Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1938)

LOVE LIFE OF A VILLAIN Basil Rathbone, by the star's own admission, has a secret — it's about a woman — a redhead named Ouida BY KIRTLEY BASKETTE M Y secret," said Basil Rathbone, "is a woman. She is small. She is vital. She has red hair. Her name is Ouida. She is my wife. "Without her I would be nothing; with her I can be everything. Without her I would be miserable. With her I am the happiest man in the world. "Of course," he added, "behind the success of every man there is some woman. But it isn't often we give them any credit. That's why my confession may be a little startling. Everything I have achieved — everything I may be today or hope for tomorrow — I owe my wife, Ouida." For an hour I listened to the most amazing earnest tribute to a Hollywood wife I had ever heard. It came from a man who is viewed throughout the world as the very incarnation of conceit and masculine arrogance. The epitome of self-confidence on the screen, he revealed himself as emancipated from a blighting inferiority complex only by the patient love of his wife. Celebrated as a charming conversationalist, he confessed to a tongue-tied ineptitude until she brought him out of it. Respected as a shrewd career man, he revealed how a woman had launched that career, steered it, and secured it — at the sacrifice of her own. He did all this eagerly, humbly, happily. WE talked of a perfect marriage, oddly enough, in the house where a prize fighter, Jack Dempsey, had once lived in stormy domesticity with his former wife, Estelle Taylor. It was in the calm of a lovely evening. The Los Feliz Hills above Hollywood were blue and the air soft. Everything in the setting suggested a prelude to a pleasant story. Basil Rathbone, just in from a romp with his six dogs, brimmed with good nature. Somehow, Basil always reminds me of a race horse, lean, long, nervous, trim. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke to the ceiling. He talks fast and with an electric charm. "I haven't told this before," he said, "but right now it seems particularly timely. Because, rightly or wrongly, Ouida considers her job with me done now. She thinks I am established at last and capable of looking after myself. She feels she can relax now and return to writing, the career she abandoned to see me through. And For what she has done for Rodion, his son (top, second left); for what she has done for his career and for the man himself, Sir Guy of "Robin Hood" sheds his screen villainy to pay humble homage to the lady of his heart it was she who saw me through — because, if I hadn't met my wife, I honestly don't know what would have happened to me, for until then my life had had no direction. Certainly, I could never have caught on to Hollywood without her. "I wonder how many of us here in Hollywood would be where we are without the help of some woman who loves us. Think of the tremendous influence Dixie Lee Crosby has had on Bing. Of the vast importance of Bella Muni to her extremely talented and sensitive husband, Paul. There are dozens of cases — and you don't have to stop in Hollywood, of course. "It's even intriguing to wonder just how great some historic figures would have been without their wives. Disraeli, Napoleon, Washington. Can you imagine Robert Browning without Elizabeth Barrett?" "But speaking of the Rathbones ..." I interrupted. Basil smiled. "Right!" he said. "I'm getting out of my district. "Well — Ouida came into my life two years (Continued on page 67) 15