "When's Davey coming home?" "I don't know," Wanda said. "Dave's mother wants him to stay a while longer and he's crazy about the beach. It's better for him there. Don't try to change the subject, either. You're no beauty, to begin with. But if you want him so bad and want to hold him, don't start by spoiling him to death. Demand things — keep yourself looking well — don't go without clothes to save money that he'll spend on some other woman before you're through. I did all those stupid things once and it didn't work." Jerry said, "I guess you're right." "And," said Wanda, "when he does show up tonight — if he does — don't let him get away with standing you up!" "I won't," said Jerry seriously. But. in the end, she did. For it didn't seem at all difficult to understand Mac, how tired he had been, how nervous and exhausted, and how he and the others had got to yarning and trying to remember the questions. So she forgave him. The dreadful suspense of waiting to hear the results. Of watching the mailbox. Weeks stretching into months. Then one day it came. Mac had made it — he had passed. Not too high, but he had passed. He was a lawyer now. It only remained to take the oath, which he did very solemnly, feeling it, meaning it, his oath to uphold the Constitution and to follow the highest ethics and ideals of his profession. The wedding was simple. It was all over very quickly, it seemed to Jerry, who was radiantly happy — until she looked at Jeff, who wanted a divorce, and at Wanda, who had one. "Could that ever happen to us?" she wondered. The first year was like so many other first years. There was in it a tremendous, deep happiness, afire with the faith of youth. There was in it all the excitement of facing life together. Nothing mattered very much, really, because they were so much, so very much in love. Love made everything all right, love smoothed every day and night, every act and thought. They had a very tiny apartment and they had wedding presents enough to furnish it and Jerry had her trousseau, which Wanda had given her. Not a very big one, but a very smart one. She got up early and they had breakfast and Mac went rushing away to the office. He was always a little hurried, a little nervous, in those days. When he kissed her good-by he'd say, "Hope I do all right by the clients today — if there are any clients." The feeling of responsibility rested heavily upon his young shoulders. Suppose he made a mistake. Suppose he made a mistake and it cost his client his life or his liberty or his property. Of course, as yet the cases were pretty small ones. Mostly Brandon had him filing briefs and running errands. It was, in some ways, a bit of a letdown after the drama of the bar exams. But every morning That's not a corsage — that's a tiny kitten Ona Munson shoulders, on the set of Republic's "Wagons Westward" there was always the thought that today might be the day — today Brandon might let him take over a cross-examination, or turn a real case over to him. Actually, there were only two real difficulties in that first year or so. Lack of money— and, for Jerry, lack of something to do with her time. After Mac went to work it never took her more than an hour or so to do her small housework. An hour after his final kiss and she was free, the little place shone, she had made preparations for dinner. Then she went marketing in the brilliant open stalls, bought as cheaply as she could, bargained a little. Some days there were bits of mending and a little washing — they never occupied more than another hour or two. Then she was free. Free for what? To read, to go to a movie if she had money enough, to take the car — they had kept her roadster — and drive somewhere. But where? She had been, such a short time ago, a very busy young woman, studying, going to classes, taking part in all the activities of college life. A hard worker. Now she was married and her whole interest was in Mac, and Mac was gone all day. She decided to learn a lot about cooking. But epicurean dishes were apt to be expensive and besides, with the best will in the world, you couldn't spend more than an hour and a half getting a meal. There were the shops, but she had never been a shopper and it wasn't much fun when you didn't have any money to spend. Reading saved her life, but you couldn't read all the time. Sometimes Jerry wandered around her small domain and was a little amazed at what Grandma B. called the gadgets. An electric toaster, an electric iron, an electric cooker, an electric refrigerator for desserts, a vacuum cleaner that almost did the housework by itself. Even the bread came already sliced and all the things you bought were so perfect that they didn't need anything done to them. Modern miracles. But it didn't leave Jerry MacNally much to do and time hung heavily on her strong young hands. WANDA had an apartment now. She had given up the house when Jerry married. "But don't you want to keep it for Davey?" Jerry said. "An apartment isn't much of a place for a kid." "Davey's in school," Wanda said. "He's crazy about his school. He only comes home week ends and half the time his father has things planned for him. I don't know much about the things six-year-old boys like to do, you know." The apartment didn't seem much different from the house — it was smart and shining and white and there was always a gang there, too. Sometimes Jerry went over in the afternoon to play bridge, but she always felt a little guilty as though she ought to find something more worth while to do with her time. Her bridge wasn't nearly so good as the other women's and she didn't feel any impulse to learn to play better. It was just hard, she guessed, to get settled down. She would have liked to go to court when Mac was helping Brandon on a case, but somehow he didn't seem to want her there. "I'm just getting started," he said. "You wait until I'm up in the big league and then you can come and sit in the front row and get your picture taken as the snappy wife of the brilliant counsel for the defense." So she didn't go. That's why she didn't know how pitifully small his opportunities had been for more months than he liked to remember. That's why, in spite of all her careful household economies, she had no idea how precarious their position was, even months after they were married. She was only vaguely dissatisfied. True, she worried a great deal. But she wasn't frightened. Not until that day when, suddenly faced with their desperate need, she came face to face with the reality of fear. The startling and utterly unforeseen change in their lives which that day brought was cause enough for fear. It shook the very foundations of their marriage! Only a great love could withstand the shock in store for the young MacNallys! Is their love strong enough — or will Jerry's marriage go the way of Wanda's? Follow this absorbing novel of modern morals in October PHOTOPLAY! 78 PHOTOPLAY