Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1948)

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) Co5"1 Plus Tan At Your Favorite Five-and-Ten and Variety Store fjtfc3ay ^Sert/anc/ o£ SBe/tb&c/t SRetfa MATCHED TO FASHIONS’ FAVORITE COLORS! 1. DAYTIME (Orchid Red) The orchid’s exotic purple blends with true red 1 2. PINK DELIGHT (Fuchsia Red) The Camelia’s fuchsia beauty haunt ingly blended with flame red! 3. NEW RED (Bright Blue Red) Brightest red highlighted by the bright est blue on the artist's pallette. 4. MACIC RED (Rich Dark Red) Magnificent Titian Red for sheer ele gance 1 S. MEDIUM (True Red) Clear vivid red, absolutely unblended FLAMING HEAT TREATMENT guarantee! a HYGIENIC DOROTHY REED LIPSTICK! Dorothy Reed lipsticks are automatically flame-treated! Once the lipstick is finished off, it remains untouched by human hands! LARGE JUMBO SWIVEL STICK ( Continued from page 70) same time on Wednesday nights. And Jack can’t understand why I listen to Bing. I don’t see anything strange about it. After all, it’s only natural that one good singer likes to listen to another one. Besides, my young son, Stanley, always listens to Jack’s and relays it on to me. He’s Jack’s greatest fan and refuses to go to bed before his broadcast comes on. “I can’t go to sleep yet, Daddy,” he protests. “I’ve got to listen to Jack.” JACK’S always been on the serious side. In fact, Jack’s one of the very few guys I know who hasn’t changed since coming to Hollywood. Same jokes. Same loud neckties. Even the same capacity for chocolate ice cream. He loves chocolate ice cream almost as much as he loves an audience, which is a lot of ice cream. I should know. I make it for him, winding one of those old-fashioned hand freezers you crank until your arm feels like it’s falling off. I’ll never forget once when Jack was very ill, when I cranked up a batch of it and took it over to him. His fever was around 105 and the nurse looked askance at the ice cream when I walked in with it. “You can’t give him that,” she said. Upon which Jack rallied quickly. “I want that ice cream. My friend made it,” he insisted. He ate the whole six quarts during the next two days. That touches me whenever I think about it. Even though he was out of his head at the time. When we go out on hunting trips he leaves me out in the middle of the woods some place while he hunts up the nearest town with a golf course. “I’ve always been squeamish about killing things ever since I was a kid. I just can’t hunt. I’m a coward,” he says. I have a new hunting wagon that’s a beaut. A long, low, beige streamlined Chrysler station wagon that I’m still trying to sell myself was a very conservative, practical buy. I gave Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall the de luxe tour in it the other day, pointing out all the latest improvements. Bogie wanted to know what the rack on top of the car is for. “Don’t you know — that’s where he hauls Carson,” said Lauren. I’m not sure just who hauls whom. But it looks like we’ll be toting each other in our next one, “Two Guys from Texas.” With Jack back home on the stage, anything can happen. The eyes of Texas haven’t seen anything yet. Just give him his boots and saddle and a place to light in the tumbleweeds. But I’ll be riding right along beside him. And speaking as one guy of another, I don’t know anybody I’d rather ride along with, on screen or off, than Jack. He’s a mighty charming guy. The End Romance on the menu: Chili Williams and Jack Carson at Slapsie Maxie’s