Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1955)

in, and his movements seemed to work into a slight, hardly discernible tap. Debbie could see the music move through his body, his eyes brighten, life return to his face. The day after she returned, Debbie bought a dozen Billy Daniels records (which she promptly sent to the boy. Such incidents have always made an impression on Debbie. She is very sensitive to other people’s problems, although (this is not always apparent under her constant laughter, bantering and joking. It’s easy to go to Debbie with your problems, as I have found out many times. Yet she herself will seldom share hers because she feels she doesn’t want to burden [anyone else. If she has a problem, she solves it herself. Not long ago I was visiting at her home. That evening Debbie came back from the studio a little later than usual. Obviously, (something was bothering her because she was unusually quiet when she came in and stopped just long enough to say hello to her mother and me and to excuse herself. She went straight to her room and stayed there by herself for almost half an hour. (When she joined us again, she was her usual, cheerful self. We never found out what had bothered her. It’s amazing how well Debbie can control her emotions. Even when she’s irritated, which doesn’t happen often, only (those close to her can tell — usually by the quickness with which she replies to questions or by a slight lack of patience. In which case, it’s best to leave her alone. Since I first met Debbie, I’ve only seen her cry once, and it was hardly an occasion for tears — at least on her part. Last summer, Debbie and I went to New York together for five days, during which (time we saw as much as we could jam into each day. On the third afternoon we went to Coney Island to try out every ride in the amusement park, including the turning barrels. I had a little trouble getting into the barrel, but after being whirled around for five minutes, I was so dizzy I couldn’t get out. Finally, two attendants had to be summoned and they came and physically carried me out. Debbie laughed so hard, she was crying! I think one of the signs of a true friend is if you can count on her when you need her without having to depend upon seeing her all the time. • In high school, Debbie and I were always together. But shortly after she went into the movies, I moved to Redlands for four years to study for my teaching degree. [Till I graduated last May, I saw Debbie only during the holidays and vacation, yet we stayed as close as ever. Whenever we got together, we’d just pick up where we left off. Our friendship doesn’t have to rely upon small talk oxpeople we used to know. A few weeks ago, Debbie visited us at my parents’ summer home in Balboa and for twenty-four hours we never left the house. We spent our time talking, reading, watching television and just sitting in the upstairs den looking out through the big glass windows onto the beach and ocean below. I must admit part of the talk was about the past. Like the time when we were still in school and Debbie’s enthusiasm got alarmingly noisy during a New Year’s Eve “slumber party” at her house.. A few seconds before midnight, Debbie decided on a most appropriate way for us girls to welcome in the New Year. With overcoats hastily thrown over our pajamas and loaded down with pots and pans we headed for the nearby intersection with Debbie leading us. For over an hour we made the biggest racket heard anywhere and stopped traffic for blocks away, wakening the entire neighborhood. One thing about Debbie, you can always tell when she’s within a block of you. Although with maturity, she’s shown signs of settling down. In order to be fair to Debbie, I have to admit that she can have a very quieting, relaxing influence on those around her. This stems from her self-assurance. When we made our trip to New York last June we decided to make it by plane. Since it was my first flight, the moment we stepped into the giant DC-7, I became jittery and nervous. Debbie sensed this immediately and instead of trying to talk me out of it, which would only have increased my anxiety, she gradually changed the topic of conversation. Before I knew it, we were 20,000 feet above the ground and I felt wonderful. Debbie, sensing this, immediately fell off to sleep. It’s true that somehow Debbie always knows what to do. Recently, when we were driving to Beverly Hills for a game of tennis, we came to an intersection at Beverly Glen and Sunset Boulevard. The driver ahead of us suddenly made a right turn and I had to slam on my brakes in order to avoid running into him. Unfortunately, the man behind us wasn’t alert enough to stop his car and he plowed right into mine. No one got hurt, but I was just rattled enough to be unable to know what to do. Without getting excited, Debbie stepped out of the car, headed for the nearest phone and called the police. It was a good thing the officers arrived a few minutes later, not only to disentangle the traffic congestion we had created, but to establish the responsibility for the accident, because the man who smashed into me had left the scene of the accident. Debbie knew what to do not only because she had kept calm throughout, but also because of a lesson she had learned when she first started to drive. She was sixteen when we were heading down Moorpark Boulevard in her ’32 Chevy, the first car she ever owned. Somewhere near Coldwater Canyon, without warning, a woman driver ahead of her stopped in the middle of the road. Instantly Debbie brought her Chevy to a screeching halt. Again, not so with the man behind her. He crashed head on into the trunk of her car. Thanks to the heavy rear guards Debbie had installed a few days before, her car wasn’t damaged. But the grill of the other car looked like the twisted face of a prize fighter minus front teeth, and the man behind the wheel was just as mad. He started shouting and yelling at us. Debbie felt sorry for him, but at sixteen she was too young to control her feelings when she saw the humor of the situation. She just couldn’t keep a straight face. The madder he got, the funnier it seemed to her. To make matters worse, the crowd that quickly assembled made quips about the big fellow who would berate a helpless little girl. Not satisfied with getting her name, license number and general description of the car, the man angrily stalked off in search of the law. He was lucky in finding a police car quickly. But he was not as lucky when the officer informed him that it was his responsibility to keep a safe distance to prevent hitting any car that might suddenly be forced to stop. It taught him a lesson and Debbie and me as well: Police officers aren’t around simply to give people tickets. 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