Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1938)

I'm not their father and mother. When things go wrong and Carol Ann's being corrected, if it hurts me too much, I just go out where I can't see or hear it. I figure Bob and Betty are old enough to know what they're doing." Like all young people, Betty and Bob had their tiffs. On one such occasion Betty ran home to her mother to pour out her woes. She had barely begun the recital when Mom stopped her. "I'll bet you started it." Blank incredulity dried Betty's tears. "What kind of a mother are you, anyway? I come to you for consolation, and you stick up for Bob." "Listen, honey," her mother said, spacing her words so as to give them their full value. "Any girl that's married to Bob doesn't need consolation. If she thinks she does, that makes her all wrong to begin with." Which piece of sanity promptly reduced Betty's mountain to the molehill it was. Meantime, Bob was making good in the movies. Financial problems grew less pressing. "I'd like to take care of Mom," he told Betty one evening. "I think we can afford it now." Betty looked startled. "I'm sure she doesn't expect it." "So am I. But I'd get a kick out of it, if she'd let me." Mom wasn't so keen about the idea at first. Yes, she thought a little rest would be nice, but what in heaven's name would she do with herself all day? She couldn't sit idle. The problem solved itself. She found it was pleasant to be able to see more of her friends, to visit the sick, to help with the babies, to turn her hand to the thousand and one things willing hands can find for themselves to do. I O Bob and Betty she was a tower of strength, when Barbara, their second daughter, arrived. Betty had had a comparatively easy time of it with Carol Ann. They had no reason to suppose that the new baby would cause more trouble. They drove blithely down to the hospital together, Betty and Bob and Mrs. Henderson. A friend in a passing car hailed them, "Have lunch with me." "We can't," they laughed. "Our baby's coming." Two hours later Bob emerged, chalkfaced, from his wife's room. He didn't have to tell Mom that something had gone wrong. The doctor's grave face, the nurses hurrying in and out, had told her that already. Together they waited, with Bob disappearing into the room at intervals. Only one member of the family was al lowed to go in. "You go," Bob urged her. "No, son, you'll feel better after you've seen her." He didn't feel better. There was nothing to feel better about. Each time he left the room, he had to steel himself to meet Mrs. Henderson's eyes, draw his face into some semblance of composure, lest he look like one who had seen a ghost. Each time it was she who masked the terror in her heart to comfort him. "It's all right, Bob. I've been through the same kind of bad time myself, and look at me. Betty takes after her mom. She'll fight through all right." The hours crawled on. Now he stood at the bedside where his wife lay battling for her life. Now he crept out to the warmth and strength of the woman who loved them both. Once the doctor followed him out. "I'm doing my best, Mrs. Henderson." Her voice was steady. "I know you are." There came the moment when, nerves stretched by intolerable suspense, Bob went to pieces in her arms. Even then she stood like a rock. "We've got to grin and bear it, Bob. It's a thing all fathers and mothers have to go through. It's started, it's got to be finished." Something of her own indomitable spirit entered his and gave him new courage. At the end of nine hours Betty was pronounced out of danger. The baby would live. After the first moments of wordless thanksgiving, Bob wanted to yell and turn handsprings. He wanted Mom to yell and turn handsprings with him. But Mom couldn't. She was sobbing her heart out in a corner. Later he tried to thank her, tried to put something of his feeling for her into words. She patted his cheek. "Rubbish! You'll do the same for your own children when the time comes." As to her feeling about Bob: "I'll tell you. I always said, when Betty grew up and married, regardless of whom she married, I'd love him the same as she did. I had that kind of mother, so I guess I come honestly by it. "Daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, she wanted them to love her and that's all she v/anted, and they did. I'd have loved anyone Betty married. Just the same, I'm glad it was Bob. They don't come any easier to love. He's — well, he can't be beat, that's all. And if he loves me back, that's fine. I'm a lucky woman." Lucky woman. Lucky man. Lucky family. overcome It Who says honesty isn't the best policy? Here's one California theater owner who obviously thinks it is. 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