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53
Playing Around Paris
Notes from the diary of a guide who showed our stars the town
Stiles Dickenson
Robert Montgomery strolls the boulevards. Ruth Chatterton is a frequent visitor. Ronald Colman, upper right, likes those out of the way places. Below, Wilam Powell at a Paris Cafe. Our correspondent, Stiles Dickenson, at left. Lower right, Grace Moore at her villa on the Riviera.
ON A PHOTOGRAPH William Powell wrote, "To Dickie, guide, philosopher, friend and wetnurse," which about sums up in a nutshell my experiences here in Paris. The very atmosphere of the place gets one before they step off the train at Gare St. Lazare. And it's amusing to see how that atmosphere affects the different stars. In Paris the gals and boys of the flickers can turn loose, be themselves and no one cares. At least the gals can't wear pants here. Marlene Dietrich was living in Versailles, near Paris, and thought to saunter about town in her now-famous pants. But the police kindly requested her to stick to her skirts when coming to town. La Dietrich turned to the other extreme and blossomed forth in her most feminine ruffles — though in or out of pants no one seemed to bother one way or another.
Ronald Colman, William Powell, Ernest Torrence and his wife Elsa descended on me. Elsa had her hands full with her three boys. It is sad to think that dear old
Ernest is no longer in the land of the living but on that Paris visit he was very much alive and in fine form. Elsa would spend her afternoons shopping and join us for the evenings, but very often would slip away, telling us to go on without her. Bill Powell looks exactly off as he does on the screen and of course Torrence could not be mistaken any place. Ronald Colman is less easy
to recognize.
We would go about together and no one
would give him a glance, but the moment Bill and Ernest joined us the people would start nudging each other and staring. So Ronnie complained to Ernest and said the moment the people spotted Ernest they immediately said, "Oh, look at the movie actor." Ernest with a twinkle in his eyes said, "Oh no, my boy, they are saying, 'What a man, what a man !' " And he certainly was a grand man, every inch of his six feet and something. Ronnie and Bill were just as enthusiastic at romantic, historical places as at the Folies Bergere or gay dancing places. At Versailles we would wander (Continued on page 90)