Screenland (Nov 1941-Apr 1942)

Make the Most of Every Day! Continued from page 24 the recessed book shelves, the dark hardwood plank floors, the rose rug, the satiny sheen of French provincial and early American furniture, the rich beige drapes of heavy hand-woven silk, gave the room an air of elegant simplicity. Located in the center of the rambling sixteen-room house, the living room on one side looked down on the ever-changing lights of Hollywood, on the other side onto the flagstone porch and green patio. • • . The patio is completely shut oft from the outside world by the steep hill that rises abruptly at the back. Picturesque olive trees shade the far end of the turquoise blue swimming pool. A magnolia tree spreads its dark green leaves over the porch. Gardenias and calla-lilies hedge the foot path that circles the patio and winds back into the hills. White flowers against green foliage everywhere, except for the riot of color of wild flowers carpeting the hillside. It is in the patio that the life of the Douglas family centers. Every room in the house, with the exception of the children's wing, which has its own veranda, opens into it. Breakfast, served on trays or on small tables drawn up to cushioned chairs, as well as lunch, is eaten here. At night it is a veritable fairyland. The long candlelit table, the shimmering pool and the flower-covered hill are all caught up in the immense bamboo-framed mirror, hanging between the two pairs of French doors leading into Miss Gahagan's bedroom. "Mel and Helen are the kind of people who like to share all the excitement and interesting happenings that go on around here, with the rest of the household," said Walter. "It makes no difference if it is in the middle of the night. An earthquake, for instance. 'Pat-pat-pat,' you hear slippered feet coming down the hall. Not that they are frightened. Far from it. Something unusual and exciting is happening! 'Where was it ? Do vou think we will have another?' Mel and Helen are the greatest people to talk things over I ever knew ! "Since Helen has been elected California Democratic National Committeewoman, a late telephone call from Washington is not unusual. As Mel is just as civic-minded as Helen, she always wakes him up to tell him about it. He wouldn't forgive her if she didn't. If it is something she can discuss with the rest of us, we soon hear a none too gentle knock on our doors. While we talk it over we go into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Mel is a notorious ice-box raider. "He loves left-overs. Woe be to_ any cook who throws them out ! Cold chicken and dumplings is one of his favorites. A slice of ham and a dish of stewed fruit is another. Mel will fix up a plate for Helen or any of the others, if allowed to. He likes to go back to Helen's room to eat." That is easily understood, as Miss Gahagan's room, done in soft blue, dusty pink and pale lemon, is probably the most charming and inviting room in the entire house. The bed, with its graceful curving ends, which is a French couch by day, the upright piano, upon which the little Helen Gahagan used to practise her scales in her early teens, the exquisite antique desk, the deep window seat, the low chairs and convenient tables, give the feeling of a homey sitting room, rather than a bedroom. This is the room that was turned over to Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt, when she was a recent guest in the Douglas home. "This frail, little rosewood table often throws the entire household into an up roar," laughed Walter. "You see this row of buttons along the side? They operate like a telephone switchboard. I'd better explain that we have three separate telephone lines coming into the house. One is for the exclusive use of Mel's business. Studio calls, his agent, tailor, etc. The second is for household use. Personal calls of the family, grocery orders, shops. The third telephone number is given out only to people who contact Helen for her Democratic Committee work. This one telephone connects with each trunk line. It also connects with each room in the house. That is, provided the proper button is pushed. "Helen has the feminine trick of occasionally pushing the wrong button. Upon discovering what she has done, she takes a chance on one of the others. Usually it is the wrong one. Things start popping if Mel happens to be on a line that is cut off. He comes racing down to my office, which is under the porch at the end of the children's wing. By this time, Helen is out on the porch above calling, 'Walt! Can't you do something about this telephone?' "To further complicate our telephone lines, four-year-old Mary Helen and nineyear-old Peter have the habit of picking up a telephone receiver, whenever they find one down. When their father or mother have to be called from the vegetable garden below the hill, or brought down from the hilltop at the back, the children get into lengthy conversations. It makes no difference to them whether the call comes from Hollywood or New York. "Recently Mel had to forbid Peter from making phone calls of his own. The little rascal had copied numbers, which he picked at random from the telephone directory, into a 'small phone book,' as he called it, of his own. We don't know just how long he had been holding intimate conversations with perfect strangers. We discovered what he was up to, when one of his 'friends' phoned. It was a rather delicate situation. Mel didn't want to disillusion or frighten Peter. But he had to point out the danger involved in giving personal information to strangers. "Imagine the bewildered person on the other end of the phone in Washington, D.C., the other day, when Helen calmly announced, 'I can't talk any longer. I think my house is on fire.' "Fire engines were screaming up the steep road that winds up the hill. The house boy was racing through the hall shouting, 'Fire ! Fire !' From the side porch we could see the flames leaping over the hill on the other side of the canyon. "Mel ran down the steps and turned on the sprinkling system. The network of pipes spread over the four and a half acres of lawn and hills had always sent up a cascade of spray. Now, all that greeted us was a weak ineffectual drizzle. The fire hose attached to the water hydrant below the hill had almost shut off the pressure. "Instead of becoming excited, Helen and Mel stood there laughing. 'Anyway, it is a swell idea when it works,' said Mel. 'If the hill is going to burn, it is going to burn,' said Helen. "It didn't burn. The fire was extinguished on the other side of the canyon. But that is Mel and Helen for you. They never lose their heads. No matter what happens, they make the best of it. Mel is one person who not only makes the best of everything, but gets the best out of life." "I certainly do my best to get the best out of life!" smiled Mr. Douglas, who suddenly came through the door into the patio. Drawing up a chair he joined us on the terrace. "To get the best out of life, each day should be an adventure," he went on. "That has always been my approach to life. Live as well as you can. That doesn t mean that I reach for the best things m life. I aim to get the best out of the life that each day brings. Make the most out of simple, every day living. "I think it is a great mistake to strive too hard to get things. I didn't set out to carve a career for myself. In a general way I have always known what I wanted. One thing led to another. The stage, for instance, led to motion pictures. Pictures gave me a chance to settle down and have a home. . "God knows, there was a time when 1 never thought I would own a home like this. Here I have everything that I ever wanted. Naturally I enjoy it. But never have I had that gluttonous feeling of possession, that many have. Never have I said to myself, 'This is all mine. I must never let it get away from me.' It was grand fun building. It has been grand fun living here. But if the time ever comes when I have to give it up, that will be all right, too. "However, I never worry about such a time coming. I am not the kind of person who looks ahead. I'm not one to plan on the future. Plans, schedules, hinder rather than help me. I can't live by routine. Naturally, when I am working, I keep certain hours. But when I get home, during weekends and between pictures, I never know what I am going to do. At the moment, if I weren't working, I would take a plane for Carmel. Helen and the children are there now. We love it. "Our house, built on a smaller scale, is much like this one. Each room opens into a patio or onto a porch. Blue, varying from pale to deep marine, predominates in the color scheme, as it does here. Up there we also have bare hardwood floors with throw rugs. But here the comparison ends. In Carmel living is easy and simple. There are no formal dinners. Life up there is in sharp contrast to our way of living down here. "Instead of servants to do the work, we all pitch in and do it ourselves. Each one takes care of his own room. Even Peter. Everyone has his own special job of general housework. I do the cooking. When the children are with us, that means three regular meals every day. I love it. "Cooking, scrubbing, gardening," he went on. "I think all men and women, no matter what their occupation, should do a certain amount of work with their hands. It brings them closer to the simple, worthwhile things of life. "After a long day before the camera or when I have become satiated with reading or conversation, I get a lust for cooking. It is then I go out to the kitchen and make, say, an upside-down pineapple cake or crumb cake." Only a few close friends of Melyyn Douglas know his penchant for cooking. In Hollywood, picture work, political activities, formal dinners, and social obligations leave little time for him to indulge in his pastime. It is in Carmel that he knots a dish towel around his middle and turns chef. Walter, who had left soon after Mr. Douglas arrived, returned to deliver a telephone message. "Mel is a swell cook," he said. "But he can dirty more dishes than anyone in the world. I know, because at Carmel my job is washing them!" "And my wife complains that whenever she wants to talk to me or read something special, I run out on her and go into the kitchen," continued Melvyn. "On our last weekend we had a whole gang coming to supper. Helen insisted that I be on hand to help welcome them. So I started the 63