Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1944)

Triple center of attraction: Frank, his daughter and his wife steal n % $ . V 'ew minutes from ffo friends, getting the point as good friends always do, thought they would rather go on home. I left them and crossed the street and broke in on Frank’s business dinner. His business manager got the point, too, and left us alone. We had dinner all over again — and got reacquainted. Of course, the swoonstruck girls at the window watched every bite we took and hung on our every inaudible word, but that isn’t so bad when you get used to it. Frank and I no longer require privacy, in the usual sense. It’s enough if the talk can be about ourselves and the children, instead of movies and the radio for a while. The Schedule loses. AS for those wonderful, if omnipresent kids— we don’t expect to be without them, except in the middle of the night. They ring our doorbell from daylight until dark. They write us— yes, me, too, and Frank Jr. (who had fan mail and presents before he was born) and Nancy — copious letters. They’re as much a part of our life as our brothers and sisters . more: They don’t wait to be invited. But we know how much their support has contributed to Frank’s meteoric rise and we love the darlings— nearly always. Last summer Frank had a week’s vacation for the first time in five years and we made happy plans for a holiday — with Nancy — at Avon Beach. We wanted to relax, to swim and lie in the sun and wear our oldest clothes. We planned to do nothing more energetic than take in a neighborhood movie after the baby was in bed. We forgot about the kids. They swarmed about Frank on the beach and in the water. They ferreted out the location of our little apartment and looked in the windows. They followed us to the movies. They would have helped put the baby to p bed except for the police who finally m flung a cordon around our house to rvi discourage them. It wasn’t exactly the sort of rest we had counted on. In Hollywood, things are a bit less Schedule" hectic. Frank leaves for the studio almost before light and our dinner hour is moved up to eight o’clock so !cat r6, Can sPend a little time with the children after he gets home. But he is home for dinner. That in itself is a drastic step toward a normal life. Our house, backing up on Toluca Lake, isn t elaborate but it is quiet and secluded and this summer Frank and I have discovered for the first time how nice it is to have a picnic of our own out of doors. Our family is growing. Tina came west with us and helps me with blanks business affairs and correspondence. I used to handle the books, pay the bills, the salaries and run the household myself, but when the Post Office appointed a special mail man just to deliver our mail it got to be too much. I have help with the babies, too. I didn t know until Miss Hewitt came how much time I had been spending over formulas and orange juice. I fought the step: I had managed formulas and orange juice when Nancy was little and was secretary and cook and bottle washer, too, and I loved every minute of it. But Frank Anally convinced me that all of my jobs had been multiplied by two since then and I was running out of minutes. | AM still cook and bottle washer and F rank won’t argue that pointtor the very good reason that he thinks no one can broil a steak or make a stew to suit him except me. My mother and father are wonderful cooks and I seem to have inherited their instincts in that direction. Which is a good thing to inherit when you are married to a man who despite all the jokes about malnutrition— is always hungry. I m glad Frank likes my cooking and my housekeeping. I’m glad I went to business school so I can help him with his financial affairs It makes me feel that I am an important factor in his life, that I am contributing to his successful career •!wu quarrel to my last breath with those proponents of the “eman cipation of women who say homemaking is not creative. Give a man a home he wants to come back to and no matter how much glitter gets in his eyes it will not blind him and he will come home. I wish I could convince the people, particularly the young people, who have been envious as Frank attained artistic and financial success, that the best thing we have, our rich and happy life together, is something any young couple in love can attain. Money hasn’t anything to do with it, or fame, or the many opportunities that we have to go to the chic places and be seen with important people. We still have our marriage, despite the money and fame, because it was a good marriage when we had nothing. | AM always sad when I read in the papers that the marriage of some famous couple has gone on the rocks. They didn’t plan it that way. They wanted it to work. They wanted to be happy. But their fame— the Scheduledemanded too much time for the chic places and the important people and they never found the necessary moments to be alone together, to get to know one another well, to get the roots of their marriage deep into the ground. We almost never entertain. When Frank has a few hours to relax, he wants to spend them in the nursery, playing with Nancy and Frank Jr., 01 puttering about in his study, with his record collection and his ship models. He doesn’t want to put on his best clothes and his best company manners and make small talk. He gets enough of that during working hours. We eat in the kitchen if we want to, and we often want to. We go to bed at seven o’clock if we feel like it, or sit up half the night talking if we’re in that mood. We spar with the Schedule and win a few rounds. Enough to be. happy, at any rate. I wouldn’t change a thing in our lives if I could. Frank has the success he worked so hard to attain. I have the proud conviction that I’ve helped him do what he wanted to do. And given him what he wanted even more— a home that is a home and a family. Okay, it isn’t all roses. But it’s a good life. The End. PHOIOPIAHOVIE MIRROR'S COLOR PORTRAIT RAIIIRIIS I