Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1938)

A Hollywood torchbearer,who knows her movies, handles a problem parent— with what results! A new chap RUSHED INTO DEATHLESS PRINT BY ter from Jane Lyons' autobiography *■ *" ^ " '" U n " — and for ten minutes there stood Edward G. Robinson . . . gaping at the portrait of an egg. I'm not exaggerating, it was an egg" "High School," corrected Barb. He invited us to walk to the corner with him which we accepted with pleasure. He walked n the middle and we didn't meet a soul we tnew. At the corner he shook hands with us and raised his hat and we told him our names. [ think he is magnificent if not romantic, and [ shall go to all his pictures several times, and t'll never see him on the screen without being reminded of a butt of malmsey. We got to school just in time for the lunch period so we told the gang we had spent the morning going to an art gallery with E.G.R. and all about his views on life and art and the Tower of London. We hinted that he had invited us to tea to make it more interesting. Vera Bailey said she didn't believe it. The nerve of that truck horse doubting our veracity! We were furious. Vera is burning up to have an autograph collection but she's too fat and lazy to chase them. ends. He loves to make wisecracks at other people's expenses. Even with taking sandwiches to school and walking home and having only one soda per day, I can't possibly last out the month. Barb can always raise funds in case of a crisis, her parents being reasonable, and she has credit at two drugstores and a doughnut stand. Pops won't let me charge a thing not even gum, and raises Helen Damnation if I let Barb stake me. He thinks I ought to get along on $15 per mo. He ought to try it. Last night Henry, my boy friend, took me to see "She Married an Artist." I wish H. had repartee, like John Boles. I think I should like to marry an artist even though their models always fall in love with them. H. also gave me a Dopey Doll. I put him in my bookcase opposite Charlie McCarthy and it's the cutest thing the way they grin at each other. I sit and look at them for hours at a time. Have been too busy to do my Latin. Don't know where the time goes. OAT. a.m. Barb and I took the first step. We went down to Pop's office to get a look at that woman and also to touch him for a bonus. I didn't telephone as I wanted to catch him unawares and know the awful truth. Well, just as I expected, it's worse than I anticipated. When we arrived he was dictating. He couldn't be disturbed. He sent out word for us to wait which we did, straining our ears but all was silence from the inner sanctum. I questioned Tod, the office boy, very surreptitiously about whether father and Miss Thayer went out to lunch at the same time and he said they always did because he wanted her in the office whenever he was there. (The italics are mine.) Then I asked him indirectly if they generally left together and he said no, that father went first and she followed. Well, that settled it in our minds. If they had walked out openly together, it might have been innocent. Lawyers often take their secretaries to lunch to talk business. But to sneak out separately . . . that's what I call underhanded. Finally the door opened and out came Miss Thayer herself with a notebook in her hand, just as if she had been taking dictation. Well, if she isn't a Menace, then I don't know one when I see it. She was dressed in uncrushable crepe with a white collar, supposed to be businesslike but really quite hot-cha. And she has red hair. Nuff said. That only means one thing. I thought of poor mother sitting home and was quite rude to Miss Thayer though she didn't notice it. Getting three bucks out of the old man was a cinch. Conscience for squandering money on her and letting his own flesh and blood go in want. I remarked on his swellegant tie and he said, "You're only young twice." I wonder what he meant by that. I'M having a recession. Having spent money on the taxi and there being several important programs at the big houses, my finances are in the red. Pops says I burn my allowance at both nE took us to lunch at the Bankers' Club. It was up on the 46th floor with a beautiful view of the river which would have been romantic if Henry or Fred March had been there. Pops met a judge he knew and asked him to join us. They talked a lot about an appeal (not sex) and Barb and I weren't interested so I interrupted with a quite casual question: (Continued on page 92) 25