Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1948)

Two Sons Has Gregory Lj:^'> P<yfiu£an. VctL MARTHA O’DRISCOLL won the title of “Miss Carnegie Hall” via popular vote of cameramen and others working with her on the picture of this name, because she’s an exceptionally friendly, considerate gal, whose prettiness is as genuine as her sweetness . . . She has a starring role in this production, but doesn’t put on airs. On the contrary. Martha watched the time so she would be back working in an hour, and not keep everyone waiting. Thanks to good service at the famous Russian Tea Room on West 57th Street, she was. 'PoMifWU H&l You would expect an O’DRISCOLL to have dark hair and blue eyes. But this Irish beauty has blonde hair and green eyes! . . . Martha had on heavy stage make-up, but says when through the day’s work she wastes no time in removing it, first with a liquifying or all-purpose cleansing cream, which she whisks off with tissues, then a good scrubbing with a complexion brush and lots of warm soapsuds. After dashing cold, cold water over her face, she pats it dry with a clean towel and applies an astringent because her skin is inclined to be oily . . . No matter how late she goes to bed, she never fails to remove street make-up in the same thorough way. When traveling she carries little cleansing pads in her purse for a quick clean-up . . . Once a week she gives herself a facial with a mealy cleanser that softens as it cleans . . . Like other lovely stars, she believes in not letting make-up appear obvious. 7 She’s proud of her unusually pretty hands and gives credit for their loveliness to the use of “tons” of hand lotion or cream. She also uses cuticle oil or cream to keep the cuticle and the skin around her nails soft and smooth . . . Martha generally likes wearing natural color nail polish on her long nails, but tips them with white polish. When wearing colored nail polish, or one of the sparkling new opalescent ones for evening, she applies white polish to the tips, too . . . Her pretty paws are busy knitting a man’s sweater, but she wouldn’t say for whom! 90 ( Continued from page 51) to the hospital,” he says. “I took the wheel, calm and collected, which comes from being an old hand at that sort of thing. Of course nobody had told me about the detour we were going to run into. I’m glad that didn’t happen to me the first time, I would have fainted. This time I only turned green and started to pray — ” There have been various helps suggested for the husbands who wear out carpets in waiting rooms. “I suggest bigger and better ashtrays, untearable collars and indestructible shaves — ” says Greg, now an authority. “The first time, I had the place all to myself. This time, I walked in and there were about eight other fellows — a collection of sad sacks, believe me. Collars askew, whiskers on their chins, knee-deep in old cigarette butts — some of them had been there all night. I couldn’t help feel superior when, after just one long hour, the nurse called out my name and said, ‘It’s a boy!’ Darned if I didn’t feel those other fellows had something to learn about efficiency!” THE news that they were about to add on a Peck came as a surprise to both parents from the lips of a radio columnist. “The Gregory Pecks,” he itemed, “will soon welcome a second offspring.” “My mouth really fell open,” Greta said afterward, “because actually, I wasn’t sure myself. All — absolutely all — I’d done about it was to call a doctor and make an appointment for a consultation. Greg looked amused for a minute, then quizzical, then he jumped. ‘True?’ he asked. ‘I — I guess so,’ I stammered. ‘Gee, thanks!’ he said, taking my hand and being the first to congratulate me!” After which, feeling the columnist to be a fairly reliable fellow, her husband immediately got busy cancelling an impending vacation trip: “His first vacation in three years — I really felt pretty mean about making him miss it — ” said his wife at the time. “We’d planned to go to a quiet little desert resort we both love and do a lot of riding and swimming. Instead, Greg spent his vacation building a guestapartment over the garage we’d previously talked about. He was very cheerful about it, whistling and splattering plaster and paint all over himself all day long.” The interim, running its usual course of nine months, gave the incipient daddy plenty of time to prepare himself. There was “Duel in the Sun” to finish for Selznick, and “The Macomber Affair” to be made for Ben Bogeaus Productions. Both films had a lot of location shooting, but within airplane distance of Hollywood. Weekends he kept busy winging his way home from New Mexico and other points— weekdays he developed a habit of looking his fellow-filmers straight in the eye and saying, “I’m not going to be as scared as I was the first time I saw Jonathan — this time I’ll know they’re supposed to be purple!” The new attitude paid off in a really tangible way. After Jonathan, it was a couple of weeks before he could be said to have properly recovered his strength. After Stephen, he waited only four days to move in a large camera, complete with lights and other equipment for photographing the baby and Greta. “It hadn’t been done at the hospital before,” says Greta. “I don’t know how he talked them into it. We had to sign a release, in case anything went wrong, and he had to photograph the baby through the glass window. While he was at it, he took a picture for another father. It turned out fine and the man was so happy he sent our baby a beautiful silver cup.” Being the wife of a screen hero has its advantages in hospitals as in other places: “I tried to think it was because I was such a pleasant patient that the nurses liked to do things for me. But I couldn’t help noticing that the extra attention always began just a few minutes before visiting hour.” All in all, young Stephen Joseph Peck can easily be said to be one of the most astute newcomers to the movie coast. He couldn’t have made a smarter choice of parents — a dad who’s walking proof that movie stars are human, a mother who’s cute and gay enough to be hung on a Christmas tree. Nor could he have picked a happier, more normal home for little boys to be raised in. The Pecks green-set canyon cottage is lovely, but not lavish. The nursery is set right at the front of the house. It is possible that Stephen was greeted by brother Jonathan, who spends a good part of his time laughing and chattering out the front window. Jonathan is two years old, with dancing dark eyes and very pink cheeks. He wears, by heroic effort on the part of his nurse, a spanking-white playsuit and a sparkling scrubbed look. A major portion of his chatter is directed at another front-porch greeter, Perry, the police dog. Perry is the color and size of a slightly scaled down polar bear, and since he recently became a father himself, as gentle with kids as a kitten. An easily-proved comparison, because also a member of the Peck menage is a kitten, also pure white except for a hind leg which is bright blue. “She jumped up on the desk and spilled a bottle of ink,” explains Greg. “Seems like we never have sense enough to acquire stainless animals.” “We haven’t any special theories on child-raising,” says Greta. “Once in a while we read something that sounds good — or listen with an open mind to some friend’s new method.” The last time this occurred, the friend’s method consisted of allowing his child to do anything it wanted to. The new theory was too effective — the Pecks were forced to abandon it when, in one short evening, Jonathan developed into a fuil-fledged house-wrecker. GRETA, from a large family of brothers and sisters, wants to give her youngsters the same happy kind of Christmases she herself enjoyed. “More than anything I remember that Christmas Eve was the one night in the year when we were allowed to stay up until midnight. It always seems such a shame to send kids off to bed with all that excitement in the air. I let Jonathan stay up late for his very first Christmas — I didn’t think he was too young to start enjoying it.” He wasn’t. When midnight came, however, Papa and Mama Peck, also Grandma and Grandpa Peck, were all asleep in their chairs. As nurse trundled them off to bed, Jonathan was still happily banging youknow-what out of his new toys. The young man’s welcome to brother Stephen was as enthusiastic as might be expected of him. On the baby’s first day home, when the nurse left them alone a few minutes, Greta gave a peek into the nursery and then a scream, for there was Stephen buried under a cribful of toys. “Fire-engines, blocks, iron piggy banks, everything — Jonathan had simply thrown them in on him. Stephen was lying without a sound. We thought he’d been knocked dead. Somehow the boys seemed to understand each other, however. Seems Stephen knew that was just his brother’s way of saying ‘Hello!’ ” The biggest “kick” the Pecks have realized as parents occurred on the occasion