Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1949)

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Ginger and her husband Jack Briggs consult the dictionary for new words for “The Game.” Both avid readers. Ginger doesn’t share her BY MAXINE ARNOLD Chiffons and Texas tamales; exotic perfumes and waterproof fishing pants; hilltop hostess and bluejeaned ranch wife — that’s Ginger, a woman of exciting extremes husband’s liking for comics LAST July, Ginger Rogers was on her ranch, repairing her fishing tackle. She was about to go trout fishing on the Rogue River. The phone rang. It was producer Arthur Freed. “We have just the script for you,” he said. He explained then that Judy Garland’s fatigue had necessitated her stepping out of “The Barkleys of Broadway” and they wanted Ginger to take her place with Fred Astaire. “Send me the script,” suggested Ginger. “We already have,” he said. The script, it developed, was enroute on a plane to Medford, Oregon, forty miles from her ranch. Ginger had the plane met, read the script, and with her customary quick decision, wired her okay. Two days later, she was rehearsing on an M-G-M dance stage. Welcome news, this, to a public who had long felt as Ginger’s milkman did. He left a scribbled note in a bottle on her porch reading, “Miss Rogers, it isn’t any of my business. But when are you and Mr. Astaire going to dance together again?” ( Continued on page 77) Spunk and spice; Ginger Rogers of “The Barkleys of Broadway” Apger P 36