Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1958)

WHAT THE HOME FOLKS THINK OF PAT Continued from page 26 The trouble was that the nursing school she attended expelled any student who married. But love was stronger than reason, and the couple married secretly. The young Mrs. Boone was graduated and received her nurse’s cap before the news of the wedding leaked out. Although the Boones are descended from old Tennessee and Kentucky stock, Pat was born in Florida, where his parents began their married life. But the family moved to Nashville when Pat was two, and they have lived in their present home ever since he was six. When the Boones bought the house, it was in the country, but a fashionable residential section is encroaching. Close by, along the Hillsboro Road, wealthy Nashville citizens have built expensive homes. But the winding, black-topped road on which the Boones live is still bordered by wooded lots and small residences. Patches of corn pepper the landscape. The Boone yard is heavily shaded. A bicycle is flung carelessly on the ground by the high back steps. There’s an oldfashioned swing on the concrete front porch, and a table with benches in the backyard is a popular place for picnic suppers. Mrs. Boone’s living room is attractive, but without distinction. Furniture follows no period. Decoration follows no pronounced color scheme. “Nice” and “comfortable” are the adjectives that describe it best. There’s not much tile in the kitchen or the single bath, and the appliances aren’t new, but neither is anything shabby. Fresh paint sparkles on the house, and good taste abounds within. You know instantly that the Boones feel no need to “keep up with the Joneses.” Pat Boone’s story is not one of rags to riches. His father is quite successful. A. A. Boone, described by his wife as “the best natured man in the world,” is a busy contractor, and his name appears on some of the big construction jobs in downtown Nashville. Pat inherited his appearance from his mother. Everybody comments on the marked resemblance. But he inherited his disposition from his father, Mrs. Boone thinks. “Mr. Boone never loses his temper,” she says. “I used to have a violent temper, but he laughed at me until I got over my tantrums.” The Boone children are Pat, twentythree years old; Nick, twenty-two; Margie, nineteen; and Judy, fifteen. Friends consider Pat and Nick very much alike, both interested in drawing and music, both excellent students. Paintings by Nick adorn the living room walls. The girls, their parents have noted, aren’t such keen students as the boys. Possibly their fresh prettiness and popularity have interfered with studies. “Judy just isn’t interested in studying this year,” Mrs. Boone laments. But Judy, a high school sophomore, is adequately passing a thorough college preparatory course. Margie, a new bride, embarked on nurse’s training after high school. Whether she’ll finish her course depends upon her husband’s plans. The Boone family, incidentally, saw “Bernardine” for the first time as guest of their future son-in-law, Airman Kenyon Jenckes. The airbase theater got the picture several weeks ahead of Nashville houses, and Kenyon furthered his courtship of Margie by inviting the family to see it with him. Pat’s parents were thrilled by his performance but felt that the whole evening had a dream-like quality. “It’s just hard to believe that all this has really happened to Pat,” they say. Nick was graduated last June from David Lipscomb College, and is following in his brother’s footsteps, taking a graduate course in dramatics at Columbia University, where Pat will receive his B.S. degree in February. Nick is also being launched on a promising singing career by Dot Records, under the name of Nick Todd — to avoid confusion. His first record, “Plaything,” was recently released. Mrs. Boone is proud of all her children, as well she can be. But she modestly be MRS. BOONE’S FRIED CORN There's only one secret to preparing fried corn— choose corn that's young, milky and tender. That's of prime importance. Melt butter, or better yet, bacon grease, in a heavy skillet. Add the corn, scraped from the cob, and cook very, very slowly, stirring often. If the corn is nice and milky, it will cook in its own juice. If not, add a little water— just a little. Taste dictates seasoning,— salt, pepper, and maybe sugar. When it's cooked down low, it's simply delicious! MRS. BOONE’S CHESS PIE This is one of Pat's favorite desserts, called "chess cake" in some circles. 2 cups sugar 3 eggs 2 tbs. milk 2 tbs. corn meal Vi lb. butter 2 tbs. vinegar 1 tbs. vanilla Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, meal, milk and vinegar and mix well. Add a tablespoon of vanilla. Pour into uncooked pie crust. Start in hot oven. Reduce heat and finish baking. P “You have to he born in the South to master fried corn,’ the Boones told Photoplay. But we finally got these recipes from Mrs. B., so now you can try them, too! littles her own part in their development “Of course,” she admits, “we’ve tried to give all the children moral and religious training — supplemented sometimes with a paddle! Yes, we’ve spanked them, and we’ve prayed with them.” She laughs when she recalls the last time the paddle was applied to Pat. “He was seventeen,” she says, “and Nick was sixteen. The boys were having some kind of scrap about their clothes. They were fighting and fussing, and first thing I knew, I was in the middle of it. “Big as they were, I decided the thing to do was whip them both. Pat was taller than I was, but I told him to get over my knee, and he did. His elbows, bless his heart, were on the floor and his feet were in the hall, but I paddled him. Then it was Nick’s turn. They never fought after that! “We believe, too,” Mrs. Boone adds, “that children should have regular chores. Pat and Nick washed dishes until the girls were big enough to take that over. Then the boys milked and kept up the yard.” Keeping up the Boone yard is no mean feat. The property originally embraced ten acres, and although some of it has been sold, the lawn is still sizable enough to give two boys quite a workout. Another thing we feel is important,” Mrs. Boone says, “is that children should never hear their parents argue. Mr. Boone and I have never disagreed about the children in their presence.” But Margaret Boone, in the final analysis, gives David Lipscomb, where Pat attended high school and one year of college, and the Bible greatest credit for Pat’s character. “Religion was taught him every single day at school,” she says, “through Bible study and through the wonderful example of his teachers.” Lipscomb is described by its dean as “church related.” That means the school is related to, but not owned by the Church of Christ, of which the Boones are staunch members. In Nashville, known as “the Athens of the South” because of its many fine private schools, David Lipscomb is not so fashionable as Vanderbilt, neither is it so large. But its adherents consider its scholastic standing second to none. On the campus, new, pink brick buildings are crowding tbe weathered, red brick of older structures. Winding walks, sheltered by beautiful trees, welcome strolling couples. And it was here that, for Pat Boone and pretty, dark-haired Shirley, love bloomed. Mack Craig, Pat’s high school adviser, Latin teacher, and witness at his marriage, recalls, “Shirley was crazy about Pat during his junior year, but he was too busy to get involved. It was the next year that he really got serious about his romance.” And what kept Pat so busy? In the first place, he was taking a stiff high school course including four years of math and four of science. He was cartoonist for the school paper and a fiveletter athlete. He was master of ceremonies for a high school talent show broadcast each Saturday by a Nashville radio station, and, finally, he was deeply engrossed in church activities. “I was preaching at that time,” Mr. Craig recalls, “and Pat led the singing at my services. He was always in such a hurry that when I’d stop by to pick him up, he’d run out with his dinner on a plate and eat it in the car. His toothbrush was usually in his pocket. “It got to be a joke with us. Wherever Pat went, he was carrying a plate full of food and a toothbrush!” Pat was carrying an almost impossible 72