Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1938)

but t, e <3 *e Bot>bv l*'*^ ***/%' >o&J< at * '©a/ r fo A' ^°rd Edith Fellows, age thirteen, is a movie veteran in bobby socks Temple and, doggone it, always means to say his prayers at night and usually does get as far as the "If I should die" part when he pops off to sleep. In the doorway some writer paused a moment to call out some nonsense in which Billy joined in. It went: "Sitting on a dog looking for a flea One jumped to the left One jumped to the right But the one that was best flew on Billy's back." The writer guffawed and passed on. "What's all this?" we asked. "Oh, I don't know," Billy shrugged. "He always says it when he sees me. I think he thinks I'm having fun." And now you know. VIRGINIA WEIDLER: "MAKE IT TEN" I O those of you who have wondered about Hepburn or Maggie Sullavan or any other minds-oftheir-own young ladies as children, ponder over it no longer. Step up, instead, and meet Virginia Weidler — hazel-eyed, honest-souled, straight-from-the-shoulder child of movies. "How old are you, Virginia?" we asked in beginning. "Make it ten," came the noncommittal answer. "Studio reasons," she added. "Always chopping off a year." A new Photoplay, grabbed on her way into my office, lay spread out before her. "Sorry," we chided. "Fascinating as we admit the magazine to be, you'll have to lay it aside for the interview." "Hmm," came the answer, "soon as I read this." Virginia was deep in the "Who's Going with Whom" column. With all the prissiness left over from old school-teacher days, we reached over and laid Photoplay to one side. "Now pay attention." She rose and leaned over the desk and looked at us. Just looked. A round-eyed well-go-on look that left us wondering how to get Virginia back into the "Who's Going with Whom" business as fast as possible. "Like to read?" we hurriedly asked to hide our confusion. "Yes." "What?" "Make it books." Virginia's small brown hand was already creeping slowly along the desk to the forbidden Photoplay. We knew when we were licked and said nothing. Except — "What are you studying in school?" "Oh, history." "What kind?" "Oh, American." "What part of American history?" "Oh, make it Queen Victoria. Just plain old American history." The magazine, which had been gathered to her inch by inch, now lay before her unopened, and well we knew any minute Virginia would be lost in the wonders of Ty Power's romance with Janet Gaynor. So, with breathless haste, we asked and received this information. Virginia will tolerate no curls, no ruffles, no furbelows. She selects her own straight, plain little frocks. Her mother and clerks merely stand in a huddle and wait while Virginia prowls among the goods, finally returning with something in blue print with a plain linen collar. George Ernest of "The Jones Family" is different. He won't be an actor when he grows up She says "Yeah" for yes and never smiles just to smile. Virginia began her movie career at four in a picture called "After Tonight" because she could speak French. She's forgotten how now. Her latest climatic work is in "Men with Wings." She has two chicken-pox marks above her right eyebrow, sixty-two freckles across her perfect little nose and six owls in her attic. She doesn't give a hang about any of them, the owls included. Except, she explains, they make a racket "Woo-wooing" around. She doesn't know how the birds got there. She'd rather take roping lessons any day in the week than music (Continued on page 70) 31