Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1944)

SANITARY PROTECnON was the traditional charm. He came to stay — and stay he did, as a success. His personal life is as quiet as possible. He gardens a bit, plays Chinese checkers with Connie, mysterious nameless games with his small daughter, baseball with the neighborhood kids, and a little golf and little bridge with a few close friends. Connie and he readily admit they did “go Hollywood” at first. They had a tremendous Beverly Hills “residence,” complete with ermine-lined swimming pool. Now, they have a home. The “front stuff” was just not for them. “We didn’t know half the people at our parties,” they explain, “and the place was so big it was all we could do to find one another. Good riddance!” r.i This month thousands will experience new peace of mind — a wonderful new feeling of security! For San-nap-PAK provides extra protection, with extra comfort and convenience! NEVER BEFORE SUCH COMFORT -SUCH SECURITY! THEY’VE got the kind of small house in simple American style they both prefer now and if a cold shower isn’t so swanky as a private pool, it’s less crowded. They live in Westwood Village, a little community where you may have to step around a kiddie car on the sidewalk. Eddie’s mighty pleased with the avocado tree and the peach tree in the back yard, even though he and Connie haven’t done anything in particular about them. His real pride out back, though, is the doghouse, which he painted himself. It’s white, with irregular black spots, to match “Dizzy,” the Brackens’ beloved Dalmatian, named, with bittersweet humor, for the “consolation part” Eddie grimly built up in “Henry Aldrich.” The house is small and simple, from the nursery, all pinks and blues, to the kitchen, where the wallpaper meets with the complete approval of the year-old, blue-eyed Miss Bracken. It’s a playful design of beaming policemen who help good little girls by taking their hands as they cross gay corners of red, yellow and blue. One of Eddie’s prized possessions is an elaborate record-player, concealed in what might be the living-room book cupboard. But sometimes Eddie uses the loudspeaker for a less formal pastime than impromptu concerts. The machine is rigged up to a microphone Eddie has installed in a hall closet and with this apparatus he plays one of his few practical jokes. One of Eddie’s brothers, now in the U. S. Marines, sometimes brings buddies over for a bit of home life. Then, from the hall closet, Eddie, or a friend who’s in on the trick, makes an announcement which breaks in on the radio, seemingly. “All Marines report to their jKJsts at once,” says a stentorian voice. There’s a wild flurry of hasty preparations to leave, as Eddie laughingly admits the hoax to an accompanying “Tsk, tsk” of mild reproval from Connie, who has a wifely suspicion that all this is a bit too prankish for grownups. Has Eddie any shortcomings as a husband? A puzzled frown crosses Connie’s face. “Well . . . there are one or two little things, naturally. He just won’t get out of bed in the mornings, for instance.” The only other criticism — and this after much digging — is that he just won’t get around to washing the car. “You know how it is. He says he will, but then puts it off and puts it off. Of course,” she smiles lovingly, “he is busy. I keep after him, though (bere she tries to look very firm) and finally the car does get washed.” “Dizzy,” who has had to admit Judith Ann is a potent rival, though he has “seniority rights,” by three years, has a place of honor in tbe living room in a kind of siesta bed which Connie had made for him. He eyes with suspicion the “growingstick” hung along the hall just outside the nursery door. Judith Ann hasn’t had much use for it yet, since she’s just beginning to stand, a bit wobbly. “To hear Eddie,” laughs Connie, “you’d think Judy were going to grow five years at a time. He’s already talking about when she goes to college, and when she’ll be working with Preston Sturges. Eddie always wanted a baby sister, you know, and never had one. You’d think Judy were the first girl-baby invented, to hear him.” Writing is Eddie’s main hobby. He writes all his own material for radio performances and takes his authorship with complete seriousness. Once Paramount producer Buddy de Sylva — a Bracken fan, who saw him in “Too Many Girls” over forty times — offered Eddie $10,000 for a story he’d written. “Nope,” said the incredible author, “it’s not good enough.” He meant the story, not the price! Eddie’s idol is writer-director Preston Sturges. It was Sturges who sensed Eddie’s ability to play roles with pathos and warm reality, who gave him a chance to get away from being “typed” as a zany. When David Selznick took a poll of writers and directors to see who was their first choice to play the part of Father Chisholm in the best-seller, “Keys Of Tlie Kingdom,” the returns were, Robert Donat, twenty-two votes; Van Heflin, twenty; Spencer Tracy, seventeen; and Eddie Bracken, thirteen! That gave Eddie a real thrill. Someday, after he has mastered the acting field, Eddie wants to be a director. So what happened recently when Paramount offered him the opportunity on which his heart is set? “No, thanks,” said Eddie. “I don’t know enough about the business.” Unbelievable — but it’s Bracken! The End Tune in the BLUE NETWORK Listen To — "My True Story" — a new and different story every day. 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