Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1958)

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“ You’ve had it, girl.” Doris said to image in front door mirror after nearly eight hours of work. “ Quit while you re ahead.” MOVING DAY ( continued ) said. “Did Marty tell you? No particular tune — and just when it feels like it.” “A house with personality, yet,” Marty Melcher put in. “Yes, and we loved it the very first time we clapped eyes on it,” Doris continued between munches. “We drove by once fourteen months ago when it was still a Spanish-type place, not the way we wanted it at all then. But we could ‘see’ into what it could be — our dream place.” “So,” picked up Marty, “we bought it and remodeled ninety per cent — -inside and out. Its location here in Beverly Hills is perfect. It’s near Doris’ studio and my office.” “I’m not so practical,” Doris laughed. “What I love most about it, it’s always sunny. And the ice cream bar! It’s big enough to set up in competition with Wil Wright — right, Marty?” Marty chuckled as he often does — constantly around Doris, it seems — as she went on. “We both love ice cream and since we don’t drink, it seemed sensible to be real squares and admit we’d rather have an ice cream bar than a hard-liquor one. And now I’ve got my own office-den, something I’ve been dying to have. It’s hi-fied all over and is painted white with grass-cloth material on the walls. Marty built my desk. He bought Swedish-modern chests of drawers and fashioned them into a ‘do-it-yourself’ desk. But I’m jabbering too much. Up on your feet. There’s loads more to do.” By five p.m., with slave-driver Day’s help, the dream house was on the way to being set up and ready for business!