Screenland (Nov 1941-Apr 1942)

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When disorder of kidney function permits poison', ous matter to remain in your blood, it may also cause nagging backache, rheumatic pains, leg pains, loss of pep and energy, swelling, puffiness under the eyes, headaches and dizziness. Don't wait ! Ask your druggist for Doan's Pills, used successfully by millions for over 40 years. They give happy relief and will help the 15 miles of kidney tubes flush out poisonous waste from your blood. Get Doan's Pills. "What about a college boy named Owen Ward (just finishing his junior year) and a movie actress who was no longer Betty Leabo but Brenda Joyce?" She became a star overnight. Her debut in "The Rains Came" did it. Owen had just begun his senior year when the picture was released and provoked a general tumult and shouting in behalf of a new name, Brenda Joyce. If the studio was surprised and delighted at the comet they had signed up, the bright, new star was delighted and dazed. A star, she discovered in short order, has certain obligations to her public. On and off the screen she is supposed to deport herself with glamor and color. If life isn't at her elbow ready to help her find glamor and color, the studio, with its imaginative publicity department, is. Romance can be created very beautifully with a typewriter. Another, and better, way is with a camera: the idea is for the lady star to appear in public with a male star, preferably from the same studio, and for a photographer to show up, accidentally. Naturally, he snaps the picture, it gets printed in 500 newspapers along with mention _ of the lady's next picture, and the studio is happy no end. It was inevitable that the publicity boys should inquire what was what with the lady's heart and whom she would like as a strictly-for-laughs boy friend? There was Cesar Romero. Ty Power, Don Ameche, of course, were out: the gentlemen are happily married. Ditto John Payne. There was, come to think of it, George Sanders. And George Montgomery. Or . . . _ Miss Joyce said the boys were awfully nice and thanks just the same. She had a boy friend named Owen Ward. "What does he do?" they chorused. "Pie's in college." The boys did a double take. Well, the news broke and in its wake there was general consternation. The cynics, of course, were eloquent. One of the columnists hinted darkly that the romance was already on its last legs. Another paragrapher gave the romance three months. It was no reflection on either of the personalities involved.' It was just proof that Hollywood does things to human hearts. The romance didn't fold up. Far from it. Every now and then Owen Ward and his Brenda would make a public appearance. The cameramen fairly bombarded them. It made good copy, this romance. It was the Cinderella and Prince Charming story in reverse. The lady from the cinema was in love with a college boy. Pictures were pictures and stories were stories but what was happening to the two deep inside of them, everyone wondered but none knew. The chemistry of fame is very strange. And very subtle. It has a corroding element in it that is more powerful than prussic acid. There is no point in saying that the path of true love flowed gently like the Afton. It didn't. For one thing, there was always Owen, the white knight who didn't want to hold her to anything that had been agreed upon before the party of the second part had become a gleaming comet. On the other hand there was Brenda, herself, who would wonder, every now and then, whether this love of hers was only an intermezzo or the real thing. There was no way of knowing, she would tell herself, because Owen was the only boy friend she had ever had. Besides this there was the obligation to her career. Would a marriage in the near future cause her stock to plummet down? In other words, how would the box office react to a wedding? With an established star it was one thing. But she was only a beginner. A few more months passed! There would be times when she saw little of Owen. A picture in production meant an almost-total curtailment of her social ac tivities. These social lulls brought on the usua speculation. "The Ward-Joyce romance haflown out the window," one psychic gentleman observed in his column. A lady had i doped out : "Owen Ward and Brend; Joyce have decided to call it quits." Back on the campus of U.C.L.A. Own Ward read the comments and tackled hi: books with all his might. Graduatici wasn't very far away. Nothing — nothing on earth — must be allowed to stand in hi; way. Meanwhile, he cut down on his call to the Joyce manse now presided over bj Brenda's mother. Brenda deserved 3n right, he felt, to think it over and makf her own choice. They'd meet at least once a week anc it would be the same as before all ovei again. _ He graduated in June. The twe made it an all-out celebration. That night he told her all about it. Now that he wa; a qualified accountant, he'd step out anc get himself a job. It didn't matter what tht job paid to begin. The future was all he was interested in. He looked over at hei when he said it. And she blushed. One night in August he called her up all excited. He had landed a job, with PriceWaterhouse, famous accountants. "I've got a wonderful salary to start,'' he told her. "How wonderful !" she exclaimed. "Why don't you ask me 'How much?' '' "How much?" "Two hundred a month." In October she received an invitation t go on a personal appearance tour with Lou ella Parsons. A half dozen others wer going along, Ilona Massey, Sabu, Mfk Frankovich, Arleen Whelan, Bill Orr, an Robert Stack. She talked it over witl Owen that very night. "Sure," he said "Why don't you make the trip?" She accepted. They weren't as far East' as Tucson before she began to miss Owen Ward. They hadn't reached St. Louis before she discovered an antidote for her loneliness. It came in the form of twu buckos with a lust for life. They were Bill Orr and Bob Stack. Bill and Bob are naturals when it comes to gloom-dispelling. Especially when the patient is blonde, pretty, and unattached. They had read that she and Owen had parted for good and they promptly entered the sweepstakes. On that tour they rushed her like crazy. They both showered her with attention. They made her laugh. They played gags on her, made her hysterical. "You've got to get out of your shell, honey," they used to tell her. After a month she was convinced that the boys were! right. She plunged into the Mardi Gras — strictly for laughs. Meanwhile, the national columns began to be flooded with sensational "scoops." Brenda Joyce and Bill Orr were a twosome. Bill Orr, paced by Robert Stack, had stolen Owen Ward's girl. Owen Ward, meanwhile, read the Los Angeles paper? and tried to laugh it off. What made it difficult was the fact that the letters from Brenda had dwindled down to nothing. At the end of seven weeks the party returned to Los Angeles. Owen didn't meet her at the station. But they did meet that night. It was in the form of a celebration marking her return. That night Owen Ward proposed to her. "Let's not decide anything right now, Owen," she said. "All right," Ward said. The next two weeks were hectic ones.1} Still agog from her long tour with its romantic excitement, she found herself being rushed not only by Bill Orr but by Bob Stack, who chose to ignore the newspaper handicappers who had put Bill Orr way out front. It was hectic but wonderful'. 76 SCREENLAND