Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1960)

DORIS DAY Continued from page 67 I had never dreamed I’d ever get to meet Doris in person. After all, when you’re only seventeen and attending high school in Connecticut, Hollywood and film stars seem like a million miles away. That’s why I could hardly believe it when the woman I baby-sit for told me what had happened. She’d heard that Doris Day was due to come to a nearby town on location, and then, without telling me anything about it, she had written to a friend in Hollywood, explaining to him how much I admired Doris and asking if he could arrange for us to meet when Doris was in town. Not only did Doris say yes, but she set an appointment right then and there through the friend. I was so excited, I walked around in a daze for weeks. Getting dressed the morning we were to meet was a real problem, because I wanted to wear something she’d like and I just couldn’t seem to make up my mind. I’d read she likes tailored clothes but not lowcut necklines or chunky jewelry. So, finally, I decided on a simple skirt and blouse. And wouldn’t you know it? My hair just simply refused to behave! I had also read that Doris was a real stickler for personal neatness, so I brushed and brushed and sprayed and sprayed until I was sure every strand was in place. Then I took a bus to the next town where we had our appointment. The movie company was setting up a scene in the town square when I arrived, and I looked around for Doris Day. “Can I help you, miss?” said a voice suddenly. It was a man standing near me on the set, so I thought he must be connected with the picture. I told him who I was and why I was there. “Oh, sure,” he said. “Doris told us all to be on the lookout for you. She’s very anxious to meet you. Come on, you can watch her do a scene and then I’ll take you down to see her.” The man told me his name was Eddie and he was the still photographer assigned to the picture. He introduced me to director Richard Quine and to the camera crew. “But where’s Doris Day?” I asked. “I don’t see her.” “She’s parked around the corner in a station wagon,” Eddie explained. “She’s supposed to be very angry in this scene, and she’s about to drive up to the general store to tell someone off.” It was a real store, too, but the man who owned it was letting them use it for the picture. Then, the next moment, the cameras started rolling and I got my very first glimpse of Doris Day. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, either. As I said, she scared me half to death! Just as Eddie had told me, the station wagon came tearing around the corner and, sure enough, there was Doris behind the wheel — but, after the first look, I felt something awful was going to happen. “She’s going too fast!” someone shouted. “She won’t be able to stop in time!” I held my breath, watching as Doris tried to pull up in front of the store. I could see, by the look on her face and by how stiffly she was clutching the wheel, that something surely wasn’t right. A sudden silence swept around the group and we all stood watching. “What can it be? What’s gone wrong?” Eddie muttered beside me. I was so terrified I closed my eyes tight as I heard the screeching of brakes and a loud crash. When I looked again, people were running across the square toward the station wagon which had hit a display rack. But nobody said anything. It seemed as though everyone had suddenly been struck dumb by fright. Then, before they could reach it, the door of the station wagon flew open and Doris Day climbed out. She looked a little pale but was obviously unhurt and she waved to the camera crew, calling, “I’m all right. Don’t worry, I’m not used to this car and my foot must have slipped.” “Women drivers!” someone near me grumbled in relief. “Hot-rodder!” teased another. Doris laughed and waved again. Then she disappeared inside the store, saying to another fellow, “I hope I didn’t scare you.” “That’s quite a gal,” Eddie said, turning to me. “Nobody but Doris could come out of a thing like that grinning. But you’ll find out for yourself what she’s like when you meet her. Come on.” She was sitting on the counter when I walked into the store, and she looked more like a teenager than a movie star, dressed in blue pedal pushers, a plaid shirt and sneakers. And she was even prettier than she is on the screen. “Hi,” she called brightly. “I’ll bet you’re Elva Newman.” EXCLUSIVE STORIES ABOUT . . . THE HOLLYWOOD YEAR I tried to say something, to remember all the things I wanted to tell her and ask her, but I just stood there feeling kind of numb all over. “Well, I certainly am glad to meet you, Elva,” said Doris, who was not in the least put out by my silence. “I’ve really been looking forward to it. Tell me, have you really seen all my pictures four times as I was told?” “Yes,” I blurted. Then she gave me such a big, warm, friendly smile that I felt kind of a glow all over and got up enough courage to hand her the two boxes I had brought. “You have something for me?” she asked. “Well, you didn’t have to do that.” I was glad I had, though, because she looked so happy as she opened the first box. “Oh!” she squealed. “Yellow roses! Thank you, Elva!” I could see when she held them close to her that I had been right in choosing them. They had looked so bright and fresh and sunny in the florist’s window that they reminded me instantly of her. “And what’s this?” she asked as she opened the second, smaller box. “Homemade fudge! I haven’t had homemade fudge in ages, and I adore it!” She popped a piece into her mouth. “Mmm! This is fabulous,” she said. Then, Doris took me over to her dressing room for a Coke. “So we can sit down and talk without being interrupted, and get to know each other better,” she told me. The dressing room turned out to be just a big, blue trailer and I was surprised. I told her I had expected her to have a real fancy dressing room. “Well, I have kind of a fancy one back at the studio in Hollywood,” she said. “But, anyway, this trailer certainly beats the very first dressing room I ever had.” She told me that, when she was just about my age — seventeen — and got her first singing job in a night club, near her hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio, she and her mother carried her gown all the way from home, thinking she was supposed to dress there. When they asked the bandleader where her dressing room was, he said, “There’s no such thing. We all dress before we get The wonderful new 1960 PHOTOPLAY ANNUAL is now available. Here is Hollywood's most exciting book of the year. Here are hundreds of thrilling pictures, as well as exclusive stories about everybody of importance in the movie world. 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