Screenland (Nov 1944-Oct 1945)

Clark Gable's right at home at MGM, after his release from Army Air Corps service. Here he is on his first day at work with Greer Garson in "The Strange Adventure." and the family, by making of her work a thing of dignity and distinction. As a reader of renown in the 90's, Aunt Agnes was famed in Canada, in New England and in London, England, for her superb readings of Shakespeare, the Odes of Keats and so on. Beautiful, dynamic, exciting, she was a very impressive individual and her personality, no less than her stories of the theater and theater folk, influenced me tremendously. "During many a long summer day, she would sit on the front porch of the farmhouse while in the orchard, an eighth of a mile away, I would declaim, not recite, Shakespeare to her. After I had shouted an act or two from the Bard, I would run to the house and she would criticize my readings. Once she said, 'How do you expect people in the galleries will hear you if I can't.''' Whereupon I would tear back and burst my lungs wide open giving the most resounding rendition of Hamlet's soliloquy. "But as I sweated and shouted through those summer days, I learned to love the English language and the theater in which it is spoken. And since one of my pet hates is people who do not do what they want to do, I took an oath on it that I ivoidd do what I want to do — and always have. When I wanted to go in the theater, I did; when I wanted to write, I wrote." And so you did. Your life, until you came to Hollywood, was, in fact, a series of lightning changes between the inkwell and the footlights. After attending local Canadian public and high schools, you went to Western Ontario University, soaked up all the dramatic training and experience to be had on the campus and then joined the Peabody Playhouse Players, in Boston. When the crash of 1929 put an end to this enterprise, you joined the editorial staff of the Bosto7i Post, writing special features. Returning to Canada, you became a feature writer for the London, Ontario, Advertiser. In 1931, you forsook journalism and, sailing for England, joined the stock company of the Wyndham Theater where you played a series of juvenile roles in Edgar Wallace productions. Tiring of juveniles, as you habitually tire of anything that smacks of monotony or routine, you again gave up acting to write reviews and criticisms for the London Times, The Manchester Guardian and, returning home shortly thereafter, was again special correspondent for the Advertiser. You also tried your hand, under the influence of Edgar. Wallace, at writing detective novels, several of which have been published, but not under your name. Later, you wrote another novel, "Bride In Question." under your own name. When the pendulum swings to the pen, you still write. Then, the cycle changing yet again, you returned to London, England, played the title role of Michard III at the Old Vic, and, during the winter of 1938-39, combined your talents by writing a play, "Old Master," and, at the famed Malvern Festival, starring in it. Returning to Canada, this time as a performer for the Canadian Broadcasting Company, you stayed until your friends, Larry Olivier and Vivien Leigh, asked you to join them in "Romeo and Juliet." You did "Jupiter Laughs," then journeyed to Hollywood in quest of your (theatrical) youth. In addition to your love of the theater which, as a minister of the gospel, you would certainly have to subdue if not stamp out altogether, you have a few other qualities, habits, and opinions which would be unsuitable for the priestly calling. Y^ou have, for example, been married twice and once, two years' ago, divorced. What is more, you "approve of divorce as an institution, yes," you said. You are, or were before your second marriage, quite a one with the girls, dating frequently the loveliest of the Hollywood crop of lovelies. You met Doris Nolan about four years ago, in San Francisco, where you were playing in "Romeo and Juliet," and she was appearing in "The Man Who Came To Dinner." For the past two years you and Doris were together constantly, but because you rarely appeared in any of Hollywood's popular spots, only a few people knew there was a romance brewing. Barry Fitzgerald was, in fact, the only one you took into your confidence, completely. You were married on December 30th, 1944, at the home of Allan Scott, a writer. Barry was best man. Edith Atwater, a friend of Doris', maid of honor. Because you were in the middle of "Over 21," you postponed your honeymoon but, as soon as you finished shooting, planned to go to New York. Doris' last play on Broadway was "The Doughgirls." She plans to continue her career. You want her to. You like women who do things. Furthermore, you believe that friendship is 75% of a successful marriage and that friendship depends largely on shared and similar interests. You believe that Hollywood is "The most powerful town on the face of the earth. Even more powerful," you said, "than Washington. In that so much of the thinking today is conditioned by the implicit propaganda that emanates from here. Also, when you realize that visual education is about five times as instructive as oral, you have a fair idea of the importance of the motion picture industry." June Haver, next appearing in the 20th Century-Fox film, "The Dolly Sisters." 98 SCREENLAND PRINTED IN THE U.S. A. BY THE CUNEO PRESS. INC.