Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1955)

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I got the nurse to give him my room to sleep in. “Guy’s flowers were the first I saw when I finally came to, yellow roses, about four dozen of them,” Sheila remembers dreamily now. “He gave me a beautiful gold pendant, a calendar disc with her birthday marked with a diamond. Some day I’ll give it to Bridget.” When Sheila got home from the hospital, Guy told her she should get a whole new wardrobe. And she got it — all gingham! “Guy likes gingham. Not long after we first met, he asked me why I never wore it. So I bought gingham. Shorts, sports dresses, afternoon dresses — everything.” Guy came home from the studio one night to find both of the women in his life attired from stem to stern in gingham. “I even got gingham checkered diapers for the baby,” she laughs. With his customary serious application, Guy takes fatherhood more than usual. At the hospital when Bridget was first born, Guy worried because he never heard her cry. “Are you sure she has vocal chords?” he would say anxiously. Until finally the doctor snapped her bottle and she yelled. “Oh yes, she can cry,” he assured Guy calmly. Of this, Guy soon had no cause for doubt. Then he worried because she did. One day the nurse was trying to teach the baby to roll over by herself. “She’ll be crawling before you know it,” the nurse observed proudly to Bridget’s dad. “Yes, I hope you’re training her,” he said earnestly. “Guy thinks she has to be trained to do everything,” her mother laughs. And he’s beginning to suspect the same holds true for her dad. On the nurse’s first Sunday off, Guy and Sheila were taking care of the baby and having a ball. Guy went to the kitchen to fix her Pablum, and Sheila could hear her husband rattling dishes around. “It’s in a cup on the shelf,” she called. “Guy came back with a dish of something mealy that looked like Pablum, but the baby cried and wouldn’t eat it. I kept trying to make her,” she recalls now with a wince. Finally she asked Guy, “Are you sure that was Pablum?” “I’ll go back and look,” he said. It wasn’t. He’d mixed whole-wheat flour with her formula. Sheila was aghast. “And I forced it down her!” she said. Guy was on the phone calling the pediatrician in nothing flat, with Sheila prompting, “You’d better tell him you did it — I don’t want him to think I did it. “Fortunately the pediatrician assured us no harm was done. “I think her father’s going to turn the baby into a tomboy,” her mother muses fondly. “She’s going to ride and swim and shoot. And we’re taking her on a wild boar hunt on Catalina,” says Guy’s piquantfaced bride, who’s as wholesome and rugged as she is gay and glamorous. “Guy’s made me a dozen of the most beautiful arrows you’ve ever seen,” boasts Sheila, who’s as misty-eyed about arrows as other women are about mink. For all today’s happiness, Bridget’s father is still a man of relatively few words, even fewer where those he loves so much are concerned. Mention Sheila’s a doll and you get a rare quick smile. “That’s why I married her.” Ask what he loves most about her, and he says quietly — and decisively— “If you love somebody, you love everything about her.” You can take Sheila’s word for this, too. “He’s exactly the man I was looking for — in every way,” she says. As for what she most admires about him, “I think his patience and understanding with people. I’ve never heard him say anything bad about anybody. He can always find some excuse for them. I don’t think Guy’s ever done a wrong thing in his life,” she adds slowly. Her career? “I never miss a career — and Guy says he has my career all mapped out for me.” Sheila suspects, with some degree of reason, that the stage he’s mapped out may ■ be their new kitchen. “It has a lovely , view, and when we started planning the house, my husband said, ‘You’re going to spend a lot of time there — we might as well get what you like.’” Nothing was too good for their kitchen. There’s a beamed ceiling, a lush copper stove, a glamorous yellow refrigerator and other yellow appliances. A kitchen guaranteed to i inspire and bring out the creative, except, say, when it comes to cooking corn bread. “I’d never even heard of corn bread before I met Guy. And he doesn’t like the ready-mixed kind. I have to make it myself, and Guy taught me how. But every time I make it differently. Either lighter or darker. Once, in a big hurry, I used the ready-mixed and guy said it was the best ! corn bread he’s ever tasted, but he doesn’t like it,” she says smiling. A wealthy girl, Charlie. From her mother, she has beauty and wit and tenderness. From her father, spirit, sincerity and the strength to live up to the legacy he’s homesteaded for her. She will have all the answers her father’s found. Those that weren’t in the dictionary he used to Color portraits of Lori Nelson, Gloria Talbott by Avery, Debbie Reynolds by Apger, Martha Hyer, Natalie Wood by Roger Marshulz; Barbara Rush, Marisa Pavan by Avery; Guy Madison and Sheila Connolly by Pete Kellett; Anita Ekberg, Marisa Pavan by Hayden, Oreste, Mitzi Gaynor by Bulloch, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis by Bill Avery, Doris Day by Lobben; Charlton Heston, John Derek by Bulloch, Shirley MacLaine by Fraker, Carol Ohmart by KofFman, Jimmy Stewart by Lobben, Rita Moreno by Hayden; Anne Baxter, Marla English, George Gobel by Fraker, Ben Cooper by Roger Marshulz, Debra Paget by Hayden; stills from “My Sister Eileen" by Von Pell, Columbia; Natalie Wood and Jimmy Dean by Warners; Joan Collins by Powolny. carry in the back of his old beat-up car. The girl he calls Charlie will be exposed j to her father’s own wholesome evaluation of life. Guy always believed in discrimi ( nating between people only as individuals. He picked his people one by one for what , was inside them. Nobody would know better than her , father how cruel other discriminations and snobbish behavior can be. Back in | Bakersfield, a hub for many migratory workers, Bob Moseley was never part of the town’s leading clique. “The head ones,” as he used to explain. “If you didn’t have a car or good clothes or wouldn’t take a drink, you weren’t in.” Not that this particularly bothered him. Nor did he worry too much about whether or not Hollywood would accept him socially later on. The way he sized this up, there really couldn’t be too many legitimate cliques in Hollywood. “It would be hard to have them here. Some people might like to, but they can’t very well. They don’t know who’s going to make out, or whether they themselves will continue making out. They don’t know who’s -1 94