Screenland (May-Oct 1931)

110 SCREENL AND learned that he was at home ill. Stephany lost no time in going to him. She felt that she could never apologize enough for the way she had treated him. He was sitting in a chair, wrapped up in blankets. His face looked ill and haggard. She sat near him and said all the things she had wanted to say to him for months. "Aren't you going to marry that Carter fellow?" Meyer asked her. "No." "Why?" "He doesn't want me." "That must hurt, Stephany." "Only for a minute. It didn't last. It never could have lasted." "What was it all about then?" "Peacock feathers. I thought I could wear them. I can't." She picked up a book from the table. "You have Nicky's new book." "You've never seen my collection of first editions," he said proudly. "Go into that room there — you'll enjoy them." When she closed the door behind her, she saw Nicky before her. "Steph, darling!" He rushed over to her and took her hands. "I've walked my legs off trying to find you." "Nicky!" "The thought of you has been tormenting the soul out of me, Steph." "I'm sorry." "Not as sorry as I am — for what I said. Please forgive me." "Don't say any more please, Nicky," Stephany put her arms around his neck. "I love you, Nicky. Wasn't Meyer a dear — " "He's terribly fond of you — thinks of, talks of nobody else — Stephany — can't you suspect why? He told me not to tell — try to think !" Stephany remembered the things he had done for her — the money he had wanted to give her — then her mother's picture which he had recognized. "Nicky — not — my father !" "The same. You're a lucky girl, Steph." And for some reason Stephany felt that Meyer and Nicky were really a realization of her childhood dreams. "Let's go to him, dear," she said. "I want to kiss my father and ask him if I may marry the dearest boy in the world!" For some reason Stephany felt that Meyer and Nicky were really the realization of her childhood dreams. She knew she could count on them now that she needed them most. Dumb Like a Fox! in refusing to return it until he had signed her on a long-term starring contract. Instead of rushing right off to Hollywood she was smart enough to spend a few months studying dancing and voice — then with her customary efficiency she arrived in Hollywood one Sunday morning three hours ahead of time ; and she 'phoned poor Junior, waking him out of a sound sleep. "Hello!" she announced. "Here I am — and there wasn't a soul at the train !" "But you can't have arrived!'" Junior wailed. "Half the studio, and most of the press, not to mention myself, are all set to meet the 'Chief !" But Sid had arrived all right ! And before so very long the studio lost any doubts they might have had in the matter. It was on Monday morning, at the crack of dawn — well, say two P.M. — that I squinted gloomily from my bedroom window only to discover great clouds of dust out Universal way. "What's the matter?" I barked over the 'phone. "Is a Santa Ana ravaging the place or has a gag-man told Junior Laemmle that 'Resurrection' filled a theatre somewhere?" "Sidney Fox," someone gurgled, "has arrived ! Would you like to meet her ?" "Well," thought I, "yes and no." However, after the dust had settled a bit I ambled out and was ushered into the Presence. And I give you my word I shall never forget my first sight of La Petite Poupec! Her Oh-oh but diminutive body — fifty-nine inches over all — was stretched out on a chaise longue in maddening comfort. Large, solemn brown eyes peered innocently from a pale, oval face that was Continued from page 23 framed by a mass of jet black hair. One maid was manicuring her nails, another fiddling with her hair. With an amiable smile Sid dubbed me "Chief Portable Phonograph Winder" and amazingly enough at that very same moment I resolved to make a deep and exhaustive study of the girl, purely for the benefit of the public. Now stop champing at the bit; I'll tell you in due time what she wants to become ! For the moment let's just give her a look: All Gaul may be divided in three parts, but Hollywood is divided in two — ProFox and otherwise, for Sid is the most gossiped-about star in town. And her friends greatly outnumber her enemies. One hears wild stories about her fiery uncontrollable temperament — a temperament that would make Negri, Ina Claire, or Goudal go green with envy. And if she hadn't stopped worrying about it all, she might very well have had a nervous breakdown. Rumors to the contrary, Sid is not temperamental in the accepted sense of the word : she never goes into a tantrum and makes unreasonable demands. Being an infinitely sensitive artist, she is somewhat high-strung. When rehearsing a part her nerves climb to the very edge, and if crowded during those periods she's apt to get jumpy, a bit halter-shy, as it were. But once the actual shooting has commenced she reverts to her own sweet self : one of the most tender-hearted, amiable and charmingly cultured young stars in Hollywood. But when it comes to emulating a "good sport" she is nothing but an unmitigated flop, her inherent breeding and dignity forbidding. She loves to play prac tical jokes on friends, and rumor has it that she's liable to catch herself a good spanking if she doesn't watch out ! When dining in, she usually appears at table in jade-green dinner pajamas; and she could make a full meal on chicken livers and love it. She bewails the fact that guests at a dinner don't have screens placed around their plates so the mechanical business of eating could be hidden. Her best friends are Cissie Loftus and Bridget Price, a charming Englishwoman who also acts as her companion, chaperone and guide. So far as Sid is concerned there are only three actresses in Hollywood : Joan Crawford, Sylvia Sidney and Elissa Landi. "Landi's not good," she exclaims, "she's swell! — and Jackie Cooper's the greatest actor on the screen." That, briefly, is that. She frequently entertains at her home, but seldom if ever goes to night clubs. She has leased Montagu Love's hill-top house, a miniature castle, for which she keeps but two servants, a woman and a Filipino house boy. "Joe doubles in brass," is her explanation. "When he wears that high white hat. he's the chef. When he goes without a hat, he's the house boy ; and when he puts on that black uniform cap, he's the chauffeur." The Fox vehicle being a Ford coupe which Joe drives while Bridget and Sid squat primly in the rumble seat. She startles one with her swift wit, and she leaves a most amazing variety of impressions among her various acquaintances and friends. Some think her an out-andout sophisticate, but Sid insists she is not sophisticated, simply intelligent. Some con