Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1957)

“June’s page boy is trimmed bluntly,” says hairdresser Ethel Neefus. “Only sides are feathered a bit in front for springy, upturned curls.” Blunt cutting gives June’s soft hair body and fullness. So do frequent shampoos. June, who’d as soon skip her shower as her daily shampoo, half-dries hair with a home dryer, then sets as shown on page 68. Freshly washed hair looks twice as thick and fluffy. JUNE ALLYSON IS IN U-l's "MY MAN GODFREY** “Debbie is small and has a small face,” says William Tuttle, head of M-G-M’s make-up department. “She looks best with her hair swept back and caught up in a pony tail.” “It’s easiest to manage that way, too,” confides Debbie. “Especially when I’m traveling without a hairdresser. Because my hair is baby-soft, I use hair spray after combing, then comb through again quickly before spray is dry.” DEBBIE REYNOLDS IS IN U-l’s “TAMMY AND THE PLAYBOY”; M-G-M’s “THE RELUCTANT DEBUTANTE” “For Doris Day’s pixie-cut, a girl needs hair as well-behaved as Doris’ — slightly curly and mediumtextured,” says Jean Burt Reilly. It is razorcut while wet, with top 1^2 inches long; sides % inch; back trimmed close as possible. Setting, shown on page 71, is to give line and direction, not curl. While still damp, pins are removed, hair brushed almost straight, then combed into place. DORIS DAY IS IN WARNERS’”tHE PAJAMA GAME” Natalie Wood proves that a girl can grow to any lengths for a pretty hairdo — without suffering through the straggly, in-between stage. “While Natalie is letting her hair grow, we keep it in shape by blunt-cutting the ends a bit,” says Jean Burt Reilly. A loose permanent gives Natalie’s straight, finetextured hair body and a little curl. Nonoily hairdressing adds both control and sheen. NATALIE WOOD IS IN WARNERS* “BOMBERS B-52” “THE HELEN MORGAN STORY*’ “Although my hair has some curl,” says Ann, “it’s so thick and heavy I need a loose permanent to avoid nightly pin-curling.” “Ann’s hair is taper-cut to give it spring,” says Bill Tuttle. “Also, dark hair looks softer with feathered edges.” For the sheen and smoothness that give thick, dark hair its lush beauty, Ann shampoos every four days and gives herself a monthly conditioning treatment. ANN BLYTH IS IN WARNERS Marilyn at the Crossroads ( Continued from page 44) so good. By holdout tactics, possibly picked up from baseball’s Joe DiMaggio, she had brought mighty 20th Century-Fox to its knees, winning a fat new contract that permitted her to select her own films and directors and gave her the right to make films elsewhere. If there were any skeptical souls left who scoffed at her yearnings for better things, they got their comeuppance when, in February, Marilyn announced that she would co-star in “The Prince and the Showgirl” with Sir Laurence Olivier, no less. But the skeptics held their stand, refusing to acknowledge that Marilyn had anything to do with it and gave credit for the coup to her manager, partner and guiding mentor, the everpresent photographer, Milton Greene. Enter Arthur Miller. He stole into the picture discreetly, via bicycling dates with Marilyn in Brooklyn and cozy dinners at little out-of-the-way restaurants where the lights were dim and newshawks nonexistent. And he claimed Marilyn’s heart so completely that soon her former wholesouled affections for Lee Strasberg, director of Actors Studio, and his wife, Paula, Milton Greene and his wife, Amy, were getting second priority. In the little frame house in Flatbush where Arthur’s parents, Augusta and Isadore Miller, lived — an exact counterpart of the one in their son’s greatest play, “Death of a Salesman” — she found warmth and love. Dostoevski and “The Brothers Karamazov” forgotten, she prattled with Mother Miller about Arthur’s favorite dishes and learned to make stuffed cabbage. And in June, in both a civil and Jewish religious ceremony, Marilyn and Arthur were married. But she couldn’t go back to making stuffed cabbage for Arthur. She had to make a picture with Sir Laurence Olivier. So — after some difficulty in obtaining Arthur’s passport because of the Congressional charges against him — they set out on a venture that could have put the wackiest comedy script to shame. At her first press conference, there was such a riot that both Millers and Oliviers had to barricade themselves behind a snack bar. Grave poetess Edith Sitwell, sipping gin and grape juice with Marilyn and Arthur, pronounced her “a remarkable woman,” while an English lady journalist wrote, “The most prominent thing about her is her spare tire.” Finally, to escape pursuit, Marilyn hid in a hearselike limousine — which only gave rise to further cracks about “the body” within. On the “Prince and the Showgirl” set, things were scarcely less hectic. The first kiss of Marilyn and Sir Laurence was reported to “last all day.” But the sweetness and light did not prevail. In short order, there were stories about sharp disagreements. Said Marilyn icily when the cameras finally ground to a halt, “There were no more rows than the usual disagreements in making any film.” Said the gallant Sir Laurence, “Miss Monroe is a fine actress. She lived up to my expectations completely.” Through it all, Arthur Miller strode stoically, and Marilyn went right on reaping a crop of headlines that exceeded a press agent’s wildest dreams — which continued when she returned, with the rumor that she was expecting a baby. “No comment,” said Arthur drily. “Some things,” cried Marilyn, “should be private.” On this slim shred, stories appeared that described Marilyn’s emotions, even her visit to an obstetrician, in great detail — stories that had not a word of corroboration from the Millers themselves. ( Continued on page 92)