Screenland (May-Oct 1937)

Charm Chap daughter oi' one of Hollywood's most respected agents, fall in love with her and marry her. They met at a party given by Martha Sleeper. Muriel (Ray calls her Mai), arrived late. Alone. Ray was with another girl, who was in another room playing backgammon. When Mai was introduced, Ray was sitting at a table with three men, playing bridge. The three men remained seated when the introductions were made. Ray stood up, bowed, and immediately dropped out of the game. He took Mai home that evening. The girl he brought originally was taken home by a friend, because Ray suddenly had become very "ill." They were just overgrown kids when they married. Ray was struggling to make a name for himself and Mai tried desperately to adjust herself to married life. When they separated, Mai went home and Ray dragged his miserable self back to England. It sounds humorous now, but at the time it was anything but funny. He only stayed away four weeks because he couldn't stand the climate in London — and the laundries ! It never occurred to him that he might be missing his wife. His first job back in Hollywood was with the studio who had kept him under contract at a small salary and never given him a chance. M-G-M this time paid him one hundred dollars a day for ten days, in a picture with Charles Laughton and Verree Teasdale called "Payment Deferred." Again no work, and back he went to England. This time he worked there in "Orders is Orders" for Gaumont-British, also "The Singing Kettle" and "This Is the Life," for British Lion. Then the laundries and the climate got him again. On the money he made, he lived in Hollywood almost a year. Finally, in desperation Ray applied for a service station job with the Standard Oil. Every morning he was the first one at their employment office and the last one to leave. Finally, came the great day and he was told to report at seven o'clock the next morning, ready to take over a station. Overjoyed, Ray walked whistling down Hollywood Boulevard. Life was just a bowl of something Continued from page 23 or other as far as he was concerned. Tomorrow he would have a job. Fate in the form of Joe Egli, assistant casting director of the Paramount studios, tapped him on the shoulder. Egli had seen his face only too often. It just so happened there was a part open in "Bolero" and Ray was just the man for it. At seven o'clock the next morning, an excited young man, trying to hide a rented tuxedo under a long overcoat, burst into the Standard Oil Office: "I'm Ray Milland," he gasped. "I was supposed to start here this morning but I just got word that a relative in Oklahoma died and I have to go and bury him. I'll be back in a few Henie, ether. days. Please keep the job open for me." Ray did expect to be back in a few days, working for Standard Oil. The part lasted six weeks. Then, two days after finishing, he was put into "We're Not Dressing." After that came the contract that has taken him to the enviable spot he occupies today. In the meantime he began courting his wife again. She didn't make it easy for him to get back. But once she saw that he really had learned his lesson and both of them had grown a bit, she decided it was time to forget the past. Recently the Millands furnished a charming Colonial bungalow out on Kings Road in Hollywood. Never did two young people have so much fun digging up antiques, one trying to outdo the other in bargains. Everything they said or did seemed to be funny. Life was almost too much fun to be real. One night Ray rushed in excitedly from the studio. He had just heard that some rare old furniture was "being sold for a song," out in Pasadena. Nothing would do but their rushing right out there — without even waiting for dinner. On the way out Ray explained to Mai that he would sit down in front, but she should remain way in back — "because she was shy and didn't understand about auctions." When a Colonial cherry wood sewingtable was put up for sale, Ray thought it would be just the thing for Mai. "I bid ten dollars," he said in a stern voice. "Fifteen dollars," said a woman's voice sweetly, but very firmly, from the rear. "Twenty dollars," thundered Ray. "Twenty-five," came back the woman in even sweeter tones. "Thirty dollars and not a penny more," Ray shouted, and swore under his breath. The table was sold to the woman with the sweet voice for thirty-five. After the auction Ray went back to Mai and sunk down dejectedly in the seat next to her. "Oh, darling," she exclaimed, "wait until you see the sweetest little sewing-table I just bought. I outbid a nasty old man and got it for only thirty-five dollars !" The only time the Millands almost came to blows, a horse was the cause of it all. Back in England, after quitting King's College, spending six months on a potato boat, a chance to work for his uncle, who was a breeder of fine horses, brought Ray home again. It was this training in expert horsemanship that helped to get him into the ranks of the King's personal bodyguard. He might still be a member of the King's finest if his horse hadn't run away with him one day and disgraced him in front of the Prince of Wales. Ray couldn't blame the horse because the horse hadn't been celebrating with friends in an English "Pub." And Ray had. He was supposed to have escorted his highness back to Buckingham Palace, but somehow Ray and the horse arrived thirty minutes ahead of the others. Because it was his birthday, Mai decided it would be nice to give Ray a surprise party. To get him out of the house, she suggested he go down to the Riviera stables and ride "because he loved horses so much." Poor Mrs. Milland didn't realize what she was getting herself into. The guests arrived at six. Seven o'clock passed. Everyone but Mai began to get nervous when Ray failed to appear. Mai knew all those little quirks in his nature and just smiled tolerantly. Finally at eight, even she began to show signs of unrest. Just then the door bell rang. On the porch stood a strange man in overalls. Over his shoulder, out in the street, Mai caught sight of a large truck. "Is this the house where Ray Milland wants the horse delivered?" he queried. "Good grief, no!" shrieked Mai, forgetting she was a lady and the dignified wife of a supposedly responsible movie star. "Take that animal away. I sent my husband out to ride a horse, not to buy one. Just say that Mrs. Milland has changed Mr, Milland's mind." Rich or poor, happy or miserable, eventually the Millands always wound up laughing. When Paramount adjusted his salary after his splendid work opposite Claudette Colbert in "The Gilded Lily," Ray decided it was time to take another trip to London. This time, however, he would have a charming wife, an excellent wardrobe, plenty of money in his pocket. On the boat the Millands received sensational attention. Waiters hovered around them through every bite of food. Special wines marked their place at the Captain's table. Special dishes were prepared in their honor. "You see, dear," he said to Mai, complacently. "It's the same all over the world. The minute a person gets important everyone makes a fuss over him. They never were so nice to me before." On the last night out, the Captain sent a note to the Millands. He told them it had been a pleasure to have them on board and Mrs. Milland was such a charming, gracious and beautiful woman — it had been Wide World Who said it's work? On location at Mt. Rainier, Tyrone Power and Sonja 1 stars of one of Hollywood's off-screen romances, are playing in a film tog 68