We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
Now for Rita Hayworth. Were I to list my Hollywood men-slayers other than alphabetically, Rita would have come first or, at least, second. There’s nothing even a little mysterious about Rita’s popularity. You have only to look at her. And men do, all the time! Some of them — the more cynical — say defensively, “Oh well, she’s probably so selfish and spoiled that she isn’t too dreamy after all — when you really get to know her!” But when they really get to know her— if they do — they find her dreamier than ever.
Rita has too much humor to live by her beauty. I’ll long remember the time she came to a party I gave looking especially divine. Her glorious hair, loosely waved, had been brushed until it shone. She was wearing a new gown that would have been lovely on any girl but on her was breathtaking. “Oh,” I despaired, “why do you have to look like this — tonight! I was going to blacken your face with soot and fix you up as a chimney sweep for a new game! Now I couldn’t think of it!”
“A new game!” Rita exclaimed. “Fine, Elsa! Let’s go!”
Above all, Rita’s a pal. And when a girl who looks like that has the wit to be a pal too — she’s dynamite.
MEN, to think about their problems for a minute, spend their lives fighting a competitive world. They may fight sitting behind a big mahogany desk. Or they may fight in a lesser job. It doesn’t matter. They need to escape the doubts the best of them sometimes entertain about themselves. So they seek a girl who plans an evening with a little fillip, who soothes their ego because, attractive enough to have other men, she chooses them. Who by virtue of her own goo'd spirits leads them to relax and have fun.
Ann Sheridan belongs in the latter category. Some think Ann Sheridan is beautiful. Others do not. But she has a gamin quality that lets a man know she is ready to meet him on his own footing. It’s obvious Annie would eat a hot dog with relish, sing sad songs in the moonlight with hearty peals of laughter for the corny lines, and have a pretty direct approach to anything a man might talk about. She looks,' too, as if she would be regular enough to listen to him instead of talking about herself all the time. And men flock around her. Even though no one doubts her heart belongs to Daddy Steve Hannagan.
Some girls are born with charm for men. As infants in their bassinets — haven’t you seen them? — they smile the moment a man walks into their vision or they hear a deep male voice. Their attraction to men and, by the same token, for men, is innate. As they grow older, aware they have this quality, they glory in it. Which does their charm no harm at all.
Which brings me to Shirley Temple. Even as a four-year-old Shirley was devastating. I’ve seen visiting firemen unwilling to leave Shirley’s set even when their next stop was to be a studio stage where a chorus of pretties was practising a dance routine.
Shirley’s never been coy. Always this has been her charm. With the looks to support coyness she’s grown up simple and direct and surprisingly intelligent in conduct and speech.
It’s this attitude — if such a stiff word can be used to describe anyone as young and fetching — that serves Shirley so well today when she goes night-clubbing with John Agar, her husband. Her strapless evening gowns are rather daring but she bestows such a delightful young dignity upon them that no one is shocked or offended.
It is, of course, solely the arrangement of the alphabet which places Lana Turner’s
Take a robust boy, aged eight or thereabouts, add one inquisitive pooch, stir in a soft Spring day — and what have you got? A job for Fels-Naptha, of course!
It’s a fact — and most mothers know it — there’s nothing like Fels-Naptha Soap for washing grimy garments. Clothes that look hopelessly soiled come out of Fels-Naptha suds clean and fresh.
And you needn’t rub them ragged to do it.
It’s the combination of active Fels naptha and good mild soap that dislodges dirt — deep down in the fabric — and gently washes it away. Whether you’re doing heavy work clothes or perishable dresses, you can wash them cleaner and quicker with Fels-Naptha Soap.
Mess' call, 1947
Fels-Naptha Soap
BA WfSHES "ta ttle-tale gra y "
73