Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1947)

Two Men in Manhattan ( Continued from page 54) down, began trying on shoes, looked out the window — and saw a huge mob forming on the sidewalk, led by the rain-soaked boy. “We’ll be torn to shreds when we come out,” Peter moaned. “And me in my new suit,” moaned Frank in return. “There’s a back door to this joint,” crowed the shoe salesman. So, Frank and Peter waved at the enormous crowd pushing against the windows, and rushed out the back way — which led right into the lobby of a building into which fifty secretaries had just swarmed on their way down from their offices at the end of the day! “Frankie! Pete!” shrieked fifty feminine voices in unison — and all fifty girls began running for the two men. The two men began running too. They ran right through the crowd, out the door, and down the street. They were still running when they jumped into the elevator back home at the Waldorf. They were even running when they got back into the peace of their suite. RID we say “peace of their suite”? How If could we tell such lies? Their phone rang steadily, persistently, mercilessly. It was nearly always a bobby-soxer posing as a friend. To hear the names on the other end of the phone, you’d think that everyone in Hollywood was in New York. “This is Lana Turner,” “Louella Parsons,” “June Haver,” “Mrs. Sinatra,” “Betty Grable,” squeaked the little voices over the telephone. The doorbell rang just as steadily — with pretty young things eagerly trying to put a foot in the door. No, the two stars were not alone. Not ever. What’s more, everything they touched became complicated ... as, for instance, what Frank thought was the funniest thing that happened to them in New York: That particular evening, Peter and Frank decided to eat dinner with separate groups of friends. Peter was going to the night club El Morocco, and Frank agreed to join him there after dinner. So, around ten o’clock, Frank breezed up to the front door of El Morocco in a taxi. He wore a sports jacket and slacks. He got one foot out on the sidewalk when the gold-decorated doorman descended on him. “Just a minute, bud!” said that worthy. “No one’s allowed in this joint without wearing a full suit. Out you go!” With which he pushed Frank back into the taxi, slammed the door, and told the cab driver to keep going. All of this dazed and delighted Frank — who lay in the back of the taxi roaring with helpless laughter all the way to his favorite restaurant, Toots Shor’s. Here, still shouting with laughter, he telephoned Peter at El Morocco and told him, “I don’t dress right for the kind of places you go — they wouldn’t let me in!” Naturally, this caused pandemonium in the night-club circuit. Peter told the owner of El Morocco that Frank Sinatra had been thrown out by the doorman; the owner called up Frank (at Toots Shor’s) and apologized, and swore he would fire the doorman . . . and Frank, being Frank, insisted that he do no such thing. “The doorman was only carrying out orders, and he didn’t recognize me besides,” he said. “You shouldn’t give orders if you don’t expect them to be obeyed. I’ll be .over some other night, dressed the way I should be dressed.” But adventures like these happened regularly every twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, the two Hollywood stars carried on their New York life as best they with this fragrant cooling talcum powder KEEP FRESH! For a smart start — sprinkle yourself with Cashmere Bouquet Talc after bathing. Like a cooling caress, it leaves your whole body sweet and fresh. FEEL SMOOTH! Take a little time to pat some extra Cashmere Bouquet Talc over those sensitive spots. It imparts a silken-smooth sheath of protection to chafeable skin. And girdles slip on — slick! STAY DAINTY! For long-lasting freshness use Cashmere Bouquet Talc generously and often. It accents your feminine daintiness with the fragrance men love. Pamper your person with Cashmere Bouquet Dusting Powder. Smartly packaged with a big velour puff. Cashmere Bouquet Tale with the fragrance men love f II