Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1945)

The cockateel -watches while Sonny checks up on the day’s schedule scribbled on the family blackboard in the kitchen _ I . dainty mahogany table. Two comers of the room contain plate cabinets lined with truly rare China. But by now you’ve stopped observing and are diving into your luncheon— which consists largely of a mixed green salad, flavored with a delicious French dressing. A bowl of apples is also on the table, a bowl of walnuts and a plate of cheese. This, with a pot of coffee, is lunch. You devour it, trying not to smack your lips over the completely French feeling of the food; but then you can’t help asking if this slight meal is filling enough for giant Sonny. “Enough?” says he, mildly surprised. “This is all I ever eat — salads. Learned to like this kind of a meal in France, and can’t get over it.” Thus you find out that the great blond hulk eats like a bird — with desserts and between-meal snacks strictly out. Food has no fascination for him. Swimming has, though; and during lunch he and Barbara enlarge on their dream, which is to build a swimming pool someday complete with a baby seal, to which Sonny could teach tricks. “We like strange animals,” he admits, grinning, as your eyes widen over the seal news. “Fact is, ever since reading ‘The Yearling’ I’ve been thinking how much I’d like to get hold of a pet deer . . . and I’m not kidding!” ^FTER lunch, the three of you carry the plates back into the kitchen and together wash and dry until the kitchen is immaculately neat again. It’s a divine kitchen anyway — a cheerful, sunny big room with white wallpaper dotted with scenes of farms and countrysides, and with the floor done in red linoleum tile. On one wall hangs a blackboard with messages scrawled on it: “Bill Irish called,” “Red Cross ball game at 1: 30 at Sawtelle — Sonny to throw opening ball,” and so forth. Here they jot down all phone or other messages for each other. The peaceful kitchen fades from your mind as you trail Sonny and Barbara outdoors again to greet a sudden rush of arriving guests — actresses Ella Raines, Leone Sousa, Gail Russell, Barbara Britton; actors Alan Ladd (and Sue), Turhan Bey, Billy de Wolfe and the Bill Step out the back door with Sonny and see the garden where dwell contentedly the chickens, dogs and ducks Bendixes. Barbara and Sonny lead them gaily into the playroom. It has tan carpeting, a brick fireplace, and rough barnwalls painted apple green. There’s a long window seat of red and green linen and a red leatherette bar (made from start to finish by Barbara), with four ordinary kitchen stools in front of it painted green; there’s a baby-grand piano, with Sonny’s drums behind it and two of his many guitars — as well as a huge guitar belonging to Roy Rogers, who forgot it during his last visit. Sonny’s mad for drums, especially for the big one given him by Bill Bendix last Christmas; so from now on he divides his time between drumming, singing and playing at the piano and bartending. Meanwhile, most of the group settle down happily to listen to him entertain — they particularly want him to sing “Egyptian Ella” over and over. You listen, with your foot tapping; and presently your eye fights on another of Barbara’s fabulous lamps. This one is a peanut-vending machine full of peanuts and topped by a lampshade. Then there are French wooden shoes that look as if they’re walking down the wall, with ivy trailing out of them. The party goes on until early in the evening, when Barbara rustles up a huge spaghetti dish and another of her luscious salads. Then ( Continued on page 119)