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A week-end at Basil Rathbone's luxurious home, where the screen's suavest "villain" is unmasked to reveal the perfect host and husband, proves both novel and newsy
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By Dick Pine
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ASIL RATHBONE and I were members of the same regiment in the late, not too lamented war. We didn't lie in the same trench, nor did we save each other's lives, or anything-. We didn't even join the London Scottish at the same time. In fact, he had never laid eyes on me until we had both been in Hollywood for some time. But there's something about that old regiment which makes us all kin ( once we find out about it), and that is the reason for Basil's invitation to spend a week-end with him en famille.
In fairness to him, I warned him that I possessed a nose for a story, and that I might, for the benefit of Screenland's readers, unmask him — Rathbone the villain, Rathbone the elegant, Rathbone, Hollywood's Number One partygiver. And if you have any preconceived, notions (as I had), prepare to shed them now (as I did).
I arrived shortly after noon on a Saturday, clutching my bags, and asking foolish questions about where to leave my car. Rathbone has room for forty cars or so at the rear of his vine-covered house. Nellie was patient with me. Nellie is the trim little English maid whom the Rathbones imported when they returned from England on their last trip. Two West Highland terriers in the hall were not quite so patient as Nellie. They nearly knocked me flat, although, after a little cautious conversation, I gathered that their exuberance was distinctly friendly. Then, Ambrose made his quiet appearance.
Ambrose is an extremely important member of the Rathbone menage. He, too, is English,
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Rathbone the villain, Rathbone the elegant, Rathbone the perfect host, and Rathbone the friend and "war buddy" of the author — you meet them all under the most cordial circumstances in this stimulating story. Right, Basil as Ahmed in "Marco Polo," and above, in "Robin Hood."
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