Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1938)

Norma Shearer"s Handful of Memories (Continued from page 33) other celebrity, one of whom, in an hour, she herself was to be! For a car from the studio was to call for her. In fact, there would be no more than time to unpack and press the dress in which was invested all the family's loose cash; cocoa-colored georgette it was, smartly simple, with shoes, stockings and gloves to match, to be worn with a tomato-shade hat and bag. She had planned with care the great moment; her first look at Hollywood, Hollywood's first look at her! Hastily she unpacked and dressed, scarcely finishing when the telephone rang; a studio car for Miss Norma Shearer. "A studio car for Miss Norma Shearer!" So, little Eight-Year-Old, shivering under your blanket, dreaming of this moment, hopeful Sixteen-Year-Old working, striving for this moment, it has come! A studio car is waiting for Miss Norma Shearer. Drawing on her gloves and with her best savoir-faire, she hurried down to the lobby, swept through it across the porch to the waiting car, a little taken aback, Fifth Avenue ensemble notwithstanding, to see how absolutely she caught the attention of every eye. She could sense, in fact could see, that, along her "line of march," there wasn't a person whose gaze didn't frankly follow her. She could imagine what they were whispering: "New star . . . wonder who! . . . Come for a picture . . . wonder what!" She crossed the porch to the waiting car, to roll down the crescent drive . . . and then suddenly to become aware that left upstairs, just where she had so carefully laid it out twenty minutes ago, remained her cocoa-colored underslip! Her swanky trip through the lobby, her first appearance in Hollywood, had been made in georgette as transparent, whoops, my dear, as the mist around a rainbow! DUT leading-lady Miss Norma Shearer survived, served Hollywood so well, in fact, that not until two years later did she return to New York. Her latest picture was playing there. Swiftly the train carried her across mountain, desert, prairie, back again to Broadway, every turn of the wheels conjuring up thoughts of all the hope, doubt, disappointment she had known along that street to which she was returning. At the Broadway theater door which so often she had had to pass for lack of money, now she would be a celebrity. She had heard many times of how impressively the picture luminaries passed by the lines of waiting people to receive the flattering recognition and attention of "the door." Now that was about to happen to her! A pleasant contemplation. . . Not conceit, not thirst for glory, but just a feeling of having arrived at a goal for which there had been long hope and real striving. So again . . . here was New York, the same delirious highway. She went to the theater, took a friend to share the little triumph. The picture was billed in electric lights, the waiting lines crowding along the street at half a dozen angles from the box office. Wearing, with proper glamour, an orchid. Miss Shearer passed grandly by the waiting ladies and gentlemen, approached the doorman and said . . . "I'm Norma Shearer. I'm here from Hollywood. I'd like to see the picture." He favored her with a look which was something between the supercilious and the disinterested. "If you want to see the picture," he said, "get in line." "But you see," she repeated, "I'm. . . ." "Yeah, I know," he finished for her. "You're Norma Shearer. You're from Hollywood. Well . . . we have millions of them. If you want to see the picture get in line." AND now a memory of Hollywood again . . . Christmas Eve ... a lonely stretch of hours for the little star who that night, on the M-G-M lot, was finishing a picture. There is always something a little sad about finishing a picture. And for Miss Shearer Christmas day was nothing special to look forward to. Though, for the matter of that, neither was any day, Hollywood and her chosen profession often proving lonely, nothing to interest her greatly but work. That is to say, nothing . . . but the quiet, dark-eyed young executive, Irving Thalberg, with whom for more than a year (her own carefully guarded secret) she had been in love. It would have indeed been a thrilling moment for her which would have signified a bit of his personal attention. As far as he was concerned, however, he seemed little aware of her beyond necessary business conferences. On this Christmas Eve she watched him as he talked last minute detail with the director. She knew his every little whimsical manner, every inflection of his voice. She heard him outline briefly what was now to be done, saw him say good night and leave the company to carry out his wishes. The stage on which tonight's work ■went on was half a mile from the dressing rooms. Buses waited to save the company the half-mile walk. At about eleven o'clock the scene was finished, everything "O.K.," the picture completed, the company dismissed. There was hasty, gay departure, floodlights turned off, the players trouping to the buses. But by the time Miss Shearer had gathered up her make-up, her stray belongings here and there, the last bus had gone. Here outside the barnlike stage door she found herself WHAT Is "The Strip"? by Sara Hamilton Did you know "The Strip" means a shopping street, not an undress act? Yes — "The Strip" all began with a cow, but in its evolution to star sapphire lane, this fantastic roadway led some of Hollywood's best people a bizarre merry-go-round. In November PHOTOPLAY OCTOBER, 19 38 87