Screenland (May-Oct 1938)

What Price Motherhood in Hollywood? Continued from page 18 effort is made to give all members equal importance. It's a curious' fact that as a rule every member of the real families that see these Jones pictures regularly have their own favorites among the Jones household. The older theatre-goers follow Granny Jones with breathless enthusiasm ; parents share Mr. and Mis. Jones' varied vicissitudes with rare understanding; young people are most interested in Bonnie and Jack; while the youngsters prefer the younger Joneses. That is' why the appeal of the Jones pictures is so universal. As Producer Golden explained, "the theory back of these stories is that family life can provide topnotch entertainment. These are the things that happen in every home, and therein lies the success, and the secret of these pictures' strong appeal to a great mass of people." How far-reaching is the effect for good that these productions exert is shown in a recent experience of Spring Byington's. At a preview one evening, in near-by Glendale, a woman approached and asked to speak to her. She was one of the heads of Glendale's schools, and she had a strange and interesting story to recount. Three boys of her acquaintance were going to a movie. One, an orphan, wanted to see a gangster film. The other two voted him down, and the trio attended one of the Jones Family films. "Y'know," the orphan, inclined to be hardboiled and tough, confided to her, later, "I've never had a mother. I never really wanted a mother before. But after seeing that picture I know now what I've missed. From now on, in my own mind, I'm going to think of that mother in the picture as my mother." It's only natural to assume that others react similarly. There, very definitely, is justification for the series' extraordinary success and popularity. On a certain homey, quiet street in Los Angeles, members of the Jones Family aren't looked upon as "movie actors" but as friends. Spring Byington and Jed Prouty know most of the residents by name. George Ernest, June Carlson and the other younger members of the cast swap stories of their latest escapades with the neighborhood youngsters, and compare hobbies and interests. Florence Roberts joins the elderly ladies of the block in their sewing circle. This particular street was chosen by the studio more than two years ago to represent a section of the mythical town of Maryville in which all the Jones Family films have taken place. One of the homes represents the Jones residence. It was selected for the purpose because, in architecture and general appearance, it possesses no distinctive features t'o classify it as belonging to any particular section of the United States. Four times a year the company visits this neighborhood, for exterior scenes, and regularly the good people who live there gather to watch the proceedings and renew acquaintances. Never a day passes' but some of them serve homemade cookies, cake, lemonade and ice tea or coffee, and for the moment activities cease as neighbors and the members of the company indulge in an impromptu lawn party. It is incidents such as these that explain more clearly than words why the Jones Family series rapidly is becoming the most popular series of films ever produced. "You seem to belong to us," is the tone of the myriad of letters that pour in to each castmember. In proof of this, strangers often stop the different ones on the street and chat, others nodding in friendly greeting. These pictures are made by real people for real people, and they fill some of that "close to the heart" place in entertainment left vacant when Will Rogers passed on. woman. I want a baby because I'm normal and healthy and no woman is complete, fulfilled, until she is a mother. I want a baby because, Hollywood's opinion notwithstanding, I think I can be a better actress — and thus help my career — if I am completely happy ; and motherhood will make me completely happy. "I want a baby because a child will be a bond between my husband and myself ; because it will be company to me since Herbie has contracts in other cities and we must be separated much of the time; because I had a poor kind of childhood and I want to make that up somehow to someone of my own flesh and blood." Although it was kept a secret by the studio until a year ago Dorothy has been the wife of Herbie Kay, well-liked orchestra leader, ever since 1932. Dorothy was pretty low on funds and running an elevator in Marshall Field's in Chicago when Herbie Kay and his orchestra were signed to play at the Morrison Hotel there. Herbie started the custom of having "amateur nights" and encouraged all the local talent to step right up to the microphone and show what they could do. Encouraged by Dorothy Dell (who died so tragically in Hollywood several years ago), Dorothy learned "Dancing on the Ceiling," rehearsed it for a week, and in a new dress contributed by the generous Dorothy Dell, she stepped up in front of the "mike" and Herbie Kay. She completely forgot the v/ords, Herbie was amused and handed her the sheet music — and soon afterwards she had a contract to sing with his band and a wedding ring. Then came a Paramount talent scout with a screen offer. And separation. But Dorothy and Herbie are together again, and in Hollywood. Herbie's orchestra is playing at the Cocoanut Grove and two nights a week Dorothy makes a "personal appearance" with him. They are both very busy young people as you can see, Herbie with his orchestra, and Dorothy with her pictures (she's making "Spawn of the North" now), and her weekly radio broadcast, but they are finding time to build a house, charming and unpretentious, out in Coldwater Canyon. On her present contract Dorothy is getting $1500 a week from Paramount and $750 weekly from Chase and Sanborn, which makes a delightful total of $2250 a week. When she has her baby she will have to be away from the screen for at least six months, four months before and two months afterwards. She need only be off the air for six weeks. (We are doing this on the minimum — some stars take a year off the screen, and several months off the air.) A baby, in salary alone, will cost Dorothy $40,500. An awful lot of money to lose! (Twenty-four weeks at $1500 and six weeks at $750 — add it yourself). And while she is losing all this money she will have to put out quite a neat sum, for motherhood in Hollywood is in the nature of a luxury. If you are a star. The doctor's fee is from $1500 to $2000, which includes care and treatment before and after, and the actual delivery, but nothing else. A deluxe suite at the hospital (including bedroom, sitting room and bath), usually costs $30 a day, and the star must stay there at least two weeks — oftentimes three weeks. And thirty dollars a day for two weeks is $420. And the nurses — they work in eight hour shifts now, which means three nurses every twentyfour hours, and the nurses usually get $8 a shift, so that makes $24 times fourteen days which adds up to $336. Of course everything at the hospital is extra, including the anesthetic, and of course the star must take a registered nurse home with her to look after the baby until she can find a capable practical nurse. Her friends will give her "showers" so the baby's clothes and nursery will be well provided for. She won't need a new wardrobe for six months. And there is always the pleasant thought that if you don't work you don't have to pay so much income tax. But approximately speaking, Dorothy Lainour's baby will cost her in the neighborhood of $44,000. Rather dear ! But Dorothy doesn't mind. According to her it's worth it, and a lot more. It will cement forever the bond of love and understanding between Herbie and herself. A modern marriage, at best, is a fragile thing. Dorothy and Herbie will be adding security to a marriage that they hold precious. "But an actress is not like other women," the Hollywood defender said. "She can't Human interest story pictured in stills on this and the adjoining page. Richard Dix plays the role of a blind man in "Blind Alibi." The "Seeing Eye" dog is Lightning, son of Strongheart. 78