Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1958)

Diamonds do this to Janet: Both sparkle SPARKLE NEWS FROM HOLLYWOOD A 11 the world loves lovers— movie and ^ * otherwise — and the month of June is the most popular month to be married. “The reason,” Janet Leigh laughs, “is simple. There’s a saying that goes: ‘Married in the sweet rose month of June, your life will be one long honeymoon.’ ” Janet and Tony were married seven years ago, on June 4th. But she just got her diamond-studded wedding band recently. “I couldn’t afford diamonds when we were first married,” Tony told her. “And do you know, the engagement ring is still worn on the third finger because years ago it was believed that the vein of love ran from it directly to the heart?” Janet was thrilled. “I love the way diamonds sparkle. To keep them that way, I use hot suds and an eyebrow brush, then rinse in tepid water, dip in alcohol and drain my ring on tissue.” And from the way it looks, her method works! Liz Taylor is reputed to have a 29^carat stone, the largest in Hollywood. Carat is the unit of weight in measuring diamonds. But most girls don’t have diamonds as large as Liz’s. Dick Egan gave Pat Hardy a 5%-carat stone for her engagement ( and this isn’t small ! ) . “Do you know,” he explained, “that to get one carat, over 250 tons of ore have to be dug, crushed and blasted!” Wow! P A lot of labor goes into a small gem! But whatever the size, shape or color, it symbolizes tons and tons of love! odd conglomeration of things: a pink blouse maybe with an orange skirt and a green sweater, topped off by a beat-up leather jacket. This was the wardrobe I brought with me when I came West. It was awful. When I started school again out here I didn’t blame the kids for looking at me and making silly comments. Instead of getting upset, I decided to go along and kid myself as much as they did. It was easier to pretend to be the clown than to cry. I became sort of the school character for a while. Actually, I was pretty much of an introvert and this helped to cover up the fact. The nuns at school were very kind, helping me to adjust to the new school and everything. I think that’s one of the reasons Catholicism has meant so much to me. While I was growing up I made so many good friends among my Catholic classmates. I’d been away from my mother for three years so it was like getting reacquainted. There were lots of times at first when I found it easier to confide in one of the nuns than in my own mother. When I was younger I’d look at the nuns with coifs on their heads — looking so wise and yet, since their ears didn’t show, I felt I could pour my heart out to them all I wanted to. It seemed like they didn’t hear, if you know what I mean, which somehow made it easier. There aren’t many exciting childhood incidents that I can remember. As a child, I was always running away from home. It wasn’t that I was unhappy; it’s just that I kept thinking to myself when I grow up it will be very dramatic to say I’d run away from home. There was only one trouble: Every time I ran away, nobody missed me! I’d get up on a Saturday morning and go into the kitchen and pack a lunch. I loved to eat so much that I never worried about taking extra clothes along; my first and only thought was packing a lunch. I’d put the food in the basket of my bike. Just before I rode away, I’d stand in front of the house and say, “Farewell house, I’m leaving forever.” Then I’d get on my bike and go. Of course, I always returned the same night. I’d walk into the house hoping everyone would be in a panic. My mother would look up at me and smile and say, “Did you have a nice day, dear? Did you have fun playing?” I’d just say yes. There was no fun telling her I’d run away for a big adventure — not when she hadn’t even realized I was gone! When I was in my sophomore year, I remember reading in a magazine where some successful actresses — I can’t remember who — said that one of the greatest helps in obtaining her goal was accomplished when she was in school. She felt that becoming popular with her classmates had been the basis, the very foundation for her ability to communicate as an actress. This became an obsession with me. I decided to go out for school politics and concentrate on becoming well-liked among my classmates. By the time I was a senior, I had been elected president of the student body. When one of the girls ran in to tell me I’d won the election I was terribly excited — but not for the obvious reason alone. To me, the most important thing was that my plan to instill confidence enough to vote for me had worked out; therefore, I reasoned, why couldn’t I take this as a sign that other, bigger plans might work out, too? I kept thinking that maybe now my dreams weren’t so foolish after all, or at least not nearly so unobtainable. I used to pray every day, too, not that I would be a successful actress but that it would be God’s will that I become an actress. There’s a big difference. I felt if it were God’s will that I become an actress, then I really would have no worries. Up until I was a senior, our school didn’t have a drama class, but that year they hired a young UCLA graduate, Beverly Block, as our drama director. She had written a play and some sketches and we were to put them on. She asked me to do a scene from “Joan of Lorraine” as one of the sketches in the show. Beverly was the first person I ever really confided in about wanting to act. It was Bev who later told me that Marymount, a Catholic girls’ college in Los Angeles, offered drama scholarships. She encouraged me to try out and use the “Joan” scene she’d coached me on. I figured that instead of wasting time in college, I should at least be enrolled in a drama school, but I didn’t have the money for that so I tried for the Marymount scholarship. I was lucky enough to get one. I was lucky in another way, too, because I never would have met Don Barbeau at the dance. As I was telling you, it was while I was rehearsing with Don for “Joan of Lorraine” that he suggested: “Well, why don’t you do something about wanting to be an actress.” “Like what?” I asked. “Well,” Don went on, “why don’t we sit down and write letters to all the big producers and directors in Hollywood and invite them to see you in the play.” “Oh, who’ll read any letters we’d send?” “Why wouldn’t they?” He had me. I knew there must be a hundred good reasons why you just didn’t sit down and write to a producer and tell him you want to be discovered, but at that moment I couldn’t think of one. So I just agreed. Bob made up the letters and we had some copies typed up. “We’ll need pictures of you, too,” Don suggested. He arranged for one of his friends at school to take my picture. Then he made up the letter and picture into neat folders and sent them out to all the studios. I kept asking him how he knew so much about what to do. Really, he was just going on instinct. What made the whole thing so weird too, was that Don wasn’t one of those stagedoor Johnnies. In fact, he’d just recently come out of a trappist monastery! Nobody was more surprised than I when we got a few answers. Some one from Fox replied, but it wasn’t anything definite. Then I got a call from Mr. Paul Nathan’s office at Paramount asking me to come in. Seven weeks later, and after six test readings before Mr. Nathan, Mr. Hal Wallis and other Paramount executives, my mother received a telephone call from Mr. Wallis. Could she please come in to the studio and look over some contracts? Could she! We went in the next day. That was the day I met Elvis Presley, Wednesday, January 22nd. Elvis was getting set to star in “Loving You.” Mr. Wallis thought I should test for the role opposite. The next day, on Thursday, they tested me. Elvis saw the test and said he’d liked it. On Friday, January 24th, I had my first wardrobe fitting. Three days later, the following Monday, I had my name changed to Susan Hart (later changed to Dolores Hart) and a seven-year contract with Mr. Wallis. How do I feel? From what I’ve just told you, it must be obvious that my religion means a lot to me. And yet sometimes when we talk publicly about Faith, it’s misconstrued. It’s hard to put into words without having it sound all wrong and corny, but the way things happened to me it sort of gives me an eerie feeling. It’s as though God smiled down upon me and, for some reason, let me enjoy a miracle. The End 86