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BY ROBBIN COONS
Marlene found herself a new kind of glamor during the war, became the top favorite of U. S. men overseas
• The scene is a Hollywood film factory, the time a few years ago. A couple of writers are muttering to themselves and to each other as they pace their cell.
The baldheaded one is chewing a pencil into pitiful pulp, and the other— the one with hair— is tearing out Cjuantities of same and tossing it to join countless pages of crumpled script in the wastebasket.
“We gotta get this scene done! Now! The front office is screaming. We got the boy and girl together— now what?’’
The hair-tearer groans and mutters some more. Hours pass. Then— bingo, in.spiration!
“I’ve got it!” he cries. “She’s a glamor girl, ain’t she? We’ll just put it down— long close-up of the girl. That’W cover it!”
And so it was done. And done. And done again. . . .
And Marlene Dietrich (who tells the little fable and admifs it may not be literally true) , didn’t like it. She liked it so little that now, back in Hollywood after her matchless work as an overseas entertainer for the armed forces, she has raised the red flag of rebellion. She wants no more of that glamor girl tag. From now on it’s to be Marlene Dietrich, actress, and glamor can take a good long walk.
“They put that glamor girl tag on an actress and almost automatically she is deprived of opportunities to act,” she insists. “Myself, I’ve had enough of it. Now', before I sign for a picture, I want to see the script.”
Marlene is sincere in all this, and yet there is fine irony here. Of all Hollywood’s beautiful fugitives from glamor, Marlene is the one least likely to escape.
Even if she surprised the world by turning up some day with an Oscar, even if in Golden Earrings she should out-Davis Bette, she w'ould still [Please turn to page 64]
From now on it’s to be Marlene Dietrich, actress. ..or so she says
-■ r-'i