Screenland (Nov 1937-Apr 1938)

fountains. A tennis court. A swimming pool in a dell with the pool irregularly shaped like an old Montana swimming hole. There are flowers scattered freely, most of them by Minnie herself. She's a tool for seed cataloges and she adores digging and transplanting in her garden. She doesn't weigh herself down with any sunbonnet nonsense ! "She didn't want a projection room, even though her husband is a producer and has to see most of the pictures made. When it s movies they step out to previews. That s business. However, she did put in a generous playroom, for Minnie has a weakness for games herself. Not so much bridge and cards as guessing and pencil-and-paper teasers. She has a passion for Sunday morning breakfasts, leisurely ones; afterwards every guest 1 does what he wants. No riding herd on them! "By way of contradiction in the woman, added Loretta, "I might tell you this : she never entertains buffet. She'll telephone you, which is pleasingly informal, and you join a small group and sit down in conventional style. Not to matching china— Minnie decided why have dishes that match and so none of hers do!" With a remembering smile Loretta was into an amusing incident. "Minnie's at ease from then on. Last Fourth of July, for example, someone pulled out firecrackers at the table and shot them off. Now there was a situation to daunt any hostess. But she wasn't flustered. She reached for a drink of water, dodging meanwhile. "Her marriage, it's been reported, has made her more social. Possibly. Still, I couldn't describe her as socially-inclined. She only has friends over when she s in a mood for relaxation. She isn't the feverpitch, want-to-impress type at all. I suppose that's why she is the colony s perfect hostess. We sense that in her home we can be ourselves. "Minnie even shuns an act when she goes out. Most actresses make big entrances into night clubs ; she doesn't — the fewer who'll see her the better. She's out for relaxation, not for parading. I guess her marriage, and if I bring it up again it's because it's the tonic that has brought her happiness, is a success because she makes it so congenial. She and Arthur seem to be playing together. Sometimes I've seen her treat him like a little boy, adoringly so. Then she'll rise to irresistible banter. One night he'd been kidding her as a 'movie queen.' When he wanted her to get something for him, later, she replied, 'Listen, don't you recall ? I'm a movie queen, and we don't budge.' "But then there was the evening wed been to the theatre and Arthur confessed he'd like eggs. Minnie hauled me into her kitchen. 'I'm no help . . . I can't boil water,' I announced promptly. I can stare down a camera,' she retorted, 'but now dinged if I'm not up against a more ticklish job. I've got to beat this racket for my man's sake, pal!' For an hour and a half she tried toasting French bread, taking the center out, and dropping eggs m. And before Arthur starved he got a plate that would have done credit to the Derby. She's patient that way. "There are just sufficient minor surprises in her to season her specific, down-to-earth personality. She omitted the word obey in her marriage ceremony and she'll read the last pages of a book first. Calm in spots that distract most women, she's too scared by mystery stories to try them. And even with that man's mind I mentioned, she abhors details. She dotes on letting Arthur, or whoever else is about at the moment, see to them. "Much has been made of Arthur's recognizing that sirens weren't her forte. He deserves all that credit; yet I can't believe Minnie was ever wholly discouraged "Season's greetings," says Anita Louise, serving the holiday cake. at being typed. Somehow she would have painstakingly found her niche. "I wanted to know about her beauty regime To me hers is the kind of beauty that's fascinating; I'm bored with the candy-box sort. I've burgled her secrets. Well " sighed Loretta enviously, Mmnie'll' fall asleep anywhere! And it's merely mind over matter. She takes reasonable care of herself, but her motto is : Be Natural. She likes the outdoors; these weekends she's at her mountain lodge literally roughing it to get cozily settled there. When she's tired she just lies down for a nap when she's in the mood for fun she may exercise. But no scheduling, no bothering about now it's time for thus-and-so. 'Rest is a lot better for a gal than exercise,' she swears. "Clothes attract me, so of course 1 ve watched Minnie in this respect. She wears pastels although she threatens to switch to brilliant colors. She's smartly styled, however, because she sticks to simplicity She may pay $75 for a knit blouse and skirt; it won't have a thing adorning it. <\nd she'll be the ultimate in smoothness. Most women who pay $75 for a dress want everyone to think they've paid much more Minnie doesn't over-dress. She can't stand gewgaws. She doesn't go m even for_ costume jewelry; she never collects any junk. She hasn't a bursting closetful ; she'll wear the same ensemble three days in succession if she wishes-. "She keeps fresh mentally by changing hobbies every year; she's veered from sculpturing to an examination of chemistry. She isn't gushy. If she dislikes someone she takes the easiest out— casually ignores him." " . , ... a, Loretta was reminded of her babies, bhe walked to my car with me. Her sleek black town car lurked in the background. She ignored its shadow to see me into my oneof-a-million. ; . "Minnie's so popular because she s in a class by herself," she concluded. So is Loretta, and I don't say so incidentally. Anyone who can talk _ about another woman and a rival professionally without intruding into the praise ought to be further checked on. I made a luncheon date with Miss Myrna Lov. Star-Dust Baby Continued from page 17 to the Home of the Good Shepherds. Where you came from ..." The little boy's under lip began to quiver. He steadied it by biting it, hard. He didn t speak and after a moment Bill Naughton broke the silence. "She's only having her little joke, kid, he said. "Katie's a great joker— you'll find that out the longer you two live together. The little boy was still holding his underlip steady with his teeth. There was a drop of blood on his chin. It had rolled down from his mouth. Katrine, watching him, spoke to Bill. "So I'm a little joker, am I? she asked. "Practical or otherwise?" Bill's eyes were hard, now — harder than Katrine's could ever be. He said — n "Yes, you are. The practical kind . . . He added, "Run out to the kitchen, Peter, and you'll find a nice Jap named Kito . . . Give him my compliments and say I sent you for a slab of chocolate cake and a glass of milk." The little boy released the lower hp — it had been rather badly tortured. He said to Katrine — , , "Can I ask for it? The cake and the milk?" and Katrine said — » "Oh, for crying out loud, yes! Just so as you beat it!" * * * It was only after the little boy had journeyed at least four rooms away, that Bill spoke. tt T "I'd call you something," he said, if 1 could think of the right name. I was brought up just off the Bowery. I haven t got much of a vocabulary — " Katrine said— "I was brought up on Delancey Street, and I know plenty of things I could call you." Bill rose and walked over to the piano, upon which Katrine had stood when she made her announcement. He played a couple of chords, aimlessly. He said — "Only a complete louse would take a kid's heart in her two hands, and crush it to a jelly!" Katrine said— "All right, I m a complete louse. So what?" Bill replied slowly. "The kid's not to blame, you know," and Katrine countered— "But you are. You knew what I wanted, and you made a bum out of me. All Hollywood will be laughing by tomorrow morning. The whole country will be laughing by tomorrow night !" THE STORY UP TO NOW Katrine Mollineaux {nee Katie Malloy—of Nezv York's east side) decides to adopt a baby, to get publicity headlines she deems necessary to further her career as a screen star. The press agent. Bill Naughton, upbraids her for the idea as both dangerous and cruel. But Katrine demands, and her orders are final. She proposes to announce her suddenly acquired motherhood at a cocktail party for the press. The party advances far beyond the appointed time for the announcement before Bill arrives with the "baby" Katrine ordered him to bring her. Theatrically calling for silence, Katrine announces that she is adopting a baby, and orders Bill to have the child brought in. The press agent calls "Peter," mid into the room comes a boy about eight, red-thatched, freckle-faced, and wearing faded blue denim overalls. Dumbfounded. Katrine looks from Bill to the boy. Nozv qo on zviih the story. 67