Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1959)

r 88 WHERE TO BUY PHOTOPLAY FASHIONS SEW A PARTY DRESS Simplicity Printed Patterns shown on page 69 are available at local stores everywhere, or, to order by mail, send money, size and pattern number to Simplicity Pattern Co., Inc., Dept. PH, 200 Madison Ave., Neiv York 16, IS. Y. SIMPLICITY 3015. Junior Misses’ sizes 11*15. Teenage sizes 10*16, 60(*. Bodice of white acetate taffeta, skirt and stole of white nylon tulle. SIMPLICITY 3150. Junior Misses’ sizes 11*15. Misses’ 12*18, 60^. Pink floral satin brocade. SIMPLICITY 2512. Teenage sizes 10*16, 50(L Bodice of moss'green acetate taffeta, skirt of white nylon tulle, with ribbon trim. SIMPLICITY 2961. Junior Misses’ sizes 11*15. Misses’ sizes 12*18, 60(^. Bodice of deep pink satin, sash and bow of Nile*green satin, with skirt of pink moire. For this dress, we used contrasting fabrics for the bodice and sash and bow, instead of one fabric as specifled on the pattern envelope. The yardage requirements (for Misses’ size 14) are: Bodice, % yards of 41'V42" fabric with or without nap; sash and bow, I** yards of 4rV42" fabric with or without nap. All fabrics from H. Bates Co., Inc. The following merchandise shown on pages 69 and 70 can be purchased at most better sfores across the country. For further buying i»/or* motion, write the addresses listed below: MAIDENFORM GARTER BELT Maiden Form Brassiere Company, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, N. Y. KAYSER NYLON TRICOT PETTICOAT Kayser Lingerie Co., Inc., 425 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. HANES SEAMLESS HOSE.. .Hanes Hosiery Co., Inc., 350 Fifth .Avenue, New York, N. Y. LOVABLE conoN BRA J. L. Brandeis, Omaha, Nebraska or write. Lovable Brassiere Company, 180 Madison Avenue, New York. N. Y. CAPEZio SMELL PUMPS Capezio, 756 Seventh .Avenue, New York, N. Y. WEAR-RIGHT WHITE GLOVES Wear-Right Gloves. Inc,, 244 Madison Avenue, New York, N. Y. CORO JEWELRY Coro, Inc., 47 West 34th Street, New York, N. Y. YOU CAN SEE THE LEN.NON SISTERS O.N ''LAWRENCE week’s doik;e dancing party,” sat., 9*10 p.m. EDT, ON ABC-TV. Illllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilillllllllllllllllllllllllllllillllillllllllll^^ ARE YOU KOOKIE, TOO? The following merchandise shown on page 47 can be purchased at most better stores across the country. For further buying information, write the manufacturers listed belotv: jantzen HOODED SWEATER Jantzen, Inc., P. O. Box 3300, Portland, Oregon HAYMAKER SHORT RAINCOA T Haymaker Sports, Inc., 498 Seventh Avenue. New York, N. Y. SHIP’N shore biouse \ND WESKir Ship’n Shore. Inc., 1350 Broadway, New York, N. Y. CORO CHUNKY JEWELRY Coro, Inc., 47 West 34th Street, New York, N. Y. TRIOS FLAT-HEELED ANKLE BOOTS International Shoe Co.. Inc., 47 West 34th Street, New York, N. Y. topaz patterned STOCKINGS Topaz Hosiery Mills, Inc., 22 West 30th Street, New York, N. Y. MORE WAYS TO BE KOOKIE You’re either kookie or you’re not. II you are, you dig nonsense songs like "The Chipmunk Song,” carry a big horse’s feed-bag for a pocketbook, satv "The ISun’s Story” three times. Kookies go to Disneyland on dates, tcrite to Dick Clark and end their conversations icith "See you in Antsville.” It’s kookie to dig "Omnibus,” "The Three Stooges” and record hops, hate show-offs, cliques and parking on a first date. A kookie knotvs it’s smart to be late but isn’t, knows it’s silly to get crushes but does. She was the first in her crowd to catch on that the kookiest guy in the world is Edd Byrnes. HOW DO YOU RATE? For your score, start icith 25 and subtract 2 points for each way you're kookie. If you hit zero, you’re kookie. If you're minus ten or more, don’t waste a minute. Jf rite — air mail! — and tell us and we ll pass the word to Edd. don't miss edd on “77 sunset strip." fri.. 9-10 P.M. F.DT. ON ABC-TV. CATCH HIM IN VVARNBRS’ “YELLOVi STONF. KELLY " AND ON W ARNER BROS. RECORDS. MOLLY BEE RECORDS FOR CAPITOL. whispered, “Till death do us part,” and she meant it. And he repeated the words, and she knew he’d meant them, too. How then, did they come to part? How? Because everything about them that had brought them together so violently, pushed them apart just as violently. Their tempers were equally fiery, their feelings of insecurity equally as deep, only Ava’s made her possessive while Frank’s made him turn away from her to find new worlds to conquer. It was not like that in the beginning though. Then, she would often bend down and kiss him. “Never mind,” she’d say. “It’ll be all right. We’re married and that’s all that matters.” For a while that was true. Frank couldn’t get a decent spot as an entertainer, but he didn’t let it show that it bothered him. He just went on following Ava around, as she made movies and money, until one morning she woke up and looked at him. He looked different. He told her he’d read “From Here to Eternity,” and that the part of Maggio was perfect for him. But you’re a singer,” she said. “I was a singer.” He lit another cigarette, inhaled too deeply and coughed. She sat up in bed. “Maybe we should get more sleep,” she said, remembering someone’s saying that, when Frank got eight hours sleep, he sang like nobody’s business; when he got four or five — he sang like a nobody. He brushed this aside. “I’m going to get that part,” he said, “if I have to play it for nothing.” And she stared at him. She’d been perfectly happy, just having him near her, just being able to see him and hear him and reach out and touch him. But had he? He looked desperate. After all, he was a man, and a man’s supposed to be the breadwinner, but she hadn’t cared about that. She looked at him and she knew that he had cared He went straight to Harry Cohn, then head of Columbia Pictures, and told him he had to have that part. Cohn promised nothing. Then one day, everything changed. They were in Africa, where she was making “Mogambo,” when the wire came from Columbia, asking Frank to come back and make the test. He whirled her around and laughed with her. He was his old charming self, and she loved him. She knew she would always love him. So she let him go — halfway around the world — to make the fifteen-minute test, and when he came back two weeks later, he brought all kinds of presents for her, and he told her how much he loved her, how much he would do for her, once he got on top again. But when weeks passed, and he heard nothing about the part, only vague rumors that someone else had gotten it, he grew gloomy again, snapping at her, snapping at everyone he saw. Ironically, on a day when he was feeling particularly miserable, the cable, telling him he had the part, arrived. A week later, he left for Hollywood. Then, a few weeks later, Ava was taken off location and flown to a hospital in England. “A severe case of anemia,” the papers said. But it was much more than that. She had lost her baby, the child she and Frank had wanted so much. What would have happened if the child had been born? she now wondered. Would that have kept us together? She had not known then that this had been the beginning of the end. With the success of “From Here to Eternity” came the end of the marriage. It had lasted twenty-three months and twenty days. M-G-M announced the end of it in October of 1953, but it was not until June of 1954 that Ava went to Nevada to establish her six weeks’ residence. On July 26th, the reporters waited, pencils poised, to get the story of her picking up the decree. The photographers were supplied with plenty of flash bulbs. And the papers saved space on page one for the event. Only, there was no event. She did not even come to town that day, nor the next, nor the one after that. Then, suddenly, she was gone, bound for Europe, and she still was Mrs. Frank Sinatra. She settled down in her house in Joraleja, a suburb of Madrid, making sure that her time was filled with excitement, that she was never alone. She did not see Frank once that year, and only once the following year. One night, she was home, alone. It was midnight, and she’d asked that a print of Frank’s latest picture, “The Man with the Golden Arm,” be delivered to her home. All by herself, she sat and watched the picture all the way through. Then before she could change her mind, she sent him a cable, congratulating him on his great performance. And that was all. She had seen her husband on the screen. She did not really see him until the summer of 1956, when he came to Spain to make “The Pride and the Passion.” During the shooting of that film, they saw each other often — but never to say hello. When she saw him, she smiled and nodded and looked away, and he did the same. She was his wife — and she was not his wife. What it all meant, she didn’t know. Then, one evening in a night club called the Zamba, she received a note from Frank. She read it, smiled, and quickly scribbled an answer. The waiter hurried across the room with it, handed it to Frank, and then stood by to see if there would be another note. Instead, Frank threw back his head and burst into laughter. Across the room they looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, but nothing else happened. They did not speak. They did not go to each other. But that night it did not seem to hurt her much. Another evening, when she was dining at a restaurant with Ricardo and Georgianna Montalban, who were old friends of hers, it did. Suddenly she stopped chatting and eating. For across the room sat Frank, with another girl on his arm. He looked at the girl as if she were the only one in the world, and never once glanced at her. Her fork clattered to her plate, and she pushed the food away from her. Shortly afterward, Ricardo called for the check and as soon as it arrived, they left. How do you leave a part of your life behind you? she wondered. How do you make yourself forget the past, and go on into the future? Once, she had known the answer. If you lose something, you replace it as quickly as possible. She had done it when she lost Mickey Rooney and done it again when her marriage with Artie Shaw went on the rocks. But there was nothing this time to take its place. After months of soul-searching, Ava gave up and filed for divorce in Mexico — not for a quickie divorce, but for one that would be good all over the world — in Spain, for instance. “Why are you suddenly doing this?” people asked her, and she smiled a little. “Suddenly?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows. “After four years, don’t you think it’s about time?” On July 5th, Ava Sinatra became Ava Gardner again. Her maiden name was restored to her, but she knew she would never be the same again, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try. She said she’d try anything once — but not another marriage, not that. “If I were mar