Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1954)

Tony and Janet put a different value on money, and that’s taken a little understanding, too. Until he came to Hollywood, Tony never had enough pennies even to bother thinking about them. Janet is far more conservative, which stems not only from stretching pennies but back to the proud teenager who was official custodian of the family exchequer. “When Jeanette was thirteen years old, we let her keep the budget,” her mother says now. “And she took her responsibility very seriously. When we would go shopping for something, Jeanette would trot me all over town, comparing prices to make sure we didn’t go over the budget,” Mrs. Morrison recalls laughingly. Today— Janet still won’t buy a dress without checking to see whether she can afford it. On the other hand, Tony’s greatest pleasure in earning a dollar is in spending it. Whatever’s left when the bills have been paid seems like so much velvet to him — like a wonderful present from life that he can’t afford not to spend. “I blow money whenever I get a chance,” Tony admits. “Many times for things I don’t even need. Like more shoes and shirts and records. And I buy pipe cleaners by the gross. I can’t resist pipe cleaners. I wish I knew why. I don't even smoke.” Tony’s delight in spending goes back to darker days. To days when an occasional coin was a shot of sunshine that made the darkness livable. A shiny piece of happiness to make his mom’s eyes light up. “He would bring something home to me. A string of beads or a pair of stockings or some little thing,” she remembers feelingly now. Tony’s father, on the other hand, would come home with some kind of kitchen-saver. “You know, carrot-curlers. That type of thing,” Tony grins. “He would say, ‘Here — let me show you how it works.’ And it never worked! But this was fun, and we would all laugh.” And laughter, however inspired, was like gold. Wisely enough, Tony and Janet have different business managers, agreeing, “It’s better this way.” Tony’s is Myrt Blum. And inasmuch as Janet’s father’s business is accounting, “Dad keeps watch on mine for me.” It would not, they decided, be fitting family diplomacy for her dad to dictate finance to his son-in-law. The Morrisons, Schwartzes and Curtises have too warm an association to risk endangering it. Janet’s and Tony’s parents each have noted all adjustments and watched with a silent and fondly approving eye. Janet’s mother, Mrs. Morrison, knows her son-inlaw is lovingly concerned for her daughter, when he worries aloud, “Why can't Janie relax? I know she must be tired. I wish she wouldn’t go so fast.” And Mrs. Schwartz bespeaks her affection for Tony’s choice with, “Janie is so wonderful. She watches what he eats and looks after him. She takes care of my Tony so well.” Tony and Janet have worked out any financial differences with the same healthy approach they’ve used on everything else in their marriage. Although the margin between their salaries has narrowed to almost nothing today, Tony’s $400 a week compared to Janet’s star-salary when they married constituted no real problem. “And we went into all this before we married. If we’d been in a business where Tony’s salary would never have equalled mine, then it might have been different.” With Janet’s new motion-picture deal for one movie annually for both Columbia and Universal-International, her salary still exceeds Tony’s a little. “But it’s so close now there’s really no difference. And with Tony’s option increases, he will soon p be making more. “Money is a joint thing, anyway,” Janet goes on. They maintain a “house account,” and each pays half of the house bills of the unpretentious but comfortable Spanish stucco house, complete with rose trellis and orange tree, which they rent furnished in Beverly Hills. “In addition, I pay for things that are strictly mine, and Tony pays for those that are his. That’s fair. What other wife in what other business has to have a wardrobe like my job demands? I spend around five thousand dollars a year for clothes.” Both of them insist, “We can’t afford to buy a home yet,” but since the owners are returning from Europe and want their home back, Janet and Tony are house-hunting again. They’ve moved from apartments to houses because, as they put it, “We wanted to spend Christmas in a home— instead of an apartment. We wanted a tree on the lawn as well as one indoors.” Both Mr. and Mrs. Curtis are frankly schmaltzy about holidays and other nostalgic occasions, and neither is reluctant to let sentiment show. The bit of steel in Janet’s make-up and the fire in Tony’s can always be tempered by three little words: “I love you.” As Janet observes, “Many people think it — but they won’t say it. Tony’s never afraid to say, ‘I love you,’ and I think that’s pretty great.” Jealousy? Well, like almost any husband he may resent those Janet went with before she met him, “but this I don’t mind. It’s flattering to have your husband a little jealous.” On the other hand, like any other wife, Janet finds it plenty heartwarming that since their marriage her husband has turned a blind eye to the femmes who think they’re fatale. “There are some women in any town who don’t care whether a man is married or not,” Janet observes slowly. And when they make with the big balcony scene, somebody in the audience seeks out Janet to say, “I wish you could see how Tony handles himself when a girl makes a play for him. It’s a joy to watch. He’s so uncomfortable, so absolutely apart from it — ” which is the sweetest music this side of heaven to a glamorous motion-picture star, as it is to any wife. “I’m not suspicious by nature. But this is just an added niceness. And hearing things like this makes you feel just great.” Maintaining the heady feeling of champagne and roses in their marriage means no long separations — ever — for Tony and Janet. “We’ve both refused to do pictures abroad,” Janet says now, adding, “three months is just too long to be separated.” Tony is equally adamant. “Separations can destroy any marriage. Whatever differences come up between you can be worked out, if you’re together. But if you’re a continent apart, you haven’t a prayer.” Insofar as their two careers will allow, they avoid short separations too. Janet accompanies Tony on location, unless she’s also before the cameras. As for TonyWell, once when he had to go to San Diego for three days’ filming, he wouldn’t even pack a suitcase! “No, if I take a suitcase, I’ll feel like I’ll be gone a long time. I’ll just take this,” he said and put a few essentials in a large paper bag. Their toughest separation — and their longest — was the five weeks Tony had to be in Honolulu on location and Janet was working in “Prince Valiant” stateside. “That was the worst,” she says slowly now, “because of the . . . situation . . .” Janet lost their expected baby while Tony was gone and every hour thereafter seemed an eter 1 nity to both of them. To Tony because he 1 couldn’t get home to her, to Janet because 1 she needed him so. Together — they’ve weathered two of the I most exhausting careers in Hollywood, i with all the corresponding demands and j the emotional drain. They’ve had to can i cel practically every personal plan they’ve 1 ever made and to forego again and again their dream vacation. Recently when Janet 1 finished “Rogue Cop” at M-G-M and Tony j| finished at U-I, they made elaborate plans | — for an idyllic three weeks on a farm in ] Connecticut and for sunning and swim ] ming and cruising on Long Island Sound. ! This time they were almost out the door when there was a change in casting in 1 “Five Bridges to Cross,” and Tony had to take the train instead to Boston. Making j no noises like a disappointed wife or j gnashing travel folders, Janet went along. As if this isn’t enough — even for those J who love enough — they further flount any 1 fear of career disharmony by co-starring I on the screen. And with no resultant clash j of temperaments or egos. Janet took the ] feminine lead in “The Black Shield of Fal J worth,” at Universal-International, know ] ing hers was the lesser role and that ] essentially this would be her husband’s 1 picture. Tony’s name will always precede j Janet’s in their billing. Which fact, as an I actress, she dismisses with, “A man’s usu { ally does — ” and as a wife, “it’s better.” I Sensibly, Tony reasons, “It’s easy to j work with Janet. I like it — but I wouldn’t! want to overdo it. I don’t think it would 1 be good for either of us.” As young married stars, Tony and Janet! are well aware of their good fortune in remaining equally popular on the screen, J and they’re not insensitive to what could i happen to them if one’s star would dimin 1 ish and upset Fame’s status quo. “That’s I something we can’t answer unless it hap J pens,” Janet says soberly. On the set together, they’re strictly actor j and actress, and they agree “It has to be this way.” They are, in fact, such profes j sional artists that when they came out of j the big clinch in their first love scene for j “The Black Shield of Falworth,” director I Rudy Mate complimented them jokingly, J saying, “Nobody would ever believe you’re j man and wife!” Sometimes Bernie Schwartz finds this J pretty hard to believe himself. “My Janet j — she’s a whole way of life to me. I just can’t tell you what she means to me.” It’s a staggering thought for the small I town coed and the boy from Hell’s Kitchen that but for the flip of a page in a photo album and a door opening in a musty old theatre in Greenwich Village, they would • never have met in this life. And there are times when Bernie : Schwartz has asked himself whether any , of it’s really for real. Not long ago he : went back to the tenement and made sure, i Many of them around the old neighbor ( hood didn’t know Bernie Schwartz was a movie star. But they were glad to “meet the new missus,” and beamed at Bernie. J “It’s been a long time, Bernie. What happened to you? Where you been?” “California,” Tony grinned. “You don’t say? How is it out there?” | Mr. Curtis looked at Mrs. Curtis. The climate, he said, couldn’t be better. For some strange reason, the neighborhood seemed different. Felt different. Not as restless, nor as discolored — nor as full of despair. Some of its shrillness and harshness and discord were gone. The reason, Bernie Schwartz knew, was the girl by his side. All the violins led to her. Wherever they were, as long as they were together, it would be the sunny side of life’s street. The End