Screenland (Nov 1939–Apr 1940)

What Next for Hedy Lamarr? Continued from page 58 fairness to Hedy, that she did not demand $5000 a week, and hasn't any idea how that bit of misinformation crept into all the columns. And she didn't say she was a better actress than Helen Hayes, either. How do I know? She told me herself. Avec indignation. "Why do people want to print such lies about me?" she said. She isn't the first one to say that. When I heard that she and Metro had had a little hatchet-burying out in Culver City I called at once to express great pleasure that there would be more Lamarr pictures forthcoming. "It's so beautiful," said Hedy over the phone. "Oh, I love it so." "The new contract !" I shouted. , "Did you get a raise?" "Contract?" said Hedy with a sniff. "I'm talking about my adopted son. He's more beautiful than a million contracts. I've wanted a son for seven years, and now I have one. His name is James. I am so happy ; I have never been so happy before. Would you like to come up and see him?" Would I ? I'll say. When I am not being a pushover for beauty, I am a pushover for babies. And besides I just couldn't imagine Hedy Lamarr, whose name has become synonymous with sex appeal, mysstery, charm, and enchantment, with a baby. Hedy, who always has a fragrance about her of exotic perfumes, with a baby in her arms smelling of talcum powder, milk, and cod liver oil — no, I couldn't imagine. I knew that Hedy had been talking about adopting a baby for several months — but talking about adopting babies is one of the pet pastimes of the movie great so I thought little or nothing about it, but Hedy adopted little Jimmy. Young James Markey, age seven months, is quite the handsomest baby I have ever seen, with big blue eyes and long thick dark lashes that put even Hedy's to shame. And what a disposition ! Never cries. Never sulks. Just laughs all the time. And wiggles. He was completely fascinated by a clip I wore, and when I said, "James, if you pull the petal off that, I'll pop you one," he threw back his head and gurgled — and then pulled off the petal. Hedy definitely is going to be the type of mother who thinks everything her son does is simply wonderful. And Gene Markey, I fear me, is going to be just as bad. Gene, in a mad dash home from the studio to see his son before he went to sleep, barely took time out to kiss Hedy or make pretty manners with me. The first morning after James' arrival, Hedy told me, Gene, who hates early hours, got up at five o'clock and peeped in the nursery. Later he reported to Hedy, in great disgust, "James didn't even wake up until seven. Must he sleep so late in the mornings?" When she isn't raving about James, Hedy is raving about her new home. "It's the smallest home I ever had," she says, "but it is . the only one I ever loved." And I don't blame her for being proud of the honeymoon house that Gene took her to right after their marriage. A few months ago they decided to buy the house, which is high up in the hills near Mulholland Drive, and remodel it, and as I saw it both before and after, I can certainly recommend Hedy as an interior decorator. She has added two extra rooms to the house, one a nursery and the other a small playroom, and has enlarged both bedrooms. Her room is done in the Austrian peasant manner and is one of the most feminine and attractive bedrooms I have seen in Hollywood. You feel that you should look out of the windows and see gay young people skiing down a snowy mountain side. Hedy in a dirndl is right in character. After I had "ohed" and "ahed" over her new furnishings and her warm, colorful drapes, I was snared, against my better judgment, out to the backyard to see the chickens, the ducks, and the pheasants. I was presented with a couple of fresh eggs — which I proceeded to lose on the way home, and I still don't advise anyone to sit down in my car too hastily — and was shushed for ten minutes while the ducks, the dopes, made up their minds to go in swimming. I am not the rural type. What with her new home, her ducks, and her clip-snatching son, Hedy is very happy. But once the grease-paint gets in your blood you're lost. Hedy got a good injection of it when she was in Europe, and she can no more give up acting than a fish can give up swimming. When Metro informed her that they weren't going to give her a penny more and that she could just sit out the remainder of her contract, which has years and years to go, Hedy was pretty miserable, though she certainly had no intention of letting her friends, or especially Mr. Markey and James, notice it. Life was wonderful indeed but she wanted to act. She just had to act. Her spirits sank to a new low the day it appeared in all the papers that Metro had signed the lovely Baranova of the Ballet Russe, and that she would probably play the lead in "The Ziegfeld Girl" — the picture which had been scheduled for Hedy Lamarr. Hedy didn't know it, but that was old stuff. Whenever a studio has a feuding star it invariably brings in a "threat." It's supposed to frighten the daylights out of the rebel. Rosalind Russell was signed as a "threat" to Myrna Loy, Allan Jones as a "threat" to Nelson Eddy, John Payne as a "threat" to Dick Powell, Merle Oberon as a "threat" to Bette Davis. Then Hedy decided to give Metro a scare. Luther Green, Hollywood theatrical producer, was eager to star her in a road company of "Salome" — and believe me, Hedy stripping off seven veils would certainly have been a Something. Hedy said yes, indeed, she would be very glad to serve up John the Baptist's head on a platter (she was deeply regretful that it couldn't have been Metro's head) and announced to the newspapers that she was going on the stage, which after all was her great love, etc., etc., etc. That, too, was old stuff. There has never been a feuding star yet who didn't threaten to go back to dear old New York and the dear old stage. Metro immediately retaliated with an injunction which restrained Hedy from accepting any engagements from any employers as long as she was under contract to them. And then, of course, Hedy said she'd sue. And Hollywood was all agog. Film feuds, however, rarely get into the courts of law. Stars remember just in the nick of time how much dough that little battle of legal wits cost Bette Davis some years ago. And, anyway, the studio always wins, so it isn't even sporting. The day before the trial was scheduled to take place in the Los Angeles courts (and fans by the hundreds were already lining up for a good front seat) Hedy and Metro sat down for a good gab — which they should have done in the first place — and after an hour or so of peace-pipe smoking, they fairly fell into each other's arms — which too is a part of the tradition. "I Take This Woman" was dragged down from the shelf and is now in the process of being repossessed. The stigma of a shelved picture is being wiped from the beautiful Lamarr brow. As I said way back yonder, it's my contention that both sides have won. Hedy will be given a raise when her option comes due, the studio is on a mad hunt for bigger and better parts for her, and they have promised her a publicity campaign that will put her right up there on the top of the pile where "Algiers" left her. And Metro has back in its fold once more by_ far the most glamorous picture personality that Hollywood has had since Barbara Lamarr. And with Garbo going comedienne and Dietrich going western we can use a little glamor in this business. What will Hedy Lamarr do next? Plenty! Now that she has checked her feud she can become the biggest and brightest, and certainly the most beautiful, star in Hollywood. Well, Hedy, Hedy hangs over your head ia the future. hen Weissman A kiss for the bride, yoo-hoo! And though Emily Post might say it was the wrong place to kiss (Victor Hugo Cafe) Roz Russell approves. The bride? The former Charlotte Wynters. The groom? Barton MacLane, the well-known featured player. 80