Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1949)

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Knowing the hazards of show business I was afraid to plan for a real wedding and I suggested we have a quick, quiet trip to the nearest Justice of the Peace. BUT Spike said no. He wanted me to have a real wedding. One in full regalia with all the family present. "Don't forget," he reminded me gently, "I've never had much of a family of my own. Besides," he added with a sly little grin, "I want a lot of people to see how beautiful you'll look." We were in Las Vegas when we broke the glad tidings and everyone was wonderful to us. They were planning a fashion show at the hotel, and I was asked to model as a June bride. Spike thought it was a great idea, and with much glee he deposited himself in the midst of the audience with all his moving picture equipment draped around him so that he looked like Frank Buck on a cameraman's holiday. This made me quite nervous, but I didn't dare say anything to him, because I knew he would tease me afterwards. I went on with the show, a brave smile covering up the quakes inside me. It was so much like the real thing. Someone was singing "Oh Promise Me," there were flowers all over the place, and an aisle for me to walk down. And there was Spike grinding away at his little old camera for all he was worth. My knees were shaking, and so was the bouquet I was carrying. "My, you made a wonderful bride," someone said to me afterwards. "You acted as though you were really nervous." I smiled weakly. If they only knew! Then, before I knew it, the date for the real wedding had arrived. Spike kept his promise. He always keeps his promises. It was going to be exactly the way he said it would be. He had planned everything so carefully, including our honest-to-goodness honeymoon in Honolulu. Practically no one in show business ever gets a real honeymoon. On the morning of the wedding, I was comparatively calm. I still couldn't believe it, though. I felt as though the girl sitting in her room waiting to be married were someone else. Not me at all. At the rehearsal I tried to get my father to practice with us. "Why do I need to rehearse," he said jokingly, referring to the number of other daughters he had already given away in marriage. "I've had plenty of practice." "But you won't have a chance to practice with this one again," said Spike pulling me close to him and smiling down at me. Two hours before the ceremony. Spike called me on the phone from his room. "Hello, darling," he said, "how do you feel?" "Scared," I admitted. "How about you?" "Terrified," he said. "A nervous wreck." But when I saw him he was very self-possessed. I would have been completely fooled by his air of assurance if it were not for the fact that after the ceremony when he was told he could kiss the bride, he bent over and gave me a quick peck on the lips, and then like a man coming out of a daze, he opened his eyes and looked at me and kissed me again. Hard. My father, who saw the whole thing, just grinned knowingly. Spike smiled a little foolishly as we v.alked down the aisle together as man and wife. Suddenly halfway down he stopped and put up his hand for silence. Then he stepped aside and held me at arm's length. "Look everybody," he said to the two hundred assembled guests, "I want you to see how beautiful she is." And then he kissed me again. I guess I'm one of those rare brides who stay for the refreshments. I really didn't want to leave. Everything was so wonderful, everyone was so kind, and I could see Spike was loving every minute of it, especially being with the family. I guess being an only child really had an effect on Spike. All during our stay in Honolulu he bought presents for the family. Beach coats, jackets, grass skirts, drums. There wasn't a shop that didn't like to see him coming. He was Santa Claus in tennis shorts. That was the wonderful thing about our honeymoon. We could lounge in comfortable clothes. And lie on the beach. We're both sun worshippers. And we took long walks. We even hunted pebbles. And of course Spike took pictures. Dozens and dozens. The most wonderful thing to Spike, though, was not having to get up until ten o'clock. And no telephones! It was exciting being really alone with him for the first time since I had known him. We acted like a couple of stock sweethearts, discovering and rediscovering each other, recounting how we first met, what we first thought. It was heaven. I hated to come home, but once in Los Angeles, we rapidly got in the] swing again. | SPIKE invaded my parents' home like* an army of liberation. He was literal1 ly loaded with presents. The whole • family was there and no Christmas had ever been as exciting. Spike looked like a little boy having the time of his life. Spike showed his pictures, which were on gorgeous colour film. They were the best pictures of the island that we'd ever seen. He was so proud of himself. Well, the routines have begun again. The phones are ringing and the appointment book is full. There is his radio show. Spotlight Revue on Friday nights. This is the toughest part of it all. Two brand new arrangements every week and a different presentation for each guest star. And then there's the special material for Dorothy Shay . . . the "Park Avenue Hillbilly." Spike is also continuing with his Musical Depreciation Revue which he originated a while back. Last year he took it on a tour of a hundred and thirty-nine concerts in a hundred and , thirty-nine cities. ! We'll go out again on tour this win . ter. The radio shows will be remotes of course. V/e plan to play the show to j special audiences of industrial workers '' all over the country. j That's the thing that's so wonderful about Spike and me. We're a team off | stage and on. And I know it's going j to be a permanent arrangement.