Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1959)

THANKS FOR EVERYTHING Continued from page 51 hush-toned voices singing, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Lana, happy. . . The woman fell back a step. She put a hand up to her blonde hair. “Oh, no,” she whispered, “. . . for me?” She began to laugh. Her arms went around Cheryl, standing just in front, and hugging her very tightly she said, “Oh — honey, oh . . “I wanted to surprise you. Mother,” Cheryl said softly, guiding Lana towards the table. And as they peered through the dimness, they saw the laughing faces of some of Lana’s oldest friends — there was Del Armstrong, the producer; and by his side Glenn Rose, her long-time press agent; Helen Young, her hairdresser; Wilma Dunne, the well-known Beverly Hills dress designer who had created Lana’s dresses for many years; and, sitting at the back stirring a long drink vigorously with cocktail stick, was Fred May, one of Lana’s dearest friends. “Well, darling, are you happy?” the elderly woman asked Lana as the three of them joined the group already at the table. “Oh yes — Mother!” answered Lana, smiling. “And I’ll bet you were part of this too,” she added jokingly. Cheryl showed her mother to the head of the table, slipped off her coat, and sat quietly and poised by Lana’s side while the other guests joked and laughed over the surprise. And as she listened she looked down at her smartly-styled dark blue silk dress, smiling as she remembered the remark she had overheard just a moment ago — “Cheryl’s so gracious . . . and she’s grown into such a beautiful young woman.” One of the guests had said it to her grandmother. “I see you’re on time this evening Lana,” joked Del Armstrong as the waiters began serving the hors d’oeuvres of shrimp, egg roll and Balmiki, a type of marinated beef. Thanks to Cherry— she’s the punctual one of the family,” joked back Lana, smiling proudly at her daughter. Cherry had been particularly punctual that first day back at school . . . her first since that frightening dark April night when she stabbed Johnny Stompanato. The school was a new one for Cherry, Beverly Hill High, and was just around the corner from her grandmother’s home where she was living. It had been a lonely walk to school. Her mother couldn’t be with her. After the trial the court had made Cheryl its ward, saying Lana could only see her once a week. Cherry sighed. Her mother and father were still fighting over her, fighting as they had been ever since she was a baby. She turned into the huge grounds which surround the two-and-three story brick building of the school itself. She felt lost . . . and terribly alone. Then Cheryl noticed a group of girls whispering and pointing from a corner as she walked through the main hall. Though embarrassed and feeling strange, she went up to them. “Could you tell me where I might find the principal?” She asked. They giggled. Then one said, “You’re Cheryl Crane, aren’t you?” “Yes, that’s right,” she answered, wideeyed. They laughed again. Then the tallest one said, “Go to the end of corridor and turn right.” This sent them off into peals of laughter that followed her down the hall. When Cheryl found that the principal’s office wasn’t at the end of the hallway, she knew the reason why. “I often used to see her wandering around all alone,” a tenth-grader said, several weeks later. “She was like a lost ghost. Sometimes I thought I’d go over and ask her if I could direct her somewhere but I kind of didn’t want to be seen talking to her. There was that sort of feeling around — you know.” Most of the girls felt that way. Some had been warned off by their mothers. Some felt embarrassed at the idea of talking to a girl “who’d killed a guy.” And the only people who spoke to her were the teachers. She ate lunch and studied quite alone. But now, as Cheryl looked around the happy birthday group, it all seemed so far in the past. ... “I can see Cherry knows what 1 like to eat.” Lana’s voice could be heard over the chatter of the party, as the waiters served the next course of specially prepared chicken with peas and chestnuts and pressed duck. Lana turned to Cherry. “Must have been all those Chinese meals we used to have on Sundays,” she whispered. But those meals had been very different. There had been the time they had gone together to one particular Chinese restaurant— the one where Cheryl had learned first about her mother’s favorite dishes. But instead of laughter and relaxation there was tension and strained conversation. “Are you sure you’re well?” Lana had asked for practically the hundredth time that day. “Yes, Mother.” Cheryl looked down at her plate, breaking the awkwardness by eating almost continuously . . . first a little of the egg roll, then shrimp, then some fried rice. “How’s the movie going?” she asked at length. “Fine, honey. And everyone’s been so kind. But I get so tired, although I wouldn’t want to be without the working. I don’t do much else these days, Cherry, except think and worry about you. . . .” Cheryl dug her fork deep into the rest of the egg roll. What could she say? Could she tell her mother that she loved and worried about her too? And could she tell her about school and the loneliness . . . ? “How is school?” “A little better, Mother . . . really.” But school wasn’t fun like it was for the other kids. Cheryl always sensed them staring at her, and pretty often, she was right. They were also talking about her. One day a group of girls paused in front of the mirrors in the girls’ locker room to talk. One of them told the latest joke about Cheryl. Even before they laughed, they heard the gasp behind them. Cheryl, early for gym class, had been standing not ten feet away. At the sight of her face, the laughter disappeared. “I never felt so low in my life,” one girl said later. “Until I saw how she looked, I’d sort of figured — well, that she didn’t care. Like she didn’t have any feelings. You know, after all that happened to her, here she was going to school every day — you get the feeling nothing bothered her. But when she turned around and ran out of that room, well, I just wanted to go down on my knees and say, 'Gee, I’m sorry. I was wrong.’ After that — well, the bunch of us had to make it up to her somehow. And we figured the nicest thing we could do was just kind of make her feel at home.” It began like that. A couple of girls catching up to Cheryl as she ran down the lawn away from the gym, not apologizing, AGAIN IN 1959 IT IS , . . HOLLYWOOD IN REVIEW The brilliant new 1959 PHOTOPLAY ANNUAL is ready for you now. This is the book that tells you everything about Hollywood. This glamorous yearbook sparkles with bright new pictures of all the top-flight stars. Here, too, is all the news and gossip of Hollywood . . . plus exclusive stories about the screen’s outstanding personalities of the year. This is a book you must have. Here’s a sample of what’s inside this exciting yearbook: HOLLYWOOD MADE NEWS — Stars marry . . . divorce . . . have babies. 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George Nader • Ava Gardner • Anthony Franciosa • Jayne Mansfield • Dorothy Malone • Marlon Brando • Mitzi Gaynor • Montgomery Clift. HAPPILY MARRIEDS — Gay. exciting pictures and sparkling stories about those on Cloud Nine. Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman • Hope Lange and Don Murray • Doris Day and Marty Melcher • Rory Calhoun and Lita Baron • Richard Egan and Patricia Hardy • Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis • Shirley MacLaine and Steve Paker • Charlton Heston and Lydia Clark. RISING STARS — Refreshing pictures of 31 newcomers to the screen. See and read about them here, and then follow their exciting careers. STILL ONLY 50* WHILE THEY LAST This sensational Annual is a best-seller even year. Get your copy before they are all snatched up. Only 50c at your favorite magazine counter. Or. if more convenient, mail coupon, with 50c — TODAY-. J Bartholomew House, Inc. Dept. WG-559 J 205 E. 42 St., New York 17, N. Y. • Send me postpaid a copy of PHOTOPLAY • ANNUAL 1959. 1 enclose 50c. • 1 Name v PImqp Print • Address ^ City State 93