Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1949)

hacienda, please — but a very small cottage way up on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Just a couple of bedrooms, kitchen and vast porch that serves for a living and dining room. This Acapulco place is our second honeymoon casa. The first is a small brown shake cottage that hangs by its brows to a hill in Pacific Palisades. It was an old house hidden in acacias, two stories with two bedrooms on the entrance floor, a living room, dining room and kitchen below on the garden level. We reshaped the interior with our own hands, making it comfortably early American — American as rocking chairs and flapjacks. ON OUR last honeymoon trip to the casa at Acapulco, we went exploring down the Mexican coast. We had heard of a fine white beach, thirty miles away, where there was fine bass fishing at the mouth of a rivulet. The manager of a hotel at Acapulco assured us the roads were excellent and that we would find showers and bathing facilities at the beach. We hired a beat-up old car. Esther had met two American girls who were spending their vacation in Acapulco and she invited them to come along. The excellent roads lasted three miles. Then we started boulder jumping, the car shuddering and the occupants churning like ingredients in a cocktail shaker. When we got to the fine white beach, it was mud. A hurricane had preceded us. The surf was so high we couldn’t swim. We took a dip and then went for a shower. The shower didn’t give. We remained coated in brine and barnacles. “We might try fishing,’’ Esther said brightly. The fish obliged. They had been landlocked by the surf in the mouth of the rivulet and were probably bored. Anyhow, six or seven climbed onto our hooks. Night came down before we were aware of it. The thought of jeeping back to Acapulco on those rocky roads caused me to scrounge for a telephone. I called the Acapulco airport and they agreed to send a plane. When it bounced down on the little clearing, we found it could accommodate but two passengers. Esther insisted that our girl friends must take it because they had only one day of vacation remaining. The plane promised to return for us. It returned all right, made three passes over our heads and flew away toward Acapulco. Landing in the dark was too hazardous on the small field. Esther and I hippity-hopped back to Acapulco in our jeepy-heap. It took us two hours. We were coming apart like the car when we arrived. But not a nasty word from my wife. The nearest she came to it was when she walked up to the hotel manager and said: "About your roads . . .’’ But she smiled when she said it. We were to be guests at a party that night. “Shall we call it off?” I asked. “We can’t,” Esther said. “We promised we’d be there and they’ll wait dinner for us.” The party went on past midnight. I comforted myself with the thought of sleeping a solid day. My comforting dream was short. Esther recollected we were due as honor guests aboard an American naval craft that had arrived from the East. Her old refrain: “We promised!” After a few hours sleep, I still felt worn and torn but Esther looked fresh as a daisy. She was the only woman among the fifteen enlisted men aboard the ship. I could see them standing back, waiting for her to be a movie star. Their language and manners were guarded and formal. Three minutes after she came aboard, she was looking at pictures of the cook’s wife and babies. They forgot themselves, it became a family party. That’s Esther, she makes it home wherever she goes. Someone has defined good manners as just showing your good heart. Esther is more than natural; she’s transparent. There are no barriers between her and people, her heart is there to see and it’s a good one. The best definition of her is herself, up there on the screen. Late that afternoon we loafed together on the beach. The day was dreaming off into twilight. White wings of birds flecked the blue sky. It had been a perfect day and I had been awfully proud of her on shipboard. Now we were alone at last, relaxed, on our playa encantada — enchanted beach. The surf made music like Lohengrin and I looked up to her and said, “How many honeymoons can you have?” The End ... use YODORA the deodorant that is ACTUALLY SOOTHING Looks bad, feels bad, when underarm skin gets red and irritated. That’s why more women every day turn to Yodora, the gentler cream deodorant. Yodora stops perspiration odor quickly, safely ... it is actually soothing to normal skin, because it is made with a face cream base, with no harsh acid salts to cause irritation. Tubes or jars, 10£, 30^, 60£. McKesson & Robbins, Inc., Bridgeport, Conn. With their kiss, Pat and Gary acknowledge the love that makes theirs the stormiest, most exciting romance ever screened . . . But, as the kiss ends, Pat fights again, fiercely. 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