Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1947)

gave me a rather uncomfortable sense of importance. 1 was somebody special — but it wasn’t on my own merit. It was because of Father. So I set to work being a young devil — and I did nicely at it for some time. I went from there to a private school, and from that to a military academy, and from that to a summer camp, and from that, eventually, to Hollywood High — and so on right until I got to Princeton, but everywhere I was a horror. Father tried. He certainly did. He isn’t the type of guy who tells people how to run their lives. But we did have a few skirmishes. 1 REMEMBER those three awful summers when he insisted I go to camp, which I hated, as it meant I packed off around the entire West, roughing it in mountains and desert, when I would much have preferred being at my father’s then luxurious home that was all white paint, glitter, swimming pools, outdoor patios, parties and that beautiful girl who for two years was his wife, Carole Lombard. Don’t misunderstand. Father didn’t send me off because he wanted to get rid of me. He thought I might get some little discipline that way, and maybe I did, but it wasn’t very noticeable. I remember one time when Father was interviewing the head of a highly select school, which he w^s trying to worm me into. Father was in the drawing room, playing a very refined scene, detailing to the visitor what a dear, quiet boy I was. Little Lord Fauntleroy in Hollywood. From the hall I overheard this conversation and, nattily arrayed in a beat-up pair of riding trousers and an awful hat, I picked up a revolver and rushed in on the tableau, yelling, “Stick ’em up.” It was quite a curtain. I recall, too, when I first went to Princeton and Father accompanied me down there, from the Waldorf-Astoria where we had been staying. My going to Princeton was the gratification of a dream of his. He’d never been able to afford college but he attended the American Academy of Dramatic Art and had played stock in Trenton, N. J., in 1913. He had seen “the gray, ivoried towers of Princeton” at that time, and had never recovered. When I checked in, Father decided to help me unpack. As he opened one of my bags, he found several of his best ties. But that wasn’t what made him sore. I had also packed two hotel towels. He hit the roof, not so much because that isn’t done (it says here!) but because of what the hotel would think. “They will say William Powell stayed here and stole towels,” he pointed out with dignity. There was no calming him until I sent the towels back. As Father Day on screen in the present ent “Life with Father,” he thunders about magnificently — but that is acting. Personally, when he gets sore, he never shouts. Instead he goes in for a very chilling reserve. But he is like Father Day in his love of food. Every dinner is an occasion and the food and service must be perfect. When he goes into a new restaurant he has the maitre d’ over, explains his likes and dislikes. If the next time he goes there, the maitre d’ doesn’t remember all this he is very disturbed. His sense of elegance is disturbed. He knows what wine must be chilled to what degree, what goes with what, and all the rest of the epicurean routine. Yet, though he dresses elaborately on screen, or when any necessity for display comes up in private life, among friends, his favorite costume is a bath towel, no more, how could there be less. He has one hat. He bought it in 1912 and he deeply loves it. In its youth, it was a brown Fedora. Now it is battered and tot. -HutiPLu / o — But now Fresh brings you a new more effective creamier deodorant to give you care-free underarm protection. Only Fresh can give you this patented combination of amazing ingredients. New Fresh is the most effective cream deodorant you have ever tried ... we think you’ll agree! Yet dresses are safe from rotting . . . normal skin is safe from irritation. New Fresh is delicately perfumed, delightful to smooth on . . . doesn’t dry out. But don’t take our word for it. Test Fresh — see if it isn’t the best deodorant you’ve P 81