Screenland (Jun-Oct 1932)

8S SCREENLAND America's First Crooner While America is familiar with the voice of Rudy Vallee it does not know much about the personality, who, more than any other figure, has made crooning a big business in the land. Before the NBC microphone Vallee, now performing on the Fleischmann Yeast Program, is as much at home as a duck on a lily-studded pond. From the moment he steps into the studio for rehearsal things happen. In contrast to the soothing manner that he imparts to his singing and to the tones of his orchestra, he is an aggressive, driving program leader who tolerates no incompetence from his men during working hours. He greets them with wisecracks, listens to their troubles. Once at work he is a severe taskmaster. While singing on the radio Vallee is accustomed to remove his coat for greater ease of movement, and permits his men to dispense with collars and coats. This is one reason visitors are banned from his broadcasts. The other is that an audience might prove distracting to him and his musicians. Vallee hooks his tenor saxophone over one arm, leaving one arm free for directing. His larger baritone saxophone is suspended from a specially built stand with rollers. When singing he almost touches the microphone with his lips, jams one hand into a pocket, turns his back to the orchestra and signals any necessary directions over his right shoulder. He closes his eyes while singing, unless he must read his lyrics. It is a habit, he once explained, formed several years ago when he had to face a blinding spotlight. As his audience is unseen, there is nothing to look at in the studio anyway except Graham McNamee, the big noun-andadjective man. With guest artists, particularly those unfamiliar with the microphone, Vallee is extremely courteous, patient and cooperative. He places his continuity and music on a stand within easy reach. On one occasion he was introducing a new song and in the midst of it realized he had forgotten the lyrics. The written words had disappeared from the stand. Immediately, he filled in words ex tempore. No one noticed the discrepancy except the publisher. At the conclusion of each broadcast Rudy Vallee addresses his orchestra, complimenting the men on particularly fine instrumentations, bawling them out for any mistakes. They discuss the program and offer ideas for change. Vallee calls out last minute instructions and then dashes out for the next job in his busy life. And it's one job after another — and every one of them lucrative. Vallee's income continues to be one of the largest in radio. He saves, they say, most of it. Wise man ! Beauty and the Beach Continued from page 65 electricity in a battery. This will give you a vibrant presence, add magnetism to your personality. The right sort of exercise will take surplus tummy and hips and put them on your chest. Just a simple matter of subtraction and addition ! And after a day of violent, happy, carefree play, you learn again the meaning of relaxation, of grace in repose that makes of resting a royal sport. Water is the finest Doctor in the world. Dear old H-2-O ! Soothes, refreshes, revives and cleanses us ! Does anybody in the world use enough of it ? Drink enough of it ? Absorb enough of it ? When you are swimming and feel your body gliding through the velvet fingers of water, you can just be grateful for the summer that lets you get out into it. Grand old summer ! The time of tinkling ice, tempting salads and — I hate to say it — sunburn. But just prepare yourself well against the ravages of the sun and go out to get the full benefit of it. If you can't afford to go to a beach, try your own back yard and the garden hose. But get wet all you can, and sunbathe until frosty air chases you into the house. I hope you have a real vacation this summer, even if you stay at home and get it. A vacation is just a complete change nervously and mentally that reflects in your body. You can decide to have a vacation by changing your own routine at home, getting a happier, less tense attitude toward everything and everybody. Then you can spend your money on fall clothes instead of country hotels. The depression can never rob you of the ability to think what you please about yourself and your days. So do have a real vacation — for your beauty's sake. You can, if you will, make it so perfect that you will want to remember it always. The memory of it will bob up like "The Forgotten Dream" of Charles Hanson Towne, '"that longed to be remembered." Must Careers Kill Love? and regard that as his just contribution to mutual matrimonial success. We may as well be frank about it. Most of these wrecked matrimonial romances between actors and actresses are the direct outcome of wounded masculine egos, masculine jealousy. It's the same in many other professions. It takes a peculiarly unselfish, generous man, steeped in good sportsmanship, to gallantly play secondfiddle to a professionally successful wife. Dr. Rinehart has achieved it for his wife, Mary Roberts Rinehart, the famous author, but even she, in her autobiography, tells what a test her success proved for Dr. Rinehart. Was it this condition which really killed Jaime Del Rio? When the Del Rios first came to Hollywood Dolores was the adoring wife. Jaime's authority was consulted upon all things, his consent obtained for her every move. They had been reasonably well-off and Jaime a successful provider. But as Dolores became famous, as her salary soared beyond anything Jaime could match, as producers and directors usurped the place of authority with his Dolores and he became of less and less importance in her life, he couldn't endure it. Jaime died of a broken heart — and a dreadfully wounded masculine ego. The situation of the titled husbands of famous women, a !a the Marquis de la Falaise de la Coudray, the Princes Serge and David Mdivani is less painful. Their titles help enormously in balancing the account. But even so, not for long. The Continued from page 25 Marquis and Gloria Swanson could not make a go of it, although he struggled to win success as a director. It remains to be seen how he will fare with Connie, although he is striving to write, and is directing foreign versions of pictures. But no matter what he does, Connie's fame must ever exceed his, and so likewise Connie's salary. We have heard what happened in Pola's menage when Prince Serge was under the necessity of accepting financial aid from her. Prince David Mdivani had his trials while Mae Murray seemed to be staging a come-back, but the tempest passed as Mae's "come-back" failed to gleam as brightly as before, and his own oil interests picked up nicely, thank you. Doug and Mary have travelled a difficult matrimonial road. For two or three years now rumors of pending divorce have hovered. But these two were both famous. When talkies came in, both were at a slight loss to know how to proceed. At first it seemed that Mary, with "Coquette," would be the first to resume fame, but soon it had see-sawed in favor of Doug after "Reaching for the Moon." Their effort at dual fame in "The Taming of the Shrew" didn't prove so happy — and we rather felt they were taking a lot of suppressed emotion out on each other in those fight scenes, after their heroic efforts not to work it off in private life. But now things are normal again. Doug's travel pictures have restored his amour propre, and Mary has postponed new productions. Likewise, or perhaps hence, all rumors of divorce have died down. Doug, Jr. and Joan Crawford are another couple enjoying dual success, dual fame, with a slight edge in favor of Joan. Like the Bannisters, these two have been cited as a model married couple of sustained romance. And, like Doug, Sr. and Mary, they are working honestly, with every effort at good sportsmanship, to maintain the status quo. It isn't easy when both have such compelling outside interests that must so often take precedence over domestic affairs. Both get home with frazzled nerves, both have their studio struggles, and, of course, quite often their playtime doesn't coincide at all. One may be working when the other is not, that can happen aggravatingly often. So long, however, as Joan's fame and fortune do not soar too dazzlingly beyond Doug Junior's, and nothing publicly happens to wound Doug's ego, they will win out. Ina Claire married John Gilbert at a critical time, just as talkies came in and imperilled John's glamorous popularity. All might have been well had Ina made a nice modest little success, and John had maintained his picture supremacy. But the situation did painful things to Gilbert's masculine ego, and Claire herself was a bit boggled with Hollywood, so different from New York, and her nerves were on edge as she endeavored to master this new technique. So each was more sorry for himself, more concerned with his own