It All Came True (Warner Bros.) (1940)

CAST ANN SHERIDAN As Sal, beautiful and tempestuous torch singer, who acts as she pleases, says. what she pleases, and brother, she most certainly pleases! JEFFREY LYNN As Tommy, an “undiscovered”’ buying a penthouse and putting Sal in it. HUMPHREY BOGART As ‘Chips’ McGuire alias Mr. Grasselli, racketeer night club impresario who has a terrific yen for Sal. ZASU PITTS | maiden whom love passed up. UNA O’CONNOR As Maggie Ryan, partner in the boarding house, has a rough side to her tongue, but a kind side to her heart. JESSIE BUSLEY As Mrs. Taylor, a vaudevilleboarding house keeper, always making up stories and confident they'll “all come true.” FELIX BRESSART As The Great Boldini, vaudeville magician, who can pull anything out of his hat—except his room rent. and JOHN LITEL i. Mr. Roberts BRANDON TYNAN... Mr. Van Diver GRANT MITCHELL... Rene Salmon CHARLES JUDELS.............. Henri Pepi de Bordeaux HOWARD HICKMAN... Mr. Prendergast HERBERT VIGRAN |... Monks PRODUCTION STAFF Directed by LEWIS SEILER Screen Play by Michael Fessier and Lawrence Kimble; Based on the Story by Louis Bromfield; Director of Photography, Ernie Haller, A.S.C.; Art Director, Max Parker; Dialogue Director, Robert Foulk; Film Editor, Thomas Richards; Sound by Dolph Thomas; Gowns by Howard Shoup; Dance Numbers directed by Dave Gould; Orchestral Arrangement by Ray Heindorf and Frank Perkins; Musical Director, Leo F. Forbstein; Makeup Artist, Perc Westmore. songwriter, who dreams of As Miss Flint, a love-sick SS "ZZ LOUIS A mm m AIK. THE CAST: ANN SHERIDAN as Sal; JEFFREY LYNN as Tommy; HUMPHREY BOGART as Mr. Grasselli; ZASU PITTS as Miss Flint; JESSIE BUSLEY as Mrs. Taylor; UNA O'CONNER as Maggie Ryan. Directed by Lewis Seiler; From the Screen Play by Michael Fessier and Lawrence Kimble; Based on the Story by Louis Bromfield. A Warner Bros. Picture opening at the..............ccccce Theatre on CHAPTER I £ lice particular four-story brownstone house in the shabby West Sixties was in no way different from a dozen other houses in the block, except that about it seemed to hover the ghost of its past gentility. Its high stoop reared itself in outmoded pride, in spite of the fact that beside the heavy entrance door a faded sign announced to anyone who, in the rushing, noisy traffic of the New York of 1939, cared to read: “Board and Lodging —Transient and Permanent.” Beyond the door was a world where time stood still—a refuge the weepily romantic Norah for those who lagged behind in the march of the years and now found solace in turkey red carpets, high ceilings, tunnel-like drawing rooms and _ prismed chandeliers. Above the marble mantel hung a vast painting of the withered old lady who for so many years had been mistress of the house—Miss Minnie. Miss Minnie had left the house and everything in it to heavy-footed, fierce, funny Maggie Ryan, who had served her long and well as cook—and to Taylor, who had been her maid. Miss Minnie had willed them her four permanent boarders, too, and neither had the heart to put them out, as practical people told them they should. There was gentle Mr. Van Meet Sal... She's tempting, she's bold é but technically she's a good girl! Diver, who had been engaged to the mistress thirty years, waiting for her father’s consent to marry, and for ten years after, Mr. Van Diver’s mind was failing and he sometimes asked for Miss Minnie, forgetting she was numbered among the dead. 6-DAY SERIALIZATION MATS AND PROOFS SENT FREE ON REQUEST FROM NEWSPAPER EDITORS TO WARNER BROS. PUBLICITY DIRECTOR, 321 WEST 44 STREET, NEW YORK CITY oe LOUIS BROMFIELD’S GREAT STORY Could they turn him out! There was Rene Salmon of the flowing black tie, once a Greenwich Village poet, who still, even with his paunch and baggy eyes, could mouth lines in a way to make Maggie Ryan goggleeyed, and dissolve Norah Taylor in tears, the good souls. And the Great Boldini, who’d been a magician, and his trick poodle, Fanto, And in the skylight room little Miss Flint, the seamstress, who dyed her sparce hair a flaming red, and was forever telling of being ‘followed’ by men. Taxes might be overdue and bills unpaid but Norah never tired of telling Maggie that the world and the people in it were incurably good and that all the two of them had dreamed for their children would one day come true. She insisted that her boy Tommy, whom she had not seen for five years, would marry Maggie’s Sarah Jane yet, and be rich as all get out. And why not, for hadn’t they been ‘raised like twins.’ Maggie’s Sarah Jane— they called her Sal at the night clubs where she sang her torch songs—was a bold, beautiful, hot-tempered, honest provocative girl who was the joy, and the despair, of her mother. The permanent boarders, enjoying a quiet game of rummy one evening, under Miss Minnie’s imposing portrait — were thrown into confusion by the sudden pummeling of the front door and loud cries of “Let me in!” Fanto the poodle began to bark shrilly, and Mrs. Taylor, opening the door warily, was shocked to see a little man sprawling on the floor and shielding his face with his hands, while Sarah Jane, revolver in hand, proceeded to deliver kicks with extreme violence. “Take that and that and that and that!” she shouted, “You filthy brute ...! You slimy-fingered son-of. o Mrs. Taylor jammed her fingers into her ears. After a final vicious kick which sent the little man rolling down the steps of the stoop into the street, Sarah Jane slammed the door on him and breezed in triumphantly. “The dirty termite!” she panted, “Followed me all the way home in a taxi after I called his bluff! And with a gat, too! Can you imagine! He was going to make me into a torch singer. He took me into his studio, and after about five minutes [I said Yeah, well, I never heard this called an audition before! The dirty little blackhead! Followed me all the way home in a taxicab. With a gat, too”—here she paused for breath, and tossed a gun on the table to the combined horror of her audience — “as if I didn’t know how to manage a monkey with a gat! “Said he was going to discover me! Me! Boy, I’ve been discovered so many times they call me Miss America! Where’s Ma? Up stairs? Well—see you later, kids! Go on with your game!” She patted the poet’s bald pate as she passed. “Just like a breath,” Mr. Van Diver sighed,” of spring!” (To be continued tomorrow)