Picture-Play Magazine (1935)

13 own mother, my grandmother, was a pioneer woman. She crossed the Western plains in the proverhial covered wagon, stepping and settling in Montana, where Delia was born. It has been said that one cannot escape the effects of, or completely outlive, one's early environment. Delia has always been, and still is, as sturdy, as independent, and as self-reliant as her native State was during her — and its — youth. Now, when she is slightly past her adolescence, she does things that few youngsters would do. Not long ago she decided she needed a change. So, with few words to anybody, she got on a ship and sailed off to Europe, unaccompanied. More about that later. It's worthy of note. After all these years of being daughter to her, she continues to amaze and surprise me. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm mothering her, or she's mothering me. At such times it becomes rather confusing. But let's go back a bit. My father died when I was quite young. He left my mother with a good deal of Montana property, myself, and my younger brother, David. A good many women, finding themselves in such a position, would have done one of two things. They would have turned the property over to a capable manager and devoted themselves to rearing their children, or they would have found a man capable of managing both property and children — and then married him. Delia did neither. She decided that she was perfectly capable of managing both, and proceeded to do so, with neatness and dispatch. The Montana winters were rigorous, so she decided to move to California. Friends advised her against it, saying she was a woman and alone in the world, and that those California people were slickers. Delia said "Fiddlesticks !" or its equivalent, sold most of the Montana property — driving excellent bargains — and moved. David and I were too young to realize the importance of such an uprooting. To us it was a lark. We had gone to California on several occasions during past summers, when our father was still with us, and we loved it. That our mother was now our sole support meant nothing to us. We settled in Culver City, California — then hardly more than a hamlet — and Delia set to work, undaunted by the responsibility of two children and money to invest, on the wisdom of which investments our futures depended. She bought income properties, and, lo and behold ! it was really property that produced an income. Many women other than my mother are excellent business women, but, remember, I am writing about some one very close to me, and when such a thing becomes entirely personal it is sometimes cause for wonderment. All our Montana relatives and friends had expected her to be cheated out of her money, and were prepared to rescue her from the wailing wall. That she wasn't, I believe increased their respect for her a hundredfold. She sent David and me to school. She looked after us in true motherly fashion, partook of the community social life, and managed her own business, all successfully. Often when I think back I say to myself, "What a woman !" These were my formative years. Mother has always held to the theory that children are like young trees. If one permits them to develop along the lines of their own inclinations, it is best. They may not always be beautiful, but they will have character, and to her, character is more important. Whatever my character is — and that is not for me to judge — it is entirely due to her method of handling me as a child. And I do know that her method has given me an aggressiveness that stood me in good stead while I was fighting to get out of poor roles in pictures into parts I wanted to play. One very indicative and very important example of Continued on page 68 ~&&*ritor> * These two old pictures of Myrna Loy hold especial interest for those who have followed her remarkable career. The one on the far left shows her when she played exotic roles and was photographed in that make-up. This picture is more interesting because it shows a very youthful Myrna who has just graduated from a year of extra work and was playing small parts for Warners.