Fashions of 1934 (Warner Bros.) (1934)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to with your comments.

We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

IW, OMAR Kictionization Adapted from First National’s laugh extravaganza with songs and music, featuring William Powell, Bette Davis, and hundreds of others. CHAPTER I HE door of the Golden Gate Investment Corp. opened and the serious man with the little black grip walked in. Mr. Sherwood Nash was busily engaged at three phones, apparently directing the activities of a busy organization. He looked up. ‘“Be seated won’t you? I’ll be through in a moment...”’ The serious man seated himself with a faint and mys terious smile. After a few moments Mr. Nash found time to address him. ‘‘What can I do for you, Sir?”’ The stranger stood up. ‘‘I’ve come to take away the telephones. They’ve been disconnected for Phrep Gays < .-.. ‘¢And that ...’’ as Sherwood Nash later remarked to Lynn, the artist friend of his pal and chief lieutenant, Snap, ‘‘was the end of the Golden Gate Investment Corp.’? Lynn puckered her pretty lips into a pout. ‘‘And Snap told me you were the one man who could help me.’’ She ruefully held up a folder crammed with stunning fashion drawings. ‘‘You did these yourself?’’ Nash asked, after a quick perusal. ‘<Sure,’’ put in the ever present Snap, ‘‘the gal’s clever.’’ Sherwood grabbed Lynn by the arm and went racing for the door, ‘¢Come on,’’ he shouted after Snap, ‘‘I’ve got an idea . . .we’ll eat when I get it working.’’ Some days later in his high class Fifth Avenue establishment Mr. Duryea, one of the nation’s leading designers of women’s clothes, was sitting in his office boiling over with rage. ‘¢That’s the tenth time that’s happened in two weeks! ’’ he barked at his secretary. ‘‘Somebody is copying our exclusive Paris models and getting them out on the street before we do!’’ He rose from his desk sullenly. ‘‘Here, take a letter. Send copies to my competitors, Caponelli, Glass & Feldman. Gentlemen, It is imperative that we organize to stamp out the copying evil, which is undermining our bustNERS i ae: cate Meanwhile down near the docks, in a little loft, Sherwood Nash was impatiently waiting for Duryea’s truck driver. Lynn in the next room was washing negatives while Snap was adjusting the lenses on a big efficient three legged camera. Glenda, a hard boiled blonde, was lounging nearby with the halfdressed models. She walked over to Nash. ‘¢Are you falling for that dame, Lynn?’’ she asked. ‘“‘Don’t be a little fool,’’ he answered. ‘‘We need her. She’s running this—isn’t she?’’ But Glenda wasn’t satisfied. However, before much more could be said, the truck drove up. Harry, Duryea’s handsome driver, bolted in. The gowns, just off the boat from Paris, were quickly unloaded; on the models; photographed from several different angles; off; back in the truck; and away —all in twenty minutes. Meanwhile the plates were being developed, and Lynn was preparing to copy the models for sale among the gyp designers. Nash rubbed his hands in satisfaction. Little did he realize then the scene that was being enacted further up town in Duryea’s office. Harry had been found out and was on the mat before Duryea and his combined competitors. ‘¢Horse feathers!’’ Harry was taking it calmly, ‘‘ You got nothing on me. Nothing’s been stolen.’’ And with an insolent, ‘‘So long boys ...’’ he walked out to phone the bad news to Glenda. Glenda seemed more pleased than disappointed at the information and went over to Nash to say, ‘‘Harry just phoned! They found out! Well, Master Mind—’’ she went on with a sneer, ‘‘ where do we go from here?’’ Nash momentarily was at his wits’ end; Glenda continued, ‘¢Well, believe me—I’m not gonna be here when the cops come! ’’ and with that she flounced into her eoat and hat and left. But Lynn wouldn’t go, ‘‘ What, leave? And let you face the music alone? Don’t be silly. We’re in this together, aren’t we?’’ Snap as usual stuck by Nash. But Nash wasn’t through by a long shot. In a short while he was facing not only Duryea, but the other members of the combine, Caponelli, Glass & Feldman. ‘“You say,’’ Duryea was speaking to Nash, ‘‘you represent the driver we just fired for selling us Nash held her close to him, burying his face in her lovely hair. (William Powell and Bette Davis in a romantic scene from First National’s great laugh extravaganza, “Fashions of 1934,” which features Verree Teasdale, Frank McHugh and Hugh Herbert.) out for a bribe. torney?’’ ““Oh, no,’’ said Nash charmingly, ‘‘I’m the—er—man who bribed him.’’ The designers were furious. They refused to listen to Nash’s proposal to go to Paris for them and copy the Parisian models even before they appeared on the Rue de la Paix. ‘Why shouldn’t I work for you, instead of against you?’’ Are you his at ‘¢Nash,’’ raged Duryea, ‘‘you’re a petty lareeny crook. You belong behind the bars—and if I can, I’ll put you there. Now get out and find yourself a good lawyer. You’ll need one!’’ The. others nodded. But Nash was quite unconcerned. He slowly put on his gloves. He still had an ace up his sleeve, ‘Gentlemen, I...’ (To be Continued Tomorrow) Adapted from First National’s laugh extravaganza with songs and music, featuring William Powell, Bette Davis, and hundreds of others. CHAPTER Il UT Duryea waved Nash impatiently away. ‘‘At any rate,’’ Nash got in the last word, ‘‘if any of you gentlemen reconsider, you can reach me at the Park Manor Hotel.’’ As it turned out, the designers were not as ethical as they would have each other believe and Nash made secret arrangements with each to go to Paris. Between them he garnered a tidy little sum. And so our three friends Sherwood Nash, Lynn, and Snap boarded the boat for gay Paree. But the trip was nearly spoiled right at the beginning when Nash found Glenda in his stateroom. ‘Hello, sweetheart! ’’ she chirped. ‘¢What the... what on earth are you doing here.’’ ‘¢Thought you’d run out on me, huh? Well if you don’t want me to go to the cops with my little story of the Golden Gate Corp. and the ‘copying’ racket, you’d better come across, big boy.’’ Nash paid. And Snap escorted Glenda to the gangplank. Down on the wharf Harry was waiting for her, but their triumph was short lived when on opening her pocketbook she discovered the money gone. Futiley Harry shook his fist after Snap who was waving a cheery goodbye with the bills clenched in his hands. However, Paris was not so kind to the trio as they expected. All the designers were exceedingly suspicious, and, back in New York, Duryea and the rest were sending algry wires demanding action. Well, action Nash determined to Page Hight give them, and we find them on a fine spring day seated in ‘‘Baroque’s,’’ the Salon of the foremost dress desinger in Paris. Nash, who spoke French like a native, might well have passed for the finest product of the French ecapital. Lynn was stunningly dressed at the height of fashion, and even Snap, boasting a natty dog-headed cane, looked like a gentleman. But he did not act like one. His ogling eyes followed every step of the pretty French models who were parading before them, some of them in negligee. Only the sharp remonstrances of Nash kept his mind on the thing they had come to do. ‘“These are all very nice—’’ Nash said at last to the hostess of the establishment — ‘‘ but — I don’t see anything that I think quite suits Mademoiselle.’’ He leaned over lovingly toward Lynn, who nodded gravely. ‘‘Haven’t you —perhaps one model that hasn’t been shown?’’ Madame Margot, the hostess answered, ‘‘These are our latest creations, Monsieur.’’ But Nash exerted his charm, and at length Madame Margot brought out one of the firm’s very exclusive models. Lynn nudged Snap, who immediately turned from one of the girls he was ogling, and pulled a string attached to his eane. This cane really had a dummy head in which a small camera was concealed. The string operated it. Finally they rose to leave... but the usher had been watching them through a mirror and had seen the concealed camera operated. And much to their consternation and chargin he stopped Snap to take the film from him. Meanwhile the Fifth avenue de signers grew more and more insistent in their demands. But they all kept stiff upper lips. Snap because he was confident of his boss. Lynn because,—well who can read a woman’s mind and know how far her feelings for Nash, or Sherry, as she now affectionately ealled him, had gone. Thus one day they were walking along one of Paris’ beautiful boulevards. ‘“You know,’’ Snap remarked hopefully, ‘‘I could go for a nice juicy hamberger, right now.’’ ‘‘Forget it,’’ laughed Lynn. ‘‘One ean think much better on an empty stomach.’’ But something had _ caught Nash’s eye. He was looking at a Snap waved a cheery goodbye, with the bills clenched tightly in his hands. (William Powell and Frank McHugh in one of the comedy scenes from “Fashions of 1934,” First National’s new laugh sensation, which features such spectacles as ““‘The Symphony of Living Harps,” 200 Busby Berkeley fan dancers, and a mammoth fashion parade, and comes to the Strand on Wednesday next.) small outdoor bookstall where an elegant gentleman was. buying some ancient books. At last he started to move away and the stall keeper bid him goodbye. ‘‘ Merci, M’sieuw Baroque. Merci, mille fois.’’ Nash moved rapidly. ‘‘Was that the Baroque, the great contourjer???’ “‘Oui, M’sieu,’’ answered the merchant. ‘‘Here he buys all his books. Ancient books like these.’’ Lynn and Nash peered eagerly at the opened pages. They were pictures in full color of ancient costumes. ‘‘Ts that familiar?’’ Nash asked Lynn. ‘(Why yes,’’ she came back almost instantly, ‘‘It’s almost exactly like one of those models we saw at Baroque’s.’’ ‘“You see, Monsieur,’’ the bookseller interrupted, ‘‘the fashion— he is like—how you say?—a cycle. The waist, the skirt—she go up, she come down. What is passee now—he will be the fashion in maybe 50, maybe 100 years.’’ z But Nash’s quick mind was already working. He gathered up a pile of such books. ‘‘How much are these?’’ And much to Snap’s amazement Nash was taking the last franc out of his pocket, demanding Lynn’s money and his to pay for what to Snap seemed an utterly useless expenditure when food was a pressing necessity. ‘<But we can’t eat books,’’ he protested. ‘Oh can’t we?’’ came back the unperturbed Nash. ‘‘We can’t eat books? Well just watch us start on these! ’’ (To be Continued Tomorrow)