Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1958)

STRANGE CASE OF DOROTHY MALONE Continued from page 24 He stopped for a light at Hollywood and Vine, shot the breeze with the cop, one of the regulars on the force, and cruised on. Nothing doing further north, so he pulled into a drive-in for some coffee. As he ordered it, he stifled a yawn and thought again of Dorothy Malone. What a gal. She’d been his favorite actress long before her Academy Award for “Written on the Wind.” He paid for his coffee, pocketed the change all except a dime, which he flipped into the air, caught it, then headed for a phone booth and dialed information. He knew what he was going to do. Starting right now, he was going to do a story on Dorothy Malone. He’d begin tonight and make a real project of it. Talk to the people who knew her best: the directors, the actors and actresses, her girlfriends; who knows, maybe even her boyfriends. Suddenly, Steve clicked the receiver back on the hook. Of course, it was too late to still talk to anyone tonight — especially Dorothy Malone. But he decided to drive by Dorothy’s house, get the local color, maybe take a few notes on the neighborhood. The Malone house on Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills, was a large, white two-story Spanish job. Steve knew Dorothy lived alone. A few lights were on downstairs, and an Afghan hound was curled up on a front window ledge. No, he’d wait until morning, call Dorothy, see if he could get to her. Meantime, he’d line up some interviews with some other people in the business. He phoned Miss Malone the next morning and introduced himself. Dorothy agreed to an interview. “But no personal questions,” she warned. This put a bit of a kink in things, but personal or not, Steve was glad to receive a friendly reception. He telephoned a few associates of Dorothy’s, made more appointments for the week, and arrived at her house at the appointed hour. As he drove up a long driveway, Steve was given an enthusiastic welcome by the Afghan hound he’d spied through the window the night before, plus another. “I see you’ve met Samson and Delilah,” Dorothy laughed as she answered the door. Hair in pin curls, white Bermudas, white man’s shirt, cable knit knee socks, no shoes, Steve noted mentally, and he liked what he saw. “Please come in,” enthused Dorothy, and immediately proceeded to show the reporter around the house, bouncing energetically from one room to another. “I’m having a wonderful time decorating the house,” she explained. Steve was amused to note that although the actress preferred 18th century French decor, she had abandoned its exclusive use and experimented with other schemes as well. Here a room would be modern, there Oriental, another antique. “Is it time for the interview?” Dorothy asked after the grand tour was over. And the two seated themselves in the hostess’ large living room, in luxuriously comfortable chairs. (Cream white, brushed with gold, noted Steve.) Why is Dorothy Malone known as a woman of mystery?” opened Steve. He was genuinely interested, as this sincere looking young woman opposite him looked at him earnestly. Seated in her overstuffed chair, intent on Steve’s question, he had the impression that her face was an open book. And yet there were the many facets in her life that Dorothy Malone reputedly would not talk about. “There’s a reason for everything,” she began, settling more comfortably, “so there must be a reason for people believing I’m some sort of a mystery woman. At least, this seems to be the general impression, but the mystery to me is that I’m still in pictures. For the past eight or ten years I’ve been on and off the screen. I’ve quit and come back several times, and each time came back with the feeling I was starting all over again. Some of my parts have been good, some bad — the others we won’t even mention. The pattern of my career must have been confusing to the public, I’m sure — for it certainly has been a series of serious readjustments for me. “There has never been a time when I wasn’t torn between playing safe and gambling on my entire future. At the very beginning, I never wanted to be an actress. When you’re not a career girl, basically — and I’m still not — you waver in your dedication, which in turn undermines your determination. But I’ve always believed whatever the job is, one should take what he has to do and do what he can with it. “I know now that it is my fate to take P 76 STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP. MANAGEMENT, AND CIRCULATION REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24, 1912, AS AMENDED BY THE ACTS OF MARCH 3, 1933, AND JULY 2, 1946 (Title 39, United States Code. Section 233) of PHOTOPLAY, published monthly at New York, N. Y., for October 1, 1957. 1. 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Paragraphs 2 and 3 include, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting; also the statements in the two paragraphs show the affiant’s full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner. 5. „ The average number of copies of each issue of this publication sold or distributed, through the mails or otherwise, to paid subscribers during the 12 months preceding the date shown above was: (This information is required from daily, weekly, semiweekly, and triweekly newspapers only.) (Signed) MEYER DWORKIN, Secretary-Treasurer Sworn to and subscribed before me this 23rd day of September, 1957. (SEAL) ' TULLIO MUCELLI. Notary Public State of New York No. 03-8045500 Qualified in Bronx Co. Cert. Filed in New York Co. Commission Expires March 30, 1958 what comes along and not make myself miserable as a result. When you understand a situation, I believe, it means you have finally learned how to live with it.” Strong words, thought Steve, as he thought he detected a trace of cynicism in Dorothy’s last statement. Was she referring to that period when she had deserted Hollywood and returned to her native Texas — supposedly to get married? The time that suddenly, without warning, she returned to Hollywood, still unmarried and — unengaged, with no hint of what had happened, or not happened? Or, had she indicated the crazy pattern of her career, the years without any recognition or breaks or roles? The years when she was under contract to RKO, but was actually little more than a stock girl? He decided not to interrupt, but let her continue. “I was so incredibly naive when I came to Hollywood and I’m afraid I still have a hangover of that naivete. RKO dropped me but my hopes were renewed when I signed at Warners. Living in my little world of altruism, I actually thought they would give me one line — two lines — three and I would go from picture to picture into leads — if I did my best. So I studied hard and never missed a lesson with the studio coach. Because I was so young and looked it, they eventually told me I was too tall to play someone’s daughter; too immature for playing opposite leading men! “Although I had an agent, big agencies are too busy (especially at that stage) to give individual care and concern. With no husband, no one close to lean on here, the complete aloneness has been the hardest part of being in Hollywood. It’s really rough for a single girl when she’s homesick and has to buck that, too. I’m deeply devoted to my family and went home to Texas every time my conscience would allow me to dip into my small savings. Your morale takes a terrific beating while you sit around waiting to prove something. During my three years at Warners I played several small parts and got good reviews. After ‘One Sunday Afternoon,’ production in the studios hit low ebb, but Warners offered to carry me at half salary. There was still no work and this would have been slow death. So we agreed to disagree, but at this point it actually wasn’t a catastrophe. The time had come for me to settle down, I thought, and I decided to give up pictures, go back to Texas and marry. “Coming back to Hollywood after changing my plans, was the toughest decision of all. I had to face going back to work again and there were no acting jobs in Texas. I hated to leave home, but I had more experience in acting than anything else. Besides, I liked this work the most. I’ve always believed if you believe in yourself, it’s possible to leave something and still start over again. My money was low when I returned from Texas, so I took small parts. Then I got a few leads in small pictures, but I always took what I could get. Thank heaven I’ve never had false pride. “I have never thought of myself as a star. Perhaps I should. I’ve been told it makes others respond accordingly. I recall one picture which had four equal top feminine roles. The first day when we walked on the set, there were three stunning portable dressing rooms. The fourth — mine — featured four canvas flaps nailed together to form a cubicle. It had no floor, and there were holes in the canvas. “I merely tell this story to make a point. It didn’t bother me because I’ve always thought my job was acting and that I was expected to act instead of making an impression. To me, the stars were those people up there on the screen. They were from another planet, or in a category far