Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1944)

56 clean, but completely disorderly. Books and magazines totter in crisscross piles on every table, the ash trays are all on the mantelpiece out of Kerry’s reach and a couple of cameras and portable radios left by friends are casually parked by the wall. Parked permanently on the wall are two excellent paintings by actor-artist Richard Whorf — one a circus scene and one a study of Pittsburgh. Betsy would fly in at this moment to announce dinner, after brushing a kiss on her husband’s nose, and she’d also announce, “Dick Whorf gave Gene the Pittsburgh painting because that’s Gene’s home town. Now, dinner!” So into the dining room with its red rug, red-andwhite striped drapes and maple table ' you’d go to have dinner with the three Kellys, topped by chocolate or apple pie, or jimket or jello (Gene’s favorites) . . . and just as you were settling into a pleasant stupor what would happen? The doorbell would start ringing instead of the phone — and people would begin pouring in. For every night is party night at the Kellys’, though no one is ever invited — except by himself on those endless pre-dinner phone calls! VOU’D find yourself shaking hands, dazedly, with half of Hollywood — the Richard Whorfs, the Keenan Wynns, the Hume Cronyns, Bunny Waters, Ted Reed, Laird Cregar, Van Johnson, Nancy Walker. And a handful df composers and a dozen writers, and maybe the two highschool girls who live across the street and are always at the Kellys with their boy friends. And then would begin any kind of party. You might find them all playing children’s games — because, as Gene tells you, “Children’s games are a lot more fun for grownups than for children.” So maybe you’d play sardines, all of you — with every light out in the whole house and every room part of the game except little Kerry’s. There’d be much giggling and tiptoeing while everyone hides ... or else, on the other hand, they might all feel political that night and sit shouting in the living room until dawn. Or perhaps some of the composers would have new tunes to try out on the party — then everyone sits in rapt silence listening to the piano. But probably they’d settle down A little Irish energy gets worked off in the kitchen — Gene helps Betsy with the dishes. (You'd probably be there putting them away!) to a lightning-like game of “Indications”— in which case, if you’re a little slow in the brain, you’d better get up to your bed and puU the covers over your head. Because the Kellys and all their friends are wizard Indicationers. The room divides into teams, and one member of your team pantomimes words or sentences suggested by the members of the other team — by a stop watch. The team guessing the mostest the fastest is the winnah. Once you’ve seen Gene silently and slickly acting out “Damn the torpedoes — full speed ahead!” or “Honi soit qui mal y pense” while Betsy guesses as fast as he moves, you realize in what rapid mental water you’re splashing. And so to bed, the night of your visit. Mornings you’d find confusing, if you got down early enough. (Though, as you may have guessed, there are no guest rules in the Kelly madhouse, so you rise and fall into bed entirely on your own.) Mrs. K. calls orange juice breakfast, but her sparkling spouse keeps his slim figure by stowing away toast, eggs, potatoes, bacon, ham, jam and everything else he can find — including candy! He finally leaves for the studio with one hand on the steering wheel of his blue convertible and the other on a piece of cake. His sweet tooth is never satisfied and if you want to think of bim during the day, think of him eating candy bars and pieces of pie from dawn until dark. Later in the morning if you wanted to learn about the Kellys without bothering Betsy, you’d wander around the house. You’d learn many discordant facts in your role as FBI man. For one thing, you’d see comparatively few pictures of Kellys around, considering tbat they’re actors — only a dizzy caricature of Gene in the breakfast room, which appeared on billboards all over New York while he was acting in “Pal Joey”; and upstairs in the tiny pink room a snapshot of Gene and Betsy kissing each other — the picture having been taken by David Selznick at one of his mammoth parties; and, in their dressing room, two camera portraits of them posed with Kerry. For another tiling, you’d find that under the Kelly gaiety hide a couple of highly intelligent minds ... as witness their newspapers and magazines, most of them nostalgic of the East: The New York Times, PM, 'The New Yorker, Newsweek — and the local Los Angeles Daily News. When you looked at their thousands of books (aU over the house on every table, even Kerry’s), you’d cough vmeasily. For you’d find everything from Tolstoy to Hemingway— everything, that is, but the latest fictional best-sellers. The Kellys’ reading tastes ruirlb moderr biographies, histories and books on economics. ^N Sundays, of course, you’d doubt that you’d observed correctly about their intelligence — for you’d have to put on boxing gloves to get near the comic strips. Gene and Betsy rise early, don shorts and shirts and race each other to the funnies — £md then intently pursue Flash Gordon, Jungle Jim, Prince Valiant, L’il Abner, Blondie, Joe Palooka (which Gene feels combines humor and effective propaganda better than any other strip) , Terry and the Pirates, and Bamaby. (Continued on page 83)