Screenland (Nov 1931-Mar 1932)

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Michigan GRAY HAIR" Bring back to unsightly gray, faded or bleached hair its natural color and beauty. Instantly, easily impart any shade from lightest blond to deepest black. Just comb thru safe, sure Brownalone. Used by thousands for over 2 0 years. Satisfaction guaranteed. Absolutely harmless to hair, scalp or skin. At all dealers, 5 0c. Or send 10c for trial bottle. 'iiarmacal Co., Dept. G G-4, Brownalone Bldg., Cavingtan, Ky. Canadian Address, Windsor. Ont. ROWNATONE TINTS GRAY HAIR ANY SHADE B Lupita was going down to Mexico to play in a Mexican picture, backed by American money. She has been rather homesick, she admitted, and it is of course an added thrill to go back to the city which she left as an unknown school girl and to which she returns as a film celebrity. Josephine Dunn was there, too. She said that she guessed she was just fated to remain too thin — no matter how hard she tried to put on weight, first one thing and then another caused her to lose. She said at any rate if she was destined to get thinner and thinner, it would be a most refined death just to fade away from everybody's sight ! We found that her husband — it is her divorce worries that have caused her to get thin this time — had been trying to get her to return to him. She said that all the trouble was his mother. Then she gave a little humorous moue : "When my husband left me the last time, he took my private telephone book with him, and now I have to go walking down Hollywood Boulevard," she said, "in order to meet people I know, to tell them where I am living." Josephine, we found to our surprise, had been married once before. Her husband was a well-known architect, but she lived with him only a few days. Hers was one of those tragic child marriages. She was wed very young — just too young in all her thoughts and feelings for marriage. He had never married, she said. Whereupon the romantic Patsy had to exclaim that perhaps now she would marry him all over again ! Our old friend, Doraldina, the dancer, was there with her handsome husband, George Saunders. Dorey was looking handsome, but says she does not dance any more, which does seem a pity, seeing that she was once the rage, and there was never any one quite like her. We met Thelma Hill, too. She entreated us — we were in the drawing room at the time — to come out into the garden "and look for excitement !" It was a perfect dream garden, with a huge marquee over its flowers, trees, shrubs and fountain, and all lighted with electrics, which light, to my mind, always lends flowers and grass an unearthly beauty and magic. Out there we found dozens of guests, including Linda Watkins, Jack Oakie, Yola D'Avril, Charles Judels, Leo Berensky, who wrote "Variety," the picture which was such a sensation, you remember, and many others. John Huston, son of Walter Huston, was a guest, and Mr. Schayer told us that John had written one of the finest treatments of a story he had ever seen, although he had had little experience. Eph and Lillian Asher were among the guests. Eph is a producer, you know. He told us, as we sat at supper in the garden at the little tables provided for the purpose, about taking a crowd of so-called bathing beauties east from the Mack Sennett studios. "It was in the old days," said Mr. Asher, "when all the theatrical managers innocently believed that bathing girls actually bathed ! When we arrived in Detroit, we found that the managers had planned a swimming contest, and only two of our girls could swim. What an awful time we had getting out of it !" One of the girls, by the way, was Irene Wiley, who afterward married Cliff Edwards. I forgot to say that a negro orchestra played indoors for us to dance, and while we were at supper a negro singer with a sweet voice serenaded the guests at the different tables. We went home very late, wishing our host and hostess many happy returns of the day, and ourselves many happy returns to the Schayer home. Body and Solo Continued from page 26 All may be." "Come, now," I urged soothingly, "why not begin at the beginning, if any, and tell Grandpa how you entered the spirit world ?" "Well," Miss MacDonald complied, "it seems there were a couple of foreigners. One of them was a Prince of the blood — don't ask me what blood. The other was a lady, not his wife. They happened to be motoring in Belgium one night and both got badly damaged when the Prince's car hit something." "When something hit the Prince's car," I corrected her with my best noblesse oblige inflection. "Uh-huh. When the Prince's car hit something. The two were taken to a hospital for repairs, but after a couple of nights they suddenly disappeared. Well, it seems the Prince a short time before had pronounced me his favorite movie actress ; and presently the story was going around that the lady in the case was none other than Jeanette — and you can take the word of practically the entire European press for it, if you're inclined to be that foolish. "The truth is that during all this time I had been hard at work in Hollywood — in fact, I'd never been in Europe at all — but a sensation is a sensation, and who were the European journalists to spoil a fairly zippy story just because it didn't happen to be true? So the story stuck. And all over the continent Dame Rumor still has it — and she can keep it, darn her ! — that Jeanette MacDonald was smashed up in that motor accident with the Prince!" "But how about that little suicide business ?" I asked her, beginning to feel a bit less spooky. "Wait a minute — I've hardly got started on my European escapades yet. After the first stories came out, the scandalmongers started to dress it up, rearrange it, edit it and improve it. You know how an artist steps back and looks lovingly at his handiwork, then fondly adds a little embellishing touch here and a dab there? Well, that was the way of it. Pretty soon they had lugged in the sportive Prince's spouse in the role of the avenging woman. One version of this episode was that the Princess took a pot shot at me, the bullet entering and destroying one of my eyes. But then someone thought of vitriol (how silly of them to leave it out in the first place ! ) so the revised edition had the predatory Princess sprinkling my features with vitriol. And in both cases the result was so horrible that I committed suicide !" "You look so natural," I murmured. "But there had to be love letters too, of course, so the story went that my suicide attempt wasn't immediately fatal, and I languished for a couple of days on my deathbed. Then — enter Charlie Chaplin! Oh, yes. I don't know whether they thought it was time for a little comedy relief or just what the idea was; but any