Picture-Play Magazine (1933)

31 What It Has Taken From Me "And now," says Joan, "I am old at twenty-three and have lost my desire to dance and play. " I'VE changed since I came to Hollywood. I know it. Every one who comes here changes. The town gets you. It alters your viewpoint. It makes you put behind you all that has gone before When you plunge into it you begin an unending struggle You enter a different world. I'm not bitter. I'm not disillusioned. I'm probably happier now than I ever have been in all my life. My parents were in vaudeville. I was born in New York. My first birthday was spent in Paris, my second in Berlin, my third in Madrid, and my fourth in New York. When dad and mother were doing their turn on the stage I lay on a pillow in the tray of a trunk. Then, when I grew old enough and big Hollywood has robbed me of my desire to dance and play. Made me old at twenty-three. Spoiled my delight in pretty clothes and pretty things. Taught me that people are interested in Joan Blondell the movie star, rather than in Joan Blondell the girl. Changed my ideals, my ambitions, my outlook on life. It has made me tense and muddled, wanting to run away from some unseen goblin. But. it has laid its riches at my feet and said "Help yourself!" Therein it expects me to find recompense. enough, I joined their act, as did my brother, and we became known as Ed Blondell & Co. My brother and I were the "Co." To the far corners of the world we traveled, home being wherever we were. It made no difference just so there was a hotel. I was a dreamer then. I'm a dreamer now. but realities have brought me down to earth. I remember as a little girl I dreamed some day of owning a mountain, a whole mountain, by myself. That dream never will come true. But I have a pari 01 one now. and I'm satisfied. I grew up in the atmosphere of vaudeville and learned to love its people. We laughed and sang together and had good times. The late suppers, the stories, the shop talk, the bohemian life. 1 miss it here. My vaudeville days are sunk forever. Picture people aren't like stage people. They're so tense. They can't laugh at themselves as we vaudeville folk used to do. I realize that I can never return to that circle because — well, you know how it is. When a picture star goes into vaudeville now the world says, "Well, she's washed up. She's through. She's on the way out." When I was poor I used to long for pretty clothes. I would ga/.e in shop windows and say to myself, "Gee, wouldn't I get a thrill if I could wear that !" That's gone now, too. The beautiful coats and gowns and furs given you to wear in pictures take away the yearning to have such things for your very own. This worries me, too. I go around much of the time now wearing a sweatshirt. I use no make-up. I can afford to do as I please. When my first opportunity to go on a personalappearance tour came I was thrilled. Booked for the big cities with receptions and broadcasts and affairs arranged in my honor, I looked forward to eight weeks of headlining, as we called it in vaudeville. "JOAN BLONDELL, in person!" the billboards fairly screamed. "Oh, it will be great !" I thought. The first night was splendid. Big reception, cheering crowds, lights, and everything. But suddenly the thought struck me. "This isn't for Joan Blondell the girl — it's for Blondell the movie actress, the girl these people have seen in pictures !" Come to figure it out, I merely was performing a job for my employers. The realization left me cold. Next night my husband had a taxi at the stage entrance for Continued on page 53