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It’s the Darndest Thing
( Continued from page 53) chorus line, don’t misjudge it as a pose. Pose is another thing Miss Grable hasn’t got. She lays what she thinks on the line quick as it comes, and it comes ack-ack.
The astounding nuclear discovery about this gorgeous party is a mind, one rarely associated with bisque beauty and all those other sumptuous assets. Such discovery was made possible through the rare happenstance of catching Miss Grable fully gowned on the set, playing a woman of forty-five in a scene of “Mother Wore Tights,” so that the scientist’s mind was not distracted as it surely would have been had Mother been wearing ’em.
But even though Miss Grable was shrouded in midnight blue crepe it was no easy matter for him to concentrate. The gown was clinging. Miss Grable’s talents are not to be hid in a bushel of crepe. Erect and businesslike though she be, neither flippant nor frivolous, she still is primitive man’s pin-up.
Vitality emanates from her person so that she appears brisk even when sitting perfectly still. An alertness of body and mind combined with her industrious record would appear to belie a lack of ambition.
“My mother had the ambition,” she explains. “She did not force me, she gave me her boost. I have rolled along on the momentum she gave. I have not forced myself. I believe in letting nature take its course.”
Nature being what it is, in Miss Grable’s case there was little need to force matters. Wanting nothing, she has everything and vice versa. There are always eggshells in the garbage, as Miss Texas Guinan used to say in boasting her own prosperity.
MRS. JAMES earns a very tidy sum, indeed, each year and Mr. James with his trumpet sends the public for as much or more. Being an old-fashioned type husband, the good provider, he pays all his wife’s upkeep. Her only financial obligations are the support of her mother and the United States government. Her mother lives modestly and cares for the fan mail. Uncle Sam spends like a sailor with a snootful and writes her mash notes thanking her for winning the war with bonds as well as pin-ups. Heaven bestowed her a daughter Vickie, age three, who is such a model child that instead of disciplining her, Mama finds it necessary to discipline nurses who indulge her. Even animals strive to oblige. Fifteen race horses are running their legs off for Papa at Santa Anita. A ranch of sixty-three acres, amounting to an empire in San Fernando Valley where so much as one acre is called a hacienda, boasts a collection of sundry priceless objects such as cows, horses, chickens, ducks, goats, all ambitiously vying to produce for Mom. Still other of nature’s creatures have contributed their all to her closet of fur coats, exact number of which is withheld lest it give comfort to the enemy, the ubiquitous California moth.
Withal there is no ostentation in the Jameses’ way of life. They spend weekends on the ranch at Calabasas across the hills from their home in Beverly. Their home is an eight-room house in Coldwater Canyon. Two acres of flowers and trees require the attention of two gardeners and two servants are employed in the house.
“I would do housework myself if I had time,” says Mrs. Pin-up James. “I love it. That’s something I have to look forward to when I retire.”
By letting nature have the rein Miss Grable finds life fruitful. And all around her, as if by example, things have a
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