Screenland (May-Oct 1940)

Father's Daze Continued from page 33 guest room with happy tumbling clowns, gingham dogs and calico cats. In his new electrically-equipped workshop (one of the reasons why they built a new home), Ray himself made the first cradle for the future heir to Milland Manor. It was the darkest moment in Ray's life when the baby was born while, he was a thousand miles from home. Because he had worked hard in three consecutive pictures, Mrs. Milland suggested that Ray take a vacation "while there was yet seven weeks time." In Sun Valley, Idaho, Ray had completed one day's skiing when the call came in from the doctor. "Come at once, your wife is in the hospital and needs you, ' was the message. That was all. You know how doctors are. Ray pleaded for a wisp of information. None was forthcoming. It was too soon to tell. Not knowing and not daring to think what might be waiting, Ray flew home. In Salt Lake City the weather was so bad there was a two hour delay. Huddled in a lonely corner of a deserted airport lunch room, Ray dropped nickels in one of those record-playing machines. So intently was he thinking of his wife, he didn't realize he had repeated All the Things You Arc_ fifteen times, until the pilot of a specially chartered mail plane announced they could take off. Just before they left Ray called the hospital and was connected directly to the delivery room. As if some great unseen power had planned it thus, as the nurse answered the phone, Ray's son cried out for the first time in this world. Ray, in Salt Lake City, heard that plaintive cry coming all the way from Hollywood. Too dazed to think coherently, too choked to murmur a prayer of thankfulness, Ray hung up without even asking about his wife. He didn't realize this until he walked into her hospital room early the following morning. Just why people say what they do under the stress of great emotion, no one really knows. "I'm going to send him to military school," were Ray's first words after he had been assured of his wife's safety. Then he went out and bought her an armload of sables. Days of heartbreaking anxiety followed. Their tiny mite of a son was in an incubator fighting for his life. Ray gave his own blood. Mrs. Milland had never even seen the little fellow she had ushered so painfully into the world. Ray gave more blood. Eight days later they knew their baby was going to live. Holding his clinging wife at his side, Ray supported her out to the nursery. Through the glass window for the very first time they saw a shock of black hair. Shining bright blue eyes peered up at them and blinked. It was one of those moments in life that make up for everything. Daniel David Milland arrived home about ten days after his mother. Mrs. Milland was still too weak to go with him, so Ray went along with her sister, Harryette Weber. Coming home in a taxi, Ray held his son in his arms. Not once but at every intersection, he'd lean over to Harryette and say, "You tell the driver to drive carefully. It sounds sappy for me to keep saying it!" Their arrival home was nothing short of a Hollywood premiere. Mrs. Milland's brother, Bobby, photographed it with Ray's sixteen millimeter camera. The Jack Bennys, Joan Crawford, (bearing sterling silver monogrammed baby military brushes) Ann Dvorak, Leslie Fenton, George and Julie Murphy, Ann Sothern and Roger Pryor were all on hand to see the little stranger. Even Harpo Marx, their next door neighbor, decided this was as good an excuse as any to get acquainted. When Ray rolled up with his precious possession, Jack Benny called out: "How's Max?" Time is still marching on and the cares of fatherhood weigh heavily but happily on Ray Milland's strong shoulders. For one who vowed he would never be one of those fathers, Ray is doing all right. The first thing in the morning and the last thing at night he visits his son's room. When he's at the studio, between breakfast and lunch he calls home and says : "What's new with the baby?" In his spare time, Ray is building his son a new fifteen foot kayak. He's calling it the "Daniel Dee" and all he has Carmen Miranda, the sensational South American night club dancer, makes her screen debut in the Technicolor film, "Down Argentine Way," in which she costars with Betty Grable and Don Ameche. to do is wait ten or fifteen years for his son to grow up and launch it. One day Mrs. Milland was in the beauty parlor, sitting under the drier. The operator informed her that Mr. Milland was on the phone and must speak to her at once — as it was very important. "Listen, dear," Ray cried excitedly. "I was just talking to Henry Kraft. He says that Dee-Dee should weigh six ounces more for his age. I think you'd better take him right up to the doctor." Let it be explained here that Henry Kraft is Ray Milland's stand-in. He is also a new father himself, and like Ray, considers himself quite an authority on child raising. Ordinarily Mrs. Milland is terribly amused and certainly pleased at Ray's reaction to his new responsibility. But one day he did give her quite a scare. She had been out to a charity affair given by the Edward G. Robinsons. Driving up in front of her house she discovered Ray pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, his face a mask of unhappiness. "What is it — has something happened to the baby?" she cried, as she ran toward the house without waiting for an answer. There, gurgling in his crib and looking the picture of health and masculine beauty, snuggled young Daniel David. Mrs. Milland breathed a huge sigh of relief. Ray, standing beside her, gazed down at the baby in a sheepish, bewildered manner. "Honest, dear, I know I wasn't imagining it," Ray tried to explain. "I came home early and went right up to see the baby. Oh, it was awful ! I looked at him — and both his eyes were crossed." Ray shuddered at the memory. "But darling," Mrs. Milland replied patiently, "I thought you knew. A baby never has control of its eyes up to the first three months !" Then there was the time Mrs. Milland had the girls over to sew for the Red Cross. Once again Ray got away from the studio early. Not wishing to disturb, he tip-toed in through the back way and of course right up to Daniel's room. Several seconds later a wild-eyed, slightly hysterical father burst into the sewing room. "Get the doctor — call the doctor," he yelled. "Don't stand there. Do something. The baby's been hurt." He waved his arms pleadingly and tore around the room. Six excited young matrons dropped their sewing and raced upstairs. Calm but alarmed, Mrs. Milland pulled the shutters in the nursery. In the well-lighted room she took a good look at her son. He was sleeping beautifully and peacefully. But on his neck was a huge smear of lip-stick — left there by one of her guests, who had secretly stolen a kiss. Ray suddenly remembered that he had business in the garage. When the George Murphys presented the Millands with a nice new baby buggy, it was Ray who trundled his son through the streets of Beverly Hills. At the Murphy house he placed Dee-Dee in his buggy and proudly wheeled him home again. At the studio where he is playing opposite Claudette Colbert in "Arise My Love," the commissary service is very bad. Every time he takes new pictures of the baby, all the waitresses congregate around the table while he shows them off. The sixth of every month is a birthday occasion for celebration as far as Ray is concerned. He already has a store-room filled with mechanical building sets, books and electric trains. Ray has started piano lessons because he thinks the influence of "good music" should be strong in the home. He takes moving pictures of Daniel David every month and plans to make this a life record. When Ray's son grows to be a man — wonder how he's going to appreciate those Technicolor nudes ? There's no doubt that ever since he discovered he was about to become a father, Ray Milland has been a changed man. From a travel-loving soldier of fortune, he has become a settled sane citizen. Once an escapist who struggled against a confining routined way of living, Ray has learned that home is the place where the heart is. And his heart definitely belongs to Danny — to say nothing of his wife. In the meantime his friends are seeing to it that Ray never forgets that he is one father who was going to be different from all the rest. Recently the Fred MacMurrays spent an evening with the Millands. As they said good-night, Fred turned to Mrs. Milland and said: "May we come over when Ray isn't home? When he took me upstairs to see the baby, he stood right in front of me so I couldn't see him anyway. Well, I can put up with that. But when he offered to show me how to fold one of those three-cornered sarongs — that's carrying fatherhood too far for me !" 84